All The Stars In Heaven

by Michele Paige Holmes

  Jay unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Behind him, Sarah had Detective Doyle’s gun drawn. Jay glanced around the living room, remembering the last time he was here and how Sarah’s father had implored him to look out for her. I’m trying, he thought. No thanks to you. Quietly they made their way around the small home, making sure they were alone.

  “Where do you want to start?” Sarah asked when they’d finished checking the last closet and she’d taken a few minutes to change into clean clothes.

  “How about that filing cabinet?” Jay asked, pointing to one beneath the window in her dad’s room. “We should also check his dresser and closet, under his mattress—any place we can think of.”

  “Okay.” She sighed. “This isn’t going to be a lot of fun.”

  “At least we’re together.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “We just need to find something linking your dad to Carl and the drug activity at the park. Then Kirk can take it to the DEA, and we’re on the right track.”

  “I wish I knew what that something was.” Sarah started on the dresser.

  Jay sat on the floor and began sorting through each boring paper—electric bills, mortgage payments, dental records. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. An hour ticked by. Sarah moved on to the closet. He neared the back of the second drawer and discovered a file marked, “SARAH.” Pulling it out, he leaned against the wall and opened it.

  A picture of a little girl with long blond hair and her two front teeth missing looked up at him. Her smile was too wide—the kind forced by the photographer no doubt—and didn’t reach her deep blue, sad eyes. Jay turned the picture over and saw it had been taken when Sarah was six years old and in the first grade. He looked at the paper behind it—a report card—and the one behind that, a Father’s Day card she’d made for her dad.

  The file was thick, packed with construction paper and yarn projects, glowing reports from her teachers, programs from piano recitals. It was the sort of file a loving parent kept for a cherished child. Thinking of Sarah’s father and the way he’d looked when he asked Jay to keep her safe, Jay could almost imagine Grant saving these things, tucking them away after he’d tucked his little girl into bed each night. Except that image clashed with the father Sarah told him about—the one who made her assemble other kids’ bikes but never bought her one of her own.

  The same father who surprised her with a piano. The one who lied about paying her tuition. Jay felt more confused than ever. He wondered if Sarah had ever seen this file, then decided now wasn’t the time to show it to her. Her feelings about her dad were conflicted enough. And, whether Grant loved her or not, Jay was certain he was involved in something illegal. Above all else, that was what they needed to focus on.

  Sarah backed out of the closet. “The only things that might be considered suspicious are his guns. And since he’s a police chief, I doubt those qualify.”

  “Probably not,” Jay agreed. He stuck the file in the drawer and closed it. “Let’s lift the mattress.” He stood and walked over to the bed, holding up the mattress and then box spring while Sarah peered beneath.

  “Nothing,” she said. “I’m afraid we’re wasting our time.”

  Jay followed her out to the hall. He still felt certain there had to be something here. Her dad had lived here how long? “Is there a crawl space beneath the house—or an attic?”

  “No crawl space, but the attic access is right here.” Sarah pointed to a rectangle in the ceiling. “To my knowledge, no one’s ever been up there.”

  “It’s worth checking,” Jay said.

  Sarah headed for her room. “I’ll get a chair.” She returned a moment later, and Jay stood on the chair, reaching up to move the panel.

  Sarah wrinkled her nose. “Dust.”

  “I’ll go up, so you don’t have to.” Jay put his hands on either side of the opening, tried to pull himself up and let out a yelp of pain.

  “Your shoulder!” Sarah exclaimed.

  “My shoulder,” Jay said, moaning. “I think I’m going to have to use a ladder.”

  “We don’t have one,” Sarah said. “My dad isn’t much for home improvement projects—you probably noticed.”

  He had. The outside of the house was a mess, with sagging rain gutters, peeling shingles, and faded paint. Inside wasn’t much better.

  “Just a minute.” Sarah disappeared, returning a few minutes later with a flashlight. “I’ll go up if you’ll help me.”

  “What about the dust?”

