by Pamela Tracy
“Yes,” Oscar agreed. “I’ve met both of them.”
But he didn’t know their histories, Shelley thought. Not like she did. And it said something about her that the man had lived a block away from her for two weeks and she hadn’t noticed him.
She stood, checking her watch and thinking surely it was evening. It wasn’t. Instead, her watch read three o’clock. She walked to the door, insisting, “I need to get Ryan some supper. A meal of ice cream isn’t good enough. And I didn’t have the opportunity to feed him lunch.”
“If you’ll wait a minute,” Oscar said, “I’m sure Chief Riley will be right back. I know he has a few more questions.”
“I—”
Her cell phone rang and she answered the call immediately, noting it was from the care center.
“This is Shelley,” she said.
It was Cara. “We can’t find your father, Shelley. We’ve looked everywhere, and it appears he’s not on the premises. He didn’t say goodbye like he always does.”
Shelley almost dropped her phone.
Normally such news wouldn’t cause her this much concern. Her father tended to wander and liked to go to the Sarasota Falls Corner Drugstore. He’d buy a pack of cigarettes, perhaps remembering something from his youth. The proprietor called the care center, pretended to put the transaction through and handed her dad an empty carton. Cara or whoever was at the front desk watched for his return.
There’d been discussion about stopping the practice, but Sarasota Falls was a small town, and her father enjoyed it so. Thus it was allowed.
Not after today, though.
Today, she knew that Larry Wagner had recently been in the vicinity, knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her father.
To hurt her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I’LL DRIVE.” OSCAR guided her from the interrogation room even as she was stuffing her phone back into her purse.
Riley came around the corner. “We’re not done with you,” he began.
Quickly Oscar filled him in.
“This isn’t the first time it’s happened,” Riley said, looking at Shelley. “I know I’ve driven him back to the care center a time or two. We’ll head to the drugstore.”
“It’s different this time. I just know it. Where’s Ryan?”
“In the break room, watching a kids’ show. Last time I looked, he was falling asleep.”
Shelley was already out the door, lifting her son from Leann’s arms and making a beeline for Riley’s cop car. She got in the back, lowered the window and tapped her fingers on the side of the door.
Riley gave Oscar a look that clearly said Something more is going on here.
Oscar could only nod as he hopped in the passenger side.
Once they pulled out of the parking lot, Oscar knew why Riley had given her such a long look. She was beyond scared.
Riley used his siren and was at the care center in under ten minutes. He parked right in front behind a transport van. Even before Shelley could crawl from the back, a nurse was hurrying out, shouting, “We found him. We found him.”
Shelley started to exit the car, but the nurse said, “No, no. You need to go get him. He’s a few blocks away.”
“What happened?” Shelley queried, one foot out of Riley’s car and one foot still in.
“He must have just walked out the front door and no one saw him leave,” Cara said. “What gets me is he didn’t say goodbye. He always says goodbye.”
“Where is he? What’s the address?”
“Jedidiah Carraby just called us to come get him,” the nurse said. “He said that he and your dad were friends.”
“We’ll take care of it,” Riley said.
“I know right where to go.” Shelley returned to the backseat. Ryan, fully awake, banged on the mesh cage separating the front seat and back.
“We’re so sorry,” the nurse said. “We’ll watch him more closely in future.”
Oscar could tell Shelley wanted to bolt. Now he knew why she’d packed her bags to leave but changed her mind. His mother was the matriarch of the family. He couldn’t imagine turning his back on her, no matter the need to escape.
Jedidiah Carraby lived in a small house three blocks from the care center.
“I knew about Carson’s condition,” Jedidiah said, beckoning them in. “Kept meaning to stop by and visit him but never got the time. Looks like he made the time to visit me instead.”
“Dad!” Shelley, Ryan with her, was in the living room before Oscar and Chief Riley finished shaking Jedidiah’s hand.
“I don’t think I know you,” Jedidiah said to Oscar.
“I’m new on the force.”
“Bianca’s nephew,” Riley supplied.
“Oh, I love it when Bianca cooks her enchiladas verdes for the church suppers.”
“Everyone knows my aunt Bianca.”
“Dad, what are you doing in here?” Shelley’s voice came, and Oscar hurried down a hall and into a small bedroom.
Shelley’s father stood on a chair with a screwdriver, staring up at a ceiling fan.
Jedidiah followed after a moment. “He said it was making a noise. While I was calling you, he found a screwdriver, and now he’s fixed it. Don’t know how he fixed it with his hands shaking so. But it must have had a noise because it sounds much better now.”
“Did you see anybody with him?” Shelley asked Jedidiah. “The care center said he walked here. Was he alone?”
“I’m not sure. I just answered a knock on the door and there he was. I offered him a glass of water. He didn’t seem to want it. I left him alone for a moment while I looked up the phone number for the care center and made the call. When I came back, he was in my bedroom. You showed up about ten minutes after that.”
“Thank you. Oh, thank you for calling the care center so quickly. We were worried.”
