Saving Sindia (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 10)

by Peggy A. Edelheit

  Then I stilled. The elevator! The one place I hadn’t checked! Unnerved, I ran to it, pressing the call button, which after considering it, was a stupid idea, confronting someone.

  What if they came rushing out and attacked me?

  My baseball bat! My one sturdy weapon that had served me well in the past. I grabbed it out of my closet and ran back to the elevator. But it never came. I waited a moment more then raced down the staircase and stopped.

  No wonder it never responded. The elevator door stood slightly ajar. I refused to panic. Had I not closed that door completely after using the elevator before I left for my ride and forgot to make sure the foyer door was dead bolted?

  I needed to take a step back. This could all be my fault.

  Both scenarios made sense. Why would someone be in my rental? Then I thought of the gardener. Had he been inside the house and I caught him as he was about to leave or was he about to enter? Were the pail and shovel mere props for cover in case he was caught casing the house?

  I laughed. That was outlandish. For all I knew, he was just a gardener, who had his nails done. And that woman, an eager fan of mine, who was flustered. I should chalk both incidents up to my paranoia that was reaching new levels.

  But I was alone and must be careful to secure the house.

  Since the house wasn’t disturbed and nothing seemed out of place, I proceeded to close the elevator door, lock the foyer door, and head upstairs for a hot shower then write in my journal. I’d have plenty to write about. I chastised myself to be more diligent in the future. Plus, perhaps I shouldn’t jump to conclusions too.

  But still...

  I was already mentally writing in my journal.

  Another journal lesson learned?

  Perhaps paranoia is good. It keeps you on your toes.

  Chapter 12

  Keeping Tabs On Me, Myself

  I sat on the bar stool in the kitchen looking out at the beach, still annoyed with myself for being so careless about my security. Knowing my past and my penchant for getting into trouble, you would have thought I should have learned my lesson by now: to always be careful and stay paranoid.

  But of course, being me, there were lapses. When I’m onto something, I walked into the buzz saw of life head on without thinking of the consequences. After all these years of regretting some of my decisions in the past ... okay, many of my decisions in the past, you’d think I’d be more prudent in the steps I took when figuring out what was afoot before a car wreck.

  The problem was, was there something afoot?

  Or was I staring at nothing but a bunch of circumstances that collided with each other without rhyme or reason? I tended toward overreaction a lot. And even though I should let it go after reasoning it all out, I still had reservations.

  Was instinct kicking in?

  And that made me abruptly think of a previous incident as I quickly reached for my journal on the counter.

  My Journal

  It was an incident that always left me questioning the circumstances surrounding what I experienced. I was about nine. We were having a family barbecue out back on the patio and having a great time. I was asked to go get more ketchup from the cabinet in the kitchen.

  While I was inside I decided to go to the bathroom first. After leaving the bathroom, I was about to grab the ketchup in the kitchen when I heard someone somewhere deeper in the house.

  Who had come in from out back?

  I called out, “Who’s there?”

  “Be right out,” came the reply.

  I shrugged, grabbed the ketchup and ran outside, only to discover everyone was outside on the patio. I turned back to stare at the house. A chill ran through me. Had I imagined that someone responded to me inside the house? Or was it a voice drifting from outside to inside through an open window? Should I go back in to check?

  But I just was a kid...

  Suddenly my aunt tapped me, making me jump, asking if I would pass the potato salad and a hamburger roll to her. Then my cousin tugged on me to run and play. Before running away, I took one look back, stared at the house, but then let it go. I must have imagined what I heard. After all, everyone was present and accounted for.

  I always wondered after that if I had asked an adult that was present would they go in and check to see if someone was in our house, would they have taken me seriously? Was someone really there other than those gathered outside?

  Journal lessons learned?

  Go with your instincts, regardless of the consequences.

  Chapter 13

  Be Ready For Anything

  Being blonde and fair-skinned, when I went to the beach it wasn’t for very long. Plus, I made sure I was covered with sun-blocking lotion and had an umbrella. I loved sitting on my beach towel, alone in a sea of humanity, listening to the surf and the chattering of voices: backdrop music to my ears.

  That afternoon I sat near the waves, about a hundred yards from the boardwalk and my house. I listened as families played, laughed, and talked around me for about thirty minutes with dialogue worth documenting. But then out of the blue, a sudden feeling of being alone in a sea of humanity hit me hard as a memory charged back, like the roar of the ocean waves right in front of me. I grabbed my journal and pen from my bag.

  My Journal

  It was my first day of kindergarten and I felt like I was walking the plank on a pirate ship. Already shy to begin with, being thrown in with unfamiliar children I had never met before in a new environment that didn’t involve my parents or someone known to me, was new and frightening.

  My mother had patiently explained the wonderful things I was going to experience and the great friends I was going to make. But she was speaking to deaf ears. Even though I wanted no part of it, I found myself being led by her down a school hallway and brought to a table that was designated with my name on it, while she still tried to persuade me everything was going to be okay.

