Her phone shook in her hand as she held it up to check the time. 8:13. She swallowed a gulp of air. Had she really been there so long? Her car was outside. Mr. Somers had to know she was still there. And if he wanted to use his device…
She practically held her breath for the next half-hour, until the sounds upstairs stopped. And even then, didn’t dare venture up the ladder.
It was midnight before she finally made her way out of the basement.
Carefully opening the trapdoor, she maneuvered herself from under the rug, then sat for a few minutes—just to make sure. Moonlight spilled through the window into the study. There, its gleam rested on something sparkling to the side of her. She reached over and picked up a jewel. A diamond?
“Mr. Somers, it looks like you dropped some of your hard-earned income.” Placing a hand over her mouth, she glanced around. Once her nerves had calmed, she held the diamond up to the moonbeam. An array of colors sprinkled through the room. Beautiful. Not knowing what to do with it, she put the jewel back on the ground where one of the installers or cleaners might find it. It would make their day.
Gathering her belongings, she left the premises feeling colder than usual. The house no longer spoke of beauty, peace, and a replicated bygone era. No, it hissed of secrets, crime, and blood money. A dark foreboding followed her home.
Relief washed over her when she finally entered the safety of her apartment. A shudder ran through her body as she thought about the possibility of Mr. Somers finding her down in his dungeon.
Too jittery to sleep, she opened her phone and began analyzing each picture. Christopher needed to know. She worried about what he’d do with the information. He’d been so desperate to find the machine, she feared he might do something that would get him hurt, or killed. She snapped one more picture. He should also see the map where his notorious, yet anonymous father had been committing his crimes.
She then texted him the pictures with a caption of what she believed each one to be.
Chapter Forty-Nine
It was late for someone to be texting. Christopher forced his eyes open to look at the clock radio. The neon green numbers read 1:04. Certain there had been something go down at the precinct, he picked up his phone to read the text. Arianna. He rubbed his eyes to bring them into focus. Picture files began popping up, one after another.
When he opened the first one, his heart skidded to a halt. This cannot be. Fully alert now, he began going through them more quickly, taking in the detail of each photo. His hands trembled at the realization of how these pictures had to have been obtained. He attempted to text Ari back, but his shaking fingers kept hitting the wrong letters. He gave up and called her.
“H—how did you”—he swallowed—“why did—” He couldn’t think of the right words. Finally, he collected his wits and formed a sentence. “What were you thinking, Ari? If my father had found you, he would have killed you!”
“It’s all right. He didn’t. I only thought you could use some of this information as evidence against him.”
“And the map—was that there, too?” He’d begun dressing, ready to leave immediately to confront the reality of the dreaded device.
“No, I came up with that myself. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out what Mr. Somers was up to.” Her voice sounded flat.
“I’m coming over.”
Silence. “Okay.” The line went dead.
Christopher thought about turning on his siren and lights so he’d have an excuse to speed through red lights between his place and Ari’s, but there wasn’t a point; the streets were deserted so late.
When Ari opened the door to him, he was struck by her pallor. White as a ghost. “Are you well?”
“I just spent hours in your father’s den of iniquity while he wandered around in the room above me. That I got out alive—”
“Father was there?” His breaths came out hard and fast. He pulled Ari into his arms. “No, Ari. You cannot take risks like that.” Her body trembled in his embrace.
They remained in the doorway until she calmed. She motioned him in and pointed to the couch, where they both took a seat. “You didn’t need to come. I sent you everything I have.”
“I had to know—to see for myself that you’re okay. Can we figure out a plan? Something that keeps you out of harm’s way but allows me to catch my father and help my family.”
Ari’s nod looked feeble. She needed sleep, not this. “I’m sorry.” He reached a hand up and caressed her cheek.
She turned bloodshot eyes on him and pulled his hand away from her face. “I will help you, but after the way you used me, I can’t—”
“Trust me?” Christopher shook his head and exhaled. He willed his heartbeat to decelerate. “I won’t waste valuable time trying to convince you otherwise, but I wish you could see what’s in my heart.” By the way things had ended—make that began and ended—at their last meeting, he was grateful she’d even shared this information with him. He’d not ask for more. This, after all, had been his goal for over four years. “May I see the map?”
“It’s on the table. While you’re looking it over, I’ll transfer the pictures to my laptop. That way we can study the details.”
He scooted a chair up to the table. Amazing. If Father had committed even a fraction of the crimes she’d tagged, he’d done so much more than Christopher had imagined. He jotted some notes. He’d seen some of the purloined goods in his father’s safe. A little research could back up Ari’s theory.
Chapter Fifty
Bleary-eyed, Ari studied the pictures on her laptop. With Christopher there, exhaustion replaced the jitters. His protective presence calmed her.
“May I join you?” He sat down beside her to look at the screen. His musky scent smelled good.
She nodded and angled the computer so he could view it. He moved closer.
“The details are much clearer on your laptop.” He began taking notes.
“What’s the plan?” Ari yawned.
