by Lisa Bork
“What about Social Services?”
“What about them?”
“Are we going to notify them that the child they placed in our care has been shot at?”
“Hell no.” Ray sat up and swung his feet off the couch. “They’d want to remove her from our home. Then I wouldn’t be able to keep her safe.” He took my hand in his. “I am going to keep her safe. I promise.”
____
Monday morning Ray played airplane with Noelle while I phoned the shop a few minutes after nine. Cory answered on the third ring.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t come in today, Cory. I may not be able to come in for a couple days. Would you be able to cover for me?” I waited for him to ask why, replaying the events of the last few days in my head and still trying to make order of them myself.
His response was clipped and disinterested. “Fine, but I’m only working today until I finish with Barclay.”
I could tell from the tone of his voice that I was nowhere near forgiven. “Okay. Thank you for taking care of him.”
“That’s my job.”
He wasn’t making this easy. “Cory, I’m really sorry. I never meant to hurt you or let you down.”
“Is there anything work-related you needed to speak with me about, boss?” His words were like icicles stabbing my heart.
I tried to sound as detached as him. “I’m going to fax you a list of New York State Jaguar owners who have porcelain white cars. Would you please look it over and see if you recognize any names on the list? If you do, please call me or Ray. We’re both home today.” I didn’t tell him why. If I did, he might relent in his anger, but I didn’t want his pity. I wanted his friendship.
I heard the shop’s other line ringing in the background. I couldn’t let him hang up without one last plea for forgiveness. “Cory, I am really sorry I didn’t tell you about Mark right away. Can you come by for dinner tonight so we can talk this through?”
“No. I gotta go, boss. Gotta get the other line. Don’t want to keep the customers waiting.”
____
Catherine phoned while Noelle was taking her nap. Ray was outside washing our cars. I was doing laundry, a small pile that had grown into a mountain over the last few days.
“I wanted to suggest to Ray that we tell Heather about yesterday’s incident. Maybe if she knows shots were fired, she’ll talk.”
I carried the phone out to Ray, who tensed the moment I stepped out of the house. His gaze scanned the street until I made it to his side, and I had no doubt he continued to do so as I walked back inside. He had his shoulder holster on, even while he washed the cars. I figured he’d be more comfortable talking to Catherine if I wasn’t still in target range. Of course, his male ego prevented him from thinking he might be in danger himself. Or maybe the fact that no one in their right mind ever shot a cop.
Ray came inside five minutes later, leaving wet footprints on our hardwood floor as he crossed the living room to the kitchen where I sat. “We’re going to the jail, all of us. Catherine, you, me, and Noelle.”
My stomach rolled over. “Why?”
“Catherine wants to load on the guilt. See if we can make Heather talk. I can’t leave you home with Noelle alone. I don’t want you to go alone. So we’re all going.”
“When?”
“As soon as Noelle wakes up, I’ll call Catherine. She’ll make all the arrangements, and we’ll meet her there.”
____
Noelle cried all the way to the jail. After all, she’d just awakened from her nap. She wanted to play with her toys and her parents, not ride strapped in her car seat for forty-five minutes. I hated to hear her cry. By the time we reached the jail, my nerves were shot. Ray seemed as calm and cool as ever.
Catherine had waited for us in the lobby. She remained seated as we approached her. “I want to talk for a minute before we go in.”
We took the chairs to her left. Noelle’s eyelashes still glittered with unshed tears, but her gaze darted happily around the room, taking in the other people. A few of them smiled at her. Most ignored us, too engrossed in their own conversations.
Catherine put her hand on Ray’s arm. “Let me take the lead today. Let me be the bad guy, because we still want Heather to like you. You’re never going to get Noelle if she doesn’t like you. So your jobs are to look sad and apprehensive as well as a little helpless and pitiful. Can you handle that?”
Ray frowned. He didn’t do helpless and pitiful. Neither did I, until lately. All of a sudden, I had developed a whole new range of heretofore untapped emotions.
