Weep In The Night (10 page)

“Follow me.” She led the way and unlocked her door.

Stale cigarette odor spilled out of her apartment.

After Bowen deposited the groceries in the kitchen, Sandra called from the living room. “Come on in.”

What a perfect situation to find out more about her. “My name's Sam.”

She draped herself in the loveseat. “I'm Sandra Miller. Join me.” She patted the seat next to her.

His gaze drifted to a long narrow table against the wall where framed photographs covered the surface. Debra had none. Bowen examined the display. “Nice bunch of pictures. Family?”

She pointed to a ten by eight frame in the middle. “That one was taken at my parents' thirty-fifth anniversary. Those are my two brothers and sister.”

Bowen picked it up. “Do they live in Texas?”

“Here in Austin.” She pointed to the next picture of five young children. “My nieces and nephews.”

Other photos appeared to be of Sandra's siblings or their children. If she was in WITSEC she wouldn't have contact with family members, and she certainly wouldn't have their pictures displayed.

“Hey, Sam, be a darling and get my purse.”

He found it on a table by the door and handed it to her.

She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. As she lit the cigarette, he took note of the abnormally short pinky finger on her left hand.

Sandra took a long draw and blew smoke to the side. “Now, Sam, tell me about yourself.”

“Not much to tell.” Then he exaggerated a look at his watch. “Wow, I didn't realize how late it is. I have to go.”

She fluttered her eyelashes. “Are you sure?”

He had to stay in character. “As inviting as that sounds, I need to leave. I'll see myself out. Good-bye, Sandra.” Bowen closed the door and ran down the stairs. The blood on a high-speed chase through his body had nothing to do with Sandra's offer. She couldn't be Sadie.

According to his information, Sadie did not smoke. Sandra had the deep-throated voice of a habitual smoker. Sadie wouldn't display recent family pictures. And the client would have mentioned an odd-sized pinky.

No doubt about it. Debra Johnson was Sadie Malone.

 

 

 

 

11

 

In preparation for the puppet group meeting, Sadie cleaned her apartment. As she dusted around the vase holding Sam's rose, she recalled his brief visit the evening before. It had been a long time since someone cared enough about her to check on her like he did.

With the duster poised over the table, she bit her lip. How she wished she could tell Sam why she'd been out back talking to Pete and Janelle. Initially, at the mention of Lonnie's name, she'd staggered inside, but when Pete kept talking, she realized she'd been wrong. He'd used the name Ronnie over and over.

Although she'd been mistaken, the thought of Lonnie Levasseur still had the power to coil her innards like a cobra set to strike. And Pete's questionable association with Kyle added to her unease.

Shrugging off the image, Sadie stowed her cleaning supplies and then left for work. Her ten to four shift would get her home in time to bake a batch of brownies.

She placed the completed promotion application in the mail holder on Julian's door. Saturday shoppers kept her too busy to make a side trip to the lumberyard. At twelve thirty she received a text from Sam. Could she meet in the break room for lunch? She checked with Glenna and took off. When she entered, Sam waved a welcome over his lunch box.

Sadie poured honey mustard dressing over her salad. “What's with you? Did you win the lottery?”

“You could say that.”

She studied his face. The harsh lines had softened. His smile turned his eyes into warm blue pools of liquid sky.

“What you looking at?”

A tiny blob of mayonnaise clung to the comer of his mouth. She used it as her excuse and pointed. “Right there. Mayo.”

He grabbed his napkin and wiped it off. “Thanks.”

She nibbled a bread stick.

Sam covered her hand with his and cleared his throat. “Tonight, after the others leave the meeting, I need to talk to you.”

His hand dwarfed hers, but she liked the feeling. “We have time now.”

“No. What I want to say needs privacy and will take more than a few minutes.” He kept a firm hold on her hand while sipping bottled tea.

Privacy?
Her salad forgotten, Sadie couldn't take her eyes off his face. “Can you give me a hint?”

He squeezed her fingers and whispered, “What I have to say will change your life. It will—“

“Sam, there you are.” Greg barged to their table and thumped Sam on the shoulder. “Come on, buddy. We received a mega order. I need your help. Is your break almost over?”

