by Sara Rosett
Mitch poured himself a glass of iced tea and said, “I’ve got the leaf blower in the car.”
“And? Did Jeff’s friend find anything?”
“It was rigged so that it would deliver a shock when it was turned on.” The words came out reluctantly.
I sat down on the nearest bar stool, feeling a little lightheaded. “Someone really is out to get you,” I said in amazement. “You’re the only one who uses it.”
Mitch swallowed some tea and nodded. “I know.”
I ran my hands over my forehead and said, “Do you think Carrie would have done something like that?” I relayed what I’d overheard at Stephanie’s house and said, “Somehow I can see Carrie setting off those plastic bottle bombs—she’s so angry. I think she’d like to see the destruction, but I have a hard time picturing her breaking into the shed and rewiring the leaf blower. Would she even know how to do that? I know I wouldn’t.”
“She’s a computer engineer, right?” Mitch asked and I nodded. He shook his glass and the ice cubes rattled. “Well, if she’s got a degree in engineering, she knows something about wiring and it probably wouldn’t be too hard to apply what she knows about computers to a leaf blower. They’re not that complex. Certainly not as complex as a computer.”
Mitch drained the last of the iced tea, rinsed his glass, and put it in the dishwasher, all his movements mechanical, his concentration focused inward.
“Are you okay?” I asked. Mitch wasn’t usually so intensely focused and preoccupied. He was all about going with the flow and relaxing. “Things will work out” was usually his motto, but right now he looked edgy and tense.
He shoved the dishwasher door closed and turned to me. “I don’t like being backed into a corner.”
“I know. What are we going to do?”
He sighed in frustration and came around the island. “Nothing,” he said. I wrapped my arms around him and nestled my head into his shoulder as he said, “There’s nothing we can do, except wait.”
Chapter Twelve
“Stay home?” he said in a tone that indicated my idea was as ridiculous as if I’d suggested he should fly his refueling jet to the moon. “Why would I do that?”
“Because someone’s trying to hurt you.” I didn’t add, “Duh!” to the end of the sentence, but I wanted to. Early morning sunlight pressed through the plantation blinds, throwing long shadows across the ceiling. I’d been awake for about half an hour, watching the room gradually lighten and thinking about everything that had happened.
Mitch turned off the alarm and said, “Ellie, I can’t cower here at home. I have to go to work.”
“Why? Why can’t you stay home? You’ve got leave. You could take a few days.”
“I haven’t put in for it and I can’t stay here indefinitely. We don’t know how long this is going to last. It could go on for weeks and I have to go to work. You know, make money and all that.” He said it rather flippantly, but I knew he had a point. It was his income that paid most of our bills and even though he did have plenty of leave days racked up, they wouldn’t last forever.
“Besides,” he said in a more serious tone as he clicked on the lamp, “if we’re right and whoever’s doing this is connected to the squadron and I suddenly don’t show up for days and days, it’ll tip them off that we’ve figured out that I’m a target.”
I rubbed my eyes. “But how can you be on your guard every minute? You can’t.”
“No, I can’t, but there’s no guarantee that I’m safer here, either. In fact, nothing’s actually happened to me at work.” His words slowed down and he said thoughtfully, “Which is interesting because it means that the person doing these things doesn’t want to attack me directly. At the squadron, surrounded with people all day, is probably one of the safest places for me to be.”
“I don’t quite agree with that logic. It sounds good, but it doesn’t feel right,” I said as I punched the pillow into place under my head. I had ten more minutes before I had to start my day.
“I know.” He kissed me and said, “I promise you, I’ll be careful. I’ll take a different route to work and check out my car. I’ll put those threat avoidance training classes I’ve taken into action. Today’s a half-day anyway.”
“Why?”
“Colonel Pershall’s funeral is this afternoon,” he said as he pulled his “blues” uniform, the service dress uniform of dark blue pants and light blue shirt, out of the closet and set up the ironing board. Mitch always did his own ironing. Apparently, my ironing skills weren’t quite up to military standards.
