by Jeff Shelby
He was right. “I know.” I sighed. “And thank you.”
“For pointing out you’re wrong? That’s a first.”
“No.” I snuggled into him and pressed my cheek against his chest. His skin was warm and soft and I breathed in the scent of him. “For indulging me. For knowing I needed to get it all out of my head. For not making fun of me.”
“You’re welcome,” he whispered into my ear.
“I think you think you’re gonna get lucky now,” I said, trying to fight off the smile that was forcing its way onto my lips. “Because you were all Mr. Sensitive and Mr. Good Listener. At least for most of the conversation.”
“I think I’m offended,” he said. “Um, but am I?”
I chuckled and got my arms around him, pressing a kiss on his jawline. “Turn off the light and I’ll think about it.”
TWENTY FOUR
I woke up with a plan.
Actually, I formed the plan in the middle of the night because my brain was in overdrive and I had a hard time sleeping. Talking about all of the possibilities with Jake had gotten the wheels turning and I couldn’t make them stop. I ended up getting out of bed before either he or Sophie were awake and drained an entire pot of coffee before they even stirred.
I knew they were planning on going for a run in the morning. Sophie had started to express an interest in running and Jake had begrudgingly acted like he was interested, too, just to feed her interest. I glanced out the living room window. The frost-kissed grass glittered in the morning sun and squirrels scrambled up and down trees, eager to find seeds and nuts to hide away before the inevitable: snow. I smiled. I wasn’t sure how long Jake would be interested in running, especially with the temperature taking a nosedive, but I knew there was no way I was going to go running in sub-freezing temperatures unless someone was chasing me. I was happy to let them have a little daddy-daughter time.
By the time I was showered and dressed, Jake was just climbing out of bed, his hair firing in multiple directions, his eyes still swollen with sleep.
He rubbed at his eyes and squinted at me. “What are you doing?”
“I have a plan,” I said, pulling a sweater on over my T-shirt.
“A plan?”
He probably thought I meant I had a plan for breakfast. “Yes. But not like in TV or the movies, I promise. This one is actually sensible.”
“I thought you were gonna tell me you were making pancakes. And eggs. And bacon.”
I folded my arms across my chest and stared at him, tapping my foot.
He sighed. “Should I even ask?”
“You can.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and yawned. “Will it involve me having to bail you out of jail at any point today?”
“It will not,” I told him. “I promise.”
He stared at me. “You sound all reasonable and sensible. Who are you and what have you done with my wife?”
“Stop,” I said. “I’m going to go talk to someone who can help with all of this.”
“All of what? Breakfast?” His expression turned hopeful. “You’re bringing in a chef?”
“You love my cooking and you know it.” I leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I’m talking about Amanda. Madison. All of that. And this person can probably help me with some questions about the licensing thingie.” I smiled at him. “See? It’s totally me.”
“I’m still suspicious,” he said. “And hungry.”
“Don’t be,” I told him. “There are bagels on the counter. And cereal. I’ll be back soon.” I headed for the door, then stopped and spun back around. “Enjoy your run with Sophie and try not to get hypothermia and die from the cold.”
He frowned. “Cold?”
I nodded. “Maybe leave the life insurance papers out before you go.”
He pointed at me. “There. There’s my wife.”
TWENTY FIVE
Detective Priscilla Hanborn folded her hands over her stomach and raised an eyebrow in my direction. “Ms. Savage. It’s been awhile. To what do I owe the...pleasure?”
I set the small pink box down on her desk. “Oh, I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by and say hello.” I pointed at the box. “And bring you some breakfast.”
She eyed me with a hard stare for a long moment, then reached over and lifted the lid on the box. “Apple fritters?”
“And bear claws,” I said. “I wasn’t sure which you preferred so I had to guess.”
She let the lid fall on the box. “A bit clichéd bringing a police officer donuts, don’t you think?”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” I said, reaching for the box. “I can certainly take them home—”
She reached out and snatched the box before I could touch it. “I didn’t say I didn’t want them.”
“Oh. Alright.” I waited expectantly.
She sighed. “Have a seat.”
I sat down on the other side of her desk. I’d first met Detective Hanborn when we’d discovered a dead body in the basement of our home while trying to unfreeze a frozen pipe. She’d immediately identified me as the prime suspect in the murder because I’d known the victim. Our relationship hadn’t gotten off to the best start. Even when she realized I had nothing to do with the murder and the actual culprit was arrested, she still hadn’t taken a great liking to me. Over the months, we occasionally saw each other around town. I usually waved and she usually pretended like she hadn’t seen me. But she was the head of law enforcement in Moose River and I couldn’t think of a better person to speak to about Amanda Pendleton.
She lifted the lid on the box again and pulled out one of the fritters. She pulled a napkin out of her top desk drawer and laid it flat on the desktop, then set the fritter on top of it. She broke off a tiny piece and popped it into her mouth. She was still a moment, like she was savoring it like it was a fine wine. “Good Egg, right?”
I nodded. Clearly, she was a donut connoisseur.