Noelle patted my cheek with her sticky palm. Apparently she’d been sucking a few fingers on the way over. I squeezed her tighter. She wiggled in protest.
“Whatever we need to do, Catherine. Just say the word.” I didn’t bother to look at Ray to see if he agreed. He had to agree.
The guard took Ray’s firearm and locked it up. Then we got a cursory pat-down and were admitted to the private consultation room with its bare walls, table, and four chairs. Heather entered minutes later, looking thinner and drawn. She sat in the chair next to me. Ray and Catherine took the chairs across from us.
Catherine leaned forward and touched Heather’s hand. “Yesterday afternoon a man shot up the front of Noelle’s babysitter’s house. No one was injured, but obviously things are escalating. We need you to identify the man who threatened Noelle.”
Heather’s lips parted and her eyes widened. She pulled her hand from under Catherine’s and instinctively reached for Noelle. I let her take her baby onto her lap as one sob escaped from my throat. I fought to get myself under control, but all my fears of losing Noelle had overwhelmed me.
Her gaze met mine over Noelle’s head as she planted a kiss in Noelle’s hair. She shook her head.
Catherine snapped her fingers. “A name, Heather. We need a name. Now.”
“I can’t. Just keep her safe with you.” This time Heather looked at Ray.
Catherine tapped her pen on the table, clearly losing her patience. “You can’t expect Ray to watch this baby 24/7. He has a job. He has responsibilities. If you don’t give us some answers today, Social Services will take Noelle and place her in an unidentified home, where no one will be able to find her, including us. It’s the only way we can guarantee her safety long term.”
Of course, I was once again in the dark, but I kept silent this time. Maybe it would be for the best, although maybe Catherine was just making it up on the fly, too. Ray had said Social Services would not be notified. Would Catherine cross him to win a case?
I studied him. His good-cop, bad-cop, whatever-you-need-me-to-be cop expression was firmly in place. Even a chisel wouldn’t crack it now.
Heather examined Noelle’s hand, front and back while we waited. Noelle’s fingernails could use a trim. One more little task I’d missed.
Catherine tried again. “Heather, we’re trying to help you. We’re trying to keep Noelle safe. You have to talk to us.”
She shook her head, her hair flying back and forth across Noelle’s face. “If I talk to you, he’ll kill her for sure. That’s what he promised. And he’ll do it, too.”
“Not if we arrest him first.” Catherine made it sound as though that would be simple enough.
“What if you can’t find him? Theo and I hid for months, and no one found us. If you’re careful and have enough cash, no one ever finds you.”
“Does this man have a lot of money? Does he have connections with the police department? Are you worried about bribes?”
Catherine’s flurry of questions seemed to confuse Heather. She buried her face in Noelle’s curls. After a few minutes, she took a deep breath, raised her head, and kissed both Noelle’s cheeks before handing her back to me. “He shot at the house to let me know he’ll make good on his threat.”
She stood. “I’m not going to tell you who he is. I’m going to plead guilty and go to prison. Just announce that to the press and all this will go away”—she laid her hand on my f
orearm for a second—“I promise.”
She crossed the room in three strides and knocked on the door. The guard opened it and stood aside to let her pass. Just before the door closed behind her, she glanced back at me and mouthed “I promise.”
I wanted to believe that meant she would sign the adoption papers, too, so that Noelle would be ours forever.
But then, I wanted to believe anything that would make my desire a reality.
Ray conferred with Catherine in the parking lot while I sat inside the car and gave Noelle a bottle. I didn’t catch anything they said, but Catherine looked alternately sad and determined. Ray’s expression never changed from impassive. By the time I strapped Noelle in and resurfaced from the backseat, Catherine was sliding into her car on the other side of the lot.
As Ray backed out, I waved to her. “What were you guys talking about?”
