by Terri Reid
“Mary, I’m so sorry I left you,” Andrew stammered. “Suddenly I was so afraid. I don’t know what came over me.”
“That’s okay, Andrew,” she said. “Kristen helped me get away.”
“Get away?” Bradley asked. “What the hell happened tonight? And what’s the recent murder you were talking about?”
Mary turned to Bradley and scarcely shook her head, glancing in Andrew’s direction.
“He doesn’t…” Bradley began.
“No,” Mary replied. “He doesn’t.”
She turned back to Andrew. “Why don’t you come in,” she said. “And we can talk about what I discovered tonight and a few other things. I want Bradley to be part of this because he’s the Chief of Police in Freeport, and I thought he would be able to help us.”
Andrew entered the room and sat down on a chair across from the couch. Just then the kettle whistled, and Bradley left the room to pour the tea. Mary strolled over to the couch and sat down.
“I’m just horrified by my behavior,” Andrew said, sitting forward in the chair and clasping his hands together. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“Well, it was a pretty tense situation,” Mary said. “And I suppose part of the error was mine. I didn’t ask you all of the questions I should have when we first started to work together.”
Andrew sat back in the chair. “Ask away,” he said. “I am an open book.”
Bradley sat down next to Mary on the couch and placed her tea on the coffee table in front of them. “Thank you,” she said to Bradley, clasping his hand in hers. “I was just going to ask Andrew some questions.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Bradley replied. “Because I really want to start hearing some answers.”
“Andrew, you mentioned to me that you read about me in the paper,” she said. “Do you get the paper every day?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I subscribe,” he said. “It’s pretty much the first thing I do every morning. I get my coffee and read my paper.”
“Do you remember what was in today’s paper?” she asked.
He started to speak, then stopped, and a puzzled look came over his face. “Huh, that’s funny,” he said. “No, I don’t. But, you know, it was a pretty stressful day.”
She smiled encouragingly. “And when was the last time you went to work?” she questioned him.
“Just yester…” he began, then stopped. “No, I didn’t go yesterday.” He thought about it for a few moments, looking down at the floor. He looked up, confused. “Why can’t I remember when I last went to work?”
“Perhaps the best thing to do is remember the last thing you did,” Mary suggested, “and we can go from there.”
Andrew nodded, leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands. “Okay, I remember going through my recycling bin to find the paper with the article about you in it,” he glanced up at her with chagrin. “Sorry, I threw you away at first.”
“No problem,” Mary replied. “But that tells me that was about a week or so ago, because I was several layers down in the recycling bin.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I think it was like Monday or Tuesday of last week. So, I reread it and decided that I was going to call you first thing in the morning,” he said. “Because I’d pretty much run out of ideas to solve Miss Banks’ murder.”
“What time of that day was that?” Bradley asked.
“It was early evening,” Andrew replied. “Because I’d spent the day at work, and I was going to go back to the school that night.”
“Did you go to the school?” Mary asked.
Andrew nodded slowly. “Yes. I went to the school,” he said, his voice halting. “And I noticed that there had been some vandalism, which isn’t a surprise because it’s an old, abandoned building.”
“What kind of vandalism?” Bradley asked.
“The window in the entrance door had been broken,” he said.
“So someone had access to the interior of the school?” Mary verified.
“Yeah, but the kids won’t go in there because they think it’s haunted,” he replied with a smile.
“When I went to meet you, the window wasn’t broken,” Mary said.
Andrew shrugged. “I guess I must have fixed it.”
“What happened next?” Bradley encouraged.
“I went inside the school,” Andrew replied, and then he thought about it for a moment. “I heard something. I heard something down in the basement.”
He sat up and looked off into the distance. “I went downstairs,” he continued slowly. “I was worried that someone would get hurt down there.”
“And then what happened?” Mary asked softly.
Andrew’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. He looked down at himself and then up at Mary and Bradley. “I never came back up,” he whispered hoarsely. “I never came back up those stairs.”
He looked to Mary for verification, and she slowly nodded. “You never did,” she said. “Someone murdered you down in the basement of the school last week. And I don’t think your murder has been discovered yet.”
“Someone murdered me?” he choked. “Why would someone murder me?”
“Because you were getting too close to solving the murder of Kristen Banks,” Bradley suggested. “And they needed to cover their tracks.”
He buried his face in his hands. “I’m dead,” he cried. “I’m really dead.” Then he lifted his head and stared at Mary. “And that guy… the one who killed me…he was there tonight. He was going to try and kill you,” he exclaimed. “Oh, Mary, I’m so sorry. You could have died.”
Chapter Twenty-four
“Yes,” Bradley said, looking down at Mary, his face deadly serious. “You could have. And I don’t understand why you would put yourself in that kind of situation.”
“I didn’t realize how recently Andrew had died,” Mary explained. “I thought he’d been dead awhile and his teacher’s death was what kept him from moving on.”
