4 Malice in Christmas River (17 page)

“I know,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady so I wouldn’t let on just how much that thought scared me.

“But, Cin. Are you sure that it’s a good idea to work with Erik Andersen on this? I mean, I know Trumbow’s a bonehead, but isn’t Deputy McHale supposed to get back from vacation today? Couldn’t you wait until a cop with at least half a brain gets here to do more investigating? Rather than trust an eel like Erik?”

I shook my head.

“I know, I thought the same thing,” I said. “But he doesn’t think it was an accident either. And I know he’s not exactly the most trustworthy, but I can use all the help that I can get right now.”

Kara let out a grunt and took a sip of her tea. A silence settled in over the table.

I hated that I’d become so familiar with this cafeteria. In some ways, it had been a nice respite from the drab walls of the hospital room. But in other ways, the cafeteria was like the land of the living dead. Loved ones, like myself, who’d been spending hours and hours by bedsides, all eventually dragged themselves down here for some sustenance. Raccoon eyes and pale faces seemed to be the trademark characteristics of the folks sitting around the tables.

I was tired of this place. Tired of seeing Daniel laid up. Tired of the worry.

I suddenly wanted to talk about something… anything else that would take my mind off this place and the accident and The Sandman.

“So what did you want to tell me?” I asked.

Kara looked a little surprised. 

“What?” she said.

“The night of the accident, you sent me that text message,” I said, flashing back on the image of Brad and her sitting on the sofa together. “You said you had something to tell me.”

“Oh, that?” she said taking a long sip of her tea while swiping at something imaginary in the air. “That was nothing. I’ll tell you about it some other time.”

Whatever it was, I didn’t get the feeling that it was just “nothing.”  

I’d had a chance to think about it. And I’d come to the conclusion that no matter what Kara decided – whether she ran off with Brad, or went back to John – I would support her 110 percent and do my best not to pass any judgment. As much as I liked her and John together, it was a moot point if she was unhappy with him.    

I cleared my throat, throwing a glance sideways to make sure there weren’t any gossipy eavesdroppers sitting at the nearby tables. In a town this size, you could never be too careful.

I leaned forward.

“You know, John… uh… John stopped by the pie shop the other day,” I said in a low voice.

I watched her expression carefully. Her pupils got a little bigger, but there weren’t any visible signs of panic at being found out.

“Really?” she said.

I waited for her to say more, but she didn’t. She finished the rest of her tea in a slow, calm manner, as if she had no idea where I was going with this.  

“You want to know why John stopped by?” I asked.

She shrugged.

“Not particularly,” she said. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea already about what he might have said.”

There was a distant iciness in her tone that didn’t seem at all like Kara.

“Kara,” I said. “You were right about me stopping by your house that night. I wanted to see how you were doing, but then I saw that… that you already had company.”

“I don’t appreciate being spied on, Cin,” she said sharply.  

“I know, and I didn’t mean to,” I said. “Kara, all I want is to see you happy. That’s what’s most important. And if it’s not with John, well, then—”  

She shook her head.  

“You have no idea, Cin,” she said, standing up abruptly.

She looked up at the ceiling and let out a long breath.

“Look, you’ve got enough on your plate as is. This is just one extra helping of mashed potatoes you don’t need right now.”

She grabbed the empty paper cup and her purse from off the table.

“Where are you going?” I said.

“I’ve got to get back to the shop,” she said coldly. “And I think you should get some rest.”

She started walking away.

“Kara—”

“Let me know if you need anything,” she said, not turning around.

She pushed her way through the doors and headed out into the parking lot.

I was left shaking my head, a bitter sadness welling up at the base of my chest. 

Kara and I used to tell each other everything.

Chapter 42

I stepped in the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor. Just as the doors were closing, a man squeezed on.

His face lit up when he saw me.

He was carrying a bouquet of wilted flowers that looked as though he’d picked them down at one of the parks. He was wearing a wrinkled jean shirt that matched wrinkled Levi’s. He had a scuffed copy of some DVD in his other hand.

