I Know What You Bid Last Summer

by Sherry Harris

  I stopped once and listened at the tiny crack I’d created. Tried to look out. The gym was still blacker than the inside of a cave. Something banged, and I held my breath. Was it a door shutting? Was someone coming? Or going? The adrenaline that had gotten me this far seemed to flow out of my body like a hundred-year flood. It left me weak and a bit dizzy. I felt every painful blow that I’d been dealt. My hand throbbed. My back ached. I wanted to curl up in a corner and cry.

  Instead, I threw my body at the door, widening the crack to a couple of inches. I went through my listening and peering routine again. Nothing. I took a deep, shaky breath, braced my legs against the floor, and shoved. This time whatever was blocking the door moved enough that I could slip from the equipment room back into the gym. But did I want to?

  I squeezed out and raced toward the glowing exit sign nearest to me. It was my holy grail, my path to freedom. It seemed like it was a hundred miles away, even though it was only yards. My eyes had adjusted to the dark enough that I managed to leap over a pile of ski poles without slowing. Out the door and into the hallway.

  I focused on the doors to the outside as I ran by lockers and trophy cases. I hoped the pounding in my ears was only my heartbeat and not someone chasing me. I was too scared to look behind me. The bleach bottle slapped my hip. I slipped it off the loop and put my finger on the trigger. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

  The high school sat next to the library, which was perpendicular to the police station across the road. I kept that foremost in my mind as I banged through the doors and sucked in the warm, humid air. Focused on the police station, I didn’t see the man right in front of me until I smacked into him. I stumbled back a couple of steps and aimed the bleach bottle. The man closed the gap and smacked the bottle out of my injured hand. I screamed. Maybe by some miracle, someone at the station would hear me. The man grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me.

  “What the hell, Sarah?”

  I blinked my eyes. “Pellner?” It was Scott Pellner, a police officer with the Ellington PD. After a tiny second of hesitation, my knees went liquid. I threw my arms around Pellner to keep myself upright or just to have some human contact. The most I’d had with anyone since CJ left. Pellner was solid, a few inches taller than me, and a happily married man with five kids. I dropped my arms, embarrassed. He led me over to a bench and sat next to me.

  I stuttered out my story. Pellner talked into his shoulder mike and asked for an ambulance. Why? Then I realized he wanted the ambulance for me, and protested.

  “I’m fine. I just want to go home,” I said. Wailed. It was more of a wail than a statement. I tried to steady my voice, because if I went all hysterical female, he’d never let me go home.

  “Stay here. I’m going to check out the gym.”

  I watched his back as he slipped through the door. No moon shone down, but the stars twinkled in the heat. No way I was going to sit out here alone, even though I knew other officers would arrive in minutes. So I followed Pellner and stopped just inside the gym doorway, the lights now on, looking at the carnage. Most of the sports equipment I’d worked so hard to organize lay haphazardly across the floor.

  I gasped, and Pellner turned.

  “I should have known you wouldn’t stay put. What do you think went on in here?”

  “Someone couldn’t wait until eight-thirty for the start of the swap?”

  Pellner’s dimples deepened. On another man, they might have softened the hard angles of his face, but on Pellner, they only made him look menacing.

  “Not funny?” I asked him.

  “You being attacked isn’t funny.” He paused and looked around. “Can you tell if anything’s been taken?”

  I shrugged. Ouch. No shrugging. No moving at all would be even better. “It’s not like I inventoried everything. It’s a swap. People drop their old stuff off. Other people will come pick it up.” I glanced up at the clock by the electronic scoreboard. Midnight. “I have eight and a half hours to get this place back in order.”

  Pellner was already shaking his head. “Someone maybe. Not you. You’re going to the hospital.”

  Two more officers ran in. I recognized them but didn’t really know them. They were followed by two EMTs.

  “I’m fine.” Every part of me seemed to ache, but I had work to do. I took a better look at the tables against the wall where the silent auction was set up. Pellner caught my frown.

  “What?” he asked.

