by Jonas Saul
But it was that hesitation that saved his life. Seconds before she would have shot him, she discovered he wasn’t at fault. He hadn’t been the one who shot her in the head as her choppy memory had led her to believe.
To have her friend’s death that close, and on her conscience, was too much to bear. She wasn’t beating herself up over it. She was ashamed, disgusted with herself and not yet willing to accept his love or his friendship. She didn’t feel worthy.
Maybe one day that’ll change, but for now, it is what it is.
At the Ellis Street intersection, Sarah turned right and headed toward Highway 97. Before leaving Santa Rosa, California, with Vivian’s messages clear in her mind, Sarah had contacted a couple who were renting a furnished home in McKinley Landing, a quiet suburb on the north end of the city. Highway 97 would take her to Glenmore Road, which led to McKinley Landing, where she had an appointment to meet the landlords.
It was funny how the bridge was named William Bennett Bridge and the road where she was to rent a house on was Bennett Road. Bennett had been the name of the first girl she ever saved from a kidnapping all those years ago. It was a relative of Mary Bennett’s who saved Sarah’s life in a crypt in Esztergom, Hungary, a few years back. Maybe this was a sign that her life was about to go back to the way it was. Maybe Sarah could be redeemed.
She made it on time for her appointment on Bennett Road. The wooded area was quiet and exactly what Sarah wanted and needed.
She parked behind the minivan in the driveway. Birds flitted in the tall pine trees above, a breeze rustled the branches and the sun fell behind the mountains over Okanagan Lake in a stunning view. It couldn’t be nicer, but something inside Sarah shouted that she didn’t deserve this relaxed setting. This was too pretty, too serene.
Why, Vivian? Why this house? Why not some dirty basement apartment in the city?
“Sarah Roberts?”
She placed her helmet on the seat of her bike. When she turned toward the house, a woman wearing a long red dress stood on the front porch, a broom in her hand. Sarah remembered her name was Joan. Dressed like she was heading out for an evening of dancing while holding a broom made Sarah smile. It was the first genuine smile since she left Santa Rosa, and it didn’t last long.
“I was just cleaning up the porch. We haven’t been here in a while.” The woman gestured at the tall trees in the large front yard. “We get a lot of pine needles and cones covering the grass and front walkway every year. They really start to fall in October and November, so it’s not so bad yet.” She leaned the broom against the wall beside the door. “Come on in. I’ve got iced tea ready. We’ll take a tour of the house.”
Sarah waited a moment, her hand resting on the dome of her helmet. Whether she deserved this or not, or was willing to allow any pleasures in her life, it was what Vivian wanted. There had to be a reason and it probably had nothing to do with Sarah being comfortable, so on those terms, she moved forward, up the driveway.
The house to her left sat at the end of the road. It pied out, giving extra room to the yard. The dwelling to the right was closer to the house she wanted to rent. There was movement in the front window.
Someone was watching her.
She made to enter the house as if she hadn’t seen a thing, waited a moment, and jumped back.
A woman, who looked to be in her sixties, stared out at Sarah’s bike from the corner window of the neighbor’s house. The woman wore black pants and a black top.
Maybe while I’m here, I’ll be the subject of conversation for all the neighbors.
She entered the house, closed the door behind her and turned into the kitchen. Joan leaned against the island in the center of the large chef’s kitchen. A man stood by the fridge.
“Sarah, I’d like you to meet my husband.”
Sarah shook his hand. He had a firm grip for a man in his seventies.
Did only old people buy houses out in the boonies?
“Mike, right?” she asked.
He nodded.
“And Joan? Names can be difficult for me, but I didn’t forget from our phone call. Terrible thing what happened to your previous tenants.”
“Yes,” Joan said. “When you and I talked on the phone, I was still pretty upset.”
“I seem to forget what you said about them. Did they just up and leave?”
“We think so.” Joan looked at Mike. He leaned on the silver fridge door and nodded for her to continue. “We have a house in Costa Rica.” She grabbed a tall glass and poured iced tea as she talked. “Every year we head down there in the winter and return in the summer. Only in the last two winters have we rented out our home.” She passed the glass along the island counter to Sarah. “It helps as we’re retired now. But it’s been getting harder and harder to find suitable tenants who are willing to stay only six or seven months.” She glanced out the huge bay window in the living room at the setting sun as it colored the sky a deep red above the lake. “Come on out on the balcony. We can talk there.”
Once on the balcony, Joan started up again.
“This was the first year we thought we’d stay in Costa Rica for the summer and rent this house for the entire year. Last month, when rent was due for July, nothing showed up in our account. Then nothing for August, either. We called up to the house and got no answer. I had Deborah from next door come over to see if everything was all right.” Joan looked down at her half-full glass of iced tea. “Our tenants had left and some of our precious glasses and china left with them. A few paintings as well.” She met Sarah’s eyes. “So Mike and I flew back and here we are, looking for a new tenant.”