“Well, hullo, Mrs. Brightman,” he said. “I’m glad I ran into ya here. I didn’t know which way to go.”

I stifled a sigh.

“Hi, George,” I said. “You here to see Daniel?”

George Hardin, the sheriff deputy wannabe from the Rodeo, the one who helped me set up my pie stand, had made the trip to the hospital to show his support.

Which was an admirable gesture, if I didn’t think he was still after a job with the Sheriff’s Office. 

“That I am, Ma’am,” he said. “I’m awful sorry about what happened to the Sheriff. And I apologize it’s taken me so long to come by. The Rodeo kept me real busy.”

“I’m sure Daniel understands,” I said.

He grinned that greasy grin of his, and the elevator lurched as it came to a stop.  

“If you don’t mind me saying so, you’re looking right pretty today, Mrs. Brightman,” George said. “I wouldn’t have thought your husband had just been in a bad accident.”

I didn’t know if that was a compliment, or what it was. All I knew was that I got something akin to the creeps when he said it.

I just nodded.

The elevator doors opened and I went first, glad to be out. He followed close behind at my heels.

I was almost certain that Daniel wouldn’t want to see this particular visitor.

“You, uh, you just wait here a moment,” I said when we got to the front desk. “I’ll let the Sheriff know you’re here.”

He nodded reluctantly, and then I popped into Daniel’s room. Both him and Warren looked over at me, and I silently placed a finger to my lips, hushing them. They stopped talking.

A moment later, I came out of the room.

“I’m so sorry, George,” I said. “It looks as though the Sheriff is asleep. It’s a real shame because I’m sure he would have loved to see you.”

George’s face fell into a deep-set frown.

“Are you sure?” he said. “Because I could have sworn that I heard talking coming from that room a sec—”

“I’m sure,” I said. “But I’d be happy to give these to him when he wakes up.”

“Oh… alright then,” he said, his spirits apparently crushed.

He handed me the wilted bouquet, which was held together with a rubber band, along with the DVD.

“I thought he might get a kick out of this,” he said. “It’s one of my favorites. I watch it all the time. Tell him he can have it for a week.”  

George winked at me, and the creepy crawly feeling came back.

I nodded.

“I’m, uh, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” I said.  

“Okay, then.”

He turned and walked down the hall.

I glanced down at the DVD in my hand.

Cop Bloopers 5: The Goofiest Blunders Edition
.

I couldn’t help but let out a little grunt of disgust, though I immediately felt guilty for doing so.

I was sure George was well-meaning. If nothing else.

Chapter 43

Warren was out like a candle in a hurricane during the ride home.

I guess the old man had finally talked himself out. He was snoring as soft as a baby when we pulled up to the house in the dimming dusk.

I turned the car off and nudged him softly.  

“C’mon,” I said. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Pish-posh,” he said, waving his hand. “I came halfway across the world. I’m not going to let a little sleepiness get in the way of me talking to my granddaughter.”

I looked at his wrinkled face, feeling nothing but love in my heart for my old friend.

He didn’t have to make the trip back here. But he had, because he knew that it would mean the world to me to have him here.

I leaned over and gave him another hug. I think I might have put too much force into it, because I could kind of hear a whooshing noise as I squeezed him tightly.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I said. “It just hasn’t been the same around here without you.”

“Likewise,” he squeaked out.

I laughed and let go of him.

I could have let out a few more tears in that moment, but I managed to hold them back.

There’d already been too many tears this week.

I got out and grabbed his suitcase from the trunk. I wheeled it up with one arm, helping him up the steps of the porch with the other.

We were nearly up to the deck when his wallet tumbled out of his pocket, hitting the wooden slabs with a dull thud. I let go of his arm, leaned over, and picked the wallet up for him. It had fallen open.

I couldn’t help notice that there was a new photo sitting alongside the photos of me, my mom, and my grandma.

It was a woman who appeared to be in her early 60s. She had curly hair pulled off to one side, and she had a youthful, warm smile.   

In the photo, Warren’s arm was around her.

“Who’s this?” I asked.

He smiled rather mischievously, but didn’t answer. At least, not really.

“We’ll save that for another time,” he said, winking.   

He was barely inside when his eyes started growing heavy again. He was talking about beer, and something about a certain critical stage in the fermentation process. But his eyes wouldn’t cooperate with his tongue, and soon enough, he was snoozing again. 

I made up the bed in the guestroom, kissed him goodnight, and told him that we had all tomorrow to talk about whatever he pleased.

Chapter 44

Once again, I couldn’t sleep.

Daniel had again insisted that I spend the night at home, despite my protests.

“They’re releasing me tomorrow morning,” he had said. “I’ll be fine here one last night. You need to get some rest.”

I argued with him, but he wouldn’t hear it. I finally gave in, wondering why Daniel wasn’t taking this Sandman business more seriously.

His life could have been in danger. And he was acting like Trumbow. Like it had all been an accident. Not even entertaining the possibility that someone was out to get him.

Owen was back in town early from vacation, and I had called him to see if he wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on Daniel’s room at the hospital overnight. I wasn’t about to let Daniel be left completely alone, no matter what he said. Owen had showed up within half an hour of me calling, even though he’d just gotten into town from Pittsburg not twenty minutes earlier. 

The deputy had become fiercely loyal to Daniel over the past year, and I knew that I could count on him. And more than Trumbow, I knew I could trust Owen.

But that knowledge still didn’t help me with my insomnia.

I tossed and turned, my thoughts bouncing around like a washing machine. Daniel’s accident, Tex, Tex’s dying wife, Kara and her affair with Brad, John’s sad and desperate face as he told me about it… The morals and ethics of it all. The wrong and the right. The things people did to hurt one another. All of it churned across the landscape of my mind like the stormy waters of the ocean.

Finally, for yet another night, I gave up. It was early morning when I dragged myself out of bed and started getting ready.

I needed to do the one thing that calmed me and brought peace into my life.

I needed to make pie.

Chapter 45

.

I took a sip of honey-infused Lemon Lift tea, letting the sweet and tangy liquid fill my body with warmth.

I had an acoustic Willie Nelson album playing in the background, an old favorite that Warren used to play a lot when I was growing up. It never failed to bring me a sense of peace. I was wearing a pair of fluffy slippers as I worked. The combined effect of the tea, the music, and the slippers went a little ways to calming my nerves.

I went back to whisking the eggs, which I had cracked into a large bowl. Working quickly, I ladled in a hot milk mixture as I continued to whisk, making sure the hot liquid didn’t curdle the eggs. When the eggs were tempered, I added them into the large pan of milk and sugar on the stove, and turned the heat back on.

I was making a new pie that I’d only just gotten right recently and was planning to add to the menu soon. It was a Snickerdoodle Banana Mocha Pudding Pie – a pie that was intensive to make, to put it mildly, but that was worth every bit of effort. The final product was a smooth, creamy and lusciously rich pie that was decadent and to die for.

I hoped Daniel and Warren would find it that way too. I had planned to cut them two heaping slices when we brought Daniel home from the hospital later that morning.

I let out a little sigh and looked out the window.

I couldn’t wait to get Daniel back home. To get him away from that hospital with its gloomy green walls and its smell of ammonia. Back home, where he belonged.

The sun was just starting to come up. Muted flamingo-pink light filtered through the blinds in the pie shop, casting shadows on the floor. I hadn’t been outside much in the last few days, but it looked as though nothing had changed. The smoke was still trapping the heat of September, and the days and nights were warm and stuffy.

Autumn couldn’t get here soon enough.

It felt good being back in the shop. Even though some bad things had happened here and around it, I still always felt safe here. Christmas lights always hung around the kitchen. Delicious smells were always coming from the oven. There was always good music playing on the stereo. And no matter how stressed I got throughout the day, there was no place I’d rather be than in the kitchen, baking.