Instinctively, my hand traveled to my pocket and wrapped around the phone I found back in Angela’s bedroom.
Maybe I should give it to him, just hand it over and tell him where I got it. It might hold clues that could lead to what was going on. But could I really trust Sheriff Dash, or anyone for that matter?
They didn’t know what I was going through. They didn’t know that my ‘unfinished business’ was pushing me toward finding answers to these questions. And they certainly didn’t know why I had ‘unfinished business’ in the first place.
Besides, giving the phone to Sheriff Dash would mean that I’d have to explain how I got it. And something told me that telling him I was snooping around a dead man’s room at the same moment he fiancé was nearly killed wouldn’t do anything to quell his suspicions of me.
No. I’d hold onto it for now. Once I got a chance to look into its contents, I’d revisits my options. Until then, the dance with Darrin Dash continues.
“I’ll put it on my list,” I said, still pacing.
“Be nice Darrin. Can’t you see she’s nervous?” Peggy asked, motioning to me.
“Too nervous, if you ask me. Almost like she has some sort of personal investment in the whole thing. And it’s Sheriff Dash,” he smirked.
“It’ll be more than that if you don’t stop acting like this!” Peggy stood up, her face red, her eyes watery. “Of course she has a personal investment in this! We all do. Angela was part of this town, of this family. And so was Patrick!” She pointed to me. “This woman has been in this town for two days and she’s managed more compassion and kindness than you have in two years!”
“Peggy,” Aiden stood, touching her arm.
“No, Aiden! I’m right.” She pulled away. “Rita watched him be killed. We all did. And then she stood there while the same was almost done to Angela. And our good sheriff here can do nothing but point the finger.” She shook her head. “Maybe that’s because you don’t have any legitimate leads. Maybe it’s because, in the two years that you’ve been here, you haven’t been able to solve anything!”
“Peggy, that’s not fair,” Aiden said.
“It’s all right, Aiden. She’s upset,” Sheriff Dash said.
“Of course I’m upset!” She screamed. “People are dying. It’s been two years and people are still dying! Do something!” She stopped the ground and marched past us. “Just do something!”
“I’m sorry,” Aiden looked at us, nodded, and then followed Peggy as she charged out of the room.
“Well that was something else,” Sheriff Dash said, looking at the space where Peggy pretty much just had a nervous breakdown.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “She’s always been a dramatic one.” I winced. “Or so I’ve heard.”
He glanced over at me. “You do that on purpose, don’t you? Say things that make it sound like you know more than you should.” He shook his head. “I can’t decide whether that’s because you actually do know something you have no business knowing, or because you just want me to think you’re more interesting than you are.”
“And why would I want that?” I asked, folding my arms and glaring at him.
“You tell me,” he responded, grinning devilishly at me.
I stared at him, my eyebrows furrowing. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh, I think you might.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“Nothing at all, Ms. Redoux.” He winked at me. “Not one thing.” He turned and started out of the room.
For some reason, the entire exchange made me really angry. Watching him walk away, I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut any longer. “If I were you, I’d develop a distaste for pie!”
“Now Ms. Redoux,” he said from over his shoulder. “If I did that, where would we ‘accidentally’ run into each other?” He turned back and nodded at me. “I’ll be seeing you.”
“What on earth was that?” I muttered to myself as he pushed his way through the door.
“It looked like flirting. Painful flirting, but flirting nonetheless.”
I turned. Angela was standing behind me, holding an ice pack to her forehead.
“Hey,” I said, giving her a hug even though we’d just met yesterday. “Are you okay?”
“You mean other than being shaken up, scared to death, and heartbroken? I’m just peachy,” she groaned.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, pulling away from her. “I want you to know we’re going to find out who did this to you, who did this to Patrick.”
“We?” She asked, wincing as she moved the ice pack away.
“You know, the communal ‘we’. Like, all of us,” I answered, shuffling my stance uncomfortably.
“I think all of us should leave this to the police,” she said. “This town is much more dangerous than either Patrick or I imagined. I can’t believe I have to stay here for a minute longer, let alone a month.”
“You’re not leaving immediately anymore?” I asked.
“Unfortunately not,” she answered. “My sister’s house is being remodeled and she’s not going to have room for me until it’s completed.”
“I’m sorry again,” I muttered. “Is she in New York?”
“New York?” She asked. “Oh right! Yes. She’s in New York.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I must be more shaken up than I thought.”
“Understood,” I answered. Taking her hand, I led her out the door. “Let me help you home.”
“No!” She answered, pulling away from me. “I’m not- I’m not going back there. The Inn will be just fine. And I can make it there myself. I wanted to stop by the graveyard for a little while first. I’m sure you understand.”
Better than you know,” I thought.
“I do,” I answered, and stayed step by step with her out into the parking lot. “It’ll get better.”
“I hope so,” she said. “For you too.”
“What?” I asked.
“That flirting,” she scrunched her nose. “It was practically painful. I almost felt sorry for you, and I’m a brand new widow.”
Ouch.
