Discarded Promises

by Candice Poarch

  Wendy hadn’t moved from that spot when Denton returned to the office.

  “Wendy?” When she didn’t respond, he repeated, “Wendy?”

  She gave him a blank look. “Yes?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.”

  He closed the door to Tom’s office, guided her to his, and physically pushed her into the seat.

  “I didn’t expect Tom to react so negatively to my coming aboard. It’s only part-time. I’m just . . . shocked.”

  “He was just surprised. He’ll cool down by the time he gets back.”

  “I’m not sure about that. It’s just that he works such long hours. I thought it would give us more time together. Besides, I’ve wanted to return to work for a long time now. What am I going to do with myself when Randall leaves? He doesn’t need me as much as he used to.”

  “You have to make a life for yourself. Tom’s big enough to take it.”

  Tom wasn’t going to be around that much longer if Denton had his way. It was better that Wendy carved out her own life. And since Tom wouldn’t be there, she would fit in perfectly.

  “Do you know what’s going on with him?” Her shoulders slumped. “He’s grown more distant lately.”

  “I only see him in the office. And since I haven’t been here very long, I wouldn’t notice a change.”

  She stood and started walking toward the door. “Well, I’ll get to work.” At the opening she faced Denton once again. “Thanks for listening.”

  As soon as Regina had a break, she called Quilla. “The word has gotten around that you were shot. Several people came by to ask about you. How are you, girl? You could have been killed.”

  “I’m fine. The medicine has made me sleepy and I’m going to take a nap in a few minutes. How are you holding up without me?”

  “Your father is a lifesaver. He’s a natural salesman. Everybody was surprised to meet him. He’s charmed everyone, even me. Why didn’t you tell me he lived so close?”

  “Long story.”

  “And, girl, he’s fine for an old man. You should see him charm these old women. We’re gonna have a fifty percent increase in sales just by him wooing the women.”

  “Girl, please,” Quilla said around yawn.

  “Well, he’s catching on quickly.”

  If Quilla had a choice she’d keep him as far from her store and her life as she possibly could. She could thank fate for this mess.

  “Are you really okay?”

  “I’m fine, really.”

  “Your dad said it didn’t touch the bone, or any arteries. But you’re going to have a heck of a time because it’s on the inside.”

  “I’m reminded of that every time I move my arm.”

  “Poor thing. Do you need me to bring you some clothes?”

  “Could you, please?” Quilla thought about the diary she was still combing through. “And could you bring that book on the table by my easy chair in the parlor? It’s like a diary.”

  “I’ll bring them when I take a break. Got to go.”

  Quilla kept a key to her apartment in the back room. Since she and Regina were good friends and they were the only ones allowed in the back room, until lately that was, Regina had always known where the key was.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  “You go in the other room,” Irving said.

  “Denton has a key. You don’t have to answer it.”

  But then Jake called out. “It’s me. I’ve got a key.”

  “You can relax. I know him.”

  Irving cautiously opened the door and a grinning Jake entered. But the Jehovah’s Witness woman who often visited Quilla’s shop came up behind him.

  She frowned when she saw Quilla all bandaged up. “I just stopped by to deliver a brochure,” she said. Lester was with her. “Can I help you with . . .”

  Irving blocked the doorway with his body.

  “If I could come in.”

  “Sorry, ma’am, we can’t let strangers in. I’ll take your pamphlets. Have a good day.” He shut the door before the woman could begin her spiel. Lester didn’t even have a chance to greet them.

  “She’s harmless,” Quilla murmured. “She’s always coming by the shop.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I can’t be letting people in here.” He tossed the pamphlet on the table and resumed his position in the chair.

  “You look like something the cat dragged in.” Jake said. He put a McDonald’s bag on the table. “You could use a nap. Looks like you’re about to fall flat on your face.”

  “Suddenly I feel exhausted.”

  “I brought some breakfast. Denton insisted.”

  “How can you take time from work like that?”

  “I work shift work. Just getting off.”

  “You need to go home and take a nap.”

  “I’ll go crash out in the spare room after we eat.” He looked at Irving and nodded toward the bag. “Brought enough for three.”

  “I’ll take you up on that.”

  But Quilla barely ate her meal before she was nodding off in her seat.

  Jake escorted her to the door and she lay down with Lucky cuddled in her good arm. She needed the warmth. As she gently stroked Lucky she wondered, how could anyone not love a dog?

  When Wendy asked for a file at quitting time, it gave Denton the perfect excuse to check Tom’s office, although he was sure Tom wasn’t stupid enough to leave anything incriminating there. He couldn’t actually leave very much at home, either, where Wendy could snoop. And suspicious wives snooped.

  “How was your first day?”

  “Overwhelming, but I feel good about it. Lots of changes have been made since I worked here. And I won’t tell you how long ago that was.”

  Denton chuckled. He fingered through folders in Tom’s drawer until he found one of them and handed it over.

  She glanced at her watch. “Give me the other one tomorrow.”