A muscle in Ray’s cheek twitched, a rare occurrence and not one that comforted me. “Catherine is convinced of Heather’s innocence. She says the guilty ones never want to plead guilty. She has no intention of allowing Heather to do so if she can avoid it. She’s going to talk to Karen about increasing the reward money we offered. See if more money will entice someone to come forward, and she’s going to put the pressure on the cops in this town to knock on more doors. Theo and Heather might have been living somewhere here in the Canandaigua area. In the meantime, she’s got other cases pending, and until we find a solid lead for Heather’s defense, she’s got to focus on the paying customers.”
“Is that why Catherine looked sad?”
Surprise flickered across Ray’s face. “Did she? I didn’t notice, but she’s probably worried about losing her first case. She’s had a long record of wins until now.”
I wondered if he’d told her the bad news. “Did you ever tell her that you’re not going to be her sperm donor?”
Now he looked guilty. “I thought it might be in everyone’s best interest to wait until this case was over.”
“Ray!” I couldn’t believe he’d leave her dangling.
He raised one hand off the wheel as if to say “hold on.” “If she brings it up again, I’ll tell her then, but I don’t think it’s in our best interest or Heather’s to … ah … alienate Catherine’s affections in any way.”
I let it pass for now. Why should I worry about Catherine? She hadn’t bothered to consider my feelings before she proposed this ridiculous notion to my husband.
“I know you thought the key to this investigation was Theo and Heather’s associates, but maybe we should look at who would want Theo dead instead.”
Ray swiped his hand over his face, making his whiskers rasp. “I don’t know where to look now. We couldn’t find any of their associates. Who knows who wanted Theo dead?”
“I never asked Theo’s parents if they knew of any reason why someone would want Theo dead. And I never had Erica ask Sam that question either. I assumed they would have come forward with that information if they had it.”
“His parents didn’t seem to know anything about his whereabouts for the last seven months. It’s not likely they’re hiding that information from us, but it never hurts to ask.”
“Then let’s start with Sam instead. Stop by Erica’s apartment when we get back to town. I’ll ask her where we might find him.”
Ray pulled up in front of Erica’s apartment forty minutes later. Amazingly enough, Noelle had remained awake, but silent, the entire drive. I took this as a sign my luck was changing. That was, until I stepped out of the car and got a good look at Erica’s front yard.
Chunks of broken pottery and ceramics lay all over the front yard, some entangled in the strings from the chimes which no longer hung from the porch roof. The gnome with the pick axe now had his head buried in the flowerbed and his feet were missing. Erica’s newest collections had been trashed.
I wondered if she had done it. In the past, her rage had gotten away from her. She’d destroyed her previous apartment, including her television and furniture. But her latest prescription had kept her demons at bay for so long …
I raced up to the front porch and banged on the door, listening for her footsteps through the door. No sound came from the house.
Ray rolled down his window. “What is this mess?”
I walked to his side of the car. “Erica had a collection of garden gnomes and wind chimes. It looks like someone smashed them to pieces.”
Ray scanned the area again, undoubtedly looking for some clue as to the perpetrator. “Do you think Erica did it?”
“She might have.” I surveyed the yard again. “Or maybe Sam did it. She said he threatened to get even after she dumped him.”
The sound of a throat clearing drifted to my ear from the next-door neighbor’s yard. “Did the police notify you about this vicious attack?”
I looked over the car and saw our resident busybody, Mr. Murphy, rushing toward us. “Actually we just stopped by to see Erica.”
Mr. Murphy rounded the front end of Ray’s car and came to a stop inches from my face. “Erica—” spittle left his lips and spattered onto mine “—that girl is nothing but trouble. Ever since she moved in here, men coming and going. And now one of the hooligans has done this.”
Ray’s lips started to curve into a smile. “Did you see the perpetrator, Mr. Murphy?”
“I did, Ray. I called the new police chief, but he didn’t get here in time.”
Ray frowned. He didn’t like to hear that the second team was lagging behind. “What kind of a car did he drive?”
