“Um, yeah.” I went on to tell him how I’d used the stall as a would-be confessional, and his lips curled up in the cutest grin I’d ever seen.
“You’re a gem among gems, Annie Peterson.”
“Why thank you, kind sir. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I mean it.” His countenance grew more serious. “And our daughters are the spitting image of their mother, for which I’m truly thankful.”
“I hope they don’t turn out as nutty as I have.” I looked up with a grin.
“But Annie, seriously, I’d do anything for those girls. If they’d asked for the moon, I would’ve tried to get it for them. I love them so much and I want their weddings to be… memorable.”
Wow. I would’ve responded, but couldn’t push down the lump in my throat long enough to accomplish it.
Warren gazed into my eyes with some of the deepest emotion I’d ever seen from him. “And I wanted this for you, too. I know our wedding wasn’t all you’d hoped it would be. We didn’t have anything fancy.”
“I didn’t need fancy,” I whispered. “I had everything I needed. I had you.”
“Still,” he said, “I know you, Annie. You want to give the girls some of the things we didn’t have when we were young, some of the things our parents couldn’t afford.”
I swallowed back my tears and nodded. “Brandi has such lofty ideas,” I admitted. “But I know her heart. She’s not going to spend money for the sake of spending money. She wants this to be lovely for everyone who’s coming. And Candy–” I couldn’t help but smile, “—she’s more frugal. Like you. But her ideas are just as lovely. She knows how and where to spend the money to make it count. I can absolutely assure you, their weddings will be as different as night and day.”
“Just like they are.”
“Yes, but both ceremonies will be equally as precious and just as godly.”
“Just like they are.” His hoarse whisper brought a little more moisture to my already damp lashes. He changed gears with his next words. “Do you remember what I told you the morning Sheila sang?”
“Remind me.”
“On the way home,” he said. “I told you how blessed I felt. What great kids I have.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Here’s what I think—that a father who loves his children has to be prepared to kill the fatted calf every now and again, to celebrate their victories with them.”
I laughed as the image of a fatted calf registered, particularly in light of the homecoming feast I’d recently prepared for my son and his friends. “You crack me up,” I said. “But I totally get it. And I’m so proud of you, Warren. You are the best dad in the world.”
“For a bank robber, you mean?”
“Burglar,” I corrected. “Burglar.”
We stared at each other in silence for a moment, then I started to giggle. Must’ve been contagious, because Warren joined me in short order. Devin walked in on the tail end of our laughing spell, a relieved look on his face as he saw the two of us wrapped in each other’s arms.
“So, you two are talking again?”
“Yep!” I spurted, after releasing my husband from a much-needed lip-lock. “We’re talking. Everything is fine.”
“Awesome.” He reached to grab a chicken leg from the platter on the table. “I’m starved.”
“Get changed before you eat.” I pointed to his work-out clothes. My heart was warmed by the fact that son was getting some benefit from our family’s expensive gym membership.
“Why?”
“Devin—”
“Okay, okay.” He sprinted from the room, chicken leg still in-hand. I looked at Warren once more and asked the inevitable question, though I could have guessed his answer.
“Ready for some ice cream?”
“Mm-hmm. A nice, big bowl.”
I sprang from his lap and headed toward the freezer. “Of course.”
He followed directly behind me and pinched me on my backside as he answered, “Well, get to it, then.”
“Hey, you,” I sputtered. “Watch that.”
“I am.” He winked as he examined my ever-widening rear end.
I turned away as I felt a blush coming on, but couldn’t hide for long. The man of my dreams stepped right alongside me as I filled our bowls with the familiar gooey delight. He talked incessantly. In fact, I couldn’t remember when I’d ever heard him open up and share so freely. At one point, he took me into his arms and planted a tender kiss on my forehead. I responded by pressing a bowl of Moo-lenium Crunch into his waiting hands.
Who cared if our waistbands expanded a little? We had each other and we had the truth. What else did we need?
Chapter Twenty-One
“What do you think?” I asked Warren bright and early Wednesday morning. “Should I finish my Internet courses or just forget the whole thing?”
“Are you kidding?” He gave me an incredulous look. “I paid $150.00 for those courses. You’re finishing them.”
“Aye aye, Cap’n.” I offered him a salute then headed off to the office to face the computer head-on.
If I had to be completely honest with myself, I’d say all of this e-knowledge really wasn’t doing me much good. Most of the things I’d learned, investigation-wise, had either come as a direct result of my own failures or through some miraculous intervention of the Lord.
Still, if He could speak through a donkey, as He’d done in Old Testament days, surely He could teach me a thing or two through the World Wide Web.
If I could get through my stack of e-mails to find the current lesson, that was. I fended off nearly a dozen forwards then breezed through an e-mail from a client, requesting a bid on a new editing project. I responded with a low bid, probably feeling generous because of the happy circumstances of the past twenty-four hours. Hopefully, I wouldn’t regret it later.
