Hit and Run

by Amy Shojai

  She’d rather go to Disney World. Maybe she could still snag a ticket...

  Combs checked bags as Willie chattered about plans for his eleventh birthday celebration at the Magic Kingdom. Melinda practiced the studied indifference perfected by thirteen-year-olds everywhere. September raised a hand to wave, but Combs didn’t see, and the trio disappeared into the busy DFW terminal.

  Alone. And this time, not by choice.

  For so long, she’d locked herself away from the world. Hell, it had taken her years to change, to learn to trust anyone. Her cat Macy gave her a reason to live, and her dogs—first Dakota and especially Shadow—taught her to love again. And now Combs offered the promise of a future. A normal life.

  So she wasn’t really alone. She actually had good friends now, and a big family waiting for her. “Baby-dog, ready to go home?”

  He woofed, and jumped from the rear cargo area onto the back seats. The notch out of the tip of one ear, and the white slash of fur down one side of his face added character to his regal bearing. Badges of honor, hard won victories from saving her, and others.

  Shadow nosed her hand when she reached behind her seat. “Yes, I’m nervous about today’s gathering. You know what Mom’s like. But I’m getting better, right?” She turned, put the car into gear, and navigated out of the airport.

  Shadow watched the North Texas landscape speed by, particularly interested in the pastureland dotted here and there with Longhorn cattle. He pushed his nose into the window’s narrow opening to sample the breeze. September double checked to engage the child locks. The dog had an uncanny ability to open car door windows, and she didn’t want him becoming a furry black missile on Hwy 35. Since he’d taught himself the behavior, she’d put the action on cue. In the past, the skill had come in handy.

  Training and experience had matured Shadow far beyond his true age—he’d be two years old in February—although he’d turn into a play maniac given half an invitation. He continued to meet the world with tail-waving joy. September had never met a dog so eager to learn, or as stubborn at knowing (and proving) when she was wrong. After nearly losing Shadow more than once, she wrestled with giving him the freedom he deserved while keeping him safe.

  Because Shadow didn’t want her protection. He wanted to live, love, and play. By her side. Wags and kisses—and protection—provided free of charge. And he wanted her to live, play, and love him back. That simple.

  And that hard. Especially in her large and complicated family.

  Twenty minutes later, they drew near her parents’ house. September slowed, but drove past the empty driveway. She didn’t want to spend any longer one-on-one with her mother than absolutely necessary... And she still had fifteen minutes until she was expected. She made a face. September preferred the company of dogs and cats, and found them much easier to understand than most people. Combs excepted, of course. Lately, Mom had been even more prickly than usual. “What do you think, Shadow? Wanna go get the mail?”

  His tail thumped on the seat. Shadow didn’t understand the words, other than the “go” word. But going anywhere with her made them both happy.

  During the house renovations she’d rented a post office box, but only checked mail a couple of times a week. Most bills she paid electronically, but for the first time in ages, she’d ordered holiday gifts. This year, she had a reason to celebrate, instead of looking over her shoulder for lurking bogeymen. If the gifts had arrived, she’d be able to add to today’s pile rather than having to deliver them for Christmas proper.

  September parked in the deserted parking lot in front of the small brick post office. Shadow stood, waiting eagerly for the door to open, and woofed with disappointment when she left him behind. “Be right back.” She’d only be gone a few minutes. If the packages came, she’d need both hands to ferry them to the car. Shadow’s imposing presence, not to mention his battle-scars, kept strangers to a cautious distance with no need to lock the new car.

  The bright blue sky and mild forty-degree temperatures made September yearn to ditch the family obligations and take Shadow for a tracking run. It had been two weeks since their last case reunited a missing cat, lost at a rest area along Hwy 75, with its family. Vacation with pets meant extra precautions. She made a note to post additional holiday safety tips on her blog. This time of year meant a reduced workload for her, but an increase in business at Lia’s boarding kennel. They made a pretty good team, with September’s innate caution tempered by the younger girl’s impulsive enthusiasm.

