Deadly Communications (7 page)

Another tension-filled moment, but Maven laughed. “Well, that may not be convenient for you and your secrets, but it’s good for Ella.”

Donald Junior gave an easy smile. “No secret here. I’m an open book.”

Micah rolled his eyes. “We all know you’re the good son, Donny. But just because you’re an open book doesn’t mean it’s one I plan to read. Too boring.”

“If boring means making a living and taking care of responsibilities, then I guess Donald Junior is boring.” Donald gave Micah a pointed look. “You could take a few notes in that area.”

Not wanting to get involved in family drama, Maven looked at Mr. Decker. “Well, I shall try again to see Ella before she leaves, but I will call ahead next time.”

“Sounds like a plan, Maven. And if I don’t see you again, I hope you have a wonderful Christmas.”

“Thanks. It was nice to see you again, Micah, and good to meet you, Donny. Merry Christmas to all of you.”

Micah walked with her to the door. He leaned close to her. “Don’t worry. That’s a normal day in the Decker household.”

She grasped his arm and squeezed. “You look great, Micah.”

After giving her a small hug, he opened the door for her and she left.

She made her way down the ice-free, snow-free walk to her car. The wind still howled and chilled her to the bone. It was going to be a cold Christmas. Turning the key, she waited for a few moments to let the car warm up. She put her car in gear and started out the drive. As she waited for the gate to open, she looked in her rear view mirror.

Ella stood at her window staring out at her.



“I know what I saw, Paul.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t, Maven. I’m just telling you to calm down.”

She was pacing around her living room. Her table-sized Christmas tree was small compared to the Deckers’ enormous tree. But it was a giant step forward for Maven. “He told me she wasn’t there. He lied.”

“I get that. I’m just saying there could be any number of reasons why. Not every person tells the truth all the time. It was probably just an inconvenient time.” His calm voice irritated her. “And none of the reasons have to be nefarious.”

“I know. I’m worried. The expression on her face as she stared down at me really got to me. And you’re the one who thought their timing was odd.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I just want you to understand we cannot go up to their door and demand to see Ella.”

“I know that, too.” She sat up and turned to Paul. “But I was hoping you would say we could. Especially if I complained about it loudly.”

“Sorry. No can do.” He pointed at the tiny Christmas tree. “Love the tree.”

“Are you making fun of my little tree?”

“Not at all. I was serious. It’s a first step.”

She looked at the TV, not wanting Paul to see the tears. She knew what he meant—a first step back to the land of the living. A first step in easing the pain of losing her husband. A first step in moving on. “But seriously, what are your thoughts about this new development? Do you think I’m overreacting?”

“Overreacting might be too strong of a word. It’s odd. I’ll give you that. But people are odd. You know that. And rich people are probably even odder.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“About what?”

“Don’t be obtuse. What should I do about the nefarious activities that are occurring there?”

“There is nothing to do. Because there are no nefarious activities occurring. It’s Christmas time. People are busy. She probably was getting ready to go shopping but hadn’t left yet.”

“I’ve called three more times. And each time, she’s either busy, not at home, or they have some other excuse why I can’t see her. I only want to make sure she’s OK.”

“Why would she not be OK? After all she’s been through, you don’t really think her parents are going to let anything happen to her? “

“Don’t you be obtuse.”

“Can’t think of another word. You really do win.”

“I am the winner.” She pumped her fist in the air. “Now, back to the subject at hand. You thought it was suspicious when they fired me, remember?”

“But that was before you explained the whole situation, remember? You were feeling sorry for yourself.”

“It’s one of my specialties—throwing myself a pity party. But I think I’m getting better in a couple of ways.” She turned and pointed at her lip. “OK, are you watching?” She smiled.

“Hey, your lip moved. You really are getting better.”

“God is good.”

“All the time.” He smiled.

15

Maven opened her eyes, but immediately squeezed them shut again.
I can get through the next two days. I can. I can.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. The two hardest days of the year for a widow.

Even worse than her wedding anniversary—most people didn’t know the significance of that date. But Christmas—nobody forgot about that date. It was all about family and loved ones. And she was alone. Pulling the covers over her head, she curled up in a ball. “I’ll just stay in bed all day.”

No, you won’t.
It was her husband’s voice in her mind. Ken had loved Christmas.
Still do. Big doings around here today. And you should see the Christmas tree here! Not to mention the birthday cake!

“Very funny.” Would she ever stop hearing Ken telling her the things she didn’t want to know? She removed the covers and sat up.

It was a start.



Regretting her self-pity, Maven wished she’d gone out and made the day happier for someone. There was no shortage of people she could have made smile that day—orphans; hospital patients; nursing home residents; even Lizzie. She would have been thrilled for Maven to show up and visit for a few minutes.

Instead, she sat on her sofa staring at the tiny Christmas tree. The first since her husband had died. Even small, it had spirit as the lights sparkled on and off, highlighting the even tinier manger scene in front of it.

Tonight, she would bake some Christmas cookies and then take them to the hospital tomorrow. She smiled, feeling better already. Checking her watch, she still had time to get the store to buy ingredients for the cookies.

Later that day, she pulled back into her garage from the trip to the grocery store.

“Oh, there you are.” Paul smiled. “I’ve called you three times today. I was just about to break in to your house.”

“That’s illegal.” Maven stepped out of the car and went to her trunk.

He grinned. “What’s all this stuff?”

“I decided I’d make some cookies tonight. Then I’ll take them to the hospital and maybe a few of the nursing homes tomorrow.”

“That’s a great idea.” He picked up three bags and left one for her.

Maven slammed the trunk after getting the last bag. “Well, I’m trying to think about other people for a change.”

He held the screen door open while she unlocked the door. “And I’ll help you with that as soon as we get back from church.”