Andrew stared at her. “You knew I was dead when you first met me?” he asked.
“Well, your slit wrists kind of gave it away,” she said.
Shocked, Andrew stared down at his wrists. “I never noticed them. It looks like I killed myself,” he said, and then he added angrily, “I didn’t kill myself. I wouldn’t have killed myself.” He looked up at Mary. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you were so focused on your teacher, I thought it would be better to get the crime solved first. Then you could deal with the reality of your death,” she said. “But I thought since the case was forty years old, there wasn’t a lot of risk involved. And I have to confess that I thought you’d become despondent and had taken your own life.”
“Why do you believe me now?” he asked.
Mary took a deep breath. “Tonight, when we were searching the desk, you told me you that you’d read the article about me,” she said. “And since the article has only been out for a couple of weeks, I suddenly realized that you hadn’t been dead for very long. And you certainly didn’t act despondent when we were searching for the secret panel. You were excited and eager to learn more. That’s when I realized I’d made a terrible mistake.”
“And that’s when we heard the noise,” Andrew added.
“The noise?” Bradley asked. “Are you telling me that the killer was in the school with you tonight?”
Mary looked up and met Bradley’s eyes. “Yes, I think he was,” she said. “I grabbed the drawer, and I was going to try and get out before he caught me.”
Bradley’s jaw tightened. “You were going to try and outrun a killer?” he asked. “And you didn’t think to call me?”
“There wasn’t time,” she said. “Even with your sirens blazing, it would have taken you at least twenty minutes.”
“And you couldn’t have called the local police?” Bradley asked.
“I thought about it,” she said. “But then I realized two things. One, that I was in a building that also h
eld a murdered body that no one had found yet. And two, I didn’t know who the killer was. He could be a cop.”
“Wait,” Andrew interrupted. “Are you sure my body’s in the school?”
She nodded. “Every time I’ve met you at the school, you’ve come from the inside to let me in,” she said. “This time, I peeked through the window and saw you come up from the basement. It makes sense that the killer left you down there.”
“Let’s go back to you being trapped in an abandoned building with a killer,” Bradley said. “I’m not quite over that yet.”
Mary nodded. “Kristen opened the secret panel in the drawer and gave me the journal and all of her letters,” she said. “Then she took the drawer and walked to the stairway on the other side of the school. She threw the drawer down the stairs and caused enough noise to draw the killer to her. He ran past the classroom—”
“Stop,” Bradley said, his voice tight with emotion. “You heard the killer run past the classroom you were hiding in? He was that close?”
“Yes, he was,” she said. “Then Kristen made even more noise, and he ran past the classroom and down the hall. As soon as I thought he was far enough away, I ran out of the classroom, down the stairs and out to the parking lot.”
Bradley shook his head, rose from the couch and then walked away from Mary, into the kitchen.
“Mary, I’m so sorry,” Andrew said. “I didn’t realize how dangerous this was going to be.”
“No, it’s not your fault, Andrew,” she said. “I should have realized. I should have taken precautions. I’m the one who acted like an amateur.”
“Are you going to give up on the case?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, I won’t give up on the case,” she said. “But I have a feeling I’m going to have a new partner.”
“Damn right,” Bradley called from the other room.
Andrew looked from Mary to Bradley and shook his head. “I think I’d better go now,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Mary said. “See you tomorrow, Andrew.”
Mary watched him fade away, and then, once he was gone, she took a deep breath. Standing up, she walked to the kitchen where Bradley stood staring out the back window, his hands clutching the counter next to the sink. Biting her lower lip, she watched him for a moment. Every muscle was taut, and his breathing was slow and deliberate.
Stepping forward, she slipped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his back. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I was stupid and careless. Please forgive me.”
She felt his quick intake of breath, felt the expansion of his chest and the slow, shuddering release of air. “Mary,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You could have…”
He turned around and pulled her into his arms, crushing her against him, as he held her tightly. He didn’t say a word, he just held her and she could feel the erratic thumping of his heart against his chest. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered again. “I’m so sorry.”
Finally, his muscles relaxed and he leaned away from her, still holding her in his arms. “I’m as mad as hell at you,” he said softly.
“You should be,” she agreed.
“Never again,” he stated. “Never again will you put yourself in a situation that could endanger your life.”
She nodded mutely.
“Damn it,” he said, shaking his head. “Losing you would kill me. The thought of losing you has nearly killed me. I’m not going to be logical. I’m not going to be fair. No more, Mary. No more.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Mary sat in the corner of the couch, sipping on her tea, hoping that the chamomile would work its magic and calm her still fluttering heart. She had lain in bed for an hour trying to quiet her mind long enough to fall asleep, but sleep was just not happening. Finally, she had given up and quietly padded downstairs to see if a cup of tea would help.
“Hey, how are you doing, champ?” Mike asked as he appeared next her on the other end of the couch.
She sighed and shook her head. “Well, no demons are coming after me,” she said, staring at her cup. “So I guess I’m good.”