Christopher was much too awake for such a late hour. She realized that this information had invigorated him. She, however, drained of all her energy, wished to sleep.
His gaze met hers. He narrowed his azure-blue eyes and tilted his head. “I believe the plan is for me to leave so you can sleep. I will take what I’ve learned and work on it.” He wrote something else on the paper and tucked it in his pocket.
“I would argue, but I’m too tired.” She managed a half-smile “Christopher, if I tell you where the machines are, what will you do?”
He sat back and rubbed the stubble on his chin. “If I’d found them before today, I would have attempted to destroy them, but someone helped me realize that the machines are not the problem.”
“So you won’t do anything stupid if I tell you that there’s a trapdoor in the study?”
“A what?” He jerked forward.
“Promise me, Christopher.”
He patted her leg. “Don’t worry. I have plenty to do with crimes in the present.”
She became alert. “What? Did you discover something about the hit-and-run?”
“Don’t get your hopes up, but I found a salvage yard in Denver that has a car fitting the description you gave me. I plan to drive up and check it out. I’ll likely not uncover anything new, but it’s worth a try.”
A thrill of excitement sparked through Arianna. She set her laptop on the floor and pulled Christopher in for a hug. “Thank you.”
He stiffened, then relaxed. She knew her attitude toward him had him on edge. It still irked her to think he’d used her to get to the house, but the gratitude she felt was overwhelming. Happy tears filled her eyes. She released him and swiped at her eyes.
“I should go now,” he said.
“To your apartment?”
Christopher flinched.
Aha! She’d read his mind. Her nerves couldn’t handle it. If he went back to the Somers’ house tonight, she’d have a complete melt-down. Why, she didn’t know. Total exhaustion,
no doubt. “Promise me you aren’t driving out to the Somers’ home right now.”
Chapter Fifty-One
If Tuesday had been calm, as far as deliveries went, Wednesday and Thursday were anything but. Arianna rushed everyone to get remaining art hung, furniture arranged, and last-minute details attended to. She welcomed the chaos. No longer did she wish to be alone in the house.
She had less than a week to help Christopher. Less than a week to help Sarah. It was at the same time too long and too short. Armed with fresh determination, she plodded on.
****
Early Thursday morning her phone chirped, signaling a text. Christopher. I believe I have located the car and registration. Police records missing. Have suspicions why. If I get what I need, the local officers can arrest Father here in Denver.
Ari’s heart raced and tears filled her eyes. The mystery of the hit-and-run might finally come to an end. She wiped her eyes and focused on her phone. Fingers crossed things will come together there. If not, your family will be here tomorrow. They will occupy the house on Tuesday. Thanks for the update…and for doing this.
On the long drive to her jobsite, her thoughts turned to Sarah. She had to help her. Do something—anything. Friday would be the last time they could share information using the journal.
Distractions of every kind stole her attention. One last delivery, touch-up painters and installers all kept her busy.
“Have a good evening, Jack.” She waved.
Jack nodded and closed the door behind him. She dead-bolted it and let her shoulders sag. The long day had ended for the workers, but not her. She headed to Sarah’s room and tugged out the journal. After making a large X through her previous entry, she wrote.
Dear Journal,
S, I know everything—where you’re from and how you got here. Christopher and I are working on a plan to stop your father. I wish we had more time. Check your bedding. Christopher has been trying to communicate with you, as well. Even after I’m gone, he will continue to fight for you. Trust him.
Yours, A
Those last two words hit her like a wrecking ball. Strange advice, coming from her.
****
Friday roared in, hot and humid. Arianna was especially glad to have the house abuzz, in preparation for the impending arrival of the Somers. If things had worked out for Christopher, they wouldn’t be arriving at all. Mr. Somers would be occupying a jail cell in Denver. Christopher hadn’t sent further updates, however, so she didn’t know what, if anything, had happened.
She watched through the front room window as the black Escalade slowly ascended the drive. Her heart sank. Hand in a fist, she lifted her fingers one at a time. There was the rest of today, Monday, and finally Tuesday—sign-off day. A meeting had been scheduled for Ari, Natasha Tate, and the Somers to go over every detail of the job, and, if everything was in order, sign off on the project.
Sarah entered behind the other three. Ari fell in step beside her. “Sarah,” she whispered.
Sarah flinched, but her eyes remained fixed ahead.
“I need to talk to you.”
Mr. Somers stopped, turned around and narrowed his eyes at Ari.
She cleared her throat and spoke up. “You look nice today, Sarah. Blue is your color.”
“Thank you.” Sarah ducked her head and quickened her pace to match the others.
Ari let out a frustrated breath. What she’d written in Sarah’s journal wouldn’t save her but would perhaps give her some hope.
At the end of the day, without any incidents with Mr. Somers, Ari began making her rounds, pulling everything back in to “model-home” appearance. When she reached Sarah’s room, she claimed the journal for the last time.
