Nick opened his eyes, grabbed his glasses and put them on. He looked at Sam, unsure what to say. She waited for him to speak.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said finally and Sam could sense the frustration, the uncertainty in his voice. It mirrored her own.
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do, but what they told us,” Sam offered. “We need to sit tight and wait until we hear from them again.”
Nick snorted. “While Wilson rots wherever he is.”
“It’s our only option right now, Nick.”
“I am not sure I like that option,” he said and shook his head.
“It’s the only one we have at the moment,” Sam said again.
“Did you try responding to the e-mail?”
Sam nodded. “I wrote that I had received it and would wait to hear from them, and that we would do whatever they asked us.” She looked down to her hands, folded and resting in her lap. “It came back as undeliverable.”
“Looks like they have us over a barrel,” Nick said.
“Only for the moment,” Sam shot back quickly.
Nick shook his head, staring at Sam in belief. “Shit, for all we know, they probably took Wilson to Mexico and we’ll never see him again.”
“Nick, he’s somewhere here in Denver,” Sam said.
“What makes you so certain?”
“Because they let me go. And I’m afraid to think what that means. So, we have to find Wilson first.”
“How? The warehouse was a dead end. The meth house is still being watched by police,” Nick said and the edge in his voice this time was hard, scratchy like sandpaper. “Besides, you don’t remember a damn thing, just that three guys rushed you and Wilson in the parking lot. And you didn’t get a good look at them, either. That’s really going to get us somewhere, Sam.”
Sam opened her mouth, but said nothing, thinking better of the idea. She got to her feet and headed for the door. She put her hand on the knob and was about to open it when she stopped, turned around and looked at Nick. When she spoke, there was a sense of finality in her voice.
“We will find him,” she said, and pulled the door open and left the office, fuming as she headed back to her desk.
“Bastard,” she thought.
Every other nasty thing that came to mind about Nick Weeks she said under her breath. She sat down hard in her chair and stared at her desk calendar. At first nothing registered, but then slowly the squares showing the days of February came into view. The boxes were filled with the date and day of the week and were large enough to pencil in appointments. Sam had written Wilson’s name in the day he was leaving for Mexico and had drawn an arrow through the next twelve days. Below his name she had written…
“Off to sandy beaches.”
She laughed quietly and said, “Sandy beaches alright.”
Sam glanced at her watch. It was after noon. She didn’t feel the least bit hungry, but grabbed her purse and the keys to Wilson’s Honda and left the office. She needed to clear her thoughts. She stepped from the building into a bright winter sun in a brilliant blue sky. Though winter was in full command of the season, the day was warm and calm. She walked toward the car feeling the sun shining warmly on her face. Before she got into the car, Sam closed her eyes and turned her face toward the sun. The warmth of the winter day had improved her spirits almost immediately. She guessed that the temperature was near sixty. Summer-like days in winter were her favorite. There were often many such days in Denver during winter making it one reason why she called The Mile High City home.
Sam drove to Morse Park, a few minutes from the office in a quiet residential area off West 20th Avenue and Colfax Avenue in the Denver suburb of Lakewood. She had stumbled onto the park one day after taking a wrong turn going back to the office. Soon after she started spending lunch hours there whenever she could. The parking lot was situated beneath mature cottonwood trees, making it a cool, shaded resting place in the summer while enough sunlight filtered through the bare trees to warm the car on winter days.
Sam was glad that the parking lot was empty when she arrived. She liked coming when it was empty. That didn’t happen often during the summer because of the public swimming pool, a host of picnic tables and a few tennis courts. Sam eased the car to a stop and cut the engine. She sat quietly a moment and listened to the car settle.
She stared out the front window, focusing on nothing. Thoughts shifted like clouds until a woman and a little girl passed by her car window and captured her attention. Sam wondered if they were mother and daughter. She watched as they reached the street corner and as the woman extended her hand for the little girl to take. They waited for a car to pass and then crossed the street. The little girl was looking at the woman the entire time.
Sam thought how often she had done the same with April. “Take Mommie’s hand while we cross the street,” Sam would say.
There was something about the way it felt when April would slip her small hand into Sam’s, something that she could not explain, something peaceful, something settling, filling her with hope. It left her with a small smile and the yearning for more.
Sam watched them until they turned a corner and disappeared. She looked in the direction she last saw them for what seemed a long time. In a moment of memory and longing, she reached for her purse and took out her cell phone. She knew that April would not be home from school yet, but she dialed Esther Church’s number anyway.
But before the call could go through, Sam disconnected the phone. Sam had no reason to want to talk to Esther. She didn’t need her badgering. She looked again to where she last saw the woman and the little girl. There was a time when April would simply take her mother’s hand, but Sam could not remember an occasion lately when she had. Sam tried to stop herself from going through a personal inventory of all the times that she had let her daughter down. But the latest—Christmas—had forced its way to the forefront of her thoughts.
