Buried Memories

by Carol J. Post

  He stepped onto her porch and winced. “I left early to go for a walk and almost didn’t make it back. Someone tried to turn me into a hood ornament.”

  Her mouth fell open and her brows drew together. “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t think anything’s broken, but I can pretty much guarantee you, come tomorrow, I’ll wish I’d stayed in bed.”

  She took his arm and draped it across her shoulders, then looped hers around his waist. Once she had him inside, she locked the door and led him to the couch. “Have you called the cops?”

  “The impact killed my phone.”

  She pulled hers from her pocket and, without further comment, punched in the three numbers. There would be nothing the police could do. The car was long gone. And he couldn’t even describe it. Year, make, model, even the color—it was all a mystery. The only lead he could give them was to look for a car with a body-sized dent in the hood and roof.

  While she waited for the dispatcher, her gaze swept him. “You need to go to the hospital.”

  “I’ll be fine. I just need some ice.” Several bags. Maybe an ice bath. Because his body was now beyond protesting. It was shouting obscenities.

  After reporting everything, Nicki pocketed the phone and headed toward the kitchen. When she returned a minute later, she held two dish towels and zippered bags filled with ice. He wrapped both packs, trying to analyze which body parts hurt the worst. Probably his hip and shoulder.

  “What about Callie?”

  “I’ll take her out in the front yard when the police get here.”

  “You don’t have to work?”

  “Not on Saturday.”

  Oh, yeah. She was off. And unless he did some incredible mending over the next hour or two, he’d be off, too.

  She sank onto the couch next to him and put her face in her hands. “This is my fault.”

  He dropped the ice pack from his shoulder into his lap so he could give her leg an encouraging pat. He’d known this was coming, that once she was no longer occupied with taking care of him, she’d heap the guilt on herself. “That didn’t look like you behind the wheel.”

  “You know what I mean. You were told to stay away from me. You should heed those warnings.” She stood and started to pace. “I’m putting everyone in danger. I need to leave.”

  He once again pressed the ice pack to his shoulder. “We’ve already had this discussion. I’m sticking with you through this. And so is everyone else. We’re going to catch this guy.”

  She stopped pacing to stare at him, her eyes wide and filled with worry. “And who else will be hurt in the meantime?”

  “We’ll all be careful. I’m sure the police will be stepping up surveillance, too.” And he was going to see to it that they checked out this Peter character. He’d better have a pretty watertight alibi for where he was between the hours of four and six this morning.

  He forced a smile. “How about getting us some breakfast?” She needed to occupy herself with activity again and stop all this ridiculous talk of leaving.

  For several moments, she stood motionless, eyes swimming with indecision. Finally she gave a sharp nod and disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, the clanging of pots and pans announced the beginning of breakfast preparation. Soon the police would arrive and make a report. Meanwhile, he’d rest. Now that his pulse rate had returned to normal and his system had absorbed all the extra adrenaline, exhaustion was creeping over him. He hadn’t gotten enough sleep. Or maybe it was having almost been killed.

  He let his head fall against the padded back of the couch and closed his eyes. As the pleasant aromas of frying bacon and eggs wafted through the house, an odd sense of contentment slid through him, that cozy warmth synonymous with home. It wrapped around him, holding him in its soothing embrace.

  Home. What every soldier dreams of during each seemingly endless stint. The reason to survive against all odds.

  He moved the ice pack from his shoulder to his knee and pushed the thought from his mind. He wasn’t even going there. Because home didn’t last. That was life.

  Good things ended way too soon.

  And the fewer attachments he formed, the better.

  SIX

  Nicki slashed through the final envelope, the rip of paper eclipsing the other office sounds. She’d just come back with the morning mail and was determined to get it dispersed before lunchtime. It had been a busy morning. One more day and the week would be over.

  She laid the letter opener on her desk and removed the contents of each envelope. There were the usual items—invoices, customer payments, letters and other business, along with a healthy stack of junk mail. She began separating everything into stacks based on recipient. One letter, however, was simply addressed to “Manager.” That was typical for form solicitation letters. But this one looked more personal.

  She leaned forward and began to read. Below the City’s address were the words “Re: Complaint about employee.”

  Uneasiness chewed at the edges of her mind. Last week, someone else had made a complaint. About her. That one had come from a Jane Wilson. This letter was from a man, a Thomas Abbott, according to the bottom of the letter. The return address portion of the envelope was left blank.

  As she read, the uneasiness morphed to dread in one swift stroke. The first sentence pointed out the offending employee—Nicki Jackson. The author of the letter claimed to have applied for a permit for which he had to pay one hundred fifty dollars, but that when he arrived home, he found the receipt had been made out for seventy-five dollars.

  Nicki’s jaw dropped, and a cold lump settled in her stomach. She wasn’t being accused of simple rudeness this time. The author of the letter accused her of dishonesty.

  The next paragraph began, “Clearly she pocketed the other seventy-five.” And he had his own opinions about how to handle it, suggesting that she be terminated and investigated for embezzling.