Oscar came forward and carefully helped the man from the chair, lifting him when it seemed Mr. Brubaker didn’t know how to step down. She nodded her thanks as she led her father from the room, taking the screwdriver from his hand and giving it to Mr. Carraby as she passed by. Oscar followed, listening as she spoke to her father in soothing tones. “It’s a beautiful day, Dad. It makes sense that you took a walk. It’s hard to stay inside all the time. You did a great job on the ceiling fan.” Carefully she helped her father into the backseat of Riley’s vehicle.
Riley stayed behind, speaking with Mr. Carraby. Oscar hesitated. He wanted to hear anything Shelley might have to say, but what was happening at Carraby’s front door was interesting, as well. Riley bent down, picked up something and showed it to Jedidiah, who looked at it and shrugged. Riley then took a notebook out of his shirt pocket, jotted something, then hurried toward Oscar and said, “I’m starting to agree with Shelley. Something doesn’t feel right.”
Behind Riley, Carraby shut the door.
“She asked Mr. Carraby twice if her dad arrived alone,” Oscar reported.
“What is she thinking? Do you know?” Riley asked.
“No. But something has her scared,” Oscar said. “And I want to know why she isn’t telling us.”
“I found this on the front step just now.” Riley handed it over. It was a three-by-five notecard with Jedidiah Carraby’s address on it.
“Jedidiah says he didn’t write it and he hasn’t had any visitors in a few days. He doesn’t know where it came from.”
“So maybe Shelley’s father wrote it so he—”
“I don’t think so. Not this handwriting. Not the way his hands shake.”
“We could ask—” Oscar began, but Riley held up his hand.
“We’ll do it back at the station,” Riley said.
At the care center, Ryan, now completely awake, ran ahead, leading the way
to Shelley’s dad’s room. The nurses fussed and followed, too. Oscar stayed in the background, Ryan at his side, as Shelley guided her dad to the bathroom in his room and washed his hands for him, all the while telling him what a good job he’d done and how lucky the neighborhood was to have him for a handyman.
Her father nodded and then followed her to the community room, where he sat in a chair to stare at a television. Ryan climbed in his lap. A nurse immediately walked over to sit by him.
Oscar and Shelley stood in the doorway.
“You see why I came back to Sarasota Falls?” she asked softly. “I can’t leave. We’re all he has.”
“You going back to the garage apartment, then?” he queried.
“If the landlord will let me. I still have five months on my lease. Unfortunately, I’m sure he knows not only that I actually considered skipping out on him but also why.”
“I’ll go with you to talk to him, do a little bit of explaining. You’re right. By now he probably knows everything.”
“And he might think I’m involved,” Shelley added.
Oscar stopped himself before he said what he was thinking: You are involved.
Riley drove them back to the station and let Shelley and Ryan out, going so far as to run around, open the door for her and help her from the car.
It was clear to Oscar that Shelley was beat. He looked to Riley, wondering what the man was up to.
“I’ve just got one more question.” Riley held out the three-by-five card and asked, “Do you recognize the handwriting?”
She took it from him and studied it, her expression carefully masked.
“No,” she said.
“What?” He couldn’t help it. He pressed. “Shelley, you need—”
“I need to get my son home and sort out some things. I’m not sure where you got that or why you’re showing it to me.”
Riley took the card back, although it looked like Shelley wasn’t going to let it go.
“Oscar, follow her home,” Riley ordered.
“I can get myself home just fine.”
“Make sure everything’s okay before she enters her apartment.”
Shelley’s mouth opened and closed. After a moment, she nodded and said, “I appreciate it.”
It wasn’t long before Oscar trailed Shelley up the stairs to her garage apartment.
“I’ll go in first,” Oscar said. “With the kind of day we’ve had, it pays to be careful.”
“Thank you.” Shelley held Ryan’s hand. The three-year-old clearly had had enough. He fussed all the way up the stairs.
“I tired. I hungry. I want Pooh and a dog.”
Not once did Shelley lose her temper. She stayed calm, saying, “We’ll put you to bed,” and “SpaghettiOs sound pretty good, huh? Your favorite,” and ending with “Maybe we can watch Scooby-Doo tonight.”
The garage was white clapboard, weathered and clearly had seen better days. Tidy, but plain.
Oscar unlocked the door, keeping Shelley and Ryan behind him, and stepped inside. He was pleasantly surprised. The paint was cheery and not faded. The windows were big and looked out on the street. Hmm, Shelley did have a good view of the Livingston house. Even if she didn’t know them personally, she might have understood their habits. She’d probably even looked out to see Oscar in their backyard, knocking back a beverage and barbecuing hamburgers.
She didn’t have much in the way of furniture, and based on how generic it was, either Robert, her landlord, had furnished the apartment with the most inexpensive but durable decor he could find or Shelley had done it herself by utilizing garage-sale finds. Ryan didn’t appear to be underentertained. He had toys everywhere: oversize Legos, a corner of the room draped with blankets to make a fort and balls of every size.
Ryan paid no attention but dived beside the couch and came up clutching a stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh. He smiled and then dragged Pooh over to the fort.