  She shrugged. “I’ll change later. I have a feeling we should check this out.” She smiled. “Maybe your Scottish intuition is starting to kick in.”

  “Step on the chair and then my shoulder—the good one.”

  Sarah followed his instructions and climbed up easily.

  “See anything?” Jay asked.

  “Boxes and baby furniture,” she said, sounding surprised. “I had no idea any of this was here.”

  Pay dirt, Jay thought—or hoped. “Can you hand me a box?”

  Sarah leaned forward, reaching across the dusty floor. She pulled the closest stack of boxes to the edge, handing one at a time to Jay. As soon as the last one was down, she lowered herself to the chair and sat on the floor, eagerly prying the first open.

  * * *

  “It’s three o’clock. We ought to get going.” Jay raised his arms overhead, carefully stretching his aching muscles. Driving so long, plus moving the boxes up and down, had his shoulder hurting again. “We need to clean up this mess, and I want to be long gone before your dad gets home.”

  “We will be.” Sarah didn’t look up, but continued turning pages of the scrapbook in her lap. “Look at this.” She turned the book so Jay could see. “My mom must have been pregnant with me.”

  Jay looked at the faded picture and the woman who looked much like Sarah. Remembering how he’d felt when his mother first showed up in his life, he understood Sarah’s feelings. Everyone needed a mother. He hurt for Sarah, knowing hers had let her down.

  “We need to go,” Jay said gently, closing the book. “Someday we’ll come back and get all this.”

  “I wish we could take it now.”

  He shook his head. “Too risky.”

  Sighing, Sarah put the book back into the box it came from. “Did we look through them all?”

  “I think so,” Jay said.

  “One last look,” Sarah said. “I’ll be fast, I promise.”

  Jay followed her into the hall, standing beside the chair so she could climb up again. When she sat in the opening, he handed the boxes up to her.

  “I’ll be right back.” She turned on the flashlight and crawled away.

  Jay walked through the bedrooms again, making sure nothing looked disturbed. They’d been careful to put things back as they were, and, not wanting to alert Grant that someone had been in the house, they’d decided against eating here too—not that there was much in the way of food in the kitchen anyway.

  Sarah still had the spare key in her pocket, and Jay planned to have her keep it when they left. Though they’d decided to call Kirk and then head to Worcester for the night, he knew it was a possibility they’d need to sneak back in the house another time.

  “Sarah.” He called a reminder for her to hurry, and walked into the living room. Outside a car door slammed. Rushing to the front window Jay peered through one of the bent blinds. A police cruiser was parked out front. Sarah’s father walked toward the mailbox at the curb.

  “He’s home!” Jay raced back to the hall. “Your dad’s here.” He climbed up on the chair. Sarah scooted over to the edge of the opening, a manila envelope clutched in her hand, panic on her face.

  “He’s early. I’m sorry.” She leaned forward. “Move, and I’ll jump down.”

  “There’s no time,” Jay said. The only two outside doors—in the living room and kitchen—were at the front of the house, and all the windows had bars. There was no way they could leave without her father seeing them.

  “I’ll d
istract him,” Sarah said. “You hide in my room and—”

  Jay reached up, pulling her face to his and kissing her. “No. If your dad finds you . . .” He didn’t want to say it, didn’t need to. How many attempts had already been made on her life?

  “But if he finds you, you’ll be back in jail.” Sarah held his hand tight.

  “Then that’s where I’ll be waiting.” Jay pulled away and jumped down. He moved the chair out of her reach. “Hide up there as long as you have to,” he said, tossing her jacket up. “Whatever you do, don’t come down until you know he’s gone.”

  “I told you I’d never leave you again.” She leaned forward, reaching for him. “I—”

  A key turned in the front door.

  “You’re not leaving,” Jay said. “I am.” He sprinted off to a bedroom, hoping he could pull this off.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  There was a reason, Jay decided, that Casablanca ended before the Gestapo discovered Bogart. He’d made a point of renting that movie a year or so ago, after Jane compared him to the hero. And he’d liked the film, thought old Humphrey acted bold and looked pretty good when the movie was over. But in reality the ending would have been a little different.