  Nicki dropped the sheet of paper on her desk and flopped back in her chair, her thoughts tumbling over one another. Although she wanted nothing more than to make the letter disappear, she couldn’t do it. She had to give it to her boss. Maybe Miranda would see it for what it was—nothing more than a vendetta. Peter had embezzled, and she’d refused to stand by him. So he was accusing her of the same crime.

  She rose and headed toward her boss’s open door. She’d been able to convince her the first time. But she was a new employee. And this was the second complaint in a week and a half. How many more would she be able to ward off before Miranda gave in and let her go?

  As soon as she stopped in the doorway, her boss motioned her in. Maybe she should have given the letter to the police. But what was the point? The envelope had been handled by too many people. She stepped forward and handed Miranda both the letter and the envelope. “This came in the mail today.”

  Without speaking, Miranda took what she held. When she finished studying them, she looked up, brows raised, a question in her eyes.

  Nicki steeled herself, ready to make her defense. “Lies. Every bit of it.”

  “I’d tend to agree.”

  The tension drained from her body. “You would?”

  “No return address on the letter or the envelope. No contact phone number. He claims he was bringing in the paperwork for his sister, who is the one having the work done, but didn’t give us her name, so there’s no way to verify any of this. I smell a skunk.”

  Nicki slumped against the doorjamb and released a sigh. Her job was safe. For the time being.

  After thanking Miranda, she headed back to her desk to retrieve her purse. No more trips home at lunchtime to walk Cassie. The dog was now spending her days with Joan and Sasha. And Tyler was watching Nicki come and go from the house each morning and afternoon.

  But a short walk downtown in the middle of the da
y would be safe. Today, especially, she needed the break from the office. She’d do lunch out, maybe text Tyler to see if he had time to talk.

  She stepped outside and looked both ways down Second Street. The car she’d rented on Saturday sat parked at the curb. Several people strolled down the sidewalks.

  She crossed the street then headed toward Tony’s Seafood Restaurant a block away. In an hour, she’d return, refreshed, settled and ready to work. She opened the wooden door and drew in a fragrant breath. Yes, this was what she needed—a bowl of Tony’s world-famous clam chowder. And a long talk with her oldest and dearest friend.

  Friend. That was all Tyler was. That was what she had to keep reminding herself. Especially with the way he looked at her. The gentle concern he showed. That fierce protectiveness.

  She sighed, then moved to one of the small tables. After the server had taken her order, she pulled her phone from her purse. Tyler hadn’t been without his for long. The day he was hit, she’d driven him to Chiefland for a replacement. He’d wanted to be easily reachable if she needed him.

  When she swiped the screen, ready to place the call, her phone showed one text received. The number belonged to her private investigator, and the message was short and sweet—Call when you get a chance. Her pulse picked up. Tyler would wait.

  When Daniel answered, she dispensed with the pleasantries. “You have news?”

  “Sort of.” He paused. “I caught up to her in Gainesville yesterday, met her face-to-face. She was waitressing in a small mom-and-pop place. I told her who I was and why I was looking for her. This was about four o’clock. She said she’d get off at seven and I should come back then.”

  “You came back, and she was gone.”

  “I never left. I took a seat in a corner booth, got the Wednesday special, and settled in to wait her out. Shortly after five, I didn’t see her anymore. Checked, and she’d slipped out the back. At first no one would tell me where she went. They all seemed to be covering for her.”

  “Then?”

  “Then one of the women broke down and gave me what I needed. She and her brother had been separated when they were young and recently reunited, so she has a soft spot for siblings trying to find each other. She didn’t have the address, but she’d picked Jenny up for work a few times when Jenny’s car broke down, so she was able to give me the name of the apartment complex and the location of the apartment.”

  “I take it by the time you got there, she’d run again.”

  The waitress returned with a glass of tea, and Nicki swirled the ice with the straw. The investigator had gotten close this time, had actually gotten to meet Jenny. But the rest of the story was going like all the previous times. Jenny still didn’t want to be found.

  “Yes. Jenny’s roommate was there. She said she didn’t know Jenny, that she lived alone. Of course, the neighbors said otherwise. I staked out the place all night, until about eleven o’clock this morning, and she never returned. When I went to the diner, I learned she was scheduled for the breakfast and lunch shifts and never showed up.”

  As Nicki listened, an idea began to form. Jenny’s roommate was protecting her. With all the trouble Jenny had been in, who knew what she was running from? She’d view any stranger looking for her as a threat. Even Daniel. After all, he could be a cop, his story about looking for a long-lost sister nothing but a cover to get information.

  But if a woman showed up on the roommate’s doorstep, someone who bore a strong family resemblance to Jenny, maybe she’d talk. Even with the five-year age difference, Nicki had looked like her. They’d had the same green eyes, the same small bone structure, the same angled features.

  “Give me the roommate’s name and address. I’m going to pay her a visit and see if she’ll talk to me. I’m sure Jenny’s gone, but maybe the roommate has a clue where she went.”