Sam hiked a shoulder and raised his eyebrows at Sadie. “Sorry. Our talk will have to wait.” He gathered his trash. “Coming, boss.”

Slumped in the chair, Sadie kept her eyes on him as he left the room. What could he possibly tell her that would change her life? She took a bite of salad. An outlandish idea struck her, and she almost choked. Could he be ready to declare his feelings for her? Coughing and spluttering, she shook her head. No way. They'd only known each other two weeks. But stranger things had happened. She removed her glasses and used her shirttail to wipe off a finger smudge. What was he up to?

She placed her lunch bag in her locker. On the way to the garden center, she couldn't help smiling. At ten after four, Sadie dashed home and made brownies. Then she showered and dressed in a black, scoop necked top, cream slacks, and black, sling back sandals.

Kyle arrived first and commandeered the armchair.

Sadie chose one of the straight-backed chairs she'd hauled over from the dining table.

He unzipped his laptop case. “Do you have Wi-Fi here?”

“No, sorry. Why?”

“I want us to check out the Hands for Hannah website while we're together.” Kyle plugged in his computer. “Don't worry. I brought my wireless card. I'll log on in a minute.”

His words twisted a knife in her heart. She knew the group used the website as a guide, but that didn't stop the pain as memories scuttled for cover.

When Sylvia sans baby, Grace, Tyrell, and Sam were seated, Kyle pointed out various features on the website.

Sadie ducked behind Grace. She couldn't bear to look at the screen.

Kyle followed the website excursion with a thorough examination of Sylvia's notebook. By nine o'clock, they had chores divided and timelines set.

Determined to be the perfect hostess, Sadie arranged brownies on a floral plate, but as she brushed off a few crumbs, the lights went out. Apprehension niggling at her gut. She clung to the counter. “Hold on, everyone. I'll find a flashlight.” She located one in a kitchen drawer and flicked it on. With its beam aimed at the group, Sadie stifled a giggle. “I did pay the electric bill. I promise.” Her eyes adjusted to the dark as her guests scurried about.

Sylvia stepped to the window. “Street lights are on. So are the lights in apartments across the way.”

At the open front door, Tyrell added, “Lights are still on in the next building. I think it's only your unit, Debra.”

Her hand shook, sending the gold beam dancing. Her electricity was off. That meant a fuse may be blown again.

Sidling next to her, Sam reached for the flashlight. “Where's your control panel?”

“Do you want me to contact the manager?” Kyle unplugged his laptop and coiled the cord.

Sadie shrank away from Sam. She couldn't relinquish her source of light. “It's happened before. If my electricity goes out, I can count on my neighbors' going out, too. This is an old complex, and I'm sure the wiring needs updating.”

Sam nudged her shoulder. “But where's your control panel?”

Keeping a firm grip on the flashlight, she pointed with her chin. “It's in the bedroom closet. I'll take care of it.” But she couldn't leave her guests in the dark. Shining the light into a kitchen drawer, she located a box of matches. “Tyrell, take these and light the candles on the coffee table.”

While he lit the candles, Pete hollered from outside.

Sadie opened the front door. “Your lights out, too?”

Still in his suit, he rubbed his chin. “Yeah. And we can't find matches or a flashlight.”

“I have another one in the bedroom. Come in.”

A soft glow from the candles spilled across the living room. Sadie headed down the hall and cringed at the footsteps behind her. How could she ask Sam and Pete not to follow without sounding like a prude? Struggling to keep her voice even, she said, “I'll get the other flashlight.” She usually kept one in the bedside table drawer. Its silver casing glinted next to a stack of magazine and papers. She handed it to Pete. Her light now shining into the closet, she moved clothes aside to expose the little gray door.

Sam held his hand out for her flashlight again. “Let me help. It will be easier if I hold the light.”

With great reluctance, she complied.

As he opened the door, the beam illuminated the switches inside.

But Sadie's eyes flew to the laminated sheet on the inside of the door. A corner of her photograph stuck out the bottom. She gasped and immediately covered her mouth.

