“Love you, too.”
Chapter Two
Something was wrong. It had to be. There was no other explanation for what was going on. I hadn’t been stood up for a date since high school. Back in those days, I actually thought it was a good idea to get a perm. That was how long ago it was. No wonder I wanted to wipe that era from my memory. Hairstyle debacles aside, I thought the days of being stood up were over. Was it all just wishful thinking on my part?
Wait a minute. What was going on? Was I really questioning Jake? That was the kind of ludicrous thought that only came to my mind when I let anxiety get the better of me. Unlike with the various lackluster boyfriends I’d had in the past, I knew I could trust Jake with my heart. I could say with complete certainty that he’d never hurt me on purpose. I actually felt ashamed for even doubting him, however briefly.
My crisis of confidence in him aside, it didn’t change the fact that it was approaching seven o’clock, and he was nowhere to be found. It was not like him to be late. He wasn’t the type. As I mulled over the situation, none of it made sense to me. Why wasn’t he here? More importantly, where was he?
A flurry of questions rang through my mind, all begging to be answered. The shame was when it came to solving that mystery, I drew a complete blank. My theories were numerous, none of which did I want to share with you as they were frightening in nature. Before my mind got too engrossed in flirting with despair, I dialed his phone number again.
Unfortunately, I receive no response, sending me into a deeper tailspin. That was the third phone call he’d failed to pick up. When coupled with the multiple texts I’d sent his way, the recipe for a panic attack was complete.
I tried thinking this through rationally. Sometimes the simplest explanation truly was the right one. If so, it just meant that he’d gotten bogged down at work. That happened every so often. In his line of work, business tended to find him. As a private eye, new clients occasionally just walked in the door without prior notice. Was that the case here?
Upon first glance, it made for a reasonably plausible theory. Under further inspection, it didn’t hold up. One thing didn’t make sense. If that was the case and a client had paid Jake a visit, it didn’t explain why he hadn’t answered his phone. Sure, he might not have been able to take my call, but he could have easily shot a text my way.
As I dismissed the new-client theory, I tried to tell my brain to quiet down just as it envisioned the worst. I pondered what else could have happened to him. The possibilities were maddening. Had he been in a car crash? I shook my head. Even then, he could still answer his phone…unless the crash was so drastic that he was unconscious.
My heart began beating faster and faster, almost like it was ready to burst out of my chest. I had to take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. My mind had a way of always picturing the worst-case scenario. Trust me, I’d tried stopping it. Suffice it to say, my mind didn’t always obey orders. That was especially true right then. If I wasn’t careful, I’d go completely off the deep end.
Argh.
It was so frustrating. Still, despite my uneasiness, I had to calm myself down. That was easier said than done. I was bordering on frantic. The entire time we’d dated, he’d never done anything like this. Uncharted territory did not suit me well. So much so that I decided to go over to his office to check up on him.
***
The moment I went out my front door, I briefly reconsidered my idea. Living in Alaska did that sometimes. In the dead of winter, the simple act of stepping outside was a questionable proposition. I’d lived here all my life but was nowhere close to getting used to the cold. Then again, who really did? It was unnatural to be staring down freezing temperatures seven months straight.
That first step into the cold was always the most jarring. Going from the welcoming blanket of heat inside my house to the bone-chilling cold of my front yard was like stepping into a different world. During the winter, like most sensible Alaskans, I lived my life sprinting from one heated place to another.
On the rare occasions that I did need to brave the elements, despite how much I braced myself for the cold, I was never truly ready for it. With my mind so focused on Jake, that time, the chill that came my way was more unexpected than ever.
It was a typical January night, which was to say freezing. I felt like I was being assaulted by arctic air with only a parka and a winter hat as my defense. If there was a bright spot, and it was a stretch to call it that, it was that the weather was so frigid that I briefly stopped thinking about Jake. Until I reached my car and flipped the heater on, I couldn’t think about much else than how cold I was.
I’m sorry if I was complaining a little too much. I was never like this during the summer. The winter just happened to bring out a hyper-negative side that hung around like icicles dangling from a frozen roof. Every winter, I went through a ridiculous phase where I questioned why my parents bothered to move here in the first place.
The reason the phase was ridiculous was because I already knew the answer to my question. My father had been lured to Alaska by the promise of a big payday. During fishing season, he got just that. In three months’ time, he was able to earn enough money to support our family for the entire rest of the year.
On nights like this, I wasn’t ashamed to admit, there were things more important than money. Namely, heat. There was nothing wrong with having to work all twelve months of the year if it meant you could live in a more hospitable climate.
Ultimately, I was just spinning my wheels like a hamster in a cage. Those thoughts weren’t helpful. The past had already been written. Besides, there was nothing I could do to change history, as much as I wanted to.
Back in the present, there was no time to linger any further. If left to my own devices, I could easily get lost in my thoughts. Some days, it was a jungle in there. In addition, I was really only having different variations of the same thought—that I couldn’t wait for winter to be over.