“Ted is always bringing in donuts from there,” she said, leaning back in the chair.
I wondered what other places he frequented. There weren’t any other donut shops in town, but the local groceries had bakery departments, and there was a funky, retro-looking donut shop across the river that we’d taken the kids to on a couple of occasions.
“How can I help you?” she asked.
“I’m actually here for two reasons,” I said, trying to get comfortable in the metal chair. “I assume you know about Amanda Pendleton.”
Her expression transitioned to one of impassiveness. “I do, yes.”
“And you’ve had no luck locating her yet?” I asked. “And to be clear. I’m not asking just to be nosy. I’m asking because my daughters were in the play with her and it’s just been kind of a mess since she disappeared.”
“That’s Eleanor Bandersand’s deal, right?” she asked. “The play?”
I assumed she had to know that, but I figured she was trying to figure out if I was telling the truth or not about why I was asking. “Yes. She’s the director and the owner of the theater company. They’re doing Snow White.”
“Right, right,” she said, nodding, chewing on her bottom lip. She ran a hand over her nearly white, spiked hair. “No, she has not been located as of yet.”
“My understanding is that this has happened before with her?” I said.
Hanborn’s mouth flattened into a tight line. “Ms. Savage. I really can’t discuss the particulars of the case with you. I understand you might have a somewhat related interest here, but that doesn’t mean I can tell you what’s going on.”
“I know that,” I said. “I’m sorry. My approach is all wrong here. What I meant is that I might have information that could be helpful to whatever investigation you’re doing.”
She raised the eyebrow at me again, her crystal blue eyes full of skepticism. “Information?”
“Well, I guess it’s information,” I said, a little less sure of myself. “And I guess it depends on how you’re approaching her d
isappearance.”
She broke off another piece of the fritter and popped it into her mouth. “I’m listening.”
“Because I’ve been around the play a lot, I’ve heard a few things,” I began and then told her what I knew about the company’s possible financial issues and Madison’s rejection from drama school.
Hanborn picked at the fritter while she listened to me, glancing at me occasionally, but giving the pastry most of her attention. I couldn’t tell from her expression what she thought of what I was telling her, but at least she hadn’t gone to sleep or told me to leave.
The fritter was almost gone when I stopped talking. Hanborn looked up from the donut, almost surprised. “That’s it?”
“That’s what?”
“That’s your...information?”
I squirmed in the chair. “Well, yes. I know that none of those things are the proverbial smoking gun, but I thought they might shed a little light on the situation.”
“Shed a little light,” Hanborn repeated, then smiled at me the way she might smile at a dog who kept bringing her a slobber-covered tennis ball. “On the situation.”
I sat there, now wishing I’d gone for the run with Jake and Sophie. I glanced around the office, trying to find something to take my mind off the fact that I might have made a mistake in coming to her office. But there was nothing to look at. The beige walls were devoid of decorations and nothing but nondescript books and binders lined the bookshelf behind her desk. There were no photos, no trinkets, nothing that hinted at Hanborn’s likes or dislikes or personality.
Probably because she didn’t have one.
Hanborn made a great show of pushing herself up in her chair and moving the fritter to the side and folding her hands on top of her desk. She stared at me for a long moment, perhaps thinking I might wither under her gaze.
I managed to not wither.
“Ms. Savage,” she finally said. “I...appreciate...you bringing these things to my attention. But I think you might just be jumping the gun a little bit here. Police work is about connecting the dots, not about hoping the dots connect. Do you get what I’m getting at?”
“Not really,” I admitted.
“What you are giving me is conjecture,” she said. “It’s not information.”
“I disagree.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“It’s information that informs the conjecture,” I argued. “It’s information that might provide motive.”
“Ah, yes. Motive,” she said, nodding, amused. “Probably saw that on Law & Order, right?”
“I don’t watch television.”
She frowned. “Right. Look, these are things that might provide...motive. If we were looking for one. But we’re not.”
“You’re not?”
“We’re not.”
“Why not?”
She sighed. “Because there’s nothing to indicate she was, you know, kidnapped.”
“So you think she just ran away?”
She sighed again and reached for the last bit of the fritter. “I’m indulging you here, Ms. Savage, because you were kind enough to bring me donuts. If you’d come in empty-handed, this conversation would already be over.”
I made a mental note to never show up empty-handed.
“Yes, I believe she ran away,” she said, finishing off the last little bit. She wiped at the crumbs on her lips, then brushed off her uniform top. “And I hope I don’t have to remind you that I’m telling you this in confidence.”
“You don’t.”
Hanborn leaned back in her chair. “Amanda Pendleton has done this before.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“Like everyone else in Moose River,” she said. “It’s not a secret, right? And I don’t think this time was any different.”
“You don’t?” I asked. “I think there might be—”
“See, that’s what you shouldn’t be doing,” she said, pointing at me. “Thinking.” She smiled at me. “I’m just kidding, of course.”
She wasn’t, and we both knew it, but I didn’t say anything.
“When Amanda ran away before – and to be clear, she did run away before – do you know what the circumstances were?”
