"Time. That's all I've got left."
"Time is a gift, honey. Use it wisely. Do something for Sam, something to remember him."
But Sadie wasn't listening. Another voice spoke to her, and it was far more compelling.
"Mommy, where are you? I can't find you."
As soon as her parents went to bed, she armed herself with another bottle of Philip's Cabernet and barricaded herself in the bedroom. Within an hour, she had polished off the entire bottle and had staggered downstairs to dispose of the evidence.
Back in her room, she passed out in the chair.
The next morning, she walked unsteadily into the kitchen. Disheveled, reeking of stale wine and suffering from the most god-awful hangover she'd ever had, she almost didn't see her parents seated at the kitchen table. They were waiting for her, and the look of disapproval on her mother's face told her that something was up.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
Her mother frowned. "You look terrible."
"Gee, thanks, Mom."
An empty wine bottle was dangled in front of her nose.
"I found this," her father said. "In the garbage can out back."
"What on earth are you doing, Sadie?" her mother asked.
Sadie massaged her pounding head, then moved to the window and crossed her arms. "I'm forgetting."
What else could she say? They didn't understand.
"You need help," her mother said firmly. "Counseling, AA, whatever you need, do it. We'll stay with you for a while. Until you're better."
"I don't need a babysitter, Mom."
"No, but you do need help." Her mother moved toward her, hands outstretched, pleading. "Let us help you. You've been down this path before, Sadie. It doesn't lead anywhere good. You know that."
"Don't tell me what I know! I know my son is dead! I know it's my fault. I know that drinking makes me numb. And I like that."
"You're saying that because you're grieving," her mother cried. "We're all grieving. You lost your son. We lost our grandson. We don't want to lose you too."
"Just go home, Mom. I'll be—"
"We're not leaving," her father interrupted. "Not until you agree to see a psychologist and go to AA."
Sadie clenched her teeth. "You're giving me an ultimatum, Dad? I'm not a child. I'm an adult and I can make my own decisions. Right or wrong, I have to do this my way. If that means I drink to forget, then I drink. Right now I just want to be left alone."
She flinched at the hurt she saw in her mother's eyes.
"Give me some space, Mom. I'll call you if I need you."
"You promise?" Her mother was weeping.
"Go back to the States. There's nothing more you can do."
Her parents left the next morning, depressed and defeated.
Sadie spent the day wading through paperwork. Then she called the realtor that Philip had found.
"Any news on the house?"
"We've got a buyer," the man said. "The deal's been finalized and the money'll be in the bank by tomorrow. How much time do you need?"
"I'll be out of here in a few days."
Jay called later that day.
"That bastard has us by the balls," he vented. "The balloon, the note, the bombs—they're all dead ends. But we're still hoping something will come up."
Sensing his frustration, Sadie thanked him and hung up. She'd watched enough Missing and Without a Trace to know that with each passing day there was less possibility that The Fog would ever be caught.
The following day, she stood in front of Sam's door. Holding her breath, she opened it and a rush of emotion bombarded her. This was the last place she had seen Sam alive, where she had watched a murderer take him away. She should have fought harder. Done something more. Remorse ate at her, broiling in her stomach and threatening to spew forth.
She shifted in a slow circle, taking in Sam's fuzzy slippers, the autographed baseball bat, his clothes…the empty bed. She sat down on it. Then she lay back and stared up at the same ceiling her son had looked at for six years. With her finger, she drew an invisible infinity symbol in the air. Again and again.
"I miss you, Sam."
She turned on her side, gripped his favorite blanket and cried until she was drained of everything, until an idea that had been brewing since the day Sam had died became the only thing she could focus on. She couldn't—wouldn't—live without Sam, and there was only one way to be with him.
With a heavy heart, she began the daunting task of packing away his room. Every object seemed to be haunted by another memory, each one cutting her heart even deeper than the last. It took hours of battling emotions, memories and tears before she was done.