Holidays were never easy for Sam and hadn’t been since she was thirteen years old. One day she would be able to tell her daughter why. The last year had been particularly rough and Sam had been drinking more than usual. She had forgotten not only her daughter’s Christmas play but that April was to spend Christmas Eve with her. She could still hear the anger and the hurt in Jonathan’s voice when he called about the Christmas play.
“She was a Christmas tree you know,” Jonathan had said in the accusatory tone he so often used. “I was watching her and every few minutes, I could tell that she’d take a quick glance out to the audience to see if you had come. Your seat, Sam, was the only one in the place still empty at the end of the play.”
Sam remembered saying nothing, letting Jonathan assault her with words, as though it was the punishment she deserved for failing to show up at her daughter’s play because she was passed out on her living room couch. A wave of embarrassment and regret crashed over her at his words, still stinging after all this time.
“And all the mothers and fathers met for cookies and coffee after the play and all the students were beaming because their parents had come. You know what April wanted to do, Sam? She wanted to go home. She was embarrassed because she knew that all the other parents knew why Samantha Church hadn’t showed up for her daughter’s first Christmas play. How’s a little nine-year-old supposed to cope with that?”
His words played over in Sam’s mind. She did not realize she was crying until a tear fell and had landed and pooled on the top of the cell phone she held in her hand. She stared at the tear until another one fell and another one and another one.
Sam brushed off the tears and dialed the area code and phone number to a home on an island in the Pacific Northwest. Esther Church answered on the second ring.
“Hello, Esther, it’s me, Sam.”
There was a slight pause and Sam did not realize that she had been holding her breath waiting for April’s grandmother to answer the phone. She had only started talking regularly to Esther Church since April had gone to sta
y with her. Though Sam was married to Jonathan nearly ten years, she spoke to his mother infrequently and saw her very little. It wasn’t a secret to Sam that Esther Church did not particularly care for her daughter-in-law.
“Hello, Samantha,” Esther said stiffly.
Another awkward silence.
“How are you, Esther?”
“Fine,” Esther returned.
Sam was sorry she had called. “Good to hear,” Sam said and rushed right into her next sentence. “I know April’s probably not home from school yet, but I had a few minutes before going back to work so I thought I’d give you a quick call.”
“I was just on my out to run a few errands before April gets home.”
“This’ll just take a second.”
Sam’s voice trailed off, as she found strength to prepare for the worst. Esther Church had never made anything easy for Sam.
“I was, uh, wondering if you might be willing to put April on a plane and let her come and spend a long weekend with me. My grandmother and Howard really miss her and they want to see her. And, uh, I think April would really like that, too.”
“Don’t you miss your daughter, Samantha?”
“Of course, I do, Esther.” Sam paused, working to control her emotions. “It’s hard knowing she’s so far away.”
“You should’ve thought about that before all this happened,” Esther said crisply. “Maybe my son would still be alive.”
Oh God, Sam thought, now comes the lecture. In the background, Sam could hear one of Esther’s dogs barking.
“I’m sorry for what happened to Jonathan,” Sam said and she truly was. It meant that April would grow up without a father. Sam continued, choosing her words carefully. “But what Jonathan was doing was wrong. There wasn’t anything I could’ve done to stop him.”
“Maybe if you weren’t so self-centered and …” Esther Church’s voice trailed off for a moment. Sam was sure what was coming next. Her mother-in-law never wasted an opportunity to point out all of her weaknesses. Like mother, like son. “… And if you wouldn’t have been so drunk all the time and acted more like a wife to Jonathan and a mother to April, maybe my son wouldn’t have done the things they say he did.”
Still in denial, despite all the evidence, Sam thought. “Esther, I’m doing everything I can to try and make it up to April. It would really be wonderful if she could come for a long weekend.”
The phone crackled with an extended silence.
“Please,” Sam said finally, knowing that it sounded as though she were pleading, because she was, but she didn’t care.
“I don’t know, Sam,” Esther said in a huffy voice as if Sam’s request had wounded her. “I can’t decide right this minute and besides, how do I know you’ll send her back?”
“Esther,” Sam said unable to stop the laugh that escaped her. “I can’t believe you’d say something like that. I’m not a fool. I want nothing more than to have my daughter, with me, here in Denver, where she belongs. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.”
“Well, you’ve yet to prove that to me, Samantha. Like I said, I’ve got to go; I’ve got things to do before my granddaughter gets home from school. I’ll let you know.”
“When, Esther?”
“Soon.”
Sam heard a loud click in her ear. She sat in the driver’s seat staring vacantly out the window. The trees without their leaves allowed her to see an endless blue sky stretch out before her. The orb of the sun still shone brightly, warming the car, but her mood had soured.
Still holding the phone to her ear as if it had been frozen there, she felt as cold as winter should be and as empty as the sky was vast.
Twelve
By the time Sam returned to the office, her spirits felt lighter, helped by a good cry in the car warmed by the sun. She walked to her desk, wanting to believe that there was a chance, however small, that Esther would let April come home soon for a long weekend.