  Reality felt bad. Reality was the heart-pounding moment he’d spent ransacking Sarah’s room while he waited for her father to find him. Reality was a gun at his temple, a punch to the gut, and his shoulder screaming with pain as his arms were jerked behind him and handcuffs snapped roughly around his wrists.

  Jay didn’t fight back, didn’t dare, knowing Sarah heard every sound they made. He feigned being high and hung over, hoping Grant would get him out of the house and into the cruiser as fast as possible, and Sarah would have a chance to escape. He played his part right, and Grant did just that, but the worst part of reality was leaving Sarah behind, knowing she was alone in the cold attic, wondering if she was going to be all right.

  Jay stumbled down the front steps as Sarah’s father swore at him and shoved him from behind.

  “You don’t want to tell me where she is,” he said. “Then I’ll take you to someone who’s a little more persuasive.”

  For the first time since they’d met in the hall, Jay resisted. What if that someone wasn’t the police? Before now he hadn’t considered that Grant wouldn’t arrest him. He shoved his shoulder into Grant, turning to face him. “Why do you think I came here?” he asked in a belligerent tone. “Yesterday some guy pulled a gun on us, and we got separated.”

  “You’re lying,” Grant said. But he sounded unsure.

  “I’m not.” Jay’s eyes were wild. “She’s out there somewhere, and some lunatic with a machine gun is after her.”

  A police car raced up the street, sirens blaring as it braked to a stop in front of the house. Kirk jumped out. Grant swore.

  Jay followed suit, continuing to act his part. “Another one. I hate cops.” He flinched when Kirk pointed his gun at him.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Jay said. “I’m just here looking for Sarah.”

  “Nice act, but I don’t buy it,” Grant said as he and Kirk faced each other, guns drawn, on either side of Jay. “I know Officer Anderson’s been helping you—and Sarah.” Neighbors were starting to come out to see what the sirens were for.

  “Let him go,” Kirk said.

  Looking trapped, Grant put his gun away and spoke to Kirk. “Arrest him and book him into jail. If you do anything else, that little vacation your wife and kids are taking in Worcester ends early.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Kirk asked, his tone belying the emotion Jay was certain he felt.

  “Not you, them,” Grant said under his breath as he pushed past Kirk to the sidewalk. “Just an intruder, folks,” he called to the small crowd gathered in the street. “My officer’s taking care of it.”

  Kirk grabbed Jay’s uninjured arm and hauled him toward the car. He opened the back door, and Jay climbed inside, watching out the window as Grant returned to the house—and Sarah.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Sarah peered through the slats of the attic window, watching until the car with Jay in it disappeared down the street. She hadn’t been able to hear the words exchanged outside, but seeing two guns pointed at Jay was enough that she understood what had just happened.

  The front door slammed, and she jumped, steadying herself on the crossbeams as the tears fell. She wrapped her jacket around her and shivered, more from worry than cold. Jay was going back to jail and, worse, Kirk was the one taking him. Had she been right to doubt Kirk’s loyalties? Judging by the scene she’d just witnessed, it appeared he might be working with her father after all.

  Clutching the flashlight in her hand, Sarah listened to the sounds coming from below. Her father was in the kitchen, making a considerable amount of noise, banging pots and pans and the occasional cupboard door. This lasted a few minutes, then all was silent until the front door crashed shut, rattling the house.

  Sarah leaned forward, peeking out the round window again. She watched as her dad got in his car and drove off. For a second, she was too relieved to move, then she sprang into action, scooting along the beams toward the hall access. One hand held the flashlight, guiding her so she didn’t step wrong and crash through the ceiling below. Her other hand held the manila envelope she’d found taped inside a cradle. She’d yet to open the envelope, but her name—written in her father’s handwriting—was scrawled across the front.