  Nicki pulled a piece of paper from her purse and jotted down the information, then disconnected the call. Gainesville was a little more than an hour away. She’d leave right after work. She didn’t have her truck back yet, but the rental car would get her there just fine. Now to call Tyler.

  He answered on the first ring.

  “Am I pulling you away from work?” she asked.

  “No, we just broke for lunch. What’s up?”

  “I’m going to Gainesville.”

  “What’s in Gainesville?”

  She smiled. “Jenny’s roommate. I got a call from the PI. Jenny has disappeared again, but I now have her roommate’s name and address. I’m going to pay her a visit.”

  “When?”

  “I’m leaving right after work.”

  “I’ll get off early.” His tone was emphatic. “I’m going with you.”

  “Won’t that put Andy in a bind?”

  “Andy will survive. I’m not letting you drive over there alone.”

  The determination and protectiveness behind his words sent an odd warmth coursing through her. She tamped it down. He’d always been protective of her. It didn’t mean any more now than it had then.

  “It will be nice to have some company.”

  The waitress returned with a steaming bowl of clam chowder and placed it in front of her.

  “My lunch just arrived.”

  “What are you having?”

  “Tony’s clam chowder.”

  “I haven’t tried it.”

  “You need to.” She spooned some into her mouth and savored it. “Spicy. The best.”

  “Better than my cold bologna sandwich?”

  “Living with Joan, you’re not eating bologna.”

  “You’re right. Today is beef stroganoff. I was trying to drum up some sympathy.”

  She grinned. His quirky sense of humor was usually buried under a pensive soberness, but occasionally it slipped through, giving her a glimpse of the old Tyler. “It didn’t work.”

  When she’d finished her soup and paid for her meal, she took a final swig of iced tea. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

  “Me, too. I’ll meet you at city hall at five.”

  “Sounds good.” She crumpled her napkin and stood. “Later.”

  “You always say that. I’ve never heard you say bye.”

  “Goodbye is too final.” That was what she’d told her parents the night before they were killed—bye. She hadn’t meant it. What she’d meant was see you later or talk to you tomorrow or any number of other ways to sign off. Instead, she’d told them bye, and that was what it had ended up being, their final goodbye.

  What she’d said hadn’t made a difference. She knew that, at least logically. But she hadn’t been able to bring herself to mouth the word since.

  She walked out the door and headed toward the office, pushing the thought from her mind. She had more important things to think about. After over six months of searching for her sister, with countless ups and downs, a reunion might be in the near future. The thought brought eagerness mixed with trepidation.

  Nicki wasn’t kidding herself. Jenny was messed up. Even with love and a stable environment, she wouldn’t be right for a long time. Maybe ever. Reaching out to Jenny might saddle her with Jenny’s problems for years to come. But she wasn’t about to quit now.

  Finding Jenny had become even more important with the visit from the detectives. Given that Jenny was five years older, she probably remembered more. She was possibly home at the time of the murder. Maybe even witnessed it.

  Whatever faults their mother had possessed, she hadn’t deserved to die in the way she had. For twenty-two long years, someone had gotten away with murder. But now, justice might soon be served.

  When it finally happened, Nicki would be able to close the door on the past.

  Then maybe the nightmares would stop.

  * * *

  Andy pulled into a parking spa
ce in front of City Hall, and Tyler stepped from the truck. His F-150 was still sitting in the driveway at his brother’s place. He wouldn’t need it. This trip was Nicki’s deal, so she’d insisted on driving.

  He moved up the front walk, stiff after his short ride there from the inn. Although six days had passed since the car had struck him, he still had some sore joints and ugly bruises. He reached up to rub his shoulder, then glanced in through the glass door. The room was the obvious site for town meetings. A table stood at the front, several microphones positioned along its length. Wooden pews arranged in neat rows provided seating for attendees.

  To the left, a window opened into Nicki’s work area. She stood there talking with someone, papers spread out on the counter between them. Nicki looked in his direction and gave him a quick smile before returning her attention to the customer.

  He turned to his right, where three glass-encased bulletin boards lined that side of the walk. He was a couple of minutes early. And if the paperwork on the counter was any indication, Nicki was going to be more than a few minutes late.

  The first case held meeting agendas—city commissioners, historic preservation board and local planning agency. The second held a variety of announcements, from Scrabble at the library to vacation Bible school next month. The sleepy town of Cedar Key was more active than he’d realized.

  He’d just moved to the third board when the door opened and the man Nicki had been helping walked out. A few minutes later, Nicki was ready to leave, too. He smiled at her as she came out the door. “You got through your work quicker than I thought you were going to.”

  “I planned it that way.” She grinned. “I figure if we get there before dark, this Gina Truman will be more likely to open the door.”

  “You’re probably right.” He followed her to the rental car. “So, what do you know about her?”

  “Her name and address.”

  “That’s it?” He raised his brows. “I’m glad I’m going with you.”

  “I don’t think I have a whole lot to worry about. She’s more likely to avoid me than mug me.”

  She started the car, then dropped it into Reverse. “I had another attack today.”