Sam did not allow herself to get too excited. She did not want to get her hopes up and have them dashed if Esther said no. She wanted to call Nona and Howard and tell them that April might be coming, but decided to wait until she knew for certain. She could never second guess where Esther Church was concerned.
Sam allowed herself to imagine driving to Denver International Airport, giddy with the excitement of seeing her daughter. It was only a month since April had gone to stay (Sam refused to use the word ‘live’) with her Grandmother, but it was the first that Sam had been separated from her daughter for so long. Sam wanted to imagine April looking for her in the terminal, spotting her from a distance and breaking into a run to fall into her arms. That April would be grinning from ear to ear as Sam wrapped her arms around her. She imagined feeling April’s tender young bones in her arms and how she would bury her face in her daughter’s hair and simply soak up the smell of her.
Sam was smiling with hopeful thoughts when she saw her e-mail icon flashing in the upper right on her computer screen. She removed her coat and put her purse in the drawer. She could not help thinking—even hoping—that it would be another message from Wilson’s kidnappers. Fear tickled the back of her throat.
She held her breath and doubled clicked on the icon.
There it was. Waiting for her, another e-mail message. The subject line contained a single word in bright blue letters, staring at her, taunting her. She swallowed, and mumbled “oh God,” under her breath.
Dead
She stared at the word and tried not to think of the implications. Of what it could mean for Wilson.
Or her.
Sam glanced around the newsroom hoping no one was watching. The room was empty, save for the photographer. He paid her no attention, fully bent over his laptop, examining digital images from his latest photo shoot. She double-clicked on the message.
Dead
The first line said again. She closed her eyes, not wanting to read anymore, but forced herself to continue. The next and the only other text in the e-mail followed.
it’s only a matter of time …
Sam felt her heart jump start in her chest. Her fearful thoughts had little time to develop. Anne was buzzing her from the reception desk.
“Sam? You there?”
Sam snatched up the receiver, still keeping her eyes on the e-mail. “Yes, Anne. What’s up?”
“There are a couple of police officers up here to see you.”
“Me?” Her breath stopped in her throat and she looked toward Nick’s office.
“That bastard better not have said anything,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Sam? You comin’ up?”
“Sure,” Sam said into the phone, “I’ll be right there.”
Sam gingerly cradled the phone, but stayed at her desk and began to fiddle nervously with a ballpoint pen she held in her hand.
Thinking.
Nick couldn’t be that stupid ... surely he wouldn’t have called the police yet, not after our conversation … maybe this was about something else. Maybe these are the same guys who came while I was in the hospital…
Sam minimized the e-mail, rose and began to walk slowly toward the stairs, stalling deliberately to give herself more time to think. She passed Nick’s office and glanced in. He was at his desk and she stormed in without an invitation, closing the door behind her. Nick had just taken a big bite from his sandwich. He looked at Sam as if to say ‘what are you doing here?’
“What the hell were you thinking?” Sam said, trying to keep the anger from her voice.
“What?” Nick said through a mouth full of food.
“There are two Grandview police officers upstairs waiting to talk to me,” Sam said, jerking her thumb toward the reception area. “Anne just buzzed me and asked me to come up.”
Nick looked at her and then began chewing. He shook his head slowly, studying her, wondering why he cared about what made this woman tick.
“You’re crazier than I thought,” Nick said and set his sandwich on a wrapper with
a Subway logo on it.
He picked up his soda and took a quick drink. Sam watched the color of the straw as it filled with a dark liquid. He set the cup down and finished chewing the rest of the food in his mouth and swallowed.
“What’d you tell them?” she asked.
“Sam, for Christ’s sake, I didn’t tell them anything. I haven’t made a single call to anyone. Don’t go falling apart on me now. I don’t know why they’re here, but I know you’re not working on any kind of a story, so it can’t be because of something like that.”
Sam grunted and folded her arms tightly across her chest. He was being sarcastic now and she hated him when he acted like that. Sam was beginning to feel desperate. She turned and looked out a small window that paralleled his chair. The view gave way to a large group of cottonwood trees that were bare now except for a few stubborn leaves that had managed to hang on. The leaves dangled from the empty branches, moving slightly in the afternoon breeze. The sky beyond, covered in a thin flat layer of white clouds, was pale blue.
“Sam, I’m sure it has nothing to do with Wilson,” Nick said.
The softness in Nick’s voice surprised her and it brought her eyes back to his. He waited a moment, as if sensing her vulnerability.
“Sam, look, I am sure it’s nothing,” he said again. “Whatever it is, I haven’t said anything to anyone. I don’t like it one bit, and I don’t know how much longer we can sit patiently here without doing something, because we’ll have to do something soon…”
Nick’s voice trailed off as he shifted his attention to the calendar on his wall and studied it a moment. Sam looked with him. Wilson was due home on Saturday. It was Tuesday.
“I know,” Sam said, finishing the rest of his thoughts, “I know, Wilson’s supposed to be flying home on Saturday. It doesn’t give us much time.”
Revenge is Sweet (A Samantha Church Mystery, Book 2) Page 8