“Right. I’d forgotten with all the first-day-of-school excitement,” I said, watching him take the plastic dry cleaning cover off the dark dress coat with his silver wings and lines of ribbons. Mitch only wore the coat for special occasions, like promotions and funerals.
Despite my lingering doubts about the safety of it, Mitch had gone on to work, but I’d seen him do a careful walk-around of his car. He even checked the undercarriage before he started it. That image of him shifting around on the garage floor told me he was taking this whole situation as seriously as I was. I just hoped he was right about being safe at work.
Livvy marched down the hall ahead of Nathan and me, leading the way to her classroom. There had been a moment in the school parking lot when she first climbed out of the minivan when a look of nervousness crossed her face. Cars had overflowed the parking lot and late arrivals were parking up and down the neighborhood street in front of the school. Masses of parents with children in tow were flowing into the building. Once we were inside, Livvy regained her composure and confidently said, “It’s down here, Mom.” The memories from last week’s Meet Your Teacher Night had obviously kicked in and she followed the blue floor tiles to the kindergarten wing. I held Nathan’s hand and his short legs pumped double time to keep up with the pace. Fresh paint mingled with the unmistakable smell of pancakes coming from the cafeteria.
We entered Mrs. Ames’s kindergarten classroom where kids and parents were milling around. Mrs. Ames had told us on Meet Your Teacher Night that she’d been teaching for thirty-two years and loved kindergarteners. She had the figure of Mrs. Claus and wiry brown hair threaded through with gray. I captured several pictures of Livvy beside her desk before Mrs. Ames announced, “Students, please line up to get your name tags.” The kids scurried into a wobbly line.
Nathan pulled on my hand and whispered loudly, “Where’s my sticker?”
I swung him up on my hip and said, “Those are name tags for the kids in the class.”
His lower lip protruded. “But I want a sticker, too.”
Mrs. Ames and her assistant quickly sorted out the name tags. Then Mrs. Ames said, “Parents, thank you so much for coming in today. We’re very happy you’re here and we’re so glad to have such a supportive group of parents. We have a lot of learning to do today and it’s time for us to get started. Students, please sit crisscross applesauce on the carpet. We’re going to start the day with a story.” She showed them the book, The Kissing Hand, and they moved to the carpet. Livvy didn’t even wave. She was focused on getting a seat close to the rocking chair. Mrs. Ames’s assistant began shooing the parents to the classroom door.
I edged to the door and Nathan said, “I want to hear the story.”
“We have to go,” I whispered as one of the kindergarten students started to cry. Mrs. Ames’s assistant moved to the red-faced little boy and I edged to the door, watching to see if the tears would infect Livvy, but she was fine.
“Why does Livvy get to stay?” Nathan whined. “I want to stay, too.”
“We have to go,” I said quietly again and Nathan broke into a wail. “I want Livvy!” Fortunately, he wasn’t making quite as much noise as the boy in Livvy’s class, so I scooted out the door and hurried down the hall with Nathan’s howl trailing over my shoulder.
I tried to explain that Livvy had to go to class by herself and that Nathan and I would have time together, but two-year-olds don’t want explanations and reasonin
g, they want what they want and they want it now. We made it to the car and Nathan shifted from all-out tears to a hiccupy, sniffy cry. I really hadn’t seen this coming. I guess I should have. Livvy and Nathan spent all their time together except for a few play dates Livvy had with other kids this summer. They’d been nonstop companions. With his major cries subsiding, I felt my throat tighten as the full impact of the day hit me.
Everything would be different now. It was a new stage for our family. Since this school had all-day kindergarten, Livvy would be there seven hours, the majority of her day. Things were going to shift in her life and mine, too. I blinked away the sheen of tears that threatened to blur my vision. I wouldn’t know everything that was going on in her life now. She’d have new experiences that I wouldn’t be a part of and if she had problems, I wouldn’t be able to fix them for her. I knew it was a good thing she was going to kindergarten, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit sad about the transition.