Later that night, once Peggy and I had washed out the last of the pie tins, safely locked up shop, and talked about how much the town sheriff was getting on our last nerves, I finally had time to do a little digging.
Locking the door to my place in the back building-but keeping more than a few lights on (thanks Mayor McConnell)- I die Patrick’s phone out of my pocket and went to work.
Amazing, the lock screen didn’t have a password. I guess he figured hiding it in the air duct was security enough. So I flicked the keypad and started snooping around.
The wallpaper was a yellow smiley face; pretty nondescript but also creepy, given that I was looking through a dead man’s phone. It was almost like Patrick was glaring back at ne, grinning as I rifled through his secrets.
Only, there were no secrets there.
No contacts, no call history, no pictures. It was like the entire phone had been wiped clean. It was empty of everything. But why would Patrick go through all the trouble of hiding a barren phone? What good would that do?
I scrolled through the apps, where at least there was something to look at
The phone was quick and much lighter than I remembered burner phones being. Two years must have really seen a tech upheaval foe drug dealers and low level crime bosses.
Tapping the Facebook app proved fruitless. It wasn’t logged into any account. But just as I was about to power down the phone and call it a loss, I saw a familiar app.
Dancing Dragon.
It looked like a game; a cartoon dragon flying over a pit filled with multicolored balls. Bit I knew better.
When I was sick last month (or I guess that was two years ago last month, I found myself sniffling through daytime TV. One of the seemingly endless parade of talk show cheaters had used this app.
It looked like a game from the outside, but it was really a masking app. It threw a lay
er over your phone making it look empty when it really wasn’t. You know, in case your girlfriend went through your phone because she correctly thought you were an unfaithful piece of garbage.
I tapped on the cartoon dragon to find that this app did, in fact, have a lock code.
Luckily, the talk show host hadn’t stopped at exposing the cheater. He exposed the entire app, giving away the universal unlock code. And, because I’m the type of person who remembers useless information, I remembered it.
Now, so long as the app makers hadn’t updated in the last two years, I was golden.
Six zeros, two star keys, and a pound sign later, and I was in Patrick’s phone.
Mayor McConnell gave me a disapproving stare from his tin of leftover sweet potatoes, but I shook my head.
“Oh don’t start. It’s not like I go around invading people’s privacy, especially dead people. You of all people know that this is an extreme situation.” I shrugged. “Though I guess it would be ‘you of all dogs’, wouldn’t it? “
He just kicked his snout and went back to the sweet potatoes.
I flipped through the home screen, noticing that now an unread text message sat in the alerts bar.
I clicked it. The number had a different area code, but wasn’t labeled with any name.
I bit my lip as I read them.
-This isn’t worth it. We need to stop this now.
- Hey. Call me. I don’t know what’s going on, and this is all too much.
And finally:
-Where are you? I haven’t heard from you in days. I’m starting to worry. I knew we shouldn’t have done this.
Beyond that, going through the now unlocked phone, I saw that it didn’t have much more on it than before.
There were still no pictures, still no contacts. The only difference in fact, was within the call history
There was one number called several times stretching back months, the same number the texts originated from.
I rushed over to the laptop and typed the number in.
Mt. Gregor Auto Repair.
It was thirty - seven miles from here.
Bet I could find a wrench or two there.
“I know where the two of us are headed tomorrow, Mayor McConnell,” I said, looking down at the Irish setter.
He groaned up at me, though that may have been because he’d finished about a pound and a half of sweet potatoes in record time.
His eyes darted to the door and he barked seconds before a knock sounded.
I slammed the laptop shut and looked down at the dog. He seemed to share my concern. Peggy had been in no shape to talk and said that she and Aiden were calling it an early night. So who could be at my door now?
The knock came again and I stood.
Grabbing the first thing I could find-a metal lamp from my computer desk, I slowly made my way to the door. The good mayor stayed behind, giving me an ‘I’m just here got the food’ look.
“Some guard dog,” I muttered, settling in front of the door.
With lamp in hand, I flung the door open
I dropped both my jaw and my lamp when I saw him. Like a punch to the gut, he stood there. My dad.
“Hello Rita,” he said, his grey eyes burning right through me. “I think you and I need to talk.”
Chapter 11
I stood there with my mouth open. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I probably couldn’t have breathed if not for the fact that it was involuntary.
My dad was standing in front of me, looking right at me. After so much effort not to come face to face with him, here he was.
And he had said my name.
Well, my name and the name of the woman I was pretending to be.
Did he know that I was me? That I was his daughter come back from the dead, all wrapped up in a redhead?
“Can I come in?” His gruff voice pulled me back to the present.
Still, I just stood there like an idiot; unmoving and silent.
“Perhaps this was a bad time. I’ll try again tomorrow,” he said, and turned away from me.
“Wait!” I said suddenly, though honestly, I wasn’t sure that I should have.
I didn’t want to see my dad. Well, that wasn’t true. I wanted to see him more than anything. Ever since returning to the land of the living, he had been at the forefront of my thoughts.
But if he looked at me and saw someone else, then all of this would be real. There would be no going back. I would never be Rita Clarke again. I would truly be dead.
Still, something pulled at me. I couldn’t turn him away. If there was even the slightest chance of having a relationship with him gain, of easing his pain just a little, then I had to take it.
“I’m sorry. You just took me by surprise. That’s all. Won’t you come in?”
He turned back, looked at me, and walked through the door.
“I shouldn’t have barged in on you like this, especially in the middle of the night. You’re a single woman and this is a small town. I just didn’t want to take the chance of someone seeing me here. Ms. Redoux, is it?”
And, just like that, my heart shattered into a thousand little pieces.
He didn’t recognize me. Of course he didn’t. What was I thinking; that the same magic that pulled me from the grave was going to allow him to see past my exterior and into the soul of his lost daughter?
It was ludicrous. Of course, what wasn’t these days?
“Yes,” I answered, trying to keep my voice from cracking. “And you’re Sheriff Clarke.”
“I used to be,” he answered, settling in front of me and running his hands through what was left of his thinning hair. “That seems like a lifetime ago, if I’m being honest.”
“Well, if I’m being honest, I don’t think the new Sheriff can hold a candle to you,” I answered, motioning for him to take a seat. The only chair I had was the black swivel chair that came with the computer desk, but it was better than nothing.
He obliged me and then, with a smile, answered. “That’s very kind of you, though I’m not sure the town would agree. Darrin’s done a lot of good since coming into office.”
I blanched. There was no way that was right. I knew my father, and he wouldn’t cotton well to that cocky smooth talker.
So why was he?
“I doubt that,” I answered.
“It’s true, Rita,” he answered, and just hearing him say my name again sent my heart jumping. “After my daughter died, I was a mess. I let what happened to her get the better of me and, though I hate to admit it, I wasn’t the sheriff this town needed me to be.” He slapped his knees with the palms of his hands, a familiar action in our house. “I fell apart pretty publically, and I let things slide that I never would have before. That’s how lost in the investigation I became. It all ended when I ordered the release of a prisoner who turned out to be a pretty wanted fugitive. He was brought in for driving without a license. I barely looked at him, before I decided not to bother with sending him to court. Turned out he had wanted posters up in three counties.” Dad shook his head and looked at me. “That’s when I knew I needed to step down.”
I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry you went through that. I- I can’t imagine how much pain you must have been in.”
“Oh, I think you can,” he answered.
Now what did that mean exactly?
“I guess you’re wondering why I’m telling you this story.” He stood. “Or why I showed up in the first place. My former deputy told me who you really are.”
“Dwight…” I muttered.
“Don’t be upset with him. We rarely keep secrets, he and I. Especially in regards to that series of homicides.” He shook his head. “As you know, that’s where I lost my Rita.”
“And where I lost my mother,” I answered, keeping up the lie. “It’s all connected. The wrench, Patrick’s murder, Angela being attacked; all of it has to do with what happened two years ago! I don’t know why I can’t get Sheriff Dash to see that.”
“Sher
iff Dash is a smart man. I reckon he sees more than you think. And if he’s being quiet about it or freezing you out, it’s nothing more than what I’d do in his position.” He pursed his lips at me. “It’s the reason I came here tonight.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I know why you came to town, Rita. And I think it’s a bad idea.” His hands slid into his pockets. “People are getting killed again, and there’s nothing to say you won’t be among them. I get the urge to make sense of the loss you suffered. I get it more than you know, but putting yourself in danger won’t help anything. Do you have any family, Sweetheart?”
“I…I have a dad,” I answered, trying to keep tears out of my eyes.
“And how do you think your father would feel if he woke up to the news that something happened to you? That he wouldn’t get to see you ever again? That he wouldn’t even get to say goodbye?”
My eyes trailed the ground. I couldn’t look at him for this. “He’d be devastated,” I said softly.
“I guarantee it,” Dad answered. “So I’m going to ask you not to do that to him. Now, like I said, I’m not the sheriff anymore, and I don’t have a lick of authority around here. So I can’t tell you what to do. But I do ask that you consider what I’m saying.” He smiled a pained smile. “My Rita was a lot like you, or a lot like Dwight described you. She always got herself involved in things that she probably shouldn’t have. She couldn’t look at a problem and not try to fix it. She couldn’t look at a question and not try to answer it. In a way, I think that’s why she was taken from me.”
I couldn’t keep the tears out of my eyes now. “If she could, I’m sure she’d apologize,” I said.
“Oh you’re misunderstanding me, Sweetheart.” Dad looked at me. “I don’t blame my Rita, and I wouldn’t have changed who she was for the world and all that’s in it. I just wish I could have changed what happened to her. And that’s what I’m trying to do for you, before it’s too late.” He headed toward the door. “I won’t take up anymore of your time. If you’ll just consider what I said, I’d be mighty grateful. Might even feel like I accomplished something.”
I wanted to reach out to him, to wrap him up in a hug and tell him that he had already accomplished a lot, that he was the most important person in the world to me and that, even if I never got to see him again, I’d remember every line on his face for the rest of my life.
Twice Baked Page 7