“Did they leave a note?” Sarah asked. “Did you have any indication that they were going to split on you? Any signs?” She sipped her drink. Canadians always put too much sugar in their iced tea. She tried to control the grimace by turning it into an awkward smile.
“We knew Jacob worked at the Orchard Park Mall here in Kelowna. He was a retail manager. When we went to the store in the mall, the employees said he just didn’t show up for work one day. Mind you, we don’t normally drive around trying to find our tenants, it’s just, he signed a lease. The money is due. Or was due since we’re hoping you’ll take the house. I wanted my stuff back, too.” She sipped her tea again. “Our return trip to Costa Rica is booked and I’m afraid we’re out of time.” She raised a hand to block the setting sun from her eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be trying to get you to sign the dotted line when we haven’t even shown you around yet.”
Joan took Sarah on a tour while Mike sat in the living room and read a Clive Barker novel. They took a half hour, covering all the appliances, where the fuse box was and how to operate the underground sprinkler system.
“Are you sure it’s not too big for one person?” Joan asked.
Sarah shook her head. “I need the peace and quiet.”
Something caught Joan’s eye. She pointed at the area where the bullet entered Sarah’s head months ago.
“What happened there?” Joan asked. “Looks like you have some hair missing.”
“Dumb accident on the bike.” She hated to lie, but telling her potential landlords the truth would only scare them. “They shaved the hair around the area to give me stitches.” She waved it off. “It’s nothing, really.” To change the subject, she said, “So you want a damage deposit and first month’s rent.”
“That’ll be all we need.” She handed a booklet over. “The phone, the cable and Internet stay in our name. All you do is maintain the bills until we return. Everything else is in this book. Emergency call numbers and bank deposit slips with our account number for the monthly rent.”
“Perfect.”
Sarah got the money order out that she had prepared for their meeting and handed it over. Previously, they had emailed the lease. This meeting had been necessary, but was only a formality.
“You’ll love it here,” Joan said. “Peaceful, quiet, a great place to get all of your writing done.”
S
arah had told them on the phone that she was writing a series of books. She was on her fourth and needed a writer’s retreat like their home to finish writing in a serene setting.
“This will work out perfectly,” Sarah said.
“Mike,” Joan called. “We’re done here. Let’s head back to the hotel.”
Outside the front door, Joan pointed at the house on the pied out end of the street. “That’s the Rankins’ house. They head to Arizona in two months for the winter. We haven’t seen them since we’ve been here, but they’re usually around all summer.” She turned to the house where the nosy neighbor had watched her bike from the window. “Over there you have Deborah and her husband—”
A woman stepped from the bushes, a tray of cookies in her hands. It was the neighbor who had been watching from the window.
“Speak of the devil,” Joan said. “Here’s Debbie now. Come on over and meet your new neighbor.”
Mike exited the house and shut the front door. He headed for their rental car as Joan and Sarah walked up to meet Debbie. Why didn’t Mike want to join them? Maybe bad blood. But how? Why? Wasn’t Deborah a help when they needed her? Didn’t she come and check on the previous tenants?
“Debbie, I’d like you to meet Sarah Roberts, our new tenant.”
“How do you do?” Debbie asked.
They shook hands. Debbie was younger than Sarah had thought, and stronger. Having only seen her from a short distance and through a window, Debbie had appeared older, but she was in her forties, maybe late forties. She had an intensity to her that Sarah couldn’t understand. It was like she was dangerous. Her eyes glared when she talked, like she was ready to hurt someone. It didn’t fit with her smile and the way she carried herself. Everyone had a secret, a uniqueness about them. With people like Debbie, the secret was scary. The kind of thing people didn’t want to hear, and no one talked about it unless they were at their therapist’s office. Or in a courtroom.
“You’re renting the Smith’s place?” Debbie asked.
Sarah nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“Terrible thing what happened to the previous tenants.”
What did that mean? Didn’t they just leave?
From what Joan said, they had simply vacated the property and left no forwarding address. They did a midnight run after stealing some of her possessions. Unless Debbie knew more than Joan did. Maybe that was Debbie’s secret. She watched the street. She watched the comings and goings of her neighbors. She probably saw some of what happened to the previous tenants.
“I thought they just up and left,” Sarah said.
“Yes.” Debbie looked away. Her eyes stopped on Mike sitting in the car. She turned back to Sarah. “One day they were here, the next, they were gone.”
“They?”
“Jacob and his girlfriend. I have my suspicions, though.”