Once the heater had sufficiently warmed my bones, I headed over to Jake’s office, eager to track him down.
Chapter Three
The problem with Jake’s office building was that it offered no underground parking. That meant one thing—I’d have to park outside and brave the elements again. That was about as exciting to me as getting a root canal. But, like tearing off a bandage, I knew the best course of action was to get it over with as quickly as possible. I raced towards that front doorway like a fashionista wanting to be first in line for a Black Friday sale.
I’ll spare you the frigid details, but the sprint from the parking lot to the building’s front door was the longest thirty feet of my entire life. A few seconds later, I stood in the lobby of the art-deco office building, letting the heat from the vents thaw me out. When my teeth finally stopped chattering, I was able to turn my focus to something beyond just how insufferable the weather was. Although, I did take a few moments to bask in just how good it felt to be warm again.
Ultimately, my joy proved to only be temporary, and far too short lived for my taste. Jake’s office was in the back corner of the building, tucked away from the insurance offices and accountancy firms. I’d walked down that hard, checkered-tile floor many times in the past, each time admiring the retro architecture while marveling at how well the building had held up over the years.
That night, I did nothing but stare straight ahead. My focus was squarely on Jake. With each moment that went by without hearing a word from my boyfriend, my level of concern grew exponentially.
It wasn’t just my thoughts that were tangled up in unsavory possibilities. My stomach turned as well, twisting into knots that wouldn’t be easy to get out of. As much as I tried to quiet it, my gut instinct was telling me something bad had occurred.
Before she died, my mother had always been a big proponent of the power of positive thinking. With her passing, I kind of buried that concept, mostly since all the positive thinking in the world wasn’t enough to save her. If ever there was a
good time to revive that practice, it was then. I had a nasty habit of bracing for the worst rather than expecting the best.
With a cloud of uncertainty in front of me, I decided to embrace my mother’s old approach, convincing myself that perhaps the battery had just died in my boyfriend’s phone and that he’d forgotten to bring his charger.
I rounded the corner at the end of the hallway and turned to Jake’s office. As I looked at the opaque glass window with Jake’s name etched on it, I could see that the light was still on inside. When I reached the door, I discovered that it was unlocked. I entered the office to find the reception area empty. That was hardly a surprise, considering it was after normal business hours.
Even Diane Stanton, Jake’s receptionist, was gone. That didn’t come as a complete shock. Diane tended to head home at five, while Jake often stuck around much later.
I called my boyfriend’s name, hoping for a response.
“Jake. Jake.”
My words just hung in the air with no response. That was highly suspicious. It was becoming more difficult to let positive thinking carry me all of a sudden, especially when I saw that the door to his back office was cracked open.
Surely, he had heard me. For a moment, I had a flickering thought that perhaps he was on a call back there, but I then quickly reconsidered. If his phone was working, why hadn’t he responded to any of my calls or texts?
I called his name out again as I swung the door open to his back office.
That was when I saw Jake, although not in the condition I was hoping for. He was not in his chair, as I expected, but rather on the ground with his eyes closed. Blood was pouring out of a gunshot wound in his chest.
I screamed out in panic. “Jake!”
He was unresponsive as I rushed over to him. Part of me wanted to shake him to see if I could wake him up, but that didn’t look like it would do any good. Oh dear. Who did this? I would have asked him, but he didn’t appear to be conscious.
On instinct alone, I reached into my purse, pulled out a stack of napkins, and pressed them against the wound. It was a futile attempt to stop the blood from gushing out, but it was all I could think to do while in a state of such shock.
I yelled out his name again, that time out of pure desperation. “Jake!”
As expected, he didn’t open his eyes. I grabbed his wrist, looking to check his vitals, praying that he had a pulse. Unfortunately, he didn’t. Like that, my worst fears had been confirmed. It was clear why my gut instinct had been so overwhelmingly negative.
Words kept spilling out of my mouth in a stream-of-consciousness fashion. I didn’t expect him to respond. As it was happening, I didn’t even realize I was saying it all out loud.
“Oh no. Please tell me you’re still alive.”
With no response from him and no pulse to speak of, there was only one thing I could do. I whipped out my phone and called 9-1-1, hoping I wasn’t already too late.
Chapter Four
One of the benefits of living in a small town was that emergency services were right on top of things. With traffic practically non-existent, the paramedics arrived on the scene in less than ten minutes. While to an objective observer, that would be a lightning-quick response, for me, those six hundred seconds went by infinitely too slowly.
With every tick, the chances of Jake slipping away increased. That was if he wasn’t completely too far gone already. I told myself not to think like that. While the power of positive thinking had failed me when I entered the building, it was one of my best chances now. I kept repeating that he’d be okay. That the paramedics would find a way to pull him back from the brink.
I stood in the corner of the office, praying harder than ever before as the paramedics worked on Jake. Despite me sending all the positive energy Jake’s way that I could, coupled with the paramedics doing everything they could, by all metrics, things didn’t look good.
