Finally, she managed to hold the phone in her hands. She took a breath and stared at the black-and-silver phone that seemed the size of a fun-size candy bar. I’ve got to think this through, she thought, forcing herself to be slow and calculated. What does the phone do when I turn it on? She searched her memory banks and groaned inwardly. Her phone sang a little welcome jingle when she turned it on. She couldn’t very well risk that. Ron rolled over in bed, freeing her shoulders a bit, and she scowled up at the mattress springs. You couldn’t have done that five minutes ago? she thought. Finding the phone would have been much easier with her newly restored, though still limited, range of motion.
She refocused her attention on the phone. Can I muffle the music? she wondered. After several seconds, and no one answering her question, she decided it was her only option. She pulled up as much of the thick sweatshirt fabric of her hoodie as she could, causing the box to shift from poking into her back through the sweatshirt to poking directly into her skin—nice. She tried to ignore it, sent a little prayer heavenward, flipped the phone open, and pushed the button before quickly wrapping the phone as best she could in the folds of her hoodie.
As soon as she heard the first muffled note, she knew it was too loud. She pushed her legs away and down from her chest and rolled over on top of the phone. Her hair got caught in the bedsprings and she winced, lifting her head to relieve the pulling. The sound from the phone disappeared except for the faintest of melodies, one she was sure Ron couldn’t hear through the mattress. But she’d moved too fast. She felt the bed shift, heard Ron’s breathing stop for a moment, and was sure she’d been caught.
She clenched her eyes shut like a child who thinks you can’t see her if she can’t see you and prayed until his breathing returned to normal. Opening her eyes, she realized he’d readjusted to a position that was even better for her. But having her face so close to the neglected carpet proved too much for her thus far stalwart sinuses and she sneezed silently—causing her sinuses to ache. Good thing she’d mastered all-but-silent sneezes when she waitressed in college. Her feet were poking out from under the bed, but she was at the eleventh hour now.
The music stopped and she slowly pulled her arms out from under her, sliding them up until they held her phone just a few inches in front of her face. She couldn’t see anything that close up—she hadn’t thought to bring her glasses—not to mention it was pretty dark under the bed. She tried to extend her arms, but, thanks to the boxes in front of her, that necessitated wriggling backwards. And in order to move backwards, she had to untangle her hair from the springs—only half of the clump was sacrificed. Her legs were now almost completely exposed—thank goodness Ron was asleep—but at least she was in position and the bluish light of the cell phone illuminated the darkness.
After toggling into “Settings,” she cringed at the quiet beep the phone made and paused to see if Ron reacted to it. It wasn’t anything like the welcome jingle, but to her it sounded like a gong. Ron didn’t move and she wondered how long her luck could hold out. She turned the sound off on her phone and felt much relieved when the screen flashed “Silent Mode.” It took a minute for her to toggle into the text message menu, where she painstakingly typed in a message. Breanna and Shawn used all kinds of abbreviations, but Sadie was always worried she’d do them wrong and say something completely different than what she intended, so she always spelled things out.
Meet at Baxter’s now
She asked herself if this was the best idea. Baxter’s was their favorite restaurant, but she had no desire to meet him there. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of anything else that would get him to leave. She took one last breath, said one last prayer, and hit send.
It wasn’t until his phone started ringing that she remembered her feet were still sticking out. She rolled back to her side and pulled her knees up again, her heart racing as the panic returned. Please let this work, she chanted in her mind.
By the second ring, Ron’s breathing had stopped. In the next instant he was off the bed and across the room. She couldn’t hear what he was doing but after a minute her phone began to vibrate. Ron didn’t know how to text message, and curled up like she was, she couldn’t bring the phone to her face anyway, though she pulled it close to muffle the hum of the vibrations. She breathed slow and deep, willing Ron to leave. Her left hip was going numb. Moments after her phone stopped vibrating she heard Ron cuss under his breath. Then his footsteps retreated, the back door opened again, and when it shut, Sadie was alone in the uncomfortable silence.
