Key Lime Pie

by Josi S. Kilpack

  She took a deep breath and told him about Eric’s call from the day before, about the box, and about her decision to come to Florida when Eric wouldn’t explain what was going on. She ended with her concerns about Eric telling Layla he would be home at nine, yet now it was nearly eleven. “He expected an answer about . . . the body today. I can’t imagine that he’d make himself unavailable.” She paused for a breath, finding it much easier to talk to Mathews than she had thought it would be. It was like sharing her burden, which meant she didn’t have to worry alone anymore. “When Layla first told me he was gone, I assumed he’d entrusted her to deal with the information in his place, but after getting to know her a little better, I . . .” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t want to slander the woman, but there was definitely something . . . off. Enough that she didn’t think Eric wouldn’t expect Layla to take the primary role in something this important.

  Mathews nodded and wrote some notes in his notebook. “I’m surprised as well,” he said, looking up at her and tapping his pen on the pad of paper. “I’ve spoken with Mr. Burton several times since we made the first call to him on Wednesday. I’d asked him for some personal effects of Megan’s and I assume that’s what’s in the box. He said it would arrive today and seemed quite eager for any information I could give him. I called him this morning, after I called Layla, and he said he’d be right in, but he seemed to be a bit distracted. I have a feeling he hasn’t been giving me the full story.”

  Sadie was sure Eric was holding back information from her, but why would he also be holding back from the police?

  Mathews tapped his pen some more, keeping rhythm with Sadie’s thoughts, and raised his other hand to rub his clean-shaved chin. “What do you know about Megan Burton?”

  “I know she disappeared three years ago after going on spring break and that the police had almost nothing to go on. I know she looked like her mother.”

  Looked. Past tense.

  “That’s it?” Mathews asked, surprise flickering across his face. She could almost read his thoughts: how could she be a friend of Eric’s and yet be so uninformed of the most tragic thing that had ever happened to him? It was an excellent question.

  “He doesn’t talk about his past much,” Sadie said. And because I was trying to hide from my feelings toward him, I didn’t dare deepen our friendship by asking personal questions. She felt bad about that now, wondering what kind of difference she could have made if she’d given Eric the opportunity to trust her with his heartache.

  “You said Layla tried to call him after you arrived at her house?”

  Sadie nodded, trepidation filling in the nooks and crannies of her mind as she picked up on Mathews’s growing concern. “He didn’t answer. And . . . did I mention he doesn’t know I’m here?”

  Mathews immediately furrowed his eyebrows. “You mean he doesn’t know you’ve arrived?”

  Sadie made a half-nod, half-shrug motion with her head and shoulders, feeling as though she were about to be reprimanded. “Like I said, he was really . . . cryptic on the phone yesterday. I worried he’d tell me not to come. Then when he wasn’t at the house and I met Layla instead—which was not something I expected—it kind of threw me off.”

  Mathews leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk as he looked at Sadie. “You’re saying he didn’t know you were coming?”

  She thought she’d adequately covered that, but was feeling more and more unsettled due to the fact that Mathews was having such trouble with her explanation. Would he understand if she used the romance-novel angle Gayle had advocated?

  “No,” Sadie said. “I mean, he asked me to come, but I said no and then I changed my mind and decided to . . . surprise him. No one knows I’m here, well, except my friend Gayle, but she promised she wouldn’t tell a soul.”

  Mathews held her eyes for a few seconds, and Sadie wished she dared look away. Even though she knew she’d told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, she found herself searching her brain to make sure she hadn’t misled him in any way. The fact was that sometimes the truth didn’t sound so good.

  The sergeant leaned back and opened the folder again, flipping through a few papers before extracting one and pushing it across the table. The title on the form was “Privacy Release Authorization Form.” Sadie skimmed over the typed words until arriving at the end of the printed information. The final line was “I therefore authorize this office of the Miami-Dade police department to impart any and all information in regard to this case to the following individuals until I request that the privacy authorization be removed.” Below that final sentence were two names, written in somewhat sloppy handwriting that Sadie had seen a time or two and knew belonged to Eric.