I read one letter from my mother in Mississippi, a funny note about floral arranging from Nadine in Savannah, and a couple of prayer requests from Linda Jones, the head of our “E-Prayer Chain” at church. I stopped cold when I got to the one about Judy Blevins. Apparently she had taken a turn for the worse in the night. The doctors didn’t give her much longer. I should go up there and visit her. As soon as possible. In my mind’s eye, I could almost see her dancing now.
I paused to pray right on the spot. No point in beating around the bush. I poured out my heart, asked the Almighty for His perfect Will in the matter. I prayed for her healing, yes, but I also prayed that the Lord would have his way in all of this. And I prayed for Richard, as I’d never prayed before. Regardless of the outcome, he would need God’s strength. Finally, a sense of peace washed over me. I rested easy in the fact that God remained in control.
My prayer time put me in the right mindset to read my devotional, which I did next.
I opened the Web site to find one of my all-time favorite scriptures from Isaiah, chapter one: “Come now, let us reason together,” says the Lord. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.”
These words had always struck me as a little unusual. I knew what it meant to have my sins forgiven, but what did it mean to reason with God? When Warren and I “reasoned” things out, an argument usually ensued. Was I supposed to argue with the King of creation? Surely not.
Instead of chewing on the words, I took the matter straight to the One who would know the answer. I asked Him. I put it out there, much as a child would put out a request before a parent. In short, I spent time with Him. Seemed like I’d been doing a lot of that lately, but then again, I had a lot of things to “reason out.”
At this point, I sought the Lord regarding my thought life, and asked for forgiveness for the little things I’d let creep in, until now unnoticed. Then I asked for His thoughts to be my thoughts, something I didn’t recall ever asking for before.
I would need His way of thinking, if I were to pursue this investigation one step furt
her. I didn’t want to waste a moment on any more vain imaginations.
After spending some time with the Lord, I turned my attentions to the latest lesson from www.investigativeskills.com. To my great delight, the title of Lesson Eight resonated with me. I almost laughed aloud when I read the words: A GOOD INVESTIGATOR EMPLOYS CRITICAL THINKING SKILLS.
Well, if that didn’t beat all.
The lesson went on to explain the difference between everyday thinking and critical thinking. It discussed the various dimensions of proper reasoning: everything from avoiding oversimplification (Yep, I’ve been guilty of that) to thoroughly evaluating all available criteria (Haven’t done enough of that).
I must’ve ooh’d and aah’d a bit as Warren passed by the door, because he entered the office with a look of intrigue on his face.
“Learning a lot?”
“Yes, actually. I think this is the most fascinating one yet.” I pointed to the screen. “See all this stuff about situation comparison and argument analysis? I’ve never heard of any of this before. It’s a whole new way for me to approach the investigation, and life in general, for that matter.”
“Sounds vaguely familiar.” He rubbed at his chin as he continued to read the screen. “I think I remember learning some of this in my philosophy class back in college. This kind of stuff hurts my brain.”
“No kidding,” I admitted. “It’s all a little deep for me, too, but I guess that’s the point, to go deeper. To analyze. To explore all of the options reasonably, right?” A chuckle escaped the back of my throat as reality hit. “I’m already wide. I might as well be deep, too.” We both broke into a rousing rendition of the children’s song, “Deep and Wide,” laughter eventually filling the room.
Afterwards, Warren leaned down kissed me on my forehead. “I’m all for exploring options,” he said, “but right now the only option I’m exploring is the one that says I’m going to lose my job if I show up late.”
I glanced at my watch and gasped when I saw the time. “You’re never late.”
“I know,” his eyebrows elevated mischievously, “But someone kept me up until the wee hours last night.”
I felt my cheeks warm and shoo’d him away. “Better get a move on.” I blew the fellow of my dreams a kiss as he left the room, then, with a song in my heart, turned back to the computer, deep in thought. Pun intended.
With all of this information in hand, I forged ahead with the investigation. I couldn’t rest on my laurels, after all. By process of elimination, I’d rid myself of two suspects over the past twenty-four hours. Of the ones that remained, I’d have to say Nikki raised the most questions in my mind. Yes, if I really analyzed the situation, I’d have to say that something about her just didn’t feel right to me.
I took the time to analyze the situation in its entirety. For the first time ever, it struck me that no money had disappeared beyond the initial $25,000. I was also stumped by the idea that no other businesses in our area had been affected. Those two things certainly gave me reason to suspect an insider like Nikki all the more.
But, why stop at $25,000? If she really had a thirst for expensive things, wouldn’t she continue on in her question to obtain more?
I’d just leaned back in the chair to rest when the phone rang. I answered it right away, once I saw the caller ID.
“Annie,” Warren’s voice sounded hushed, strained. “I’ve got another clue to add to your list.” Mental note: Exonerated husband links arms with super-sleuthing wife to solve the crime of the century. Details to follow.
I responded with a “Really?” almost afraid to hear what he had to say. My poor husband. I’d pulled him into this investigation, whether he wanted to be involved or not. “What’s happening?”
“I know you’re not going to believe this,” Warren whispered, “but the police are here again, questioning Nikki Rogers.”
“No way.” My heart thump-thumped against my chest wall.
“Has to be more than a coincidence, don’t you think?” Warren asked, intrigue lacing his voice.