“No. I don’t even know her family,” I admitted.
“Of course not,” she said. She took a deep breath. “I’m not going to share a ton of details with you because that wouldn’t be appropriate. But let’s just say the circumstances were similar. She’d just broken up with a different boyfriend. And she was under some pressure at school.” She smiled. “That sound familiar?”
I hesitated, then nodded.
“So while I appreciate you bringing all of this to my attention, I really don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” she said. “Her family is checking with extended family. While they are concerned, I’m trusting that they know their daughter better than I do and right now, they aren’t projecting a sense of...urgency. I feel confident Miss Pendleton will show up any day now and we’ll find out she went hitchhiking to a friend’s in Iowa or something similar.” She smiled. “Okay now?”
I looked down at my lap for a moment. It took a lot to make me feel stupid. For years, I’d let my self-confidence wilt; I’d lost belief in myself. But when Jake came back into my life, it was like I found my self-confidence tucked in a shoebox at the back of the closet. And I opened it and felt strong and smart and beautiful again. It was just as much about me as it was about Jake – he might have helped me locate the box, but I was the one who opened it and tried everything back on for size. And wore it daily. Proudly. . So it took a lot to make me feel like I had no clue as to what I was doing or what I was talking about.
But Detective Hanborn pushed the right buttons. I felt very foolish sitting there in her office at that moment.
“Now,” she said, seemingly satisfied that I’d been properly chastised. “You mentioned something about having two reasons for being here. I assume Amanda Pendleton was the first. What’s the second?”
I shifted in the chair again, wondering if I should just walk out now and save myself from further embarrassment. The motivation I’d woken up with was now nowhere to be found, and I was afraid that anything that came out of my mouth at that point was going to sound ridiculous.
I took a deep breath. I’d come this far, though. I might have been wrong about Amanda Pendleton, at least in Detective Hanborn’s eyes. But that didn’t mean I was wrong about wanting to be an investigator.
I cleared my throat. “I was wondering if your office would ever, uh, consider an internship.”
“An internship?” Her brow furrowed. “You mean for one of your children?”
I shook my head. “No. I mean for me.”
Both eyebrows shot up. “For you?”
I tried to swallow away my nervousness. “Yes. I’m looking into becoming licensed. As a private investigator.”
Her eyebrows stayed up and her open mouth formed a small circle.
A knock on the door startled both of us and I turned around.
Belinda Hanborn, Priscilla’s sister, was standing there, all legs and blond hair. She couldn’t have been more opposite than Priscilla and, in fact, Jake and I had mistaken her for...someone else in Priscilla’s life...before Priscilla corrected us and told us that was her sister. She had the face and body of a swimsuit model.
Priscilla did not.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked, flipping her hair away from her face.
“Not at all,” Priscilla said. “What do you need?”
“Well, I…” Belinda smiled politely at me, then walked around the detective’s desk and leaned down to whisper something in the detective’s ear. Her hand rested lightly on the detective’s arm and her lips were nearly touching Priscilla’s ear. If I wasn’t mistaken, Priscilla seemed to be leaning into her.
Because they were... sisters.
And then Priscilla broke into a very un-Priscilla-like giggle and patted Belinda’s hand. “Give me a minute,
okay? We’re almost done here and then we can...talk.” Detective Hanborn glanced at me. “Right?”
I grabbed my purse from the side of the chair and stood. “Actually, I think we’re all done now.”
“Really? But you had a question about an internship? For...yourself?”
Belinda was still bent over, her head now resting on Priscilla’s, eyeing me with beautiful, wide eyes.
“It can wait,” I told her. “Thank you for your time.”
“Anytime, Ms. Savage,” she said, not bothering to hide her happiness at my impending departure. “Thanks for the fritters. And Ms. Savage?”
I stopped in the doorway. “Yes?”
“Mind closing the door on your way out?” she asked, the eyebrow raised again. “My sister and I need to...chat.”
I pulled the door closed and didn’t ask any more questions.
TWENTY SIX
I spent the rest of my Sunday deliberately not thinking about Amanda Pendleton or the Bandersands or investigating. I retreated to the kitchen, turned on the oven, and baked up a storm of cookies and muffins and breads. I made a steak and potato dinner for Jake, Sophie and me and then woke up early the next morning to greet the other three kids when Thornton dropped them off before Emily had to get on the bus to school. Grace and Will passed out on the sofas as soon as they got home and Sophie slept in late. I made pancakes when they woke up and we had a nice, leisurely breakfast, getting caught up on how we all spent our weekend. Sophie told the other two about the movies she watched at her sleepover and Grace and Will relayed their escapades to the feed store to check out the acoustics for their dad’s upcoming gig. I stayed quiet about my visit to the Moose River police department.
Once they finished talking about their weekend, we went into schedule mode: what we had planned for the week and what was on the homeschool calendar. By the time breakfast was over, I was visibly more relaxed. This wasn’t a surprise. Because whenever I was down or frustrated or feeling like I was clueless, I had one go-to maneuver.