“Yeah, well, we called in reinforcements, so you ought to be demon free for a while,” he said. “But this has nothing to do with what you’re feeling right now.”
“I totally blew it this time,” she said, and then she met his eyes. “By the way, thank you for warning me.”
He shrugged. “It’s all in the job description,” he said softly. “But you really shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I should have asked Andrew some more questions,” she argued. “I should have found out more about him.”
“You had a man who still carried a spelling paper from his fourth grade teacher come to you for help,” he said. “You were kind, and you were resourceful. And, yeah, you probably took a little more risk than you should have.”
Mary put her cup down and laced her fingers over her belly. “I lot more risk,” she said. “I keep forgetting that I’m pregnant.”
He lifted an eyebrow skeptically, and she chuckled. “Okay, I don’t forget,” she admitted. “But when I think about what I can do, like dashing up stairs, I forget that I’m carrying a little person along with me and that’s going to slow me down. And, I forget that I’m risking for two, not just one. I scared Bradley to death.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “Do you think that Bradley’s reaction would have been any less…” he searched for a word and then smiled at her, “volatile, if you had not been pregnant?”
“Well…” she began.
“You do!” he interrupted. “You think that he was scared to death for you because you’re pregnant.”
“Well I am a trained law enforcement professional,” she argued.
“Who Bradley adores,” he returned softly. “And who he worries about constantly.”
She sat up in the couch. “What? He worries?”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Not just about your work,” he said. “Although he does worry about that. But he worries that you’re not getting enough sleep, you’re not eating properly, you’re not getting enough down time, you’re not laughing as much as you used to or several dozen more things that flash through his mind throughout the day.”
“Why?” Mary asked.
“Because he feels that when you agreed to marry him, you didn’t agree to the package deal,” he replied. “Suddenly you’re not just married, you’re a mom and you’re going through your first pregnancy while you are taking on the responsibilities that a young wife shouldn’t have to take on. You didn’t really get a honeymoon stage; you just got blasted with the cold reality of life.”
“But I like the cold reality of life,” she argued and then she shook her head. “I mean, it’s not a cold reality. I love my life.”
“Do you?” Mike asked. “Do you really love it? And don’t just answer ‘yes’ because it’s the proper thing to do. It’s just you and me, kid. Do you really love your life?”
Mary picked up her cup again, took a sip and thought about her answer. She thought about restless nights, padding back and forth to the bathroom instead of sleeping, aching body parts, upset stomachs and stretch marks. She thought about dirty dishes, dusty shelves and unfolded laundry. She thought about saving money, minivans instead of Roadsters, and flats instead of heels.
She took another sip of tea and then the little person inside of her moved. That was all it took for her to know her answer. Looking up at Mike, tears shining in her eyes, she smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I really love my life.”
“I thought so,” he replied. “But sometimes it’s a good idea to do inventory and make sure.”
She wiped away one stray tear and nodded. “So, how can I make sure Bradley knows I love this life?”
“Get enough sleep, eat properly, allow yourself some down time and laugh, a lot,” he replied.
She grinned. “Does dark chocolate ice cream count as eating properly?” she asked.
He nodded. “Hey, it’s dairy, right?”
“Right,” she replied. “Thank you, Mike. You’re the best friend I ever had.”
He smiled at her. “Same here, kid,” he replied as he slowly faded away. “Same here.”
She placed her cup on the kitchen counter and walked upstairs to her bedroom. Standing next to the bed, she studied Bradley for a few moments. Even in sleep, his face seemed tense tonight and she knew she was the cause. She tried to climb into bed carefully, so as not to wake him, but failed miserably.
“Mary?” Bradley asked, his voice laced with sleep. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m just coming back to bed. Go to sleep.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again. This time his voice sounded more awake.
She leaned over and kissed him. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just tired. Goodnight.”
He lay quietly on the bed, feigning sleep, and waited for several minutes until he heard the soft, rhythmic sound of her breathing as she slept. Cautiously slipping out of the bed, he unknowingly imitated her earlier position and stood by the bed, watching her sleep. With a long, silent sigh, he shook his head. “Dammit Mary, I’m so sorry,” he whispered harshly and then left the room.
An hour later Mike reappeared, his attention drawn by a sound coming from the basement. Gliding down the stairs, he found Bradley, wearing only pajama bottoms and bare feet, skipping back and forth in front of a punching bag that was hanging from a rafter in the basement. He was wearing boxing gloves and beating the leather sides with hard, even hits.
“Are you okay?” Mike asked him.
Ever since Mike had fooled Bradley into believing he could see ghosts, Bradley had been able to see Mike. Taking another couple more jabs at the bag, Bradley leaned forward, grabbed the bag to stop its movement and then looked over at Mike and shrugged. Mike leaned against a nearby pillar and folded his arms over his chest. “So, I’m taking that to mean no, you are not okay,” he stated.