“Mm-hmm.” A thousand thoughts ran through my mind at once, not the least of which was the car Nikki had just purchased. Maybe the guys from the sheriff’s office were on to her, at last. Maybe they wanted to confront her with new evidence.
I lowered my voice. “Keep me posted.”
“Why are you whispering, Annie?”
“I don’t know. I mean—” I raised my voice, “I don’t know.”
We hung up and I tried to return to the lesson, but found it difficult, what with these heavy-duty thoughts filling every corner of my head like they did. I did pause as I read something quite profound: “A conclusion is simply the place where you got tired of thinking.” Wow. Deep stuff. And how true. I prayed I would never get tired of thinking.
I read on through the lesson, amazed to see some suggestions for how to increase critical thinking skills. “Crossword puzzles? Who woulda thunk it? And game-playing?”
Yes, lo and behold, if game-playing didn’t top the list.
Games? I loved games.
Within minutes I’d put together a plan for a game night, to provide myself an opportunity to increase my critical thinking skills. The sooner, the better.
I opened my calendar and glanced through it. Tomorrow night would work just fine. Warren and the kids could join me and maybe I’d ask someone else, as well.
Nikki Rogers.
Yes, surely Nikki would be great at game-playing. Unless my imagination had gotten the better of me, I’d have to say she’d been playing a few already. Like “Hide ‘n Seek” from the Clark County Sheriff’s Office. And “Truth or Dare” with the fine folks of Clarksborough.
Funny, every time I thought of Nikki, especially in that security guard uniform, an uneasiness fell over me. What is it, Lord? Is this the one, or have I completely misjudged her? Inviting her to the house would give me an opportunity to see her out of uniform, to watch her in a more comfortable environment.
Yes, we’d have her over for dinner and games. I’d suggest she bring her daughter along, as well. Might be fun for all of us to get to know one another. That way, if my suspicions were wrong, we’d have an opportunity to reach out to them both.
I waited about half an hour to give the police time to question Nikki. Then, I telephoned the bank and asked to speak to her.
“H–Hello?” Her quivering voice let me know she hadn’t quite recovered from her visit with sheriff’s deputies.
“Nikki. Annie Peterson, here.”
“Oh, Annie.” She suddenly became awash of emotion. “I’m so glad you called. What an awesome coincidence. I need prayer. I really do.”
So I see.
“What’s up?” I almost felt like a traitor asking the question, but didn’t really have the information in full, anyway.
She sighed. “It’s awful. Those guys from the sheriff’s office wanted to question me about my whereabouts on the night of the crime. Can you believe that? They didn’t come out and call me a suspect or anything, but they questioned me like one.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them I’d spent the night out-of-town, at my mother’s place in Lancaster, but they didn’t believe me.”
“You should give them your mother’s number,” I suggested. “That way they can call and ask her, themselves.”
“I did,” she sniffled, “And they called her right after. But that didn’t really solve anything. My mom and stepdad had gone away for a couple of days for her birthday,” she explained.
“Ah.” Likely story.
“She wanted me to drive out to Lancaster to puppy-sit her poodle while they were away. But I should’ve just stayed put in my own place.” Nikki broke down again. “Everything about it was a mistake. I had to get up super-early the next morning to get back to Clarksborough. Amber was late for school, and I was about five minutes late getting to the bank.”
“You were late for work?” Another new piece of evidence.
&n
bsp; “Well, just a few minutes,” she explained. “But I’m not the only one with the key. Warren and Richard were already here. We just hadn’t opened for customers yet. I explained that to the deputies, but they acted like they didn’t believe me.” Here she lowered her voice. “Why would they suspect me, of all people? I’m a single mom, not a bank robber.”
Burglar. And if you really were a security guard, you’d know the difference.
“I never took a thing that didn’t belong to me,” she went on. “Never.”
“Well, maybe I can offer you a little diversion,” I interrupted. I went on to extend a dinner and game-playing invitation—for Nikki and her daughter. Nikki sounded a little surprised to receive the offer, but accepted at once.
“You’re so sweet,” she gushed. “No one has offered us an invitation like this since we moved to Clarksborough. Thank you so much for thinking of us.”
A wave of guilt washed through me. I’m thinking of you more than you know. “We’re happy to have you.”
“Would you like me to bring anything?” she asked.
“Nope. Just bring yourself and Amber. And come prepared to have good food and a good time.”
I could hear the excitement in her voice and felt a little bad. For a moment. When I remembered her new sports car, the private school tuition and today’s visit from Clark County Sheriff’s deputies, my seared conscience eased up a little.
We ended the conversation on a happy note. As I hung up, I reasoned things out—with myself and the Lord. That’s what great investigators did, after all.
What would it hurt, really, to have Nikki over for a few games? If she turned out to be the perpetrator, my critical thinking skills would surely reveal it. If not, perhaps we’d end up being great friends.
I rubbed at my head, my brain now hurting from all of the thinking I’d done. The melody to “Deep and Wide” played through my mind once more and eventually worked its way down to my lips.
Somewhere between the ice cream and the Internet lessons, I’d managed to move out in both directions at once.
The Wedding Caper Page 17