Weep In The Night (9 page)

She peeked at him through her eyelashes and nodded.

“I'd like to build a wall around you so no one can harm you.”

His fingers released the tension in her shoulder muscles, but his reference to building reminded her. “By the way mister, I volunteered at the children's shelter yesterday. Carmen says you haven't called yet. What gives?”

He stopped the massage. “Um, I kinda forgot. Sorry. I'll call next week.”

“You don't have to. Only volunteer if it's in your heart.”

With his eyes on her face, he said, “You have no idea what's in my heart.”

Brought on by the intensity of his gaze, heat traveled to her face.

They stood in silence for several beats.

Sam's reluctance to leave made her think he wanted to come in, but she needed time to evaluate her chaotic emotions.

He seemed to read her mind and brushed his lips across her cheek. “Better be going. I'll see you at work tomorrow. Open the door, and then I'll leave.”

She still felt the prickle of his whiskers on her cheek as her hands shook a bit. She managed to unlocked and opened the door.

Once inside she turned. “Thanks, Sam. Good night.”

He saluted and left.

Sadie locked the door. In the kitchen, Sam's rose drew her to the counter. She sniffed it and touched its velvety petals. This was the first flower she'd been given since Aaron's death. Holding her emotions in check, she retreated to her bedroom.

 

****

 

The next morning a commotion in Mrs. Gaffney's apartment woke Sadie. She threw on a sweat suit and peeked out the door. The maintenance crew hauled equipment into the vacant apartment. Right. Paint, repair, shampoo carpets for the new tenants' arrival.

Later, while dressing for work, Sadie took extra time applying makeup and fixing her hair. Starting the day in anticipation of seeing Sam sent butterflies prancing in her stomach. A few touched her heart. She arrived at work at the same time as Julian.

He accompanied her into the store. “Started on the promotion application yet?”

“I have the packet at home. I'll complete it tomorrow since I work half day.”

Julian slowed at his office door. “Good deal. Let me know if you have any questions.”

“Will do. Thanks.” Once in the break room, she clocked in. Sam hadn't arrived yet. He wouldn't be given fulltime status until he'd completed his probation.

Filling orders from Yard Art, a local landscape company, occupied Sadie's morning. Right before noon, she received a text from Sam. He and Greg had a huge contract order to fill, and he wouldn't take his break for several hours.

Sadie missed him at lunch, but the afternoon sped by with her answering customers' questions or helping them to locate the right shade of flower.

Sam visited the garden center at three thirty. He didn't ask for another date, and she was a little disappointed. Even when they realized their shifts ended at the same time, he didn't volunteer to wait for her.

As he left, Sadie studied his retreating figure. His behavior puzzled her. During the first week he'd been at Rhodes he'd done everything to attract her attention. Was he getting cold feet? Maybe he really didn't want to be involved in the puppet group and this was his way of bowing out. Or he'd changed his mind about her.

A slew of customers kept Sadie twenty minutes after her shift should have ended. She rushed to the break room, but Sam had already clocked out. After sliding her time card into its slot, she collected her things from the locker. A note fell to the floor. It was from Sam. She scanned the scrawled words in eager anticipation.

He apologized for not waiting for her. His brother called with a minor crisis, and he had to act as mediator. He'd phone her later.

With his note clutched in hand, Sadie left work and climbed into her car, relief bubbling through her like a mountain stream on a mad dash for the ocean. That evening she ate leftovers with her phone on the table.

But he didn't call.

She invented a dozen excuses for him while working on the application. In bed at eleven thirty, she tossed and turned, weighing her conversations with him. What had she done wrong? It had to be her fault. She straightened the covers and closed her eyes. At their next meeting she'd have to scrounge up enough gumption to ask him. Or she could forget about him and go out with Kyle. She buried her head in the pillow and screamed. “Yuck.”

An early half-day shift had her up and dressed by seven forty-five. The gray skies matched her mood. She hoped it wouldn't rain since Pete and Janelle Williams expected to move in today.

