Window of Guilt (2 page)

Her lips felt cracked and dry. She arose unsteadily and made her way to the kitchen sink. Then she cupped her hands beneath the faucet and brought the cool liquid to her parched mouth. Clinging to the counter, she gazed at light rays playing hide and seek across the sun-drenched kitchen walls.

Swinging open the porch door, Laurie stared across the wide expanse of yard. Rocky had run to the far end and was circling something in the distance. Her stomach felt queasy. Flashbacks of pressing her mouth to the pasty lips of a dead person. Fumbling to phone the police. Passing out on the kitchen floor.

A rush of adrenalin coursed through her. Laurie ran to the hall closet. With trembling hands, she extracted the cell phone from her purse, and then dialed nine-one-one. She pushed through the screen door and lumbered across the front lawn, her dog yapping in the background.

“Nine-one-one.”

“There’s a dead body on my property,” she screeched.

“Are you alone, ma’am?”

“Uh huh.”

“We’re sending an officer right over.”

“My address is…”

“Your phone number matches our records. Am I speaking to Shakia Williams?”

She paused, momentarily stymied. “This is Laurie Atkins. Please come fast.”

“We’re on our way, ma’am Can you tell me what happened?”

Laurie didn’t recall ever loaning her cell phone to her renter. She reached the spot where Rocky was sniffing. Steeling herself for the worst, she looked down at the burnt grass.

“Thank you God!” she bellowed into the telephone.

“Ms. Atkins? Are you still there?”

Only a peanut shell and a dead squirrel lay on the spot her dog was circling.

“Sorry. I made a mistake.”

“Just hold tight, ma’am. An officer will…”

“Don’t you understand?” Laurie screamed into the telephone. “There is no dead person.”

Dizzy with relief, she clicked off her cell phone. “Get away from there, Rocky! That squirrel might have rabies.”

She dashed to the garage for a plastic bag to wrap the squirrel in. Hm. The wheelbarrow, usually stored beside the snow-blower, was now flanked by the recycling bin. Shakia must have moved it. Laurie was scooping the dead squirrel into the trash can when a police car pulled up.

An unexpected shiver ran through Laurie’s chest as a police officer of medium build walked up the driveway. “You can walk on the grass, whatever’s left of it,” she called to the woman. Even in Laurie’s distracted state, she noticed the officer’s trim, muscular body. When she and her family returned home to Chicago, Laurie was definitely resuming yoga class with her friend Mitzy.

“Hello, ma’am”

“I told them you didn’t have to come.” Laurie eyed the buxom officer’s badge. Gomez.

The officer glanced down at her pocket notebook. “You Mrs. Atkins?”

Laurie nodded. The darker woman’s thick mascara and eyeliner appeared smudgy in this ninety-degree plus inferno.

“We received a cell phone call from this address concerning a dead body on the property. You the person who made that call?”

“Yes, but I was wrong.”

“Wrong how?”

“It was just a dead squirrel.”

The officer tapped her pencil against her forehead. “You’re a little old to be pranking the police department, don’t you think?”

“It was no joke, officer. I was suffering from heat exhaustion. I hallucinated seeing a dead person. Everybody makes mistakes.”

“We’re a volunteer police department, ma’am,” said the officer, leaning on one foot. “We share shifts with the state police. We don’t appreciate being called out on false alarms.”

“I told the dispatcher not to send an officer.”

“What did the dead person in your so-called hallucination look
like?”

“He was a twenty-something, lanky young man with long greasy hair wearing blue jeans and a sleeveless yellow jersey with ‘TG’ and the number ‘7’ printed on the front.”

“Sure doesn’t sound like a hallucination to me.”

“I didn’t think so either, officer, but when I came to after fainting on the kitchen floor, all that was out here was a dead squirrel. And since dead bodies don’t usually get up and walk away, I attribute my vision to heat stroke.”

“Actually, your description fits that of a vagrant spotted in this area earlier this afternoon,” said the officer.

Laurie’s heart pounded in her chest. “Where was he seen?”

“Near Camp Briarwood.”

“My son goes there,” Laurie said, her voice panicked. “Is this guy dangerous?”

Officer Gomez threw up her hands as if to ward off further questions. “No criminal act has occurred. We’re just taking precautions.”

“By the way, how did you connect my cell phone to this address? I didn’t sign up for that service.”

The officer consulted her notes. “The cell phone number belongs to Shakia Williams.”

“She rented this house from me during the school year. Strange she’d register my cell phone number instead of her own.”

“Did your renter leave under amicable circumstances?”

Laurie nodded. “She finished graduate school and took a teaching job back in Chicago.”

“Shakia the only person living in the house?”

“She had a roommate.” Laurie chose not to mention the girl’s boyfriend.

The officer screwed the cap on her pen and shoved it into her shirt pocket. “No crime has been committed with the cell phone. Talk with your renter about the police registration. Once that issue’s resolved, you’ll want to re-register your phone number in your own name. Meanwhile, if you do spot the vagrant on your property, give us a call.”

“Why wasn’t this guy picked up for questioning?” Laurie asked, walking the police officer back to her patrol car.

“He’s no longer in the immediate area.”

Prickles of recognition dotted Laurie’s consciousness, yet she failed to identify their source. “Was he armed?” Laurie asked, her stomach cramping.

“The camp supervisor couldn’t say.”

“He could have been hiding a gun or knife, right?” she countered.

“At this point, Mrs. Atkins, there’s nothing to be concerned about. As we gather more information, we’ll pass it along to the residents.”

“So we just need to keep our eyes and ears open, right?”

“Right.”

“Sitting ducks that we are.”

Rolling her eyes, Officer Gomez stepped off the stairs. “Good day, ma’am.”

