Silence prevailed for a few moments until Mr. Jenkins announced, “I’m so sorry for your loss, Ms. McKenzie. You can pick up the package if you bring me a copy of the death certificate or the obituary.”
“Mr. Jenkins?” Her voice was whisper soft. “When did you last see my dad?”
“Tuesday. He stopped by in the afternoon to make some adjustments to his order.”
“Thank you. If you give me your address, I’ll come by to pick up the package soon.” Angela wrapped up the conversation efficiently. He stopped by the jeweler the day he died? That doesn’t make sense. If something was wrong, why would he go to the jeweler?
A tap on the doorframe interrupted her thoughts. Startled, she looked up and met Derrick’s intimidating glare. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his tone sending shivers up her spine.
“I just wanted to take a look around Daddy’s office. We spent so much time together here that I feel closer to him here.” She rambled, her words practically tripping over one another. “I was hoping you could tell me what Dad was working on the day he died.”
“Nothing important, Angie.”
“What exactly?” she pressed, squeezing her hands together under the desk.
“Sweetheart, I understand that you’re trying to make sense of your dad’s death, but, truthfully, no one can tell you why he had a heart attack.” Derrick walked toward her, his hands extended, and she fought to remain still as he approached. Her heart raced, and her stomach clenched with each step he took toward her.
“I’m not sure it was a heart attack. It doesn’t make sense, Derrick,” she confided, keeping her eyes on his.
“Angela, he had a heart attack. I understand that this is hard for you, but you need to accept his death and move on with your life. Maybe talking to Pastor Morris would help.” Derrick leaned his hands on the opposite side of the massive desk. When she remained silent, he changed the subject. “When are you heading back to Washington?”
“I’m not sure. I took a leave of absence from work.” Angela picked her head up and met his gaze squarely.
“Why? Mac would want you to continue with your life, Angela. There’s no need for you to stay here. In fact, you should think about selling the house.” Derrick nodded sharply, his gaze pensive. “Yes, that’s probably a good idea. You live in DC after all. Why would you need a house here?”
Angela’s chin dropped. “And the business?” she probed, well aware that she inherited half of Investigations, Inc. upon her father’s death.
“I’ll take care of it. It hasn’t been real profitable for the past few years, but I’ll send you your share of whatever I clear at the end of the year.” Derrick smiled patronizingly at her, and her eyes narrowed. Does he really think I’m that dumb? The business hasn’t been doing well? Then how could Dad afford to take the two of us to Hawaii last year? We stayed at a five star resort. Besides, Dad would have told me if he were having financial problems.
Angela shook her head so hard one her brunette curls whacked her in the eye. “We can talk about this another time, Derrick,” she announced biting back the words she really wanted to say. “I’m sorry, but I have an appointment.” Pushing back from the desk, she rose and walked toward the door. Derrick moved into her path and blocked the exit.
As she brushed past him, he murmured, “You should be careful, Angela. You wouldn’t want to stir up trouble you can’t handle.” His words shook her more than she wanted to admit as she walked out of the building.
Chapter 4
Angela walked into a small but inviting shop decorated in rich colors. A display of sapphires welcomed her as she strode to the glass counter.
“May I help you, Miss?” A tall redhead smiled at her, keys to the cases dangling from an elastic band on her wrist.
“Yes, I’d like to speak to Mr. Jenkins,” Angela replied as she looked around the store.
“Well,” the salesperson hesitated, clearly unaccustomed to the request, “I can see if he’s available, Ms....” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.
“Would you tell him Angela McKenzie is here?” Angela fought to keep her voice even despite the waves of grief washing over her. She gripped the edge of the counter, her knuckles white.
While the saleswoman ambled to a door marked employees only, Angela took a deep breath, and tried to gain control of her emotions before turning her attention to the nearby cases, where stunning rings, pendants and earrings rested on bold, black satin. For such a small store, J & J Jewelry displayed some of the most exquisite pieces she’d ever seen. Fingering the cross she’d received on her confirmation, she perused the cases, wondering what her father had ordered.
“Ms. McKenzie?” A distinguished older gentleman in a charcoal colored suit interrupted her musings, extending his hand. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” She shook his hand. “Did you know my father well?”
“I’m afraid not.” He set a small white box between them on the top of the glass display case. “He’s purchased items here periodically over the years for family, friends and business associates.” His eyes twinkled. “I designed each gift he purchased for you, including the cross you are wearing. Each one contains a secret.” Angel fingered the necklace Mac had given her on her sixteenth’s birthday. “May I?” He leaned closer and cupped the cross in his hand. “Have you ever looked at the filigree along the edge of the cross?”
“What? No, why?”
Reaching over the counter, the jeweler unclasped her necklace before handing her the pendant and a magnifying glass. “Take a look.”