  “Sure.”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  After she left, Denton made a motion to search for the file but didn’t. He spent an hour going through Tom’s files and private computer programs. He copied some to a CD, then he went through the office with a fine-tooth comb.

  He didn’t find anything useful, and of course he didn’t find the information Wendy requested. He knew where it was, and it wasn’t in Tom’s office.

  Making sure everything was back in place, he returned to his own office, picked up his briefcase, and left. Once inside his car, he dialed Quilla on his cell phone.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Better.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Reading. When will you be home? It’s late.”

  “In another hour, hopefully. Did you have dinner?”

  “My dad cooked. He made enough for you.”

  “Good thing, because I’m starving. You aren’t doing anything strenuous, are you?”

  “Irving is following your instructions to a T. The heaviest thing I’ve lifted is my small book.”

  He chuckled. “See you later.”

  Denton drove to a townhouse in Alexandria located across the street from Tom’s home. He entered by way of the back alley so that the Goodwills never saw him coming or going.

  Jake and a couple other agents were there. The trash cans were filled with take-out containers, doughnuts, chips, sodas, and empty water bottles. They’d had Chinese for dinner. The aroma still permeated the air.

  All kinds of state-of-the-art equipment clamored, everything from computers to a GPS monitor.

  “Hey, man, aren’t you ever going home tonight?” Jake asked.

  “As soon as I leave here. Got any news on Tom yet?”

  “He met with one of the men who works in the lab. Guy’s got a mountain of debts. One of those high-maintenance wives. She spends way over his paycheck.”

  “What does our guy in the lab say about him?”

  “Haven’t contacted him yet. I’ll let you know
as soon as we do.”

  Denton worked there for an hour before he left. Damn it, he couldn’t believe it. He was looking forward to going home to Quilla, he realized, instead of an empty apartment. He was falling for her in the worst way, and that frightened him. He hadn’t been able to keep his brother safe.

  Daniel had been due to testify at a trial the week after he was killed. He’d thought he could make a difference in a low-rent apartment building.

  “All the people aren’t bad,” he’d said. “They’re just like you and me. They want a safe place for their families.”

  He’d clocked long hours getting the drugs out of the building. Had raised money for surveillance cameras. Started a neighborhood watch and began after-school and tutoring programs for the kids. It really had been a community effort. The residents had formed a committee and worked closely with him.

  But one drug king had decided he wasn’t going to let some young smart-ass destroy his business. And one night, while his little brother was having meatloaf and potatoes in one of the best soul food restaurants down the street from that apartment building, two thugs had pumped his body full of bullets.

  The thugs were now dead, but Denton knew that wouldn’t stop anything. Crime was just so well entrenched that they were simply pushing sand against the tides.

  His stomach clenched tight. God help him if he couldn’t keep Quilla safe.

  As soon as Quilla put the phone down, she picked up Sadie’s diary. She still hadn’t told Denton that she had it. He’d probably take it away and she wasn’t about to give it up until she read it from front to back. Her convalescence left plenty of time to read.

  She set the diary down again. Who would want to shoot her? The man who robbed her had had a gun. Had he planned to kill her? Had the robbery simply been a ruse for murder?

  Owen hadn’t spent a lot of time praying in the past few years, just now and then, because if you’re brought up in church you never forget how. But he said a prayer on his way home, thankful he hadn’t taken that first drink. Joyce would say that the Lord had stopped him. If he’d taken one swallow, he would have been too drunk to answer the phone when the call came informing him Quilla had been shot.

  Plus, the last thing he needed was to show up at the hospital staggering drunk. She’d never let him back into her life if that had happened.

  His wife had believed the Lord worked in mysterious ways. Who would have thought after their lunch that now he was working in Quilla’s store? He was cooking meals for her. And she’d eaten dinner as if she were starved.

  The last thing he wanted was for Quilla to be shot. But he was in her life. He could help her and was happy to do so.

  He pulled into the grocery store lot, thinking of a menu for tomorrow’s dinner. It would be some time before Quilla could cook . . . but she didn’t really cook. Well, as long as she was holed up in that apartment, he was taking home-cooked meals to her.

  By the time Joyce arrived, he had a breakfast casserole in the oven and chicken and dumplings in a pot.

  “Something smells delicious,” she said, coming up behind him and rubbing him lightly on the back.

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Got enough to share.”

  “May I ask what brought about all this?” She regarded him closely. “You look happy.” She kissed him lightly on the lips.

  “I’m of two minds, actually.” He told her about the shooting and about working in Quilla’s store. “Thought I’d take a breakfast casserole and dinner over in the morning and walk the dog. She sure loves that dog. I hope she doesn’t have to give it up.”

  “If she does, I’m sure you will get her another one.”

  “I will, but it won’t be the same.”

  Joyce stood back, gazing at him with a smile on her face.

  He cocked his head to the side. “What?” he asked.

  She rubbed his back again. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy.”

  “I didn’t feel that way the other night, but she’s not pushing me away so far. And I’m grateful for that. Maybe I can work my way back into her life, after all.”

  “I’m happy for you, Owen.”