  The first name was Lawrence McCallister of Homestead, Florida.

  The second name was Sarah Diane (Sadie) Hoffmiller of Garrison, Colorado.

  Chapter 13

  Sadie blinked and read her name again, then scanned a little farther down the page where the printed name below the swirling signature read Eric Burton. For a few seconds she tried to come up with all the reasons he would have done this—but only one was certain.

  Eric expected her to come to Florida. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but now she realized why Sergeant Mathews had let her come in with Layla, why he’d told her all the details. And she’d thought they just did things differently here?

  Mathews cleared his throat and Sadie looked up. How could Eric have known she would come to Florida when she herself hadn’t known until a few hours before her flight left?

  “He signed this yesterday?” Sadie asked, having noticed the date when she’d scanned the page.

  “We met yesterday morning and, among other things, we discussed who would have privileged access to the case. As you can see, Mrs. McCallister is . . . limited, but she is still Megan’s mother. Therefore it’s helpful for us to have other people authorized to receive information in case, like today, for example, Mr. Burton is unavailable.”

  After looking at the form again, Sadie felt her embarrassment rise as the word busybody marched through her head. Did everyone see it but her? Did Eric somehow know she’d come?

  Should she be somehow flattered that he knew her this way? She wasn’t. She felt foolish, but didn’t know if that was warranted either.

  “Perhaps you should give him a call,” Mathews suggested.

  Talk to him? Sadie thought to herself. What would she say?

  Mathews continued. “You must have been quite worried to come all the way down here, and after hearing these details I must admit I’m rather concerned as well. With the attention Mr. Burton has given to his daughter’s disappearance, I can’t understand why he wouldn’t be here by now.” He jabbed his finger at the top of the desk. “Perhaps learning you’re in town will get his attention and help us both understand what it is he’s involved in.”

  It was difficult to argue with his logic, so despite her own reluctance to talk to Eric until she’d sorted out her thoughts, she nodded, pulled out her cell phone, and dialed his number. Hopefully he wouldn’t answer the phone so she could have more time to think of what to say.

  Her hopes were dashed when, after the second ring, her call was answered.

  “Sadie?” he said, a smile in his voice that annoyed rather than softened her mood.

  She didn’t know what to say. Finally, she settled on formal. “Hi, Eric,” she said before pausing to take a breath. “I’m here.”

  He was quiet. “Here? In Florida?”

  “Yes,” Sadie said, testing the waters, trying to feel her way through the confusing thoughts in her mind. “Didn’t you know I was coming?”

  “Well, I hoped you were,” Eric said easily.

  “What do you mean, you hoped I was?”

  “Well, you know, I thought maybe you’d want to come at some point.”

  Sadie paused and reviewed quickly the events that had brought her here: Eric’s phone call, his asking her for favors but not telling
her why. An uncomfortable thought came to mind. “Did you . . . set me up?”

  He laughed.

  Laughed! Sadie felt herself stiffening even more and thought back to the mantra she had beat into her kids’ heads when they’d reached dating age, “Dating is a time to get to know another person, find out if you are compatible.” She and Eric weren’t dating, but one of the reasons she was here was certainly related to finding out more about him and more about how the two of them worked together. So far, things were not going well in that department.

  “I wouldn’t say I set you up,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “But I’m sure glad you came.”

  Sadie blinked, making sure she was listening carefully to what he’d said. “You told me enough to get me interested and knew I wouldn’t be able to resist, didn’t you? You knew I’d fall for it.”

  He seemed to clue into the fact that she wasn’t nearly as entertained by this as he was. “I just—”

  “You knew I’d look in the box,” Sadie said, aware of Sergeant Mathews watching her. She ducked her head in even more embarrassment.