“Angel! That’s what Dad called me. He said I was his angel, a gift from Heaven.” She ran a fingertip along the edge of the cross. “How in the world did you build my nickname into the filigree? I can’t believe I never noticed it.” Angela slipped the necklace back on and Mr. Jenkins stepped behind her to hook it.
“It was a painstaking process, but your father always knew exactly what he wanted. Filigree like that is a lost art. Luckily for me, my grandfather was a jeweler who specialized in it. I learned at his knee, and each time I create a new piece with filigree, I think of him. It’s a good way of keeping his memory alive. I didn’t know your father well, but I do know how important you were to him. Every time he purchased a gift for you, he shared a story about you.” Mr. Jenkins patted Angela’s hand. “He loved you very much.”
“Thank you,” Angela breathed. She blinked back the tears that had welled up at his words. “Did you talk to him that last day when he dropped by?”
“Yes, but only briefly. He was in a big hurry. I was surprised when he placed the additional order.” He lifted his palms. “I warned him the engraving would not be finished in time for your birthday, but he said it didn’t matter.”
Angela nodded, lost in thought. While she mulled things over, Mr. Jenkins waited, toying with the package on the counter. “Did you bring the paperwork and your identification?” he prodded, after a few moments of silence.
“Oh, yes.” Angela showed him the requested documents, and he handed over the small white box with J & J etched on it in gold. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Jenkins.”
“You’re welcome, Ms. McKenzie. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to call or drop by.”
Clutching the prized box in her hand, Angela stepped off the sidewalk. A car whizzed by, brushing against her and knocking her down. She screamed as pain wracked her body. She lay on the edge of the asphalt, frozen, when a man raced over to her.
“Are you all right, Miss?” The man crouched down next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. His dark sunglasses slipped down revealing a pair of concerned sea green eyes.
“Just bruised, I think.” She tried to sit up but the pain took her breath away.
“Easy. Can you breathe? Is anything broken?” The man ran a clinical hand over her arms and legs, checking for broken bones. “May I check your ribs?”
Angela nodded.
“
I’m no expert, but I don’t think anything’s broken. I could call an ambulance if you’d like.”
Angela shook her head. “But if you could help me?” She tried to sit up but fell back on her elbow. The man slid an arm behind her back and lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the sidewalk, away from the cars and curious pedestrians. Angela winced as she tried to take a deep breath. A stabbing pain shot through her chest, and she pressed a hand against her rib cage. “Did you happen to catch the make or model of the car by any chance?” Her heart pounded so loudly she could hear the echo in her ears.
Trembling but trying to stay calm, Angela repeated her question when he didn’t answer. “Did you see the car that hit me?”
“I saw it tap you but couldn’t describe it. Some kind of sedan I think, but that hardly helps.” He shrugged off the incident. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. You can put me down.” She winced as he set her on her feet, keeping a firm grip on her shoulders. She trembled and he pulled her closer, holding her against his strong, warm body until she stopped shaking.
“Thank you.” Angela gestured toward her car. “I’m okay now.”
The man continued to hold her for a moment before he nodded and helped her to the Mercedes parked on the street. Once they reached the car, he used her keys to unlock the door and helped her slide inside. “Is there someone I can call for you? Maybe you shouldn’t be driving.”
“I’m fine.” Angela fought the whimper that threatened to escape. She hurt but she didn’t need to bother the handsome stranger any longer.
“You should probably see a doctor,” he recommended, removing the seatbelt from her hand and securing it in place.
Shaking her head no, she assured him she was fine. “Thank you for your help.” She smiled faintly before he closed the door.
Angela winced as she reached across the car and secured the small white box in the glove compartment. Settling back into the seat as comfortably as she could, she drove carefully toward Manchester and Doctor Bernard’s clinic. At least a trip to Doc’s will kill two birds with one stone. Doc can share what he knows about Dad’s health and Dr. Richards. Then he can take a look at my ribs.
About forty minutes later, Angela exited the highway and headed directly for the center of town. Turning left onto Main Street, she eased the car into a small spot in front of Doc’s clinic, almost tapping the bumper of the car behind her. A little girl with a tear stained face walked out the office, clutching a red lollipop in her fist. The cow bell on the door announced Angela’s entrance as she swung the door open and stepped inside the dimly lit waiting room.
“Angela!” Marcia Birch, Doc’s nurse, peeked around the corner, a look of surprise on her face.
“Hey, Marcia,” Angela replied. “Can you squeeze me in? I got hit by a car earlier, and my ribs are killing me.”
“Hit by a car? How hard? Where else do you hurt?” Marcia kicked into nurse mode immediately. “Let’s get you into a room.” She nudged Angela down the hall.
“But?” Angela questioned, gesturing toward the packed waiting room.
“Some kind of virus,” Marcia shrugged. “You know the drill. Doc sees his patients based on severity of injury. At the moment, you’re the most critical.” Opening the door to Exam Room 4, Marcia gestured for Angela to sit on the table before leaving to find Doc.