  “Me, too. My life has been a mess for a long time. Enough about me. Come on. Food’s almost ready. Want to eat?”

  “You going to eat with me?”

  “I ate earlier with Quilla.”

  “Good for you. But just give me a little bit. I’m still watching my weight.” She sniffed. “That smells too good. And dumplings are my favorite.”

  Owen started to say knock herself out, but he wouldn’t belittle her efforts. She’d worked hard to lose the weight and he respected her for it. Just as he’d worked hard to combat his drinking. She never took his illness lightly. He glanced at her, then took the top off the pot and stirred the dumplings.

  “We make a good match, you know that?”

  “Of course,” she said in that smug voice of wisdom.

  “Oh yeah? How?”

  “I knew it the moment I met you. You’re a good man.”

  “You came to me at the right time.”

  “But isn’t that the way life happens?”

  Chapter 12

  Denton finally arrived home an hour later and Irving left. The smell of food made his mouth water. After setting his briefcase down, he gathered Quilla in his arms, careful not to hurt her injury.

  “You’re cold,” she said as she snuggled up against his chest.

  “And you’re hot. And pretty.” She wore a summer sleeveless top with flannel pj bottoms. No wonder the heat was turned up. He was melting in his coat and suit jacket.

  He shucked both. Hanging them up, he gazed at her. “You’re looking better. Got some color back in you. Not looking quite so washed-out.”

  “Thanks a lot, Denton. Hungry? Food’s on the stove.”

  The white bandage stood out in stark relief against her brown skin, and he felt himself growing angry again.

  “Rest while I shower, then I’ll eat. I don’t want you lifting anything heavier than a pencil, sweetheart.”

  “Just take your shower.” Quilla walked back to the bedroom with him and sat against the pillows propped against the headboard. She picked up the diary. She wasn’t really finding anything near the end, so earlier in the day, she’d gone back to the front and picked up where she’d left off.

  She heard the water start in the shower. Minutes later the tempo changed as Denton stood under the spray.

  She flipped the page and read several passages before she encountered an interesting entry.

  Tom is getting involved with something dangerous and it scares me. If he goes to jail I’m out of a home and out of a job. I’ve tried to talk him out of it, but he won’t listen. Men are so damn stubborn. I have to look out for my own future.

  It’s a good thing I’m writing this book. I have to spend more time on it so it’s finished quickly. I have to cut back on my spending. Good thing my closet has enough clothes and shoes to last ten years, because I have to save enough to pay for a place to live until my book sells.

  Well, damn. She didn’t say what Tom was doing. More important, did it get Sadie killed?

  Quilla glanced up when Denton turned off the water. She considered discussing it with him, but again, he might take the book away before she could finish it. Besides, if she continued reading she might find out herself.

  Quilla scanned the next few pages looking for references to Tom.

  “Writing in your diary?”

  Quilla jumped. “Hum. That was quick.”

  “Come in the kitchen with me while I eat.”

  Quilla tucked the book into her tote bag. No sense in putting it where Denton could take a peek if he got curious.

  After eating, they sat up in bed for a while. Quilla slept on the left side so her arm wouldn’t brush up against Denton. He hadn’t entertained the idea of her sleeping in the separate bedroom.

  Denton pulled her on top of him.

  “Tired?”
>
  “Actually, yes. I don’t understand it. I didn’t lose that much blood.”

  “You had a fright, too. You’ll be better in a couple of days.”

  “I really want to get back to work.”

  “As soon as we find out who wants to kill you. I talked to Trait. They found some bullet fragments and they’re testing them to see if they match with another crime.”

  He brought Quilla’s head down to his and kissed her. “Umm. I missed you.” He sighed. Kissed her again, caressed her skin beneath the blousy top. She smelled wonderful, of some subtle perfume. Her skin was soft to his touch. He could feel himself responding, but they wouldn’t make love tonight. They’d sleep side by side like an old married couple.

  “Quilla?”

  She didn’t respond. She’d fallen asleep.

  Denton got up at six-thirty the next morning, even though he’d gone to sleep late the night before. Dressed in everything except his tie and jacket, he strolled into the kitchen.

  As he started the pot of coffee going, he watched the dull early-morning light spill through the windows and make a weird pattern on the new oak table. Outside, the first drops of snow began to fall. He tied an apron around his waist and tried to figure out what to fix Quilla for breakfast. So far he’d only managed to make the coffee.

  Eggs and bacon or Jake’s cereal? He was considering when the outside buzzer rang.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s Owen.”

  Denton pushed the button to admit him, then opened the door and waited.

  “Got breakfast and dinner,” he said, brushing past Denton with a couple of shopping bags. “Regina said I’ll be working until six today. Didn’t want the meal to be late. It’s enough for you, too, Denton. Breakfast casserole. Just microwave what you want.”

  Well, that took care of the breakfast decision. Denton had to admit he was relieved.

  Owen set the food on the table and glanced around the apartment. “Where’s the dog?”

  “In there with Quilla.” Denton unpacked the bags. There were two containers: one a glass dish containing what must be the casserole, the other a plastic bowl.