  September zippered her light jacket against the breeze. Her dark hair needed a trim and fell into her eyes, but she’d decided to let it grow out. She pulled on her blue bump cap that helped keep hair at bay. She’d rolled her eyes at the gift from Mom, who insisted wearing a bright blue knit-covered hardhat during house construction could address safety with style. September had been surprised to discover how much she liked the bump cap, and often enjoyed wearing it. Besides, Mom would see it and that could ease the perennial tension that stalked their relationship.

  She trotted to the building and pushed inside. She heard thumps and soft conversation from the back of the building when she keyed open her box. A wad of mailings, mostly advertisements, stuffed the box, plus two numbered keys for larger lockers. Yes! That meant packages.

  September tossed the ad fliers into the trash. She stacked the three Christmas cards and tucked them into her waistband to open and read in the car. Then she collected boxes from the lockers, balanced them in her arms, and teetered her way back to the car.

  “Wait, Shadow.” Before opening the rear hatchback, she reminded him to stay in place. “We got mail baby-dog! Fun presents for the kids. Maybe something for you, too.” September opened the large boxes quickly and sorted through the bright gift-wrapped packages. She kept one package for Shadow and climbed back behind the wheel before handing the loosely wrapped gift to him on the back seat.

  He sniffed the gaudy wrapping, nose-poked it, and grinned with delight when it squealed. September laughed out loud, watching him brace the package under one paw to rip the paper off the new bear-toy. “You destroyed your last one. Hope this one lasts longer.” He settled down with the fluffy brown stuffie between his paws, clamped his jaws around the toy, and half closed his eyes in bliss. She figured the new toy would help keep him occupied during the long day ahead.

  “Let’s see who sent cards.” September hadn’t sent any cards in forever. Until recently, she’d wanted to keep her location a secret. And she could count on one hand the number of her friends.

  She examined the return address before opening each, smiling at the messages inside. The first, from Doc Eugene, featured dogs and cats as holiday angels. After caring for Shadow and Macy-cat, he’d become part of her extended family. September made a mental note to buy some cards and send a few back. No, probably too late for this year.

  The next two, postmarked from South Bend, Indiana, raised goose-bumps on her arms. She cautiously opened the first, and laughed with relief. “It’s from Teddy!” She held the envelope out for Shadow to sniff, and he woofed in recognition at the scent. The old man had surprising computer skills he’d shared with her on more than one occasion. “I sure miss him. Says he’s staying with his son’s family while he finishes his latest contract job.” After Teddy’s wife Molly died, he’d left town and hadn’t been back.

  Still smiling, she tore open the last card, and then dropped it, hissing with shock. Inside the generic card, a photograph. Sandwiched between thin protective cardboard. Of a much younger September looking frightened, and Christopher Day beaming. Their wedding day.

  The back of the picture had a note in his familiar writing: When you’re ready, the answers are here.

  “What answers, Chris? When I’m ready for what?” Her skin tingled, and she grasped the steering wheel to steady sudden dizziness.

  A thin sheet of flowered stationary fell into her lap, along with a small key. Without reading, September knew the sender. Only one person wit
nessed their wedding. September forbade pictures, but Chris’s proud Mom found a way.

  She covered her mouth with one shaking hand and picked up the note in the other to read silently: I know who killed Chris and it’s not what you think. You need to know the truth. Please come.

  Two years ago this coming Wednesday, on December 18, Chris and their dog Dakota were murdered by her stalker Victor Grant. Once his attempts on her life landed him in prison, she’d felt safe for the first time in years.

  If not Victor, then who killed Chris—and why? And, oh God, if the killer remained at large, everyone she loved remained at risk. Her family, Shadow and Macy. Combs, and his kids.

  Her mouth soured, and she squeezed her eyes closed as her vision turn dark. September pressed both fists to the sides of her head, fighting against hyperventilation as the doors of the car squeezed closer and closer. Her heartbeat thrashed, a beat-beat-beat in her ears that shut out everything.