On a TV tray, a paperback book lay open, only a few pages read.
Yesterday morning, she’d been able to walk away from all this. Nothing in this room was sentimental. Nothing couldn’t be replaced.
Oscar watched her walk to the back of the apartment to a tiny kitchen. After taking a can of SpaghettiOs from a cabinet, she hesitated. He knew from the way she bowed her head that she must have been exhausted. She’d had a heck of a couple of days and had been carrying another human for the entire venture.
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
“No, I’m fine.” He was sure she was lying.
It was what Oscar’s mother used to say after his father took off.
“I’m fine.”
He’d known better. And before his father left, she’d always said, “Oscar, you’re a lot like your dad. A leader. You could save the world if you wanted to.”
He didn’t think his dad had gone to save the world. Because even at twelve, he’d known that there were more important things like making sure the woman who’d had your children was taken care of.
Oscar had paid attention to what was happening to his family, his brothers not so much. His uncles had stepped in and repaired anything that broke, was damaged or wouldn’t move, not to mention they’d trimmed whatever was overgrown and opened their doors to the Guzman kids.
He’d never appreciated his family enough. Shelley needed a support system like he’d had.
“What I mean to say,” Oscar continued, “is I know you have a tired kid and probably have a dozen things to do. Let me check all the windows and the ceiling.”
She hesitated. “Ceiling?”
“You’d be surprised at the ways people access homes.”
She went rigid, still holding the can of SpaghettiOs. He moved toward her, removed it from her hand and placed it on the counter. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Your landlord pays attention, and I’m right down the street.”
She didn’t look relieved.
He moved to the refrigerator, where a small dry-erase board held a few notes. With the black marker, he wrote his name and cell phone number. “You can call me anytime. I promise I’ll be here in thirty seconds, and I’ll bring Peeve.”
She made a wry face. “I like the idea of a dog.”
“Me, too!” Ryan shouted from his fort.
The urge to pull her to him came again. This time stronger than before, probably because she was just inches from him. He could smell a hint of some orangey fragrance, not overpowering at all. Sweet. Like he imagined a kiss from her would be.
Sweet.
Until he turned it into something more.
“Check away,” she said.
“What?”
“You said you were going to check the ceiling.”
“Oh, right. Then I’ll be on my way,” he added.
She looked relieved, and for some reason he hoped the look had more to do with him checking the ceiling and windows than him leaving.
He really didn’t want to leave.
CHAPTER NINE
PEEVE GREETED OSCAR warmly at the door of Aunt Bianca’s bed-and-breakfast.
Oscar merely ordered, “Back.”
Peeve obeyed, his tail whipping with happiness. Crouching, Oscar let his hands smooth the dog’s sides before going to Peeve’s ears. “I’m sorry you didn’t get a walk today. I’ll—”
“I walked him.” Aunt Bianca joined them at the door. Aunt Bianca was a lot like his mother, except where his mother was lean, Bianca was solid. Both were imposing; both took care of their own.
“Thanks.”
With a hand signal, Bianca motioned for Peeve to step to the side. “Lots of dog walking going on. I passed at least a dozen neighbors all hoping for the same thing I was. News about Candace.”
“Right now there is no
news. We haven’t even located her husband yet.”
“Not like Cody to disappear.”
“I agree,” Oscar said, coming the rest of the way into the room, Peeve glued to his side, looking up adoringly.
He walked over to the couch and took off his shoes, setting them side by side, ready to be put away. His aunt followed him. Knowing Candace was dead, her house a mere half block away, made him want to stay with his aunt Bianca for a little while. Maybe it made Aunt Bianca feel the same way.
“You need to get some sleep.” Glancing at the grandfather clock, Bianca added, “You’re due back on shift in four hours. Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“I have meat loaf in the oven. By the way, Candace’s dad has already called. He’s booked a room and will be arriving tomorrow. Not sure if that wife of his is coming or not. Your sister’s called me twice today. She’s heartbroken, and you’re not returning her calls.”
Taking out his cell phone, Oscar scrolled through the thirty text messages. Then he glanced at the list of missed calls. He’d even stood up a witness on another case. Never a good thing. And yes, his little sister, Anna, had texted a dozen times. What was he going to say to her when they finally connected?
He reached down to give Peeve one last pat as the shepherd settled under the table. “Shelley Brubaker knows something she’s not telling, and I need to find out what it is. Riley’s not handling her with kid gloves. I will, and I think I can get the information from her.”
“Riley has never owned a pair of kid gloves.”
“He’s a good cop.”
“That he is,” Bianca agreed. “I felt sorry for him when this all hit the fan. He wound up being the one having to tell half the town they’d been conned out of money. It didn’t make him a popular man.”
“I didn’t realize that. Wouldn’t the bank have had—”
“The bank’s president called every customer who’d been a victim of fraud to the bank. Riley was there to meet with them afterward to find out details. I can tell you my meeting wasn’t fun. The bank president cried more than I did. Riley’s sort of hounded Shelley ever since. I think he believes she knows something she’s not telling.”