She waited at least two or three minutes before she slowly pulled herself out from under the bed. Her whole body ached. She peeked through the kitchen window to be sure his car was gone and for the first time in thirty minutes, she could breathe normally. Without wasting another minute she ran out the door, not bothering to lock it since Ron hadn’t taken the time to do so. By the time she reached her car she felt like crying with relief. She took a deep breath, willing her blood pressure to lower, reminding herself that she hadn’t been caught. Then she had to ask herself if she was going to meet Ron at Baxter’s. If she didn’t, he’d keep looking for her and who knew when he’d catch up. At least Baxter’s was a public place.
She blamed her parents for the good upbringing that made it feel so wrong to stand him up. Even if he was a depraved murderer.
Chapter 15
Ron’s black Jetta was parked in the front of the restaurant. He wasn’t in it. Sadie pulled into a parking space a few slots down from his car, took a deep breath, and finger-combed her hair before stepping out of the car, embarrassed to be so underdressed. She wasn’t even wearing lipstick. Baxter’s wasn’t a hoodie-and-jeans kind of establishment. Still, the hostess smiled politely when Sadie came in.
“I know I’m underdressed, it was last minute, I’m sorry,” Sadie said, knowing it was too much information but wanting to be sure the girl knew Sadie wasn’t an informal person and that she knew what the expectations were. The girl gave her an odd look and said it was okay.
“I’m meeting someone,” Sadie continued nervously. “A man.”
“Oh, yes,” the plump blonde said. “Mr. Bradley. He’s over here, follow me.”
Ron met her eye when she rounded the corner booth and he stood, his face a mask of relief and anxiety. When she reached the table he stepped forward as if to hug her but she slid into the booth before he could touch her and she kept her hands clasped and rigid in her lap. He paused, then slid back into his seat. The tension between them was unlike anything Sadie had felt before. She looked at the high-gloss tabletop and wished she’d ignored her manners and let him sweat it out.
“I know about you and Anne,” Sadie finally said, glancing up quickly.
“Anne and me?” Ron asked, his tone was careful, cautious.
“I know about the bank account, about the Boston office—everything.”
Ron’s eyes went wide. “How do you know that?” he said, then he shook his head and spoke again before she could. “It doesn’t matter.” He took a breath. “It was a mistake for me to do it, I know that now, but I was only trying to help—to ensure that Trevor was taken care of and that lives weren’t disrupted more than they already had been.”
“Really,” Sadie said, shocked that he’d admitted it all so easily. “Forgive me if that isn’t a big comfort to me, Ron.” Their waitress approached, smiling as if there weren’t a missing child and a dead mother in town.
“What can I get for you two?” she asked sweetly.
Sadie glanced at the unopened menu in front of her. Baxter’s had an amazing honey-glazed salmon with spinach orzo pasta—a recipe she had not successfully reproduced at home—and her stomach growled at the idea of food, but Sadie didn’t think she was up to eating. Especially with Ron as her lunch companion. “I’m not staying,” she said, suddenly anxious to get out of there.
Ron offered the waitress a pained smile. “Can you come back in a minute?” He reached over and grabbed Sadie’s hand as she tr
ied to stand, preventing her from leaving. The waitress looked a bit concerned but she finally nodded and hurried away.
Sadie stared at Ron’s hand holding hers. Twenty-four hours ago it would have sent a thrill through her entire body to be touched by him. Now it left her cold and seemed to mock her own foolishness for trusting her heart to this man. She looked up and met his eyes.
“I can’t imagine how I gave any indication that I would be okay with this, Ron,” she said with as much calmness as she could muster despite the panic inside her. “We obviously don’t know each other nearly as well as I thought we did.”
“It was a mistake,” he repeated.
“A mistake?” Sadie said, shaking her head. He made it sound like he’d lied about his weight to the DMV. “A woman is dead, Ron. Her life is over, and her son’s life has been unalterably changed.” She paused, wanting to leave but realizing she had an opportunity to make herself clear and possibly even put an end to her concern for Trevor. “If you’ll tell me where he is, I’ll go with you when you turn yourself in.”