  I walked over to the other side of the gym. The cops and EMTs trailing behind. “Someone took a lot of the silent auction items.”

  “Must be what went on here tonight. No one expected you to be here and came to steal this stuff. Who knows about the swap?”

  “Almost everyone in the three surrounding counties. We’ve been advertising the heck out of this event.” I turned to Pellner. “How did you happen to be here?”

  “I saw your Suburban parked in the lot and thought I’d check on you.”

  There had been a time when I didn’t trust Pellner, but I did now. He didn’t look away under my scrutiny. “My car is in the side lot. You can’t see it from the station.”

  Pellner pursed his lips. “I always drive through the parking lots on my way back to the station to make sure no one’s lurking around the school. Do you have a problem with that?”

  I shook my head.

  “Okay, then. You are going with the EMTs to the hospital. You can do it the easy way and walk with them, or I can cuff you and chain you inside the ambulance.”

  I frowned at Pellner. “Since you put it that way, I’ll go with them. But what about the stuff that was stolen?”

  “You can give me a list of what was stolen later. Let’s make sure you’re okay first.”

  “Thankfully, I kept the four most valuable pieces in the Suburban.” I started to follow the two EMTs but turned back to Pellner. “As soon as I’m released, I’m coming back to get this place organized and ready to go for the eight-thirty opening.”

  Pellner ignored me, but I was fairly sure he muttered something about me being as stubborn as his fourteen-year-old.

  * * *

  I dragged myself back to the lobby of the hospital around two o’clock, with a clean bill of health. Not that I didn’t ache all over; the ibuprofen they gave me only helped so much. Nothing was broken but a bit of my spirit. I’d napped in between tests while I waited for results. Just as I realized I didn’t have a ride back to my car, my friend Laura Nicklas burst through the doors. Someone must have called her for me. I smiled as she glanced around worriedly.

  “Laura,” I called.

  She blinked when she spotted me.

  “How did you know?” we asked each other at the same time.

  “Know what?” I asked Laura. People always told her she looked like Halle Berry, but right now she just looked like worried.

  “That Brody is here,” she said.

  Brody was Laura’s oldest son, a high school junior. “I didn’t. What happened?”

  “He got a concussion playing baseball tonight.”

  “Oh no. What can I do?” I asked.

  “Help me find out where he is. Mark is parking the car.”

  Mark was Laura’s husband and was a colonel in the Air Force. I led Laura to the information window. Brody was still in the emergency room. We hustled over there. His high school coach and a couple of players were sprawled around the waiting room.

  His coach jumped up. “He’s fine. He was alert and talking. They’re doing some scans. I don’t know the results.”

  Laura nodded, but still looked panicked

  “Come on, guys,” the coach said to the players. “Time for us to clear out.”

  I followed them a few steps. “Excuse me. I just wondered how it happened.”

  The coach stifled a yawn. “Wild pitch. Nothing I haven’t seen before. Brody leaned in at the wrong moment.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

  I went back to Laura, and we found the bay Brody
was in. He was asleep. His dark lashes curled against his deep sandalwood skin.

  “Isn’t he supposed to stay awake?” Laura asked me.

  “I think that’s an old wives’ tale. Rest is supposed to be good.”

  Laura hurried over to Brody and kissed his cheek. He snored gently.

  I went to the nurses’ station, told them that Laura had arrived, and asked if they could give her an update on Brody’s condition. The nurse said she’d come down in a few minutes. When I went back to Brody’s bay, Laura sat holding his hand. They were supposed to be moving today out to Joint Base Lewis-McChord in Tacoma, Washington, where Mark would have a new command. We’d said our good-byes a couple of days ago.

  “We stayed so he could play this last tournament with the high school team. Some silly all-night thing. Now I wish we’d said no and left earlier in the week,” Laura said when she noticed I’d returned.

  “No one could have foreseen this. The nurse will be here in a minute. Is there anything I can get you?”

  “No. Thank you. I’m glad you were here.”

  Mark strode in.