“What the hell happened to you, little girl?” Doc stomped into the room, his weather-beaten boots echoing on the title floor. Doc Bernard had cared for the residents of Manchester-by-the-Sea for as long as she could remember. A wrinkled old man with a gruff bedside manner, he was one of the kindest people Angela knew.
“Doc.” She stood gingerly and stepped into his open arms. Doc rested his chin on her head, holding her as she leaned against him.
“Let me check those ribs of yours. Marcia said a car hit you?”
Angela stepped back toward the exam room table. “More like it grazed me and pushed me into my own car. I think the passenger side mirror actually clipped me. Idiot driver!”
Doc grunted as he helped her onto the paper covered surface and lifted her shirt. “How are you holding up?”
“Okay, I guess.”
Doc’s keen eyes took in the bruises developing on her ribs and his cold hands touched her chest. She yelped when his fingers pressed on the third rib.
“X-rays, young lady. No arguments.” He shook his finger at her and she sighed, knowing Doc was referring to all the times she had tried to argue her way out of shots as a child. The townspeople still told the story of her first appointment with Doc. He had asked which arm she wanted her shots in. Her reply: yours.
A short time later, after diagnosing her with bruised ribs, Doc spun to face her on his rolling stool. “Tell me the truth, Angie. How are you really doing?”
Despite the lump in her throat, she met his concerned gaze, before shrugging. “Not so hot, but I’m trying, Doc.” She looked down at her clasped hands and swallowed hard. “I have some questions about Dad’s health.”
Doc nodded. “I’m not surprised. As far as I know, Mac had no health problems, and no, he never told me he was changing doctors.”
“How did you know what I was going to ask?”
Doc smirked. “The advantage of living in a small town. Everybody knows everybody else’s business.”
“What do you know about Dr. Richards?” Angela fidgeted on the exam table, the ache in her ribs intensifying.
“Lie back, little girl,” Doc advised, standing and easing her onto her back before positioning a small pillow under her head. “Bruised ribs cause a lot of pain. You’ll need to take it easy for a while.”
“Dr. Richards?” she persisted, rolling tentatively onto her side so she could watch Doc’s face.
“I don’t know him personally. He’s a G.P. in Boston, not a heart specialist.” Doc busied himself putting away some supplies and then washing his hands, clearly unhappy with the conversation. “Mac and I were friends, Angela. I’ve taken care of you and him ever since you moved to town. I don’t understand why he didn’t come see me. His work had been taking him to Boston quite a bit but still, I would’ve expected him to talk to me.” Doc sighed and wiped the area around the sink. “We played poker last week, and he never mentioned a thing. In fact, I teased him about needing a physical, and he promised he would make an appointment soon.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Why would he agree to see you if he was already seeing Dr. Richards?”
“I don’t know. All I can tell you is he had no sign of a heart condition when I gave him his physical last year.” Doc wandered back to the exam table and patted her arm. He gave her a sad smile and brushed a wayward curl off her forehead. Angela could tell Doc was bothered by the idea that Mac had changed doctors.
“So, he couldn’t have died from a heart attack like Dr. Richards claimed!”
“That’s not true.” Doc’s face softened.
“But,” she started, but he interrupted.
“Even healthy adults can die from heart attacks. Sometimes, there’s simply no warning. Mac lived a high stress life as a security consultant. I’m pretty sure the project he was working on was intense.”
“What project?” Angela tried to push herself up onto her side and groaned at the pain that lanced through her rib cage. She fought through the pain, not wanting to appear weak. “Derrick said he wasn’t working on anything important.”
Doc raised an eyebrow at that. “Your dad didn’t talk about his work much, but I got the feeling that the project in Boston was quite important.” Doc paused for a moment and rubbed his balding head, clearly thinking. “Did Mac ever tell you about his time in the army?”
Angela wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Not really. I mean, I know he was in the army. Some sort of special forces unit, I think.”
“Your father was the kind of soldier every man wants to be.” Doc paused. His eyes lightened at Angela’s bewildered look. “I’m serious, Angie. Mac was a real hero.
He earned a medal of honor.”
Angela closed her eyes for a moment. She had so many regrets. She had never bothered to talk to her father about so many things, assuming they had lots of time. Now that he was gone, she would never get the chance to know him. Yes, she knew him as her father, but he was so much more and she would have enjoyed getting to know the other sides of him.
“Why didn’t he ever tell me?” She cringed as soon as she spoke, hating that she sounded like a needy little girl.
“He didn’t want you to worry, Angie. He avoided the high risk stuff after your mom died, but after you moved away, I think he started doing contract work for the government again.” He leaned against the wall and pursed his lips, thinking. “Perhaps the Boston project wasn’t part of his normal work with Derrick?”
Angel on Fire Page 3