Then she wandered through the house. The house they had brought Sam home to when things had been happy. Memories of him were everywhere. Like ghostly dust bunnies, they haunted every nook and cranny. She wanted to ignore them, but she couldn't. His first steps, his first tumble down the stairs, his first birthday party.
His last.
"Everything's different now," she whispered.
Sam was gone. Philip was gone. Her life as she knew it was gone. Everything had dissolved around her.
Anger bubbled rebelliously to the surface, like a tablet of antacid in water. Plop, plop. Fizz, fizz…
But there was no relief in sight. Except in one thing.
Don't do it, Sadie!
But she couldn't resist fate.
16
She grabbed another bottle of Screaming Eagle Cabernet from Philip's secret stash. That left three in the drawer. She considered taking them too, but then changed her mind.
"I'll save you for something special."
Upstairs in the bedroom, she miserably flopped in the chair by the window and cranked up the antique radio on the windowsill. She needed something heavy, something to give her momentum, so she turned the dial until she heard the pounding bass of a rap song pumping out a rhythmic beat. A deep voice boomed scarcely recognizable lyrics about a woman walking out on her man.
"I axed you why…" the rapper sang.
Sadie held the bottle in the air. "To a life well axed."
She'd grown accustomed to drinking straight from the bottle and she tipped it back, taking a long swig. The wine's initial bitter flavor didn't shock her anymore and she savored its warmth as it trailed down her throat. Each mouthful enveloped her in mind-numbing calmness.
"What now?" she murmured.
In a burst of sudden clarity, she made two decisions.
First, she took a pair of scissors into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. Between gulps of wine, she chopped off her long black locks to just below her ears. She felt no regret as she watched the strands waft to the floor. When she was done, there was more hair on the floor than on her head.
She stared at her hollow, shadowed eyes. "I'm nothing. Just an empty shell."
After sweeping up the hair and depositing it into the garbage can, she wandered back to the bedroom to prepare for her second decision. Setting the bottle on the nightstand, she pulled two suitcases out of the closet and tossed them on the bed.
"There's one thing left to do," she slurred. "But you can't do it here." She paused, her hand hovering near the zipper of a suitcase. "Well, you could, but it might not go over well with the new homeowners." She giggled drunkenly.
There was an unexpected knock on the door.
Sadie slipped the half-empty wine bottle in the recycle bin just seconds before Leah poked her head inside.
"Can I come—? Sadie! What did you do to your hair?"
"I cut it."
"Yeah, I can see that," Leah replied, moving into the room.
Sadie's patience was wearing thin. "I didn't hear the doorbell."
"I rang it a few times, but when you didn't answer, I got worried. I let myself in through the garage." Leah spied the suitcases on the bed. "What the hell are you doing?"
"What's it look like? I'm leaving."
"But you can't just leave."
/> "Watch me."
"What about Philip? And the trial?"
Sadie tossed three pair of jeans into one of the cases. "There's nothing for me here anymore. I need to get away."
An uncomfortable silence permeated the room.
Leah sat down on the bed. When she finally spoke, her voice emitted quiet acceptance. "So where will you go?"
"Anywhere but here."
She placed Sam's photograph and a heavy photo album on top of her clothes. Then she zipped the suitcase shut. In the second suitcase, she packed away the plastic container that held all the newspaper clippings. Lastly, she tucked in the portfolio case.
"Are you going to finish Sam's book?" Leah asked.
"It'll be the last thing I do for him."
"Maybe it is a good idea. Take some time, get away for a bit."
Sadie nodded. "You've been a great friend, Leah. A better one than me."
"No, that's what friends are for. I'm here for you. I'll watch your house while you're gone, until you get back."
Sadie shook her head. "It's been sold."
Leah's brow arched in shock. "What? I didn't know you were selling." There was an accusatory edge to her voice.
"Look, I can't explain this. Things are different now. Now that Sam's…gone."