Even so, when the paramedics put their equipment down and got up with hangdog looks on their faces, I was not fully prepared for the news they were about to share with me. I’d stayed off to the side while they did their work, impatiently waiting for an update. When Paul Wilson, a bearded, bespectacled trim-bodied paramedic, stood up in front of me, he didn’t even want to look me in the eyes.
Paul’s forlorn body language should have given me the answer to my question even before I asked it, but my heart wasn’t ready to accept the truth, even though it was right in front of me.
“Tell me he’s going to be okay,” I said.
Paul remained tight lipped, reluctant to answer.
I pressed him for information, staring him down in hopes that he couldn’t avoid me.
“He’s going to make it, right?” I continued.
I could see a lump in Paul’s throat. Briefly, he made eye contact, but the worry in my eyes must have been too much for him to bear because he immediately averted his gaze.
I pushed further. “Please tell me he’s going to make it.”
The solemn look on Paul’s face was undeniable. It spoke volumes, even if his mouth didn’t utter a single word. Ultimately, it turned out the delay in his response was just so he could buy extra time to find a way to break the bad news to me.
When he heard my voice start to crack out of desperation, he finally spoke up.
“I’m afraid he’s gone,” Paul said.
I’d heard the words as clear as day. I just couldn’t believe them. Really, it was more that I refused to believe what I was hearing. I got choked up and was only able to muster one word in response.
“What?”
Paul spelled it out for me again, trying to be as empathetic as possible. “I’m sorry, but your boyfriend is dead.”
Denial lost its grip on me as reality sunk in. I froze, dead in my tracks. For a few moments, I couldn’t talk, blink, or even breathe. My lungs constricted until I finally gasped.
As a paramedic, Paul was clearly familiar with the emotions that were bowling me over like a snowplow in the night.
“You should sit down,” he said.
That was a rational thought that I was ill equipped to process after receiving such unbelievable news. Instead of taking Paul’s advice, my body had other ideas.
The knots that had been tied in my stomach suddenly refused to be ignored.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” I said.
Chapter Five
As my instincts took over, I found myself rushing outside, not only to get my bearings back, but on a subconscious level, to put some distance between me and that gut-wrenching scene. A part of me wanted to keep running as far as I could. Intellectually, I knew I couldn’t outrun my problems. Emotionally, I wanted to try.
I never thought I’d be in such a hurry to bolt outside on a night with subzero temperatures. Then again, I could add that to the growing list of things I never thought I’d do in my life. Even if it was frigid, the air was fresh and a welcome change from the stifling, claustrophobic environment I’d just been in. The longer I stood in Jake’s office, the more it felt like the walls were closing in around me.
As the wintry night greeted me with a gust of brutally cold air, I was brought back to reality. So much for making a run for it. Instead, I stopped dead in my tracks.
I immediately regretted my last thought the moment it came to my mind. Dead in my track, what an unfortunate turn of phrase, given the circumstances. So much for clearing my head. My mind didn’t need further prompting. It went back to fixating on exactly what I was trying to avoid.
My thoughts were squarely on Jake once again. That shouldn’t have surprised me. I could run away from the sight of his body all I wanted. Chasing away images of him in my mind was the hard part. More importantly, no matter how far I ran, those images would stay with me.
The only comfort, if it could even be considered that, was that the chill in the air kept my stomach in line. I no longer felt queasy. That feeling of bordering on throwing up was replaced by my body shivering.
If
I wasn’t already in a terrible-enough mood, the cold amplified my discontent. With my mood exacerbated, I didn’t know what to expect. It was a dangerous combination, the mixture of being on edge because of the weather and feeling bereft over Jake’s death. When combined, they melded into an unruly blizzard of emotions, akin to gale-force winds sweeping in during an ice storm. They were hard enough to handle separately, but when put together, they were a force of nature.
As much as I tried to calm myself down, I failed miserably. My temper raged as my heart hurt more than it ever had before. I cycled through a full spectrum of emotions—shock, pain, and confusion. Each vied to take over, while none was willing to yield to the other even an inch. That tenuous mixture was too much, ultimately boiling over. Tears streamed down my face as I looked up at the sky, wailing and ranting.
“Why?” I asked.
I yelled out as if there were any chance of getting an answer, although I knew there wasn’t one. It was an irrational act, but what else could be expected during such an unprecedented time? What I was trying to grapple with wasn’t just a profound sense of sadness. I had stared down a chilling scene, one that had left me feeling like my heart had been ripped right out of my chest.
As much as it defied logic, I kept calling out some kind of an answer. “How is this even possible?”
My question echoed in the air, unanswered. By that point, I was completely unraveling. I wanted to curl up into a ball and just send up the white flag.
After taking a few deep breaths, I stared out into the darkness. With my pulse finally starting to slow down, I wondered if maybe I’d be able to get a grip.
That idea was short lived as my sadness gave way to a burgeoning rage that wouldn’t be denied.
“No. This can’t be happening,” I repeated to myself.
Meredith Potts Fourteen Book Cozy Mystery Set Page 9
