Beyond the Roses

by Mary Cantell

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Mary Cantell and…

  Beyond the Roses

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Beyond the Roses

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing

  Also available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc. and other major retailers

  Coasting down the street in the semi-darkness, punctuated by the golden-yellow light of the old-fashioned lampposts, Lissa’s hands shook at the wheel. Which way did I come in? The homes at Golden Meadows sat just outside of Pinewood in a borough called Elmdale. By day, this wouldn’t be an issue. Now, at dusk, the world took on an unfamiliar patina.

  Her mind spun. Lacy, where are you? The creepy image of the white SUV suddenly came to mind again, and she shivered at the thought that she’d been followed here. He could be parked outside like the other cars and snatched Lacy when she came to wait at the curb. He could have enticed her with candy or…? Lissa didn’t want to think about it. Then the maintenance guy, Mike Hemstead, flew into her head. He seemed innocuous with the cover of having a little girl. Double life? A pervert? Lissa shook off the thoughts.

  Frantically, she scanned the area. Her eyes darted back and forth checking both sides of the street. The last house in the development sat on the crest of a hill above a scruffy patch of untended land adjacent to a grove of trees. Beyond the owner’s property line, she glimpsed something. There. What was that? She slammed her foot on the brake and strained in the low light for what caught her attention. Empty beer cans and fast food wrappers littered the clearing at the edge of the development. She set the parking brake and jumped out. She ran through the weeds and debris and braced at what she saw. Three holes and black markings took the shape of an eerie grin. Lacy’s costume.

  Praise for Mary Cantell and…

  HER GLASS HEART, the debut novel:

  “A well-told tale… a compelling story… Cantell has the indispensable skill of a storyteller…”

  ~Philadelphia Inquirer

  Beyond the Roses

  by

  Mary Cantell

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Beyond the Roses

  COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Mary M. Cantell

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Kim Mendoza

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Mystery Rose Edition, 2018

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-2324-4

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-2325-1

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To my beloved husband, my love always,

  and to the memory of my precious mother,

  who nurtured the writing bud in me, thank you.

  Above all, to my Lord,

  who guides my mind and heart to write.

  Acknowledgements

  Many thanks go to my wonderful editor, Judi Mobley, whose skills and wisdom led to the crafting of this story. Through so many months of working together, your faithfulness and support carried me to the finish line. You never wavered. Thanks for teaching me so much about the craft.

  Thanks also goes to the great team of beta readers and editors at The Wild Rose Press who supported this project, and to my dear friend, Trayce Duran, thank you for your keen eye in helping to make the story shine all the more through your diligent efforts.

  Thanks also go to the many people who lent their insight and knowledge:

  Debra Culver, PennStar

  John Gallagher, Penn Presbyterian Hospital

  Lt. Michael Kochis, Alexandria Police Department

  Kristi Michael, Frederick County Sheriff’s Office

  And the kind staff/personnel at:

  Jefferson Hospital, Philadelphia

  Mercy Suburban Hospital

  Alexandria Sheriff’s Office

  Winchester Police Department

  Maryland State Police Department

  Frederick City, Maryland, Police Department

  For my husband, Jeffrey James, thank you for allowing me to bore you with the details of every change in plot line and for your grace in listening at all hours, along with your timely input.

  Teresa Mora McColgan, my friend, thank you, as always, for your prayers.

  Beyond the Roses

  The darker the night, the brighter the stars, the deeper the grief, the closer is God.

  ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

  Chapter One

  Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania

  March 4th, 2005

  Twelve boxes the color of creamed coffee filled half the tiny living room, all labeled in bold black marker as to their contents. Lissa dropped the thirteenth one on the floor and heaved a sigh at the growing eyesore cluttering the formerly pristine space. Bittersweet thoughts circled in her mind like crows descending. Another stab of sadness doused her spirit. “I hate this,” she mumbled under her breath, dreading the whole idea of moving.

  With her boss’s recent transfer, an invitation to follow him seemed like a good idea at first—a miracle, actually—as her co-workers were not blessed with the same fortune when the PR&D department of Merka Pharmaceuticals downsized. They were sending out resumes right about now. They thought her lucky, though Lissa knew it was the Lord’s blessing—not luck—that she wouldn’t have to worry where her rent money would come from. Now, two weeks later, she questioned her decision to accept his offer. Was this the best choice for her family? Uprooting her life and that of her daughter’s—for a job? There wer
e plenty of administrative positions in the pharmaceutical industry in suburban Philadelphia, but Dr. Billing was the kindest boss she ever had, and she cornered the market salary-wise. Still, a nagging thought poked at her: unpack everything and forget the whole idea.