  Shadow pushed forward between the seats. He nose-poked her shoulder, insistent, relentless, until she responded. She reached back with one hand to accept his demand for contact. She clenched her other fist and the key gouged her palm. She concentrated on the biting pain in one hand contrasted with Shadow’s icy wet nose against her other. Slowly, the black sparklies at the edge of her sight receded.

  This wasn’t the first time she’d been ambushed by the past. She’d survived each hit, then run away as fast and as far as possible. But this time, she’d run toward the answers. And by God in heaven, she’d hit back before ghosts derailed her future.

  September retrieved her phone, and searched for the number she’d not used since Chris died. Surely, it hadn’t changed? She dialed, but only got voice mail. With hesitation, September left a message for Angela Day.

  After the family gathering at Mom’s, she’d pack for South Bend. Time to confront her past, and bury it once and for all.

  Chapter 4

  ANGELA OPENED THE FRONT door with a tight smile. “Thanks so much for coming over. You don’t know how much this means to me.” She shivered, and tried to steady her wavering voice. “Come on in, it’s bitter outside.”

  “It’s been too long. You sounded upset, but I couldn’t get away during the week.” The tall, imposing man scraped packed snow off his shoes before stepping into the front hall. “So sorry I couldn’t attend Peter’s memorial service.” He pulled off heavy leather gloves and stuffed them into coat pockets before he shrugged off his coat and handed it to her. “That weekend we were on a tour of college campuses. Can you believe it? He’s already a college freshman at Notre Dame.”

  She closed the closet door and motioned him into the living room. “Time flies. Seems only yesterday that Chris graduated alongside your oldest. For a while I thought they might make a go of it, until she chose law school and Chris dove into the police academy.” Angela smiled sadly as she sat down on the edge of the sofa. “They made a cute couple.” She caught herself twisting her wedding ring again, and instead crossed her arms.

  He laughed, a high-pitched unexpected sound, but then wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I wanted her to join the family business, but she’s on track for great things at her Chicago law firm.” He still hadn’t taken a seat.

  “Peter bragged on you, so happy that a kid he grew up with hit the big time.” The small talk was making her queasy, and Angela wondered if she’d have the nerve to come out and tell him what she suspected. Part of her wanted to run before he asked her what this was about. “He always said you’d make us all proud.”

  “Don’t know about that.” He blinked quickly, and pulled off his glasses to polish them with a monogrammed handkerchief, which he then stuffed back into the pocket of his tailored suit. His buffed fingernails spoke of money and style. His smooth deep baritone voice instilled confidence. But his pacing suggested distraction. “Hard work all those years ago in Chicago helped before we decided to move home to South Bend. Gaining the respect of colleagues pays off. It’s truly an honor to serve.” He finally took a seat opposite her. He crossed and then uncrossed his legs, shifting in the chair. “So tell me about what’s got you upset. Something you found that belonged to Chris?”

  “I made coffee, would you like some?” Angela stood again, twisting her fingers.

  He waved her back down. “I can’t stay long, I’m on my way to a meeting with the mayor. Now Angela, tell me. I’ll help if I can.” He finally met her eyes.

  She sank back onto the seat, but continued wringing her hands. Ever since she’d dropped the key in the mail, she’d second-guessed the decision to involve September. Yes, the young woman deserved the truth, but what could she do about it? Chris always wanted to protect September, to respect her privacy. But with his suspicious death, and the later attacks on his widow, the police should have the information. That would prompt questions—why hadn’t Chris said something at the time? She couldn’t have her son’s reputation as a detective questioned. Nothing should taint his memory! This man, though, could figure out what to do—inform the authorities, but protect Chris.

  Angela took a deep breath, rocking in place as she spoke. “Chris had a safety deposit box. I found the key when Peter died. He took care of things after Chris was...murdered.” It had taken her many months to be able to say the word without breaking into tears. “Now it falls to me to take care of everything. I owe it to Peter, and to our son.”