As soon as Sadie entered work, she sought out Greg at the customer service counter in the lumber department. She propped her elbows on the scarred surface and rested her chin in her hands. “What time is Sam coming in today?”

Greg checked the computer on his desk. “Let me see. Sam Boudine. Ah, yes. At noon. Works 'til six.” He cleared the screen and stepped over a pile of binders on the floor. “I heard you and Sam are dating.” At the counter, he scribbled notations on a legal pad.

“Who told you?”

“Word gets around.” He arched his eyebrows. “So, are you?”

She shifted her elbows and shrugged. “Sort of. I think.”

“What does that mean?”

How could she answer him when she had no idea what was going on? “Never mind. Talk to you later.” She turned and jogged through the store to the break room. Would she even see Sam today?

Sadie's half-day shift crawled by. She checked her phone a dozen times but received nothing from Sam. Calling or texting him would be her last resort. She'd give him a few more hours.

On the way home, she stopped at Jerry's and ordered a taco salad and a pecan pie to go. She ate lunch on her back porch, watching clouds scurry by. Her mood brightened with each fresh patch of blue sky. After her meal, she took the pie next door.

Pete, in jeans and T-shirt, invited her in and accepted the bakery box. “This looks delicious. Appreciate your hospitality.”

“You're welcome.”

Furniture and boxes covered every inch of floor space. “I'll clear a chair for you.”

“Thanks, but I won't stay long.”

“At least wait to meet my wife and son. Janelle's changing Zack's diaper.”

While Pete set the pie on the counter, Sadie took advantage of his wife's absence. “How do you know Kyle?” The fact they knew each other still bothered her.

“Who?” He pivoted, his face taking on a darker hue. Was he blushing?

“Kyle Nelson. The man I saw you arguing with the other day.”

Harrumphing, he picked up a large box with ‘bedroom' written in thick black letters. “Oh, him. I don't know the man. Only met him that day.” He set off down the hall. “Honey, we've got company.”

At that moment, Janelle, with a chunky redheaded toddler on her hip, brushed past him and entered the living room.

Sadie introduced herself and added, “Is there anything you need?”

“Time. It's so hard to get anything done with this little ball of fire.” She planted a kiss on Zack's head. Her dark brown hair was tied in an untidy ponytail and poked out every direction. Her yellow blouse hung loosely on her slender frame. Dark circled eyes and a pale, drawn face completed her tired look.

“Are you sure I can't help?”

“We can manage.” She bounced Zack on her hip. He kicked his plump little legs and gurgled.

It had been a long time since Sadie had held a baby. Not since— ”I can see you're busy, so I won't take up any more of your time. Please let me know if I can help.” She swallowed the urge to cry and opened the door.

“Thanks for stopping by.”

Sadie entered her apartment but hung by the door for a minute. Should she offer to babysit? But she
had
asked if they needed help.

Although suspicious of Pete's response to her question, she fell asleep on the sofa. Later that afternoon, a deep voice vibrated through the wall and shattered her dream.

Dear Mrs. Gaffney had been a quiet neighbor. Sadie hoped this noise wasn't a sign of things to come. Then the voice reverberated around her back porch door.

Sliding the glass door open a fraction, Sadie listened to Pete's end of a phone conversation. She would have closed the door and ignored the intrusion, but his words held her captive.

“I've met the blonde.” “No, not yet.” “Give me time. I'm still unpacking.” All uttered in a booming voice.

But it was his final whispered statement that tore open a fissure in her chest.

“Listen, Lonnie, I'll do it when I'm ready.”

A chill grabbed Sadie's neck and slithered down her spine. The man her testimony sent to prison had two children. One was a son named Lonnie.

 

 

 

 

10

 

Bowen dialed Debra's number. The call went to voicemail again. He left another message as he stalked across the parking lot to his truck. Time to pay her a visit.

Why hadn't she responded? True, he'd failed to contact her the previous evening, but surely she wouldn't hold that against him. His reasons for not following through were legitimate. The note he left her indicated family business required his attention. That part was true.