  Reaching the opening, Sarah slid the cover aside and looked down, half-expecting to see Jay there, his arms held out. She wished she could rewind time, wished with all her heart she’d listened and hurried when he suggested they go. A quiet sob escaped her throat, and she jumped to the floor, the gun in her pocket banging against her hip as she landed.

  Wiping her eyes, she grabbed the chair from her room and carried it to the hall so she could close the attic access. Once she’d covered her tracks, she took the flashlight and envelope and left through the kitchen, noting the mess her father had left behind. She guessed the earlier commotion had to do with the lack of food in the house and the necessity of grocery shopping. If so, that meant he’d be gone long enough for her to get out of the neighborhood before he returned. She was walking now—Jay had the key to Kirk’s car, and even if he hadn’t, she wouldn’t dare drive it for fear of being recognized.

  More than ever before, it was imperative she not be found. Jay needed her.

  * * *

  The ride to the station took less than ten minutes, but it was enough time for Jay to remember how much he hadn’t enjoyed being locked up the last time.

  He wanted to talk to Kirk, but as they pulled away from the curb, the look and slight shake of the head Kirk gave him in the rearview mirror kept Jay silent. For whatever reason, Kirk didn’t want him talking right now. But he would when they got out of the car, before they took him away for yet another mug shot and fingerprinting. He had to let Kirk know where Sarah was. He was her best chance at getting away safely.

  All too soon Kirk parked in front of the station and came around to let Jay out. When they were a few feet from the car, Kirk spoke.

  “We were being followed, and I think my car might be bugged. Where’s Sarah?”

  “In the attic at her dad’s,” Jay said. “We were searching for something to connect him or Carl with the drug activity at the park. We didn’t expect him home so soon.”

  Kirk shook his head and frowned. “That was stupid. How am I supposed to get her out of there now?” He turned to Jay. “You heard what her father said about Christa and the boys?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Night before last, our house was broken into, then when you and Sarah went missing yesterday, and Doyle didn’t call—”

  “You knew the chief was onto you,” Jay guessed. They started up the steps of the station.

  Kirk nodded. “Doyle’s murder made the news this morning.”

  “Did they find the guy on the roof?” Jay said. “The phony detective who tried
to kill us?”

  “Yeah. They didn’t give a name though. I don’t know how Chief Morgan—and whoever he’s working with—found out about your meeting. I’m sorry. I never would have sent you.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Jay said. “And we got away, didn’t we?”

  “I’ll have to hear all about it sometime.” They reached the door, and Kirk pulled it open. “You know I don’t want to do this. If there were any other way—”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Jay said. “Just get Sarah and keep her safe.”

  “I will,” Kirk said. “I’m worried about Christa and the boys too. The chief sounded like he knew where they were, and I don’t dare trust that he’s bluffing. I feel like we’re two animals circling each other right now, waiting for the other to make his move.”

  “You’re gutsy for sticking around,” Jay said. “But are you sure that’s wise?”

  “Not at all,” Kirk said. “But I haven’t gone to work. I’ve been following the chief, watching his house when he’s there.”

  Jay sensed Kirk’s frustration. “I know you want to figure this out, and believe me, I really want you to, but it’s not worth risking your family or Sarah. I’ll be okay here no matter how long it takes.” Jay lowered his voice as they approached the desk. “Take Christa and the boys and Sarah—and get out of town. Keep her safe for me.”

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  It had taken Sarah more than three hours to walk a circumspect route from her house in Summerfield to the home in Cambridge she and Jay had stayed at two nights before. As Kirk had instructed, they’d left their belongings there to be stored or brought to them later, once their federal protection had been arranged—or so Kirk had told them.

  Believing the couple who lived in the house was still on their honeymoon, and hoping Kirk wouldn’t think to look for her there, Sarah had the idea to stay at the house again. She and Jay had locked the key inside when they left, so she hoped to get in through the bedroom window with the newly-cut screen. But a car in the driveway and lights shining from the windows put an end to that plan, until she remembered the motor home parked beside the house. It wasn’t a great hiding place, but it would do.