"Yeah, but running away won't solve anything. Jesus, Sadie! What's happening to you?"
In her anger, Leah backed into the recycle bin. When she looked down and spotted the wine bottle, she shook her head in disappointment. "Sadie, this isn't what you want—"
"Don't lecture me! I'm tired of everyone telling me how to act, what to do, how to feel. My son was taken from me, blown up right in front of my eyes. And it's my fault. So if I need to get away, that's what I'll do. If I need to drink, I'll drink. You don't understand, Leah. You never will."
Leah blinked tearfully. "You're right. I don't understand. Because you won't talk to me. You've closed me off, shut me out. And now you're drinking again? Sam wouldn't want this, my friend."
Sadie clenched her jaw. "Don't tell me what my son would want." Then she added, "Make sure you lock the front door on your way out."
Leah left without a word.
After she was gone, Sadie experienced a flash of regret.
Leah doesn't deserve this.
Part of her wanted to apologize, beg forgiveness. But that would just make things worse in the end. Leah was never going to forgive her for what she was about to do.
She strode across the room to the closet, grabbed a couple of sweaters and added them to the suitcase. She had no idea where she was going, but she wanted to be prepared. In the ensuite bathroom, she rifled through the bottles in the medicine cabinet. She hit pay dirt. Three bottles of prescription muscle relaxants and sleep aids. At least a hundred pills.
She went downstairs, making a beeline for Philip's office. The door was closed and she hesitated in front of it. There were two more things she needed. Both were on the other side of the door.
She stepped inside. Shutting the door behind her, she disregarded the mess and headed for the filing cabinet where she grabbed the last three bottles of Cabernet. She wrapped them in one of Philip's t-shirts and stuffed them into a small duffel bag that Philip used when he went golfing.
She hurried to the closet.
The cedar box was still there.
"Ok, Sadie. Now what?"
She reached for the box. It was heavier than she expected, and her hands shook as she lifted the lid. They shook even more when she touched the frigid metal of the gun. She picked up the magazine and studied it. It held a single bullet.
"I hope to God you know what you're doing."
She stuffed the gun back into the box, placed it in the bag, then searched the closet shelf for more bullets. She came up empty. She looked in Philip's desk, in the filing cabinet, in an old briefcase. Still nothing.
"Well, it's not as if you need target practice," she muttered. "How hard can it be? Point and shoot."
She grabbed the duffel bag and made for the door.
The knob turned before she touched it.
Damn!
The door opened.
"Sadie!" Leah exclaimed. "I, uh…"
"What are you doing here? I thought you went home."
Leah's eyes flitted across the room. "I was going to, but…then I remembered I left a book here."
Sadie frowned. "In Philip's office?"
"Well, I thought maybe someone moved it in here. It's not in the kitchen. Or the living room."
"What's it called? I'll help you look for it."
"Uh, don't worry about it. Actually, I think I left it in my car."
Sadie watched her friend, puzzled by her odd behavior.
Why was Leah here, in Philip's office?
The answer washed over her with tsunami force, subsiding silently, then lashing back with a vengeance.
Damn them both!
Philip must have told Leah about his hidden stash of Cabernet. And since she'd already seen a bottle in Sadie's bedroom, she'd come back to dispose of the others.
Leah said something in a low voice.
"Pardon?"
"I don't know what to say anymore," Leah said. "Or do."
"No worries."
"But I don't want things to be like this between us. Just tell me what I can do to help and I'll do it."
"There's nothing you can do." Sadie turned to leave, but Leah's arm shot out.
"Sadie, I…"
"What?"
The air dripped with tension.
"Nothing," Leah said finally. "Forget it."
As Sadie edged past her, the duffel bag bumped Leah's legs.
"What's in the bag?" her friend asked.
"Legal documents. Sorry, but I'm not in the mood to chat. I'm going to lie down for a bit. I'll see you to the door first."