  She whispered encouraging words, as did other mothers who spoke to their kids. Then when the teacher cleared her throat and gave a nod, the mothers began to file out the door. Although near tears, I refused to let them fall. I could do this. My mother was counting on me.

  But then I looked up and saw my mother give a final wave to me. I panicked and bolted for the door to her. She stood there stock-still. She didn’t speak, but I could tell her eyes said, ‘What are you going to do or say next?’

  I hesitated. I had to prove my self-assurance. I couldn’t let her down, so I stood tall. Still, my lower lip trembled.

  “You’re coming back, right?” I asked uncertainly.

  She nodded, her own eyes tear-filled. Then she noticed there was something bothering me. She took my hand. “What?”

  I sighed then said firmly, “You forgot my kiss goodbye.”

  She reached down, wiped a tear from her eye, hugged me hard and gave me a big kiss. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “You can go now,” I whispered.

  I turned back to my desk, bravely meeting the eyes of all the children staring at me. And that’s when I realized: they all had that same look as me. They all felt like I did. I wasn’t alone after all. I took a deep breath and walked with more confidence all the way back to my seat. I could do this. I was now ready for anything.

  I smiled. That incident happened so long ago, but felt like yesterday, like an old friend stopping by to say hi.

  “I see you’re still smiling,” said a familiar voice.

  I put my hand to my eyes to shield them from the glare, surprised to see Evan, the handsome bathing suit who’d stopped by the previous afternoon on the boardwalk. He was holding up a shiny penny and smiling playfully.

  I broke up laughing. “For my thoughts? Is this a setup?”

  He feigned innocence. “What, don’t you always walk around with a penny in your pocket too?”

  I glanced down at my two piece bathing suit. “Uh, no.”

  He whistled. “You’re right. No pockets, just curves.”

  I blushed
, then stiffened and glanced around.

  Someone had possibly broken into my house earlier, and also that letter...

  “I’m sorry, now I’ve made you uncomfortable,” he said.

  I realized I was acting foolish. He was just flirting like hunky guys usually did, looking for what was around the next corner, or in this case, the next beach blanket.

  “No apologies needed,” I replied. “I’m a big girl.”

  “I can see that...” He stopped himself and chuckled. “I better quit while I’m ahead before my big mouth makes things worse. Mind if I join you for a few minutes?”

  My house was behind us and we were amongst a sea of people, practically shoulder to shoulder on the crowded beach in broad daylight. I shrugged off my unease.

  “I’m leaving soon, but please, feel free to sit till then.”

  “That must be some interesting book there,” he said, nodding toward my journal.

  I put it in my bag along with my pen. “Just scribbling.”

  “Whatever it is, it sure makes you smile a lot.”

  I glanced back over to my beach bag. “It’s really just a self-perspective I’m documenting in a journal.”

  “Anything in particular or interesting? Am I in it?”

  I laughed. “It’s strictly personal. You don’t qualify.”

  He sat directly on the sand, right on the edge of my slim beach towel, sheltered under my umbrella. It felt a little too intimate, so I edged slightly and subtly away a couple of inches, like I was making room for him in the shade.

  For some reason I felt unsure again, regretting my decision to let him join me. Exactly who was this man? I was about to excuse myself and leave when he surprised me by ignoring me, staring at something. He glanced at his watch then jumped up.

  “I forgot I’m meeting someone and must go. How about I catch you on the boardwalk tonight? Ice cream. My treat.”

  Terrible excuse on his part. Why the sudden rush?

  Surprised, but relieved, I said, “Sounds like a plan.”

  I watched him hastily veer toward a woman who stood near the edge of the water, her back to me.

  Who was it?

  He grabbed her arm. She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place her. Then she turned toward him, swinging her sun-streaked, long glossy hair over her shoulders. That profile. I sucked in air as my eyes traveled down, confirming her scarred leg.

  They seemed to be arguing, their hands gesturing excitedly toward each other.

  She turned and stomped away, but he quickly caught up, turned her to him and hugged her hard for a moment.

  He obviously knew her and, apparently, intimately.

  They parted, looked at each other, then laughed together.

  Had he whispered something? An apology? What?

  Then they sauntered off, his arm loosely slung over her shoulder, as though they were the only ones on the beach.

  Just like that, I’d been forgotten. Just like I’d forgotten my mother an hour later that first day of kindergarten.

  I laughed.

  Journal lesson learned?

  Life is full of unforeseen and unexpected surprises.

  Chapter 14

  Keep In Touch

  “Like I was saying,” said Martha in a rush. “We’re just about packed up here in Highlands and are about to leave for the airport. The moving truck should be in New Hope in two days then we unpack all our things and get settled. By the time we’re finished there, it will be time to drive down to the shore and visit with you in Ocean City. Of course, as usual, our timing will be impeccable,” she added, laughing.

  Martha sounded similar to a drill sergeant during basic training. Frankly, I was somewhat surprised because she was always a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants kind of person. Spontaneous. I was the one who always insisted on order.

  I couldn’t get around what I really wanted to hear, so I asked, “I haven’t heard from Clay, just a vague text or two then nothing. Know anything about his whereabouts?”