  “Horrible time.” The Judge leaned forward and patted her hand, stilling the nervous motion. His brow wrinkled. “Anything I can do to help, you know that I will. It’s normal to feel sad, overwhelmed even, but you can’t let it take over your life, Angela.”

  She pulled at the neck of her sweater then smoothed hands down her legs. Had she combed her hair today? Angela knew she’d let herself go lately. She surreptitiously checked to be sure her shoes matched and touched a hand to her lips. Yes, she’d put on lip gloss.

  “Do you have other family around to support you? Church members? Close friends?”

  She shook her head and whispered, fighting tears. “Some days I don’t want to get out of bed. I miss Peter and Chris so much, sometimes I wish...” She stopped herself. She now had a purpose beyond vacuuming and dusting an already spotless house. She’d finish what her son had begun. “Don’t you worry about me, I’ll muddle through.” She offered a weak smile. “I appreciate your support more than you can know.”

  “At least they caught the guy. He’s in jail down in Texas somewhere.” He laughed again, that odd high-pitched sound.

  “That’s the thing.” Angela took a deep breath then the words came out in a rush. “I found research and notes in the safety deposit box about Chris’s investigation.”

  “Investigation? What sort of notes?” He picked a spot of lint off his sleeve. “Angela, after all this time it must have been handled by the police department. They take losing a brother cop very seriously. Old notes can’t matter anymore.”

  She hugged herself. “Maybe. But he’d been investigating a Chicago laboratory. A man named Detweiller worked there. Just before he died, Chris suspected he’d been falsifying results, maybe someone paying him off. I saw a recent news report about Detweiller that suggests the same thing. What if someone wanted to silence Chris and stop his investigation?”

  He stiffened, straightened his tie, stumbling over quickly spoken words. “One man, a twisted fanatic obsessed with your son’s wife, killed Chris. And he’ll pay for his crime.” He tugged at his collar, and stretched his neck, taking a long deep breath before he continued. “If Chris had information about illegal activity, the police already knew. He was a good cop, a great detective. He’d have kept the department informed.”

  “I know that. Of course he would.” But her brow furrowed. If he’d told someone at the police department, wouldn’t she have heard something about it? “It started as a personal matter about his wife that Chris wanted to keep private. I don’t understand all the notes he left.” She bit her lip.

  He leaned forward again. One sn
ow-damp shoe jittered for a moment before he set both feet firmly on the floor. “What else, Angela? What do you think he found? What do you want to do?”

  “I’m not sure, and it kind of scares me. Should I take the files to the police? Or maybe I should forget I ever found that lockbox.” If Chris had uncovered a hidden hornet’s nest, poking it could get a lot of innocent people stung. Sure, September had a right to know about the contents of the box, but she wasn’t the law and couldn’t do anything about the information. Angela straightened. Chris would want her to do the right thing. “I want the police to know. If my son died because of what’s in that damn box, I want to get Chris justice. Can you help me?”

  He groaned and half smiled, condescending. “Angela, it doesn’t work that way. I think your emotions have you seeing conspiracies.” He held up his hands, palms up, when she opened her mouth to object. “But you’ve every right to be upset, losing Peter so suddenly then finding unexpected reminders of Chris’s private business. He obviously wanted this to stay private though, and maybe you should respect that. Why don’t you let me take a look before you involve anyone else? I’ll put on my legal hat and we can keep things confidential—lawyer–client privilege.” He smiled. “I can certainly talk to the police chief if need be, but I seriously doubt it’ll come to that.”

  “Oh thank you! I knew I could count on you, George.” She took a deep breath, and stretched her shoulders. Her back crackled, and she only then realized how tense she’d been.

  “You’ve had enough bad news lately. We don’t want to add to your depression.” He smiled broadly.

  A beep sounded and he checked his phone. “Must be your phone, Angela.” He stood. “I need to run anyway. Let me take Chris’s files with me and I’ll review them tonight.” He walked to the door and opened the coat closet.