I sighed as I pulled into the garage, thinking what a morose pair Nathan and I made. I made us a snack of animal crackers and apple juice and read Nathan his favorite book about trucks. Rex seemed to sense our mood. He curled up and draped his head across my feet. Despite the heat of the day, I liked the weight of Rex’s furry jaw on my toes and Nathan’s sweaty body snuggled in my lap. Nathan’s tears dried up and by the end of the book he was making vrooming noises as we turned the pages. We closed the book and I kissed the top of his head. “See, this isn’t too bad, is it?”
And it wasn’t. It would be good for me to have more one-on-one time with Nathan, something he’d never had, and kindergarten would be good for Livvy. She’d make new friends and learn all those important things that you need to know for school, like how to wait in line and sit crisscross applesauce.
Nathan and I spent the morning together building with his blocks. I only called to check on Mitch once. Anna arrived at noon to stay with Nathan while I went to the funeral. Since Anna was home-schooled, her mom allowed her to babysit during the day if she was caught up on her work, so she could save money for college. I figured I’d already contributed enough to her college fund to cover at least one semester. Nathan had bounced back from his crying jag and was delighted to learn he’d have Anna all to himself for several hours.
Once through the gate and on the base, I turned into base housing. Denise had called and asked if I’d pick up a picture of Colonel Pershall from her house. She wanted to display it at the chapel. “I walked off and left it on the coffee table,” she’d said distractedly. “There’s a huge blowup of Lewis’s official photo by the casket, but I wanted a picture of him out of his uniform, in casual clothes, to put beside the condolence book. I wanted to take it to the reception at the O Club, too.”
I told her not to worry. I’d pick it up and bring it to the chapel and make sure it was transferred to the reception.
“Thanks, Ellie. That’s one less thing I have to remember and, at this point, I need all the help I can get. Please keep an eye on it for me. That’s the only recent photo I’ve got of him. We kept saying we were going to have a new portrait taken, but never got around to it.” She’d given me instructions on where to find a key hidden in the carport since she and her sister were already at the chapel.
I wondered how Livvy was doing. Was she having fun? Had she made a friend to play with at recess or was she spending it by herself? Seven hours seemed like a long time. As I walked into the carport, I brushed down the skirt of my sleeveless black dress when the breeze caught it. It was a warm, blustery day and I had to tuck my hair behind my ears to keep it out of my eyes as the wind tossed it into my face. My heels clicked across the concrete of the carport and I adjusted my stride to cover a smaller area. It felt like forever since I’d worn heels, but it had been only a few years since I’d dressed up Monday through Friday when I’d worked in a public relations firm. Wearing the mom uniform of casual clothes like jeans and T-shirts had spoiled me.
I found the key nestled between two empty flowerpots on the third shelf of a shelving unit in the carport, just where Denise had said it would be. I unlocked the kitchen door and left it propped open with the key in the lock. This would only take a second. I went through the kitchen into the living room and picked up the picture, a framed eight by ten, from the coffee table. Colonel Pershall was smiling widely as he leaned against his sporty red car on a bright fall day with one arm looped around Denise’s shoulders. I stared at it for a moment, then I heard a faint sound from inside the house. I tilted my head. It hadn’t been the creak or groan of the house settling, but something different, something that would have been a normal sound and wouldn’t have even registered, except that no one was supposed to be in the house. I didn’t think Denise had any pets. Maybe she had a cat that I hadn’t seen on my occasional visits to her house. A very shy cat?
I heard it again and this time I identified it—a drawer closing. Definitely not a cat. I gripped the photo to my chest and turned toward the sound, which had come from the back of the house. I could see the short hallway that led to the bedrooms. A shadow moved across the doorway of the room Denise used as a home office.
I guess I hadn’t made much noise when I came inside. I hadn’t intentionally been trying to be quiet, but I was now. I took a slow step back, relieved that no floorboards creaked. A deep voice muttered a curse as another drawer closed and yet another was yanked open.