  “I didn’t know you would look in the box,” Eric said quickly. “And I never imagined you’d come all the way out here without telling me you wanted to help. I just thought, maybe, if you did look, you’d want to be here. That’s all.”

  Sergeant Mathews cleared his throat, drawing Sadie’s attention. Recognizing him as the savior she needed to rescue her from this uncomfortable moment, she handed the phone across the desk. Besides, he was the one who’d wanted her to call. Mathews didn’t hesitate in taking the phone and putting it to his ear.

  “Mr. Burton,” he said into the phone. “We’ve received information from the medical examiner and . . .”

  Sadie tuned out his voice, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath so she could better analyze the situation. What was she angry about? The fact that Eric had set her up, or the fact that she’d fallen for it? Perhaps both.

  I shouldn’t have come, Sadie said to herself, folding her arms across her chest. Busybody.

  She thought of all the things she’d done to make this trip work—the money, the time, the exhausting flight, not to mention giving Gayle permission to take Pete to the Renaissance dinner—and she felt utterly ridiculous. What had she been thinking?

  “Mrs. Hoffmiller?”

  Sadie looked back at the sergeant, pushing away the insecurity that crowded her mind. That was what bothered her so much—that Eric seemed . . . sneaky, purposely leaving out information to lure her in. It was her own fault it had worked, that the curiosity center in her brain was so hypersensitive, but it still felt like he’d used it against her and that made her pull back and reconsider what had brought her here. Maybe it had been a mistake to have trusted in those tingly feelings Eric inspired in her.

  “Mrs. Hoffmiller?” Sergeant Mathews said again, wiggling the phone in his hand to get her attention. “Mr. Burton would like to speak with you again.”

  She took the phone and put it to her ear. “Yes?” she said as formally, as carefully, and as un-foolishly as she could.

  “Call me as soon as you’re alone,” he said quietly into the phone. “I need to talk to you, but I don’t want Mathews to overhear.”

  “Why wouldn’t you want Mathews to overhear?” she asked out loud, feeling defensive and not liking Eric’s assumption that she would play along with his games. Mathews raised his eyebrows. “I’ve told him everything I know and I have no reason to keep anything from the police.”

  Eric groaned slightly on the other end of the line. “Sadie,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper now. “Things are complicated and—”

  “Why are things complicated?”

  “Sadie, please,” Eric said, his voice both pleading and annoyed. “I’m sorry, okay? Can we at least talk about this before you overreact? I . . . are you still in his office?”

  “Yes, I’m still in Sergeant Mathews’s office,” Sadie said innocently. “Is that a problem?”

  Eric didn’t say anything which told Sadie she’d sufficiently made her point. “Good-bye, Eric,” she said quickly, then pulled the phone from her ear and clicked the end button. She could feel emotion rising in her throat and did her best to swallow it. Now was not the time for a self-pity cry.

  When she looked up, Sergeant Mathews was watching her with enough surprise in his expression to remind her that, yes, he was human, after all, and sympathetic to her discomfort.

  She smiled in what she hoped was a polite and confident way even though she didn’t expect him to see her as anything more than a chump.

  “You didn’t tell me you looked in the box,” Mathews said.

  “I didn’t?” Sadie said, thrown off-track as she searched her memory. She didn’t remember not telling him, but didn’t remember telling him either. “Probably because it wasn’t anything important. Just some clothes, school papers, and a couple photographs.”

  “But you brought it to him,” he reminded her. “It must have something important for him to want it and for you not to trust it to a shipping company.”

  “I thought he was in trouble,” Sadie said quietly, feeling vulnerable. “And I can’t seem to get through my thick skull when it’s better to just leave well enough alone.” She stood up quickly, not wanting to let her mouth run away. She was off-kilter and needed to be careful about saying too much. She thought about the other reason she’d come to Florida: because she had feelings for Eric.