“Turn myself in?” Ron said. “Cosigning a bank account isn’t against the law, Sadie. And why would I know where Trevor is?”
Sadie pulled her hand away. “You were there last night, Ron, you told me that. Trevor hasn’t been seen since.”
Ron stared at her and blinked, then he sat back, a look of incredulity on his face. He was very good at this whole pretending innocence thing—it made her crazy. “You think I killed her,” he said. “You really believe that?”
“Is it so far-fetched? You father her child, set up accounts for both of them, and then move her out to Garrison. You knew she was trying to establish legal paternity and you lost it and killed her. What I can’t figure out is why you bothered keeping me around. What was my role supposed to be in this? Was I the trainer? Bringing Anne up to par.” The words burned her tongue on the way out, searing the flavor of his deception into her brain.
“Your role,” he repeated, though he managed to continue to appear stunned. He was silent for several seconds. Then he leaned forward with his elbows on the table, and when he spoke his words were crisp and louder than she thought they ought to be. How could he be angry with her for discovering the truth? “I am not the father of Anne’s baby, Sadie. I set up the account, I talked to her now and then, but that’s all I did. She moved out here, after promising to leave him alone. I’ve been the middleman, I admit that, but only because—”
“You went to see her last night,” Sadie spat back, hating being lied to, hating that he thought her such a fool. She’d talked to the attorney, she’d read the e-mail. She was not the idiot he had taken her for. “You were supposed to be in Denver but you weren’t, you were with her. And now she’s dead and your son is gone.”
“I didn’t kill her and I’m not the father of her kid!” he nearly shouted. “If you’d just shut up long enough to hear what I have to say, I could explain.”
Sadie was flabbergasted. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had told her to shut up.
“Sir!”
Sadie and Ron looked up to meet the eyes a very tall, very black, man. The tag on his vest said Jerome—Manager, and his black licorice eyes bored into Ron’s. To Sadie he was Superman, Spider-man, and her personal favorite, Captain America, all wrapped up into one. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” Sadie said at the same time Ron said, “Everything’s fine.”
Ron took a breath and spoke again, his eyes on Sadie. “Please leave us alone,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I think it would be better if you left her alone,” the manager said as he grasped Ron’s arm in what looked like a pretty strong grip. Sadie took advantage of the distraction to slip out of the booth and run for the door. She heard Ron call for her to stop.
“I think it best to let the lady leave,” she heard the manager say behind her. Sadie wished she dared pause long enough to thank her superhero for stepping in. Ron said something, but her heart was pounding in her ears too loudly for her to hear it. She was almost to the door when she heard the sound of a fist hitting flesh. She turned to see the manager reel backward, knocking over a table, sending a vase and four sets of silverware to the floor. Sadie gasped, a waitress screamed, and someone else yelled for someone to call the police. Sadie didn’t waste a single second. She ran for her car, jumped in, and squealed out of the parking lot without even putting her seat belt on.
A few blocks from the restaurant she stopped at a red light, her hands still shaking and tears on her cheeks. She hoped they did call the police, she hoped Ron was arrested. Maybe they could get him to confess to Anne’s murder once he was in custody. And yet, it still broke her heart to feel this way. She took deep breaths and then noticed the papers from the library on the passenger seat. Detective Cunningham had left his card with her; where had she put it?
Before she reached the next red light—when she could search her purse—she looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was 3:09—why did she feel like she was late for something?
Chapter 16
The Bailey kids! Sadie’s heart sank. Baxter’s was on the opposite side of town and she was still ten minutes from home. She imagined the kids waiting on her front porch, alone, scared. And Mindy would be home any minute. She pulled out her phone and dialed Carrie’s number.
“Carrie, I’m so glad you’re home,” she said when her sister-in-law answered.
“Sadie?” Carrie asked.
“Yes, I need a favor. Can you go outside and have the Bailey kids come over to your house? I’ll be right there.”
“You’re too late,” Carrie said. “Mindy showed up just a couple minutes ago and flipped her lid to find the kids sitting on your porch.”