“Didn’t see any car. Just a hooligan in a baseball hat and shorts, whacking the little guys with an oar. He made such a racket. I came out of my backyard to see what was going on. He ran off when I shouted at him.”
“An oar?” I glanced at Ray. “Erica said Sam gives sailing lessons at the yacht club.”
Ray nodded. “Okay, now we have two good reasons to find Sam. Darlin’, why don’t you get in, and we’ll see if we can find him at the club?”
Mr. Murphy uttered a “humph” as I rounded the car. “Your sister attracts the wrong kind, Jolene. You need to set her straight.”
As if I hadn’t been trying for years. I waved to acknowledge his words. Ray thanked Mr. Murphy for the information.
I looked in the backseat as Ray eased the car out of the driveway. Noelle had fallen asleep. What a boring day for her! I felt guilty, but hopefully brighter days lay ahead. I sniffed the air. A diaper change would be good, too.
Ray rolled down the windows. I tried not to hang my head out the window like a dog. Whoever said little girls were all sugar and spice and everything nice?
The yacht club sat on a point at the east edge of Wachobe village, right next door to the arts council. The club was a two-story gray clapboard building with white trim and ships’ steering wheels hanging on all four sides. The stucco arts council building seemed plain in comparison. Dozens of people stood sipping cocktails under tents on the grass between the two buildings. It was impossible to tell which building was hosting the gathering and equally impossible to find a parking spot in either one’s lot.
Ray parked on a meter three blocks away in the center of town. I jumped in the backseat and changed Noelle while he hauled her stroller out of the trunk. When she was restored to her sweet self, we walked hand-in-hand down the road, Ray pushing her stroller.
We were a little underdressed for the party in our shorts and polo shirts, so we skirted the edge and headed inside the yacht club. On the way in, I spotted Sam’s sign offering sailing lessons. At least he’d made good on his promise to get a job. Lucky for our family, Erica didn’t honor her promise to marry him. One more oddball in the family and we’d be ready for a reality television show.
I’d never been inside the yacht club before. My family didn’t yacht; we drove … and occasionally spent a summer Sunday fishing off a rented pontoon boat before my mother died and my father retreated from life.
The dark paneling and forest-green carpet made
the interior cave-like. But a cool cave, compared to the heat outside, with a tantalizing aroma of fried seafood in the air and lots of colorful framed photographs of the club members aboard their assorted vessels with wind in their sails.
As I looked the pictures over, a girl in black pants and a low-cut blouse approached us and addressed Ray. “Can I help you?”
“We’re looking for Sam Green. Is he available?”
“Sam isn’t here now. He gives sailing lessons in the mornings usually, and sometimes he comes in at night with his parents for dinner.” She glanced at the open reservation book on a nearby podium. “But they don’t have a reservation for tonight.” She smiled, flashing a set of teeth any orthodontist would be proud to claim. “Sorry.”
Ray thanked her and we left, strolling along the edge of the crowd. I spotted a tent with framed paintings inside. The party must be sponsored by the arts council, after all. Maybe I would have known about it if I hadn’t skipped the last three business association meetings.
I noticed a woman give Ray an admiring glance, and two others cooing over Noelle, who seemed thrilled to get some fresh air and a walk for a change. I smiled back at everyone, proud of my family.
Ray stopped next to our car and knelt to undo Noelle’s straps. I checked my watch. “Wait a minute, Ray. It’s almost five. What if we walk down to the Lincoln House and have an early dinner? Erica should be working tonight. We can talk to her when she comes in.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
The Lincoln House sat two blocks outside Wachobe’s main shopping district. A log cabin structure, I’d never been certain if it was named for the framed photo of Abraham Lincoln displayed in the foyer or after Lincoln Logs, the architecture the building most resembled. Either way, their food tasted good, their bar poured top-shelf, and their service was renowned, even before Erica started working there.
We sat in a booth overlooking the rose garden. After the waitress took our order, I mixed rice cereal for Noelle while Ray sipped his Corona.