"Fine," Leah said with an audible sigh. "Let me know if you need anything."
Sadie eyed the bag. "I've got everything I need."
Just after six that evening, Philip called from prison.
"The house is sold," she told him. "I said we'd be out by the end of the month."
"No problem. I'll call a moving company. Everything's going into storage, including the furniture, right?"
Not everything.
She flicked a nervous look at the duffel bag. It sat on the table near the door. Ready, waiting.
"Yeah, put everything in storage," she agreed.
"What about your things, Sadie?"
"I, uh, haven't thought about where—"
"Just put it with my stuff. I don't mind. That way you'll have access to everything, in case either of us needs something."
"Are you sure?"
"Hey, it's not as if I'll be needing it any time soon."
Philip was right about that. He'd cut a deal and rolled over on his partner Morris, who had masterminded the embezzlement scam. With Philip's cooperation and a plea of guilty, there was no need for a trial. His sentence had been reduced from twenty to ten years.
"So you're going to stay with Leah for a few days?" he asked.
She lied. "Maybe a week or two."
There was a long pause and when he finally spoke, his voice drooped. "Sadie?"
"Yeah?"
"Will you come visit me tomorrow?"
For a second, she considered his request. "No. I need some time…away. From you, from this house, from everything."
"Fine." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Sadie. For everything."
"Me too."
"It's just that I got caught up with the wrong people. I know it changed me—changed us. Maybe with time we can be friends."
"Look, Philip. I'm exhausted. I need to go to bed."
"Where will you go after Leah's?"
Nowhere, Philip. I'm going nowhere.
When she didn't answer, he sighed. "Take care, okay?"
She eyed the duffle bag. "Yeah."
Two days later, everything was set in place. She had managed to pack up their personal items
on her own. Leah had offered, but Sadie declined. She didn't want any witnesses to her crumbling life.
That morning, a moving truck pulled into the driveway. On both sides were the words, Two Small Men with Big Hearts. She had seen the trucks around town, and the name had always made her smile.
But not this time.
She showed the movers into the house, thankful that they'd pack up everything else. Exhausted, she flopped on the sofa.
"Let me know when you want me to move," she said, stifling a yawn. "Mind if I turn the radio on?"
The younger of the two men grinned. "Not at all."
She reached for the remote on the coffee table, turned on the stereo and searched for her favorite station, one she never got to listen to when Philip was around.
"Ah, 91.7 The Bounce," the older man said.
"Unless you want me to change it to country."
"No!" both men said in horror.
A smile flashed on her lips. Until she realized what she was doing. Berating herself for taking any pleasure in life, she watched as they packed away her entire existence.
And Sam's.
The two men wrapped, boxed and covered all the symbolic items of her life—the dishes she'd received as a wedding gift, the new microwave Philip had bought her for Christmas, the crystal rose vase her mother had given her when Sadie had completed her first year of sobriety.
"It's all going in storage?" the older man asked curiously.
She nodded.
Within a few hours, the movers were gone, along with a truckload of furniture and boxes. On the floor near the door, the suitcases and the duffle bag with the wine and gun box claimed their last stand in a vacant house that was once filled with joy, but now echoed tragedy.
It took her two trips to drag everything out to the garage. She started automatically toward the Mazda—until a silver gleam caught her eye.
Philip's Mercedes.
"This is my car, Sadie," he had insisted the day he'd bought it. "I'm the only one who drives it. Understand?"
She moved closer to the car.
Did she dare?
"Well, Philip's not going to use it," she muttered.
She popped the trunk of the Mercedes and pushed aside a plastic bin filled with files and letters. She wedged the two suitcases beside the bin and dropped the duffel bag on the passenger seat. Then she climbed into the car and flicked a look at the bag beside her. The shape of the gun box was visible. Giving in to a sudden urge, she unzipped the bag, just to be sure that the gun was still inside the box.
Children of the Fog Page 12