  Stupid girl, she admonished herself even as she admitted that it was flattering that he wanted her here. She just wasn’t sure if that cancelled out everything else, and she couldn’t help thinking, with a fair amount of regret, that Pete would not have used her this way—even if he’d known he could. She hoped Gayle would admire that about him.

  The rising heat of tears coming to her eyes would not help anything. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning toward the door. “I wish you the best of luck in this.”

  “Wait,” Mathews said. She knew he’d stood up before she turned back to face him, but was reminded of what an imposing man he was when she had to look up to meet his eyes. He held out a notebook to her. “Will you please write down your full name, address, and phone number for the file?”

  “Okay,” Sadie said, taking the notebook and the pen he handed to her, eager to complete the task and be on her way.

  “If I have any questions, I assume it’s okay to call?” he asked as she handed the notebook back to him.

  “Sure,” Sadie said, but her mind was already on its way back to Miami—leaving seemed to be her only solution. Thank goodness no one but Gayle knew what she’d done. Sadie was reminded of the old fable about the dog that drops its own steak in hopes of getting the bigger one that was reflected back to him in the water. Sadie had given up all claim on Pete, a good man who may have made her happy, in order to go after the man who made her blood run a little hotter. Pete had stepped aside to let Sadie figure things out, and now Sadie felt as though she were standing alone, looking at both Eric and Pete off in the distance.

  “And here’s my card,” Mathews said, holding the small rectangle out to her. “Call me for any reason.”

  She took the card and slipped it into the side pocket of her purse. She half-expected Sergeant Mathews to stop her again as she headed out of his office, but he didn’t. She fished her keys out of her purse and strode deliberately to the front door, planning out the next few hours of her life. She still had the airline’s number on her phone. She’d call them on her way back to the interstate and hopefully be just as lucky in getting a flight home as she’d been in getting the flight that brought her to this madness. Beyond that she could only hope that by the time she got back home, she would have worked through her feelings about all of this. She wondered if Gayle would laugh when Sadie told her what had happened. Sadie almost hoped she would. If Gayle found it funny, maybe Sadie would one day feel the same. At least Eric had the box now. She’d accomplished one of her objectives and that made
her feel better.

  The thick air hit her yet again when she pushed through the outer door, and she squinted into the sunlight before digging her sunglasses out of her purse, glad she’d come prepared. She pushed the glasses onto her face before heading toward her car, but then paused when she saw Layla stand up from the wrought-iron bench a few feet from Sadie’s rental car. Sergeant Mathews had said Layla would walk home and Sadie hadn’t given it another thought. However, the woman had a strange effect on Sadie, calling out to her motherly instincts despite the fact that Layla wasn’t much younger than Sadie. It wouldn’t be hard to drop her off on the way out of town. Sadie smiled as she approached the bench. Layla just watched her.

  “Would you like a ride home?” Sadie asked.

  “Yes,” Layla said. She headed for the passenger side of the car. Sadie unlocked the door and they both slid in, pulling their doors shut at the same time. If it had been Gayle or Sadie’s daughter, Breanna, they’d have laughed at how perfectly in sync they were. But motherly instincts aside, Sadie didn’t know this woman. There were no inside jokes to share.

  They drove in silence, which didn’t seem to bother either one of them, and as they rolled to a stop in front of the house, Sadie turned to her passenger. “It was nice to meet you, Layla. I hope everything turns out okay.”

  “Would you like to come in? Tia made chicken for sandwiches and pasta salad for lunch.”

  The mention of food reminded Sadie how sorely neglectful she’d been of her stomach these last twenty-four hours. All it had had since yesterday afternoon was processed garbage. Maybe she’d find a decent restaurant on her way to the airport where she could order some good key lime pie—she still needed to redeem the Denver airport’s interpretation. She also patted herself on the back for appropriately deciphering the smell of chicken from Layla’s house earlier. But who was Tia?

  No more questions, she told herself. Go home.