  Overheated from shuffling boxes all morning, she went to the living room window and lifted the sash to let in some fresh air. The morning sun shone hazily through a strand of opal clouds. She leaned in to let the drift of cool air slip over her face. With her eyes closed, she pictured the boxes gone and her worries about the move drifting up and away into the clouds. She breathed deeply, in and out…she couldn’t get enough of the rich bourbon scent. A neighbor’s pile of burning leaves? As she lingered in her thoughts, the doorbell buzzed. Lissa inhaled the ambrosia one more time before lowering the sash and going to the door.

  “Hey, Robin,” she said brightly. Her mood lightened at the surprise visit of her best friend from church, along with her little boy.

  “Hey, hope we’re not interrupting too much. Just came to say g’bye.” Robin held up a tiny purple gift bag topped with a mound of silver and purple ribbons. “For Lacy.”

  “Oh, how sweet of you; come on in.” Lissa lifted her hand to sweep her unruly bangs out of her eyes and pulled open the door, embarrassed at the glut of disarray. “I apologize for the mess,” she said, waving her arm up and down. Between the packed and half-packed boxes, along with strewn newspapers, rolls of masking tape, and general disorder, Lissa cringed, hating her sense of order disturbed. It was as though navigating the way along a ship’s deck in a hurricane. Unsure. Insecure. She moved toward the hall and called, “Lacy, Miss Robin is here. Alex, too. Come say goodbye, honey.” She took the shiny purple bag and placed it daintily on a clear spot on top of the entryway table. “It’s lovely, Robin. Lacy loves anything purple, thank you,” she chirped and gestured toward the sofa. “Have a seat.”

  Robin plopped herself down and helped Alex unzip his jacket. “So did you find out which office you’ll be working out of?” Robin asked, tugging on the zipper.

  “Gaithersburg,” she said, her hands on her hips. “It’s one of the satellite branches. Near my old hometown.”

  “That’s great,” Robin replied with little enthusiasm. “I loved Maryland. Daddy was stationed there for a while.” She offered a strained smile. Alex shrugged off his jacket as Robin’s face morphed into a palette of emotion that tugged at Lissa’s heart.

  “Hey, what’s the matter?” Lissa consoled, knowing her friend’s sensitive nature. Lissa understood what it was like to wear her heart on her sleeve. She was the same way and could well up with emotion just witnessing someone’s good fortune at winning the grand prize on a TV game show. Feeling much like she was watching the game show winner now, she held it together—until tears pricked her eyes.

  “Oh, nothin’,” Robin muttered with a dismissive wave of her hand, shaking her head which sent her hair—a long cascade of dark tendrils—quivering across her cheeks.

  “Aw…” Lissa leaned in and wrapped her arms around her. “…you’ll be all right.” A trace of White Shoulders sifted the air.

  “Just that I’ll be losin’ a friend.” Robin lifted her eyebrows expressively, seeming resigned to the loss. Her syrupy drawl made the words all the more depressing. They’d been friends for years and were as close as the best of sisters, sharing everything from heartbreak to recipes.

  “I feel the same way,” Lissa replied, quickly swatting away a tear. “But after all you’ve done for me over the years…taking care of Lacy and everything.” Lissa forced a smile. “There’s no way it’ll be out of sight out of mind with us, you know that. I’ll keep in touch until you’re sick of hearing from me.” A light chuckle filled in when she ran out of words. She turned her attention to Alex, who stood politely at the foot of the couch, and she knelt to meet the sweet boy eye-to-eye. “Hey, buddy, why don’t you go to Lacy’s room and play together?” She pointed toward the hallway and then ruffled his crop of dirty blond hair. “Sound good?”

  In a heartbeat, he darted down the hall. Halfway there, he turned around. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

  “Of course, little man, it’s on the left,” she said and pointed down the hall, watching his little figure until he found it. She turned back to Robin. “Can I get you something?”

  Robin shook her head. “Nope, we’re all good. Just wanted to say our last farewell is all.” She reached into her purse and brought out a package of tissues. “I didn’t know you used to live in Maryland,” she said, lifting one out.

  Lissa plunked down on the sofa. “I thought I told you that?”

  “Oh, you might have,” Robin said, pressing the tissue to her nose. “Menopause is catching up with me. I sometimes forget my own name.”

  Lissa gave her a sympathetic nod and hoped her own menopause years wouldn’t be coming anytime soon. “Yep, good ’ol Pinewood,” she said breezily. “Just a good old-fashioned town bordering Cherrydale and Pleasantville a few miles south of the Mason-Dixon Line. I don’t remember even hearing a police siren. Well, maybe once.”

  Robin lifted an eyebrow curiously. “Some place. Sounds like a Norman Rockwell painting.”