His mother resided in the Alzheimer's unit of a San Diego nursing home. Charlotte had called with several concerns. None of this could be shared with Debra, so before he arrived at her apartment he had mapped a plausible story.

As he neared Debra's building, her voice drifted over the wooden fence surrounding the tiny garden at the rear of her apartment. He took a detour. She chatted with her neighbors over the wooden fence.

He intended to make his presence known, but the conversation intrigued him.

Pete said, “Sorry for the disruption.”

A woman added, “Pete usually loses his temper when he talks to Ronnie. I promise we won't be noisy neighbors.”

End of conversation. Doors slid closed.

Bowen sprinted to her front door and knocked.

Instead of the pleasant expression he expected, she greeted him with a frown. “What are you doing here?”

“I've called you a dozen times. I came to see if you're all right. May I come in?”

“I suppose.”

Crumpling into the armchair, Debra tucked her legs under her.

Not wanting her to know he eavesdropped, Bowen settled on the sofa and waited.

She toyed with the laces of her sneaker. “I was talking to my new neighbors out back. I didn't have my phone with me.”

“For an hour?” He flinched as her head shot up and her dark eyes challenged him.

“What's wrong with that?” She dipped her head and mumbled, “And it wasn't an hour.”

Still unsure of his footing with this feisty Debra, Bowen met her gaze. “Any problems?”

A mini-frown creased her forehead, and then disappeared. “Not anymore.” Her tone did not match her words.

His neck muscles tightened.

Debra shifted in the chair, extending her legs.

“Is there anything I can do to help? Want to go out for a meal?”

Debra kicked off both shoes and then rubbed her temples. “Thanks for the offer. All I want is a shower, headache meds, and sleep.”

He cocked his head and arched an eyebrow. “Alone?”

She glared. “Of course, alone.”

“Just teasing. I hate to see you so blue. I had to do something to bring the sparkle back to your eyes.”

“Thanks for your concern, but I'll be fine.” Debra stood.

“What hours do you work tomorrow?” Bowen followed her to the door.

“Ten to four. You?”

“I think noon to six again. I'll try not to be late for tomorrow night's meeting.”

She slipped her hands into her pockets and traced a circle on the tiled floor with a white-socked toe.

“See ya.” He ached to hold her and waited, but she didn't move towards him.

“Good night,” she said, and closed the door.

He stood still a moment. Instinct told him Debra's conversation with Pete concerned more than the volume of his voice. How could he get her to trust him?

Later, while whipping up an omelet, he contemplated his future actions. Almost positive Debra was Sadie, he decided to check out the next best candidate, Sandra Miller, real soon. Tonight, in fact. He knew where Sandra lived—two blocks from Debra.

Bowen grabbed his digital camera, along with Sandra's folder, and set off for Monterey Oaks Boulevard again. He parked along the curb with a view of Sandra's second story apartment and waited. Previous scouting had revealed she worked at a clothing boutique and got off at eight. With any luck, she'd be home any minute.

He didn't have long to wait. A woman grimacing in pain limped towards the stairs. Bowen couldn't see her face, so he climbed out of his truck.

She made it up the stairs where a boy, at least ten or eleven, greeted her. “Hi, Mama. Does your knee still hurt?”

Arm in arm, the pair continued to the far end of the complex.

Bowen ducked behind a privet hedge. After a few minutes, the
tap-tap
of high heels announced the approach of another woman. A peek confirmed it as Sandra. She struggled up the stairs with two brown paper grocery sacks. As she neared the top of the second flight, one bag slid from her grasp. A string of colorful words escaped her lips.

The perfect opportunity. Bowen left his hiding place and darted to the stairs. “Need help?”

A smoker's raspy voice yelled back, “Of course.”

He took the stairs two at a time. The sack had split, spilling cans and boxed items. He picked up the groceries.

Her flowery perfume couldn't disguise the strong whiff of tobacco that drifted out of her long, dark hair. “Thank you. Can you carry them for me?”

“Sure.” Although aware of her apartment number, to play his role he asked, “Where is it?”