  “I’m going to leave,” I said after greeting him.

  “Why are you here if you didn’t know about Brody?” Laura asked.

  It didn’t seem like the right time to share what had happened. “Just me being clumsy. I’m fine. I’ll go. Let me know how Brody’s doing.”

  Laura nodded distractedly.

  Chapter 3

  I woke with a jerk and straightened my stiff muscles as best I could in the front seat of my Suburban, still parked at the high school. I’d taken a taxi from the hospital to the high school. My plan had been to drive home for a couple of hours’ sleep. I remembered leaning my head back and thinking I’d close my eyes for just a couple of seconds. Or maybe I hadn’t wanted to face my empty apartment. I looked at the clock. That had been three hours ago. Dew had beaded on the top of the white hood of my car. The sun was rising and turned each dewdrop into a tiny prism, hundreds of rainbows to start my day. That must be a good sign.

  I popped the locks, slipped out onto the pavement of the high school parking lot, muttering, “Ow, ow, ow.” I circled my shoulders a couple of times before moving toward the gym. Every part of me seemed to ache, except for one spot on the back of my head.

  I pulled out the key as I walked over to the gym. The sun hit my back. I reveled in the heat and the promise of a hot summer day. My hand shook a little as I stuck the key in the lock. The idea of going back into the gym alone scared me more than I cared to acknowledge to my conscious self. But I had to straighten the room, and I hoped there was still enough equipment for a decent swap. I had three hours to get my week’s worth of work back in order.

  A car door slammed and then another. I spun around. My best friend, Carol Carson, stood by her SUV, with a box in her hands. Even from here I could smell her delicious homemade cinnamon buns. Stella Wild, my landlady and friend, walked toward me with a tray full of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee cups in her hands. Tears not only filled my eyes but also spilled over, and a few seconds later Niagara Falls had nothing on me.

  Both Carol and Stella gave me one-armed hugs and scolded me for not calling them.

  I finally got it together enough to speak. “What are you doing here?”

  They exchanged a look.

  “Pellner called me a little bit ago.” Stella bit her lip. “I probably should have thanked him for the call, but instead, I yelled at him for not calling me sooner.”

  “He called me, too,” Carol said.

  I finished unlocking the gym door to hide my amazement. I was ashamed, thinking about that brief moment of suspicion last night, when Pellner was outside the gym so conveniently. When we first met, I’d been convinced he was a bad cop. Since then things had changed. Now he’d called my friends for me, knowing I was alone, since CJ had left. I yanked the gym door open and stepped inside. A chill hit me when I looked over the mess. It had nothing to do with the air, which was warm and stale.

  Stella and Carol bustled in behind me.

  “Coffee and food first,” Carol said. “Then we start organizing.”

  I didn’t think I was hungry, until I bit into the soft, still warm, and oh-so-cinnamony roll. I devoured it, and as I licked a bit of icing off my finger, I looked up. Carol and Stella stared at me.

  I shrugged. “I didn’t realize I was that hungry.” I drank some coffee. The sugar and caffeine seemed to restore some of my determination. “Let’s get to work. Would you two mind working on the swap stuff while I inventory what’s missing from the silent auction?”

  “It’s fine with me,” Carol said.

  Stella nodded her agreement.

  First, I had to figure out what had been stolen and what it was worth for the police report I knew I’d eventually be making. I took out my phone and made a list in the notes section. Ten sports jerseys were gone that had been signed by athletes from different area teams. Framed team photos of each of the Boston pro teams, gone. Also missing were an official Patriots football helmet, several signed Bruins hockey sticks, tickets to a Celtics game, a Red Sox team pendant and baseball. Over twenty items were gone. Estimating the worth was difficult. I finally decided to go with what we used as the opening bid on each item, although we expected to make a lot more than that. So a low ball amount was around three thousand dollars. We could have easily doubled that.