“Oh, no,” Sadie breathed.
“She came over here wanting to know if I knew where you were. She was mad as a hornet and said you’d promised to watch her kids for her. Is that true?”
“They were supposed to come over to my house after school—she couldn’t get home in time and didn’t want them home alone.” Sadie felt horrible and couldn’t help but put herself in Mindy’s position. If her children were still small and all this had happened, she’d be irate too.
“Can you blame her?” Carrie asked with a determined lack of sympathy.
“It’s been a very hard day,” Sadie said. “I got . . . held up . . . with some things and—”
“It’s been a hard day for all of us, Sadie,” Carrie said, her words patronizing whether she intended them to be or not. “But the kids are safe now—Mindy took them home.”
Safe—since Sadie had made them unsafe. “Okay,” Sadie said, suddenly eager to get off the phone. Carrie had no idea how awful this day had been for her and Sadie wasn’t about to explain it—but was a little sympathy too much to ask? Carrie knew that Sadie and Anne had been friends. Surely she could imagine this would be difficult. “I’ll call her when I get back,” Sadie said, more thinking out loud than anything else.
Hanging up without saying good-bye, Sadie started thinking of what she could whip up as an apology for Mindy. Baked goods were her best bet for mending fences.
A few minutes later, the vibration of the phone still in her hand caught her attention. She looked at the caller ID. It was from her house. She answered it, wondering who it would be.
“Hello?” she asked.
“Mom?”
“Breanna,” she said in surprise. “What are you doing at the house?”
“Trina called me,” Breanna said, referring to Jack and Carrie’s youngest daughter. The cousins both attended Colorado State University in Fort Collins; Breanna was a senior, but Trina hadn’t yet gotten enough credits to be officially called a sophomore. “She told me what happened,” Breanna said. “She wondered if I could drive her home—she was really upset. What happened?”
“It’s just horrible,” Sadie said, anxious to get home. “But you missed your afternoon classes.”
“Mom,” Breanna said, “
come on. Anne’s dead! There’s some freak on the loose and you’re worried about my classes?”
“I’m still your mother,” Sadie said weakly.
“Well, forget about that stuff for a minute—where have you been? I tried calling before I left school and you didn’t answer here or on your cell. Then I get home and you’re not here at all—I about had a heart attack! I thought something happened to you.”
“I’m sorry to have worried you, and I’m sorry I didn’t answer, I had my phone off.”
“Your friend gets murdered and you turn off your phone?” Breanna asked, obviously unimpressed.
Sadie wasn’t ready to try to explain that she suspected her fiancé, the man she’d told her kids would be their stepfather, had murdered Anne and she didn’t want to take his calls. “It’s been a trying day on many levels,” Sadie said, wishing Breanna had arrived just twenty minutes earlier—then she could have covered for her with the Baileys.
“I’ll bet. Are you coming home now?”
“Yeah,” Sadie said, making a left-hand turn. “I’ll be there in about two minutes.”
“I’ll start the fettuccine,” Breanna said resolutely. “You need comfort food.”
“That I do,” Sadie said with a laugh, remembering all the times she’d made her daughter’s favorite meal to help her through hard moments. No matter that fettuccine was Breanna’s favorite dinner, not Sadie’s; having her daughter come to her aid was a priceless commodity. “Did Trina go to Carrie’s?” she asked.
“Yeah, we just got here. Trina’s really upset about this, you know how emotional she gets. See you soon,” Breanna said before hanging up.
Sadie pulled onto her street a few minutes later and couldn’t take her eyes off the yellow tape surrounding Anne’s house. It gave her the creeps, casting a pall over the entire circle. There was one police cruiser still in the driveway but Sadie couldn’t see anyone else around. Mr. Henry wouldn’t be home from work yet since he worked twelve-hour shifts. She had little doubt the Baileys’ doors were locked and her stomach knotted up again at how she had failed her friend. Mindy was a chocolate lover—maybe Sadie had time to whip up some apology brownies.
Lemon Tart Page 11