“I found the problem. The circuit probably got overloaded and tripped the fuse.” Sam flipped the switch and cheers erupted from the living room as the lights came back on.

“Fantastic,” Pete said. “Hope our problem is that easy to solve.”

Debra's gaze fixed on the little metal door. She averted her gaze but not quickly enough.

“That's odd.” Sam touched the corner of the photo. “There's something behind this instruction sheet.”

“No, don't.”

Too late. He slid out the picture.

She tried to grab it, but he held on. “Who are these people?”

“Give it to me, please.”

He avoided her hand again.

“Please, Sam. Let me have it.”

“Have what?” Kyle, at the opening of the closet, smoothed his mustache.

Why had he followed them?

“Hi, Kyle.” Pete slapped him on the back.” Didn't know you were here.”

“What's the hold up?” Kyle didn't acknowledge Pete's greeting.

Sam turned off the flashlight and set it on the side table, and then closed the panel door. “Nothing. We're coming.”

He passed the photograph to Sadie, but her hand trembled. The photo landed at Kyle's feet.

Sadie bent to retrieve it, but Kyle picked it up.

“Nice looking family. Who are they?”

Snatching the photograph from Kyle, Sadie marched out of the bedroom.

Someone had arranged the plate of brownies on the coffee table. Grace poured lemonade into glasses, a scene straight out of a
Good Housekeeping Magazine.

Ripples of nausea tickled the back of Sadie's throat. How could they continue as if the world hadn't exploded? The photo burned her fingers. She tucked it inside her blouse.

With flashlight in hand, Pete opened the door. “Thanks, Debra.”

Kyle closed his laptop and slid it into its case. “Can't stay, guys. See y'all at church tomorrow.” In less than a minute he was out the door.

With two glasses of lemonade in hand, Grace stood by the coffee table. “Why did Kyle rush out of here?” She
tsked
and set the glasses down. “That's just like him. Always on the run.”

“Excellent brownies.” Sylvia, mouth covered with chocolate evidence, glanced at Sadie. “What's wrong?”

Head down, Sadie fussed with a pile of yellow paper napkins. “I'm fine. I just don't like being in the dark.”

“Where's Sam?” Tyrell blew out the candles. “Did he get lost?”

Sadie shrugged and kept her eyes on the napkins. She didn't care where any of them were. She wanted to be alone.

Chomping on a brownie, Tyrell hollered from the hall. “Sam's in your bedroom on his cell.”

Great. Why is his call so important? Sadie hadn't forgotten what he'd said at lunchtime, but she couldn't think of anything that would change her life more than people seeing her—Sadie's—photo with Aaron and Hannah.

In a minute, Sam joined the group and took a brownie.

Sadie searched his face but could read nothing there.

Although she tried to be congenial, Grace, Tyrell, and Sylvia didn't stay long.

Sam took another brownie and inched to the door. “There's something I have to do, but I'll be back in an hour or so. Don't go anywhere. I need to talk to you.” His gaze lingered on her, and he hesitated. “Please. It's very important.” Then he left and the door latch clicked behind him.

Slumped on the sofa, Sadie reviewed the evening's events. Had her life turned upside down, or was her imagination running wild? After all, what had really happened? Sam, Kyle, and Pete saw a photograph. By her reaction, they might assume it belonged to her. Rats. Why didn't she let them believe she'd never seen it before?

But none of the men acknowledged that they recognized her. The picture depicted a woman, a man, and a child. They didn't see Debra Johnson. Think. How had they responded?

She jumped up and paced, reliving the moment. Pete returned to his apartment to fix his lights. Kyle left abruptly, but that wasn't unusual. There was no notable change in their demeanor. And Sam? His actions were a little more suspect. He left, but he said he'd return to tell her…what? Something that would change her life?

Sadie focused on the three brownies on the plate and reviewed everything she knew about Sam. Sure, at first his questions and the similarities to her—Sadie's——life concerned her, but nothing negative had transpired. If he recognized the photograph, why leave her alone for an hour or more?

Another image bombarded her brain. Pete, in her bedroom, greeting Kyle like a buddy. He'd lied about their relationship. Was he a threat?