  “It was,” she said as a warm feeling rose at the memory of walking through one of the “kissing bridges” as they were called. Images of Pinewood’s pastoral charm floated in and out of her mind. The rolling hills, the old covered bridges, the quaint homes and unruffled serenity. “Not quite a one-stoplight town but it had that same feel—at least, it used to. Who knows what it’s like now. Don’t get me wrong, we had our troubles, pranksters and stuff. Like the time this kid, Billy Underwood—wild kid, for sure—anyway, he let a snake loose inside the lingerie department of Starn’s Bridal Shop. Crazy, right? And at Fielding’s Feed and Farm store, this rambunctious dog got away from his owner and knocked over an entire rack of packed egg cartons. Splat…right on the floor.” Lissa grinned, hoping the anecdotes would lighten Robin’s spirit.

  Robin gave her a curious look. “That’s it, just snakes and dogs?”

  “What can I say?” Lissa managed a shrug. “It was a backwoods town.”

  Robin rolled her eyes. “You’ve led a sheltered life, girl.”

  Lissa threw her hands up. “Just lucky, I guess.”

  They sat in silence, and Lissa took a mental snapshot of the moment: The sweet notes of jasmine sifting from Robin’s perfume, the absence of the usual mild chaos emanating from Lacy’s bedroom. Apparently, the children were playing quietly for a change.

  “Well,” Lissa said with a lazy smile, “I guess this is it.” She let the words settle and hoped neither of them would cry again. “You’ve been such a good friend, Robin. I don’t know who could have been more help to me after my mom’s surgery and then her…” She bit back the rest of her sentence, feeling a sense of remorse for her mother’s passing. As an only child after her baby brother died, the relationship with her beloved mother cemented into a tight-knit bond that nothing could unravel.

  “That’s what friends are for,” Robin said. She cast her still glassy gaze around the room. “Well, I guess you’ve still got some more to do. Is there anything I can help you with?”

  “Actually, I think we’re pretty good.” Lissa gave the room a quick glance. “Oh, wait.” She held up a finger. “On second thought, there is something you can help me with. That is, if you wouldn’t mind taking some food.”

  She went to the kitchen. Standing at the refrigerator, she called, “Would you have need of this?” She thrust an unopened quart of 2% milk out for Robin to see at the doorway. “I have some other things in here that you might want. Come take a look.” She beckoned.

  “Mom, Mrs. Logan,” Alex’s tiny voice rang with urgency as he ran up the hallway.

  “We’re in here, buddy,” Lissa called from the kitchen.

  Alex approached the threshold and looked up with a question on his face. He cocked his head like a puppy, slipping his hands into his back pockets. “I don’t
know where Lacy is… I can’t find her.”

  “You can’t find Lacy?” Lissa said, perplexed. “Are you guys playing hide-and-seek?”

  Alex slowly shook his head, his big blue saucer-eyes forlorn.

  “Hmmm, that’s weird.” She put down the jar of pickles on the counter and yelled, “Lacy?”

  Silence.

  Lissa cocked her head toward the hallway. “Honey, where are you?” She struggled to keep worry from her voice and scurried down the corridor of the rented duplex to her daughter’s bedroom. Finding it empty, she checked her own room farther down the hall, along with the bathroom and the hallway closet before coming back to the kitchen. Where is she? Lissa hustled to the living room and yanked up the blinds. A stream of dust floated in the sun-filtered air. She opened the window wide and strained to catch any sign of her daughter in the backyard. The picnic table, empty. The swings, still. The woods beyond the fence loomed ominously like silent warriors. Did Lacy go for a walk? Or somehow get lost? There were too many hiding places for a small girl or predator. Thoughts of her deceased husband Jason came to mind, and with all that she’d lost, she couldn’t lose Lacy, too.

  Her stomach hollowed. Worry strangled her words. “She’s not here. Where could she—” Without verbally completing her thought, she bolted for the front door.

  “Maybe she’s out front,” Robin said, following out to the portico where Lissa held a hand to her eyes to shield the piercing sunrays coming out from behind the clouds. Robin followed Lissa’s lead and cast her eyes toward the opposite end of the street. “Where could she be, Liss?”

  “I don’t know,” Lissa said, her voice wobbly. “She’s never left the house before without telling me.”

  She paced stiffly from one side of the stone portico to the other, hoping this was just a case of unnecessary concern, and she’d turn around and Lacy would be there. Gripped with worry, she quickly surveyed the front yard still not recovered from the austere frost of winter. The dead winter-brown lawn. Twiggy bare barberry bushes. In the semi-quiet of mid-morning, a rustling sound caught her attention. Squirrels. She ran around to the big oak tree at the side of the house marking the edge of the property. The tire swing hanging from the lower branch hung still. The hammock, empty.