It didn’t take a brain surgeon to recognize the officer was incensed by her rude behavior, but Laurie could no longer contain her anxiety. She and Ryan had brought Rory up to their safe haven, and now it had been infiltrated by the bad guys. She started to call the officer back, then stopped.

Officer Gomez turned back toward the house. “Did you say something, ma’am?”

Laurie shook her head.

“Make sure that trash can’s locked so the wild critters don’t get at it.” With that, the officer turned on her heel and headed back towards her vehicle.

Like that’s all she had to worry about.

*

After emptying the yellow bag into the trash can, Laurie closed the garage door, then eyed her son running up their long driveway. She waved at the carpooling mom’s silver SUV as it turned the corner, then squatted into a baseball catcher’s pose as if to block Rory’s way.

“Hi mom.” Rory veered around her and headed up the porch stairs. “Did you go grocery shopping like you promised?”

“It’s been kind of crazy around here. Never got to it.” Laurie followed her son up the stairs. “Want a salami sandwich or just milk and cookies?”

“Whatever.” He dropped his blue Yu Gi O backpack by the door, then headed for the family room.

Laurie unzipped the backpack and pulled out a tightly screwed water bottle nestled in a melted ice pack. “Rory, you need to stay hydrated in this weather,” she admonished. “People die of heat exhaustion.”

“You’re not supposed to scare little kids,” he teased as he settled in front of his X-Box.

Laurie relaxed her shoulders. “I thought you were eighteen.”

“Quit goofing around, Mom.”

“What’d you do at camp today?” Laurie asked, popping the water bottle into the fridge.

“Nothing much,” he called back, thumbs clicking on the
Street Basketball
control panel.

After not seeing her son all day, Laurie longed to reconnect. “Did you go water skiing?” She placed four thin slices of kosher salami between two slices of light rye bread lightly brushed with mustard, then cut the sandwich in half.

“Uh huh.”

“Wilderness hike?” she said, grabbing a Capri Sun Fruit Punch from the refrigerator.

“You’ve got the schedule, Mom. Quit asking me all these questions.”

“Don’t be disrespectful,” she said, placing his TV tray within easy reach. “Wash your hands.”

“Fine,” he said, grumpily marching off to the hallway bathroom.

“So that’s all you did today, then?” she called, waiting for her son in the hallway.

Rory emerged from the bathroom, a frown on his face, and headed back to the family room. “A police officer came to talk to us, okay?”

Laurie tensed. “About what?”

“Mom, if I kept interrupting you when you were watching Gilmore Girls re-runs, you’d be mad, too, wouldn’t you?” said Rory, tearing into his sandwich.

Laurie tickled the back of his neck. That show reminded her of the relationship she’d had with her own mother growing up. “Hey, you’re my only kid. I like to know what’s going on with you, that’s all.”

“This dude was hanging around camp at lunchtime,” Rory spluttered through a mouthful of salami and mustard.

Laurie strove to keep the anxiety out of her voice. “Somebody’s
dad?”

“Nobody knew him. The police lady told us to only walk around camp with a buddy.”

“Did you see what this guy looked like?”

Rory shook his head. “Nick and me were getting our lunch bags. But the police lady said he wore a yellow jersey with the letters ‘TG’ on the front.”

Laurie forced a smile. “Don’t jerseys usually have letters on the back?”

“Maybe the store made a mistake on his. Now can I please play my game?”

Laurie ruffled his hair. “Go for it.”

*

Laurie was rinsing her son’s snack plate when she heard a light rap on the kitchen door. Two familiar faces squinted at her through the screen door. Dropping the plastic dish into the sink, she hurried across the room and flipped the lock handle.

“Do you mind if Nicky play here for awhile?” asked Yelena, the carpooling mom. “He tear shorts at camp. I must go Wal-Mart. He not want to go with me.”

“No problem,” said Laurie. She ushered Yelena and her son into the house. “Rory’s in the family room, Nick.”

“I only stay a minute. Bring blueberry muffins for snack,” said Nicky’s mom.

“Great! Rory just ate his sandwich, but there’s always room for dessert.” Laurie set the plastic container of muffins on the table. Then she extracted two clean glasses from the dishwasher and placed them alongside the muffins. “Milk?”

“I no bother you. Just give to boys.”

“It’s no bother, really,” said Laurie. She pulled a gallon jug from the refrigerator. Then she poured two glasses and handed one to Yelena. “Did Nicky mention a police officer showed up at camp today?”

Yelena nodded as she sipped from the glass. “Very troubling.”

“Rory says some guy was hanging around at lunch time,” confided Laurie. “He ran off when the camp supervisor approached.”

“I spend much money so my Nicky have exciting camp experience.”

“Thank goodness the boys are safe,” Laurie consoled her, extracting a blueberry muffin. “There’s probably nothing to worry about. The police are patrolling the area as we speak.”

“I read in newspaper about pedophiles. Hopefully, this man not one of them.”

“Rory said he and Nicky didn’t even catch a glimpse of this man. All they were told is that he wore blue jeans and a yellow jersey with the letters ‘TG’ on the front.”

Yelena dabbed at her lips. “I go now. Thank you for milk.”

“And thank you for the muffins,” said Laurie.

Rory popped into the kitchen. “Hey Mom, we’re going down by the pier.”

“Play in the front yard, bud.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not a reason,” her son said, obviously exasperated.

“Nicky’s mom brought blueberry muffins.”

“We’ll have some later. Bye.” Rory and his friend shot out the door.

“Stay in the front yard,” Laurie called through the open window. “And take your cell.”

“Fine,” he yelled back.

“I worry for them to be outside alone,” said Yelena.

“No problem,” said Laurie. “I can watch them from the kitchen window.”