“I’m just sayin’ he found it quick,” Shawn said, attempting to look innocent. “Maybe he’s a map-genius, or . . . maybe he’s been here before.”
“Found it,” Josh said as he and Eric came to a stop in front of a door.
Eric waited until Sadie and Shawn had joined them before inserting the key, turning it, and pulling the door open.
The single light in the center of the twelve foot by twelve foot room was dim when they flipped the switch, but the room slowly lightened. Sadie suspected it was one of those newfangled energy-saving bulbs that were supposed to last for five years, but which Sadie still seemed to change far too often at home. She looked around, squinting into the slowly illuminating corners of the room.
Twin mattresses leaned against the wall directly across from the door and a stuffed and mounted pheasant sat on the floor. Sadie wrinkled her nose. