Running Stitches

by Carol Dean Jones

  “A perfect end to a perfect meal,” Sarah said taking his hand as they sipped their coffee. Later, Barney played in the stream and Sarah sat on the bank with her feet dangling in the cool water. Charles sighed and wondered how this day could possibly be any more perfect.

  “Where’s Barney?” Sarah called to Charles as he was packing up the remains of the picnic.

  “He’s over…” he looked in the direction he had last seen Barney, but didn’t see him. “Barney,” he called walking toward the wooded area where he had been playing. Sarah dried her feet with one of the kitchen towels Kendra had sent along and slipped into her shoes.

  “Barney,” Sarah shouted. “Barney, Come.”

  As Charles approached the wooded area, he heard rustling in the underbrush. “Barney, is that you?” he called. “Barney, come here!” He heard more rustling and suddenly Barney burst out of the thicket. He jumped around excited and ran back in. “Barney, come here,” Charles demanded. Again, Barney burst out and ran right back in.

  “He’s acting like he wants me to follow him,” Charles called to Sarah. “I think I will.”

  “Be careful back in there,” Sarah said. “That thicket looks thorny. What do you suppose is wrong with him?” Sarah looked worried.

  “It’s okay, hon. I’ll go get him. You stay there.” He followed Barney’s trail a few hundred feet into the brush. He could hear Barney whining. “What’s the matter, boy?” he asked as he caught up with the dog. Barney’s head and tail were close to the ground and there was a low sound coming from deep inside him. It wasn’t a growl nor a whine, but something in between. As Charles got close, he reached for Barney’s collar. As he pulled Barney close, a limb fell to the side exposing a green blanket stuffed into the thick underbrush. A woman’s foot protruded from the blanket. “Stay back there, Sarah,” he shouted. “I have Barney.” Before moving, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed 911.

  * * *

  Charles held Sarah in his arms as the police worked. She was shivering despite the warmth of the day. He wanted to take her home, but the investigating officer asked them to stay until they could make their report.

  Charles took Sarah and Barney down to the parking lot and got them settled in the car. What had been serene parkland earlier was now crawling with police cars and emergency vehicles. The medical examiner arrived while Charles was loading Kendra’s cart into the trunk.

  Charles told Sarah to wait in the car with Barney while he went back to speak to the officer. He put the top up so Sarah would feel more secure, and returned to the crime scene. He explained to the officer that Sarah was in shock, and he requested permission to take her home. He agreed to meet the officer at the police station later.

  Charles held Sarah’s hand as they drove home in silence. He looked over and saw tears running down her face. Their perfect day had come to a dreadful end.

  Chapter 40

  The body was readily identified as that of Catherine Buckley. Her prints were on file from her many years living on the street. Her husband, Daniel Buckley, who was also in the system as a result of numerous domestic dispute arrests, begrudgingly identified the body and was later interrogated extensively. There was insufficient evidence to charge him, although he was their prime suspect. Detectives interviewed the neighbors and Buckley’s employer. The same judge who dismissed Andy’s case was approached for, and signed, a search warrant for the Buckley home.

  Buckley was asked to wait outside while the officers searched the house. He was angry and belligerent but ultimately sat outside on the curb until the search was complete. The search team left with boxes of personal items along with sealed evidence bags collected by the forensic team. Blood splatter had been detected in the garage, along with evidence that bleach had been used in a slipshod attempt to clean it up.

  The Lab completed the blood splatter analysis and determined it to be the blood of Catherine Buckley. Evidence was still circumstantial, but a decision was made to arrest Daniel Buckley.

  * * *

  Caitlyn ran into Mattie on the street and found her to be much more coherent. She didn’t ask if she were back on her medications. She didn’t want to upset her. They went into the soup kitchen together and enjoyed a rich beef stew with rolls and iced tea. Later, they left smiling and with their stomachs full. Caitlin wondered how a person could go to such extremes. Does living on the street cause that, she wondered. Will I be like that some day?

  As they walked down the street, Caitlyn came to an abrupt stop. What had she seen out of the side of her eye? Her mother? She went back to the news stand and there, on the front page, was a picture of her mother. WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN STATE PARK. She grabbed the paper and began reading the article. She couldn’t believe it was actually her mother. Tears ran down her cheeks. “What’s wrong, girl?” Mattie asked. “Read it to me.”

  Caitlyn had trouble focusing on the words and her voice cracked, but she began reading. “The body of Catherine Buckley, wife of Daniel Buckley, was discovered in Wrigley State Park by a couple picnicking nearby. Although cause of death has not yet been released by the medical examiner, investigation is underway. Her husband, Daniel Buckley, is being questioned as a person of interest. Catherine Buckley’s daughter has been missing for three months. She’s currently being sought by detectives from the Division of Missing and Abducted Children. Anyone with information regarding the young girl’s whereabouts should contact Hamilton Police Department.”