Sitting on Sarah’s bed, the crunch of paper reminded her of Christopher’s note. She’d replaced it after their confrontation. She tugged the bedding back and smiled. Sarah had written to her brother. Without reading it, Ari folded and put it in her bag to deliver to Christopher. There might be time yet.
Opening the journal, she read.
Dear Journal,
A, I apologize for my behavior this morning. I fear Father distrusts both of us. I must avoid the very appearance of friendship, though I long to do the opposite. Thank you for your words of optimism. I will depend on Christopher to come to our rescue. He is a valiant brother. I am saddened to discontinue our correspondence. Perhaps, after he is able to help us, we can renew our friendship. Yours, S.
Sorrow stabbed at Ari. Her heart ached for Sarah. Living even one more day under the same roof as Mr. Somers was too long. She didn’t know what she could say to encourage her, but it would be her last opportunity to say anything. She tapped the pen to her head in concentration.
Dear Journal,
S, please don’t worry about today’s events. I understand your predicament. I hope my failed attempt to speak to you didn’t make matters worse between you and your father. I just wanted to reassure you about Christopher’s fierce determination to help you. Remain positive.
Your friend always, A
Short and to the point, yet she had nothing concrete to offer. She’d probably failed Sarah, but she wouldn’t fail Christopher.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Christopher had resisted the urge to drive to his family’s home immediately following his visit with Ari. He didn’t know why it mattered to her, perhaps the anxiety she’d experienced there had been worse than she’d let on—although, she’d seemed pretty shaken. He worried about her making it through the next few days. Honoring her wish was a small price to pay for what she’d provided him. Not to mention, now he had something concrete to work on.
Ari’s hunch had been correct; the red Cadillac had been registered to Benjamin Somers. Locating the car and registration had been simple. Locating the hard copy of the file, not so much. He’d called the station to inquire about it, but the file had somehow vanished. He’d have to start from square one and investigate it himself.
As he drove to his old precinct on Evans Street—District 4—memories flooded back. It had been less than a year since he’d last been there, but it seemed a lifetime ago. He’d developed a good working relationship with the men and women at the 4th, so when he’d asked, they’d had no qualms about helping him.
Nothing but a few faces had changed at the precinct. The office was noisy with police chatter—much busier than Pueblo. He was directed to an unoccupied desk to conduct his business.
Digging into the information provided on the computer, he recognized the name of the officer first on the scene. His skin crawled. Officer Cratchen. One of the dirtiest men in blue Christopher had ever encountered. If Father had gotten to him, the missing file was no mystery at all. “Cratchen would throw his own mother under a bus for a dollar,” he whispered.
“What’s that?” Officer Hunt, the man nearest Christopher, asked.
“Oh. I just wondered, is Cratchen still around?”
The officer pulled a sour face. Apparently, he shared Christopher’s opinion. “Transferred last month. What do you need?”
Christopher explained the cold case to Officer Hunt. “There is silver paint on the Cadillac. I need to run a paint analysis to see if it matches the victim’s vehicle.”
“And Cratchen investigated?”
Christopher shrugged. “He was first on the scene. The file is missing now.”
Officer Hunt shook his head. “Doesn’t surprise me. If you can talk Captain Murphy into reopening the case, we can get the analysis done.”
Christopher knew how long these processes took. He didn’t have much time. Aiding his family had already taken four years longer than he’d hoped. They needed him to come through. Arianna needed him to come through. The chance that the paint didn’t match, loomed in his subconscious. He could easily disappoint them all.
“Did I hear my name?” Captain Murphy stalled in his path through the maze of desks.
Hope surged in Christopher’s soul. “Yes. Do you have a minute?”
/> Captain glanced at his watch. “Only just.” He motioned to his office.
Once Christopher obtained permission to reopen the case, the wheels began turning at a snail’s pace. At least they were turning.
“I can phone you with the results of the analysis, if you want to head back to Pueblo.” Officer Hunt scooted a chair up to the desk next to Christopher’s borrowed workspace.
Christopher sat with his elbows on the desk, his fingers steepled. He only took a moment to realize he’d done all he could in Denver. He nodded his thanks to Officer Hunt and left the station.
Everything hinged on those results.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chris, are you back from Denver? I have a letter from Sarah. Ari pushed the send button on her phone. There had been enough secrets between her and Christopher. That stopped now.
Just got in. I’ll head over.
She paced the length of her living room, not only anxious to deliver the letter, but also to find out what Christopher had discovered in Denver.
She jumped when someone knocked. “Breathe,” she told her herself as she opened the door to Christopher.
“Well?” She motioned him in.
He chuckled. “I am fine, and you?”
“Sorry. I’ve just been thinking about this all day. And without a way to call you”—she shook her head—“it’s just been hard.” Lowering herself onto the sofa, she patted the seat next to her.
Spicy freshness filled her senses, and she immediately regretted the seating arrangement. She needed to focus, not get heady over Christopher’s scent.
“I found the cars and took some paint samples in for analysis.” Christopher’s deep voice brought her back on task.
Time Twist Page 23