  “Oh, that! By golly, I plum forgot to tell you!”

  Now I became concerned. “Tell me what?”

  “Now don’t get your panties tied up in a knot. He’s on an undercover job. Sent on it at the last minute. He said to tell you.” Then she burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “He was paranoid about leaving Tony on the loose with you alone down at the shore and dragged him with him on his job.”

  I began laughing myself. He didn’t trust Romeo, Tony. Come to think of it neither did I, but he got the job done for us. “I’m sure we’ll hear all about it when they get back.”

  “Tony couldn’t refuse. He likes working with our crew. It was either that or he’d never see you in a week with us at the shore. Not if Clay had any say about it. So he relented and joined Clay. All I know is they headed for the airport two days ago.”

  “Did Clay say where they were going?” I asked.

  Martha laughed louder. “He left out the finer details.”

  “Probably on purpose,” I said somewhat miffed.

  “What do you think?” Martha huffed, knowingly.

  “Same old. Same old. Things never change.” I said.

  “As usual, he did say it was for our own protection.”

  “...As usual,” I mumbled, but grudgingly understood.

  “You can’t get info from us if we don’t know anything.”

  “Sometimes I hate his undercover work,” I said. “I worry.”

  “Nothing we can change now, can we? By the way, how are things going for you? Are you bored yet? Make any entries in that new journal of yours?”

  If I told her the truth about the crazy and unexplainable happenings that even I wasn’t sure were going on at the beach, she’d head straight for me. I didn’t necessarily want that. It would put a wrench in their moving process that, so far, sounded like it was going fairly well.

  I was probably blowing things out of proportion and should take a step back and chalk it up to overthinking and overreacting to situations that were easily explainable. Of course, not at the moment, but I would hopefully figure it out eventually to make some sense of it in due time.

  Besides, it was making good journal writing and that’s exactly what I wanted to do while I was here in the first place. Write and think. But maybe I was lingering in the thinking department too much lately for my own good.

  “I’ve been busy recalling memories,” I offered, “from when I was younger and writing them down as they come to me. I don’t think I’ve thought about some of them in ages before this downtime of mine at the beach.”

  “I guess you were right,” she admitted. “I was just afraid you might be bored out of your skull by now with nothing going on but writing.” Then she whispered, “Don’t let Clay, or Tony, for that matter, catch any tomcat sniffing at your door by the time we all get there. You would have mayhem central for sure, an ugly sight indeed.”

  I didn’t respond right away, thinking of Evan. Who was he? Why so friendly? Other than flirting, I had nothing on him yet.

  “Sam, you would tell me, right? You’re way too quiet.”

  “Look, I’m almost bored, but fine. Nothing but journal writing, bike riding, and walking on the beach for me.”

  This time Martha waited a beat. She knew me well and could smell me lying a mile away.

  But how good was she on the phone?

  Finally she said, “If you decide to have some fun, please wait until I get there. We can share the wealth of male body parts on the beach then, okay? Age barriers be damned.”

  I sighed in relief. Martha had let me off with a tone that inferred, be careful until I get down there. I knew when to leave well enough alone.

  “I will. I promise to be good.”

  She snorted. “I wasn’t asking for miracles.”

  I grinned. “See you soon, Martha.”

  “Don’t have too much fun. Keep in touch, Sam.”

  I hung up, but as usual, doub
ts quickly marched in...

  Should I have told her what was going on?

  Was anything going on?

  Chapter 15

  A Boardwalk Sidebar

  I was trying to get in about four miles a day. A two-mile walk in the morning and another one at night right after dinner. It was a time when the boardwalk wasn’t so busy and crowded. It also gave me time to think. And lately that was all I was doing, thinking about the incidents taking place and old memories striking at random.

  It would be dusk soon, so I got going, heading south. Squawking seagulls cruised overhead, reconnoitering the boardwalk, still looking for possible food scraps that had fallen, or for an unsuspecting newbie transporting food home uncovered from one of the boardwalk vendors. Rabbits hopped about the grassy dunes on the left. On the right, the sun-streaked sky was laced in orange, yellow, and amber hues: a Monet painting in the distant west.

  I sighed, taken by mother nature’s colorful palette.

  A similar reaction of contentment flooded through me from a younger Sam. Holding onto that fragile memory, I quickly found a bench to write before it disappeared.

  My Journal

  My love of nature and the outdoors originated with my parents. After work and on weekends, my father cultivated his lush gardens, which included assorted vegetables and varieties of iris in the summer, including a trellis of grapes along the side of our house. (My favorite hiding spot. I munched on them while waiting for my friends to discover me.) My mother, also a lover of nature’s beauty, tended her multi-colored roses, and the peonies, violets and other flowers that inhabited our property too.

  My father always said, gardening taught you patience. The flowers will bloom and the vegetables will ripen in their own time. Just like you can’t rush a sunrise, or a sunset. Have the patience to listen, look, and breathe in all that surrounds you. Be a keen observer and attentive to detail.