  “HE KILLED HER!” Caitlyn shouted. “He killed my mother! She didn’t run off…he killed her.” Caitlyn began to sob. “I should have helped her. I knew he was angry enough to kill her.”

  Mattie looked around wondering what to do. She didn’t know how to comfort another person. She had never been comforted herself, but she knew something needed to be done. The beat cop walked up to them and said, “What’s the problem here?” He ignored most disturbances in this part of town, but the young girl was sitting on the ground sobbing.

  Mattie handed the paper to him. “That’s her mom,” she said. “Help her.” Mattie turned and walked off pushing the cart Caitlyn had found for her. She never looked back. The officer called for assistance and helped the girl to a nearby bench. He sat with her until the squad car arrived.

  A young officer with short dark hair and kind eyes walked up to Caitlyn and put her hand out. “Hello, Caitlyn. My name is Amanda Holmes.”

  Chapter 41

  Sitting on his porch watching the storm, his thoughts drifted back to another stormy night. It was been raining that night too. When he arrived at the park, it was close to 3:00 a.m. The moon was only in its first quarter. It was so dark he couldn’t see the path. It worried him that he was leaving boot prints but, hopefully, the rain would wash them away. The load he carried was extremely heavy but he was strong. Dead weight. He snickered at the thought.

  He left the path and headed into the brush. He had worn a heavy coat and gloves and was able to push his way through the thicket until he was far from the visitor’s areas. He could hear water in the distance. Years before, when he was a child, he had been to the park with his grandparents. He knew the sound was from the waterfall. He was getting tired and decided to stop.

  He had taken a shovel with him but couldn’t carry the bundle and the shovel at the same time. He left it in the truck and decided not to bury the bundle. It was wrapped in an old thermal blanket the man knew couldn’t be traced. He shoved the bundle deep into the thicket and piled lose limbs and branches over it. It would be found some day but that didn’t concern him.

  He had retraced his steps to the truck and returned home. Later that night, there was a severe thunder storm and he had smiled, imagining all evidence of his visit washing away.

  But that was months ago, and now he once again sat on the porch watching the rain.

  From a distance, he heard the blaring of sirens. Headlights seemed to be swarming around the house; in fact, there were only two squad cars. Four uniformed men got out and walked
toward him, hands resting on their weapons. Buckley took a sip of his beer and remained calmly sitting as they approached the porch.

  “Daniel Buckley. You’re under arrest for the murder of your wife, Catherine Buckley. You have the right…” and the officer droned on but Buckley was no longer listening. He slipped the revolver up to his temple and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 42

  Sarah and Charles arranged a simple memorial service for Catherine at the local chapel. Except for Caitlyn, there was no family to attend. Caitlyn, however, was surrounded by her new friends. Even Danny was there with her grandmother. Ruth and Katie were there, of course, and Anna came with her husband, Geoff, and their new baby, Annabelle, who cooed when Caitlyn picked her up. “She’s so soft and she smells so good,” Caitlyn said quietly, cuddling Annabelle protectively in her arms. Sophie arrived decked out in her new purple coat and a matching hat decorated with red plumes.

  Despite the gravity of the situation, Caitlyn was handling it well. She seemed to enjoy getting to know her new friends. She was especially pleased to have an old friend with her for support. Britney’s father had a scheduled trip back to the home office, so he brought Britney along for a brief visit with Caitlyn. They had been sharing the futon in Sarah’s sewing room which was now called Caitlyn’s Room. Sarah knew it would be temporary since Andy was scheduled for his parole hearing, and the parole officer and Andy’s lawyer agreed that he was likely to be released. Once he returned home, Caitlyn would be moving up the street with her dad. There had been no problem establishing paternity and updating Caitlyn’s records.

  Buck, on the other hand, had no friends. His only sister came to town to arrange for the burial and to close out his house. Sarah met her when she went to pick up the rest of Caitlyn’s things. The sister told Sarah she was not surprised about any of the things Buck had done. She said he had been a very disturbed child and had been in trouble all his life. They talked briefly about his suicide. His sister thought it was from guilt, although he had never shown signs of feeling guilty about anything. “But he loved Catherine,” she had said. “She was probably the only thing he ever cared about.”

  After Catherine’s memorial service, the group congregated at Sarah’s house where the kitchen countertops were filled with casseroles. Ruth and Katie were setting dishes out buffet style while Charles opened a folding table in the corner for drinks. Geoff volunteered for bartender duty, although most of the visitors were drinking sodas.

  The tone in the room was upbeat and Caitlyn was smiling at Sarah when the back door opened. They both looked toward the door and saw Andy entering. “Andy,” Sarah cried and quickly crossed the room to greet him. “Thank goodness you were able to come,” she said as she hugged him. “Come meet your daughter.”