Joan cut in. “But Debbie, nothing in the house ever indicated …”
“I know, I know.” She raised a hand, the other still holding the tray of cookies. “It’s just, while you were in Costa Rica, I saw the kind of people coming and going.” She glanced at Sarah. “Do you do drugs?”
“Deborah!” Joan gasped.
“It’s okay, Joan,” Sarah said. “I don’t take anything. Never have. Why do you ask?”
“Because I think Jacob and his girlfriend were on heroin. Selling it or using it.”
“Really? Heroin? Why that specific drug?”
“It’s what killed them.”
“Now Debbie,” Joan cut in again. “We don’t know if they’re dead. They just moved out to who knows where.”
“That sounds like dead to me.”
“Did you get the Rankins’ back door fixed yet?” Joan asked.
“What happened to their back door?” Sarah asked.
“When Jacob and his girlfriend were living here, they broke in next door.” Debbie gestured with a nod of her head at the last house on the street. “I check on the house periodically and saw the back sliding door was off its track and the lock had been picked. It still locks, but with a little pressure, it can be dislodged.”
“Is it fixed?” Joan asked.
“No one comes down here, Joan. It’s a dead end street and a quiet neighborhood. Now that Jacob is gone, there’s no concern. The door still locks.”
Debbie’s eyes revealed a questionable sanity to Sarah. The only secret about her was probably that she was slightly nuts.
“Are those peanut butter cookies?” Sarah asked, wanting to change the subject. It was odd Deborah couldn’t see that talking about the previous tenants bothered Joan.
“Yes, I brought them for you. A welcome-to-the-neighborhood present.”
“That’s very kind. Thank you.”
“Well, we must be going,” Joan said. “If you need anything, Debbie and her husband stay here all winter. Her husband works in Kelowna.”
Debbie handed the tray to Sarah.
“The keys are on the kitchen counter,” Joan added. “Everything is set up so all you need to do is unpack your clothes and get groceries.”
“Thank you. I’m sure everything will be fine.”
Joan walked away, got in the car with Mike, and they pulled out of the driveway. Sarah was alone with Debbie as the area darkened further, the sun gone behind the mountains now.
“I guess we’ll see each other again,” Sarah said.
She wanted to grab her laptop off the bike and hook up to the Internet. She had work to do and she needed to place a call to a local cleaning company. According to Vivian, Sarah was to hire a maid to come to the house weekly, whether she needed it or not.
“We should have you over for coffee or tea one evening when my husband’s here. I’m sure he’d love to meet you.”
“That would be great,” Sarah said as she backed away.
“If you need anything, just call. Our number is in that booklet Joan gave you. Also, if you think someone’s prowling the area or up to no good, call us first.”
What could the neighbors do when the police are trained to handle those kinds of situations? Although I wouldn’t call the police.
“Shouldn’t I call the police first?” Sarah asked.
“Didn’t Joan tell you?”
Sarah shook her head.
“My husband is an RCMP officer for the city of Kelowna. Barry takes his job seriously, especially in the community where he lives. That’s why we knew the previous tenants were into heroin. Barry recognized some of the dealers visiting Joan’s house before the previous tenants disappeared. But you needn’t worry about that anymore. As soon as Jacob left, the drug traffic to your front door stopped.” She backed up a few more steps. “I didn’t want to go into detail in front of Joan. It upsets her to think she made such a bad choice with her last renter. I’m sure you’re a much better fit.” Debbie turned away and started for the bushes that separated their yards.
So that was why Vivian wanted her to rent this house, a much larger place than she needed.
Because Deborah and Barry Ashford were her neighbors.
The man she was supposed to antagonize lived right next door.
How deliciously malicious of you, Vivian.
Sarah entered her new home, slammed the door and grabbed the cordless phone.
Time to hire a cleaning company.
Chapter 3
Barry unlocked the front door of his house quietly. None of the lights were on, which indicated his wife had already gone to bed.
Or she’s passed out from too much booze.
He set his briefcase on the foyer table, hooked his keys into their holder on the wall and started for the laundry basket in the bathroom. Deb would have to do a load in morning. As soon as his uniform was in the laundry basket, he went back to the kitchen, pulled one of the new wine glasses from the cabinet and poured a glass of red wine.
After the interviews, the paperwork he had to fill out regarding the jumper at the bridge and the endless questions from the press, he was exhausted and looked for
ward to sleep. But that girl from the beach, the pretty one who talked to Lesley Wright at the ambulance, had stayed on his mind the whole time.
She had said, “Let’s just say I know what you did and I know what you’ve been up to.”
What could she have meant? Barry had never seen her before. He didn’t even get her name. No one at the beach knew who she was and even Lesley admitted to having just met her. But Lesley added that the strange girl knew Greg, Lesley’s brother.