Two cautious steps brought me to the kitchen. I didn’t know who was in the house and I didn’t want to find out. I’d heard about thieves that targeted homes during funerals since the day and time when no one would be home were listed so conveniently in the paper. I didn’t know if that was happening here or if it was something connected with Colonel Pershall’s murder, but I wasn’t going to wait around to find out. First order of business was to get out of the house.
“Ah, finally,” the words were spoken in a sigh of relief in what I could clearly hear was a masculine voice. I scooted into the kitchen and felt a draft of air whoosh past me. The back door, only half-open, wavered in the gust, then slammed shut.
I froze and all sounds from the back of the house stopped. I darted across the kitchen, not caring if I made a noise. I just wanted out. I twisted the doorknob, wrenched the door back, and was on the step leading to the carport when I heard a puzzled voice behind me. “Mrs. Avery?”
It was the “Mrs. Avery” that stopped me. I didn’t think thieves or bad guys were that polite. I twisted around as I backed away, then came to a standstill. I recognized the shaved head, dark eyebrows, and small dark eyes. “Colonel Barnes?” Despite his size and intimidating appearance, I wasn’t afraid. When you see a familiar face instead of the expected ski-masked or hooded figure, it’s almost a relief. And he looked embarrassed, not threatening or angry. “What are you doing here?” I asked, then realized that no matter how comfortable it felt to see someone I knew instead of a stranger, the best choice was still to leave.
I backed up a few more steps and was clear of the carport. I’d parked in the driveway, but hadn’t driven inside it, so now I was even with the hood of the minivan. I pulled my keys out of my pocket as he lifted a sheaf of pages and said, “I needed to pick up some paperwork and didn’t want to disturb Denise today.”
My heart was still thumping, but it had slowed down a notch. His explanation sounded reasonable. Except…why would he be cursing and slamming drawers? Maybe he had a temper and exploded when the smallest thing went wrong?
I clicked the remote unlock feature on my keychain and opened the driver’s side door. “How did you get in? The door was locked when I got here.”
“Same as you, I imagine,” Colonel Barnes said over his shoulder as he pulled the kitchen door closed and twisted the key that I’d left in the lock. “I used the key.” He pulled it out, walked to the shelves, and replaced it between the flowerpots where I’d found it.
“But it was between the flowerpots when I got here.”
“Why are you here?” he countered, stepp
ing out of the shadow of the carport into the sunlight. He paused at the edge of the carport, squinting in the light as he untucked his hat from his belt and put it on.
I held up the framed photo. “Denise asked me to pick this up.”
The wind buffeted the car door against me and I thought I saw a look of relief cross his face, but it was hard to tell since the wind flipped my hair over my eyes. I pushed it back as he said, “I unlocked the door, then put the key back. I didn’t want to walk off with it. I did that last Christmas when Lewis and Denise were out of town. Bonnie was mighty upset with me the next day when she came by to bring in the mail for them.” He pointed to the door with the papers. “It has a night latch that locks when you close it.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that,” I said. “Well, I’d better go.”
I climbed in the minivan and backed out of the driveway, wondering where Colonel Barnes’s car was. There wasn’t one on the street. I drove slowly past him, then watched him in my rearview mirror. Since the speed limit in base housing is fifteen miles an hour, he was walking almost as fast as I was moving. About three houses down the street, he turned up a driveway and went inside a house. Of course, he lived here—that’s why his car wasn’t out front.
It’s a good thing the speed limit was so low because I was thinking furiously and barely moving as a result. Should I call Denise and tell her Colonel Barnes was rifling though the office in her house? Surely now was not a good time. I decided to wait until after the funeral was over, then mention it to Denise.
To get to the base chapel, I took a different route through base housing, one that took me past Carrie’s house, and I couldn’t help but stare at it as I went by. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it. It looked exactly like the other houses, a small ranch house with an attached carport.
The car parked at the curb on the far end of the street caught my eye because it was a small Nissan, the same model as Mitch’s car. Then I did a double take as I passed it.