  With tears in his eyes, he put his hand out to shake the young girl’s hand. She placed her small hand into his and, also with tears in her eyes said, “Hi, Papa.”

  Chapter 43

  A week later…

  Andy, holding the small key Sarah had given him, looked at the covered hole on the ceiling of his hallway. “How do we get up there?” Caitlyn asked.

  “Nothing to it,” Andy responded. He removed the cover to the attic entrance and pulled the cord that lowered the telescoping attic staircase.

  “Is this safe?” she asked, a bit nervous about climbing the temporary staircase.

  “Absolutely safe!” Andy assured her. “You start up and I’ll be right behind you.” Placing his hand gently on her shoulder, he said, “Just take one step at a time,” a philosophy that had served him well over the last fifteen years.

  Together they ascended the stairs and entered the small attic. On the far wall were the two cedar chests that had been sent to him by his grandmother’s executor.

  Andy and Caitlyn carefully opened the first chest and found four beautifully embellished quilts. “These are works of art,” Andy said, handling them carefully and setting each aside as they reached for the next one. “We’ll show these to Sarah.”

  “I love this one,” Caitlyn said, hugging a pink and yellow quilt to her chest. “See the butterflies, Papa?” She loved saying the word Papa and he loved hearing it. She didn’t know why she chose that particular name for him. It just came to her when she saw him for the first time in Sarah’s kitchen.

  “Would you like to put that one on your bed?” Andy asked.

  “Could I?” she responded with surprise. “Is it really okay?”

  “Honey, these quilts are all yours. You can do anything you want with them.”

  Caitlyn giggled with pleasure. “Let’s look in the other chest.”

  As they opened the second chest, the smell of old wafted out. The three quilts in this chest looked much older. Andy wished he knew who made them. He would check them later and, hopefully, whoever created them took the time to make labels.

  Below the third quilt, they found a small box. Andy picked it up carefully and looked at it. It had a rusted keyhole which he hoped still worked. He took the small key from his pocket and slipped it into the keyhole. When he turned it, the top of the box snapped open.

  Caitlyn leaned over him to peer into the box. Inside they saw a small item carefully wrapped in yellow silk. It was tied with a white silk ribbon. Under the small package was an envelope.

  Andy carefully opened the envelope and removed the sheet of fine linen paper that was enclosed. He carefully unfolded it and saw that the letter was addressed to him.

  “Read it, Papa. Read it,” Caitlyn pleaded bouncing up and down with excitement.

  Andy cleared his throat and began reading:

  My dear grandson, Andy Burgess,

  If you are reading this, then you know I have joined my maker. All my earthly worries are behind me.

  One of my biggest worries, I’m passing on to you.

  The ring in this box belonged to my grandmother, Abigail Adams who married your great-great grandfather, Calvin Cox in the summer of 1858. Calvin had this Early Victorian engagement ring made for Abigail in England while he was completing trade negotiation with Britain. The snake was a sign of eternal love and this ring is a replica of the Victorian snake and emerald engagement ring Albert gave to Queen Victoria. It is priceless.

  My grandmother, Abigail, entrusted this ring to her daughter, Harriet Cox, my mother, who, in turn, entrusted it to me. As you know, I had no girls. Rather than pass the ring to my son’s wife, your mother, I chose to keep it for another generation. But, as luck would have it, my son as well had no girls. My heirs are you, Andy, and your brother George.

  Now, as much as I am reluctant to put this on paper, I feel your brother George is a ne’er-do-well and always will be. He would sell the ring and fritter the money away.

  I am, therefore, passing this ring on to you and trusting that you will hold it for the first girl in our family line. My hope is that you, my dear grandson, will produce that girl who will, one day wear Abigail Adams treasured ring.

  With love and admiration,

  Your grandmother, Cora Burgess

  Andy slipped his arm around his daughter’s shoulder and said to the absent Cora Burgess, “I’d like you to meet my daughter, grandma. This is your great-granddaughter, Caitlyn Burgess. She will wear Abigail’s ring with pride one day.”

  Caitlyn kissed her father’s cheek and said, “I love you, Papa.”

  OTHER BOOKS BY

  Carol Dean Jones

  TIE DIED: A Quilting Cozy (February 2013)

  By Carol Dean Jones

  Copyright© May 2013 by Carol Dean Jones

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The characters, names, plots, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. References to actual events, public figures, locales, or businesses are included only to give this work of fiction a sense of reality

  All rights reserved; no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted,
in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the author.

  Jones, Carol Dean, 1938-

  Running Stitches/published by Carol Dean Jones

  ISBN 978-1-304-02898-3

  Cover design and image by the author

  Cover quilt, Time Passes (2003) by the author