  By the time I finished the inventory, Carol had straightened the ski poles. I pushed back the memories of them falling on me in the dark. Stella had the helmets in gleaming rows. I started on the lacrosse equipment, then moved on to the baseball bats, working methodically around the room. There was a little bit less of everything. It was hard to tell what had been taken, and for the life of me, I didn’t know why this had happened. As we worked, I realized that either Carol or Stella was near me at all times. It wasn’t necessary. I’d convinced myself I was okay. But I appreciated their efforts.

  By seven o’clock things were at least separated by type of equipment. It didn’t look as good as it would have with more time, but it was good enough. I inventoried the remaining silent auction items.

  “We are woefully short of silent auction items,” I told Carol and Stella.

  “Does it have to be sports-related stuff?” Carol asked.

  I thought it over. “I guess not.”

  “Then I’ll donate a group painting lesson,” Carol said. “I’ll even throw in the wine and refreshments.” Carol owned a store called Paint and Wine, just down the street from DiNapoli’s. She taught people how to paint. I’d been to several of her group parties, and they were a lot of fun.

  “I can donate some private voice lessons.” Stella taught voice at Berklee College of Music in Boston and gave private lessons, too. She’d traveled the world as an opera singer when she was younger, before some drug-related issues ended her career.

  “Thank you,” I said. “For being here, for donating.”

  “I’ll make some calls to get other people to make donations, too.” Stella had lived in Ellington for most of her life and knew a lot of people.

  “Me too,” Carol said.

  “I’ll send a note out to the booster club and the PTA,” I said. Tears threatened again. Stella and Carol eyed me.

  “Do you want to run home and take a shower?” Stella asked.

  “Do I need to?” I asked.

  Carol and Stella glanced at each other.

  “If you’re going for a messy, ‘I slept in my car’ look, you don’t need to,” Carol said.

  I laughed. “Okay. I’m going.”

  “We’ll stay here and keep organizing while you’re gone,” Stella said.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later I limped up the stairs to my apartment. I lived in an old Colonial house that Stella had converted into four apartments. Stella and another couple lived on the first floor. The couple were rarely around and seemed to use their apartment only to park a few things between travels.

  Ryne O’Rou
rke opened his door as I hit the top landing. I jumped a little, still not used to his presence. He’d moved in about six weeks ago to help at his ailing uncle’s antique store in Concord. He looked me over with his green eyes. A chunk of his wavy jet-black hair fell across his forehead. He had a cleft chin, the kind most women went nuts over.

  “Rough night?” he asked.

  I felt a hint of steam rising through my body. My typical irate reaction to this guy since I’d first met him at an estate sale. Let him, and his cleft chin, think what he wants about me. I tossed my head and smiled. “Very.”

  I slipped into my apartment and headed straight to the bathroom to see how bad it was. My blond hair looked like it had been styled by a tornado. There was a smudge of dirt on my cheek, and my blue eyes looked dull. My clothes were a wrinkly mess, so I stripped them off, stuffed them in the hamper, and jumped in the shower.

  The hot water eased the aches and pains. I thought about Ryne and felt humiliated. He’d moved in right as CJ and I were falling completely apart. I was sure he’d heard more than one argument through the thin walls. He’d probably heard me cry myself to sleep more than once, too, since our bedroom walls adjoined. But I let the water wash away thoughts of him. I didn’t have time to stay in the shower for more than a few minutes.

  * * *

  I made it back to the school a little after seven-thirty. It was amazing what clean hair and clothes did for a person. Fortunately, other than my bruised hand, my bruises were hidden under the knee-length sundress I’d put on. No one would guess what had happened to me. I juggled the four most important auction items, grateful I’d left them in my car, so they hadn’t been stolen last night. A jersey signed by Tom Brady, a basketball signed by former Boston Celtic Kevin Garnett, and a hockey stick signed by the great Bruins player Bobby Orr. Stella’s aunt Gennie “the Jawbreaker” Elder, a retired martial arts expert, had great connections within the sports world. She’d managed to get all of this for the auction. Plus, she’d donated one of her own tank tops from her illustrious career as a cage fighter.