She walked through the open door and put her bag on the counter. “Church? I don’t think so. I’m not quite ready for that yet.”

He placed his own bags on the counter. “And you never will be. You just have to do it anyway. Believe me, Maven. I know what I’m talking about.”

“I know you do. It’s just so hard, especially on holidays.”

He nodded.

“I’m surprised you aren’t up with your kids.”

“We celebrated last weekend. I volunteered at work so some of those with families could have the day off.”

“You are such a good guy.”

“Yes, I am. Now, let’s go. Church and then baking. Not to mention the homemade lasagna my daughter baked for me, which is now sitting in my refrigerator. How can you resist that?”

She stared down at the floor, struggling with her decision. She knew it was the right thing to do. It was time to stop being angry at God, but it felt disloyal to her husband to celebrate without him.

But I’m celebrating the day without you.

She looked up into Paul’s sweet blue eyes. “How can I resist, indeed?”

16

Help me

Monsters

Need help

Maven stared at the computer monitor and the e-mail messages. A chill traveled up her spine as she read the words again.

The message was from Ella. The girl must still be having nightmares. It was clear that Ella still had difficulties communicating, even more so when writing. And yet she had gone to great effort to do so. Ella didn’t sound as if she was having fun at the resort. It had probably been too soon for her to leave home. And now Ella was asking for help.

What could Maven do? She didn’t want to abandon the girl. Maven hit the reply icon and started typing.

Ella,

I’m sorry you’re still having nightmares, but let me assure you that it’s perfectly normal to have them. And it’s probably not easy leaving home for the first time since your accident.

Just enjoy yourself at the spa. I’ll e-mail you again in a few days. ~ Maven

She hit the send button, and then started scanning her other email. A moment later, a beep indicated a new email. The subject said—mail returned; not deliverable.

How could that be? Ella had only sent her the e-mail the day before. Why didn’t her e-mail account exist now?

It was as if someone didn’t want Ella to communicate with anybody now that she could express her thoughts and ideas. Was there something nefarious about what happened the night of her accident?

Maven and Paul had discussed the possibility, but neither of them had taken it too seriously. Perhaps, they should have.

Maven paced around her apartment, pretending to clean. She was worried. She supposed she could call Sandra and ask for her number. Just to check in and see how Ella was doing. That wouldn’t be odd, would it?



“I think you’re overreacting, Maven.” Paul’s voice was calm.

“I don’t think I am. Look at the message. She’s asking for my help. I can’t just ignore that.” Maven held up the paper. “Don’t you think I should help her?”

“Help her, how? Help her, why? You even said considering her telegraphic language pattern, one word could mean a multitude of things. ‘Help me’ might really be her thanking you for helping her. Right?”

She hated it when Paul turned her own words back on her. “I suppose it’s possible, but then
thanks
would be a better choice of words, not
help me
.”

“In your mind but maybe not hers. What did you tell me about the telegraphic speech?”

“It’s just like when a child is learning to talk. Doggy can mean a dog, but it might also mean any animal with four legs. It might mean ‘where is my doggy?’ or it could mean ‘I like doggies.’”

“So,
help me’
could mean a multitude of things, right? And I don’t really see what you can do, anyway. You said her e-mail account isn’t working.”

“I just have a bad feeling. Think about it. I ask a few questions and suddenly they don’t need me anymore, and Ella is sent away. They won’t even let me see her to say good-bye.”

Paul gave her a look but she kept talking. “It’s almost as if they want her to stop communicating now that she can. Then this e-mail. Something is wrong, I know it.”

“It’s a little strange. But there really isn’t much you can do about it. She’s an adult.”

“What about the fact her e-mail account was closed?”

“Just a coincidence. She left, so they closed down her account.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would they close the account? I would think they would want to keep it open so they could keep in contact with her.”

“You told me why yourself.”

She didn’t remember telling him any such thing. “I did?”

“You did. You said she was really struggling to express herself in writing. It’s probably too frustrating for her to write to them. They shut down the account so she wouldn’t have to feel like she should e-mail them.”

“Oh…that makes sense. Sort of.”

“They’re just trying to keep her stress-free. So she can focus on getting stronger.”

“Why do you have to make so much sense?”

17

Maven hung up the phone, not happy with the conversation with Sandra Decker.

As gracious as always, it was obvious that Sandra did not want Maven meddling in her life or Ella’s. And Sandra also made it clear that Maven would not be getting any information about Ella, her whereabouts, or how to contact her. When she’d asked for a phone number, Sandra had said in the sweetest voice that the resort didn’t have phones in the room, but that she’d give Ella the message to call Maven.

Harrumph.

Everything was wonderful before she asked questions about the accident. After the questions, her services were suddenly no longer needed, and her access to Ella disappeared. Maven’s stomach twisted as she thought back to the e-mail message.

Over the years, she’d learned to trust the Holy Spirit’s guidance—the hard way. Despite being angry with God about Ken’s death, she’d always relied on that instinct God had given her when she worked with troubled children. When she had peace about a situation, that was good. When she didn’t have peace, that was not good.

Uneasiness filled her being.

The Holy Spirit was telling her something was wrong with Ella. She hadn’t been close with God for a while, but that had changed. The Lord was back in charge of her life.

Maven stared out the window at the ever-deepening snow, glad she didn’t have anywhere to go that day.

Paul and the other emergency personnel would be very busy today. Freezing rain, ice, and snow made for a bad day for the police.

She was troubled but not by the weather. Dropping the curtain, she walked over to the computer desk and sat down.

Sandra had mentioned the name of the place Ella was going when she’d informed Maven that her services were no longer needed. It hadn’t seemed important at the time. After sitting with her hands poised over the keyboard for more than ten minutes, Maven gave up.
Think about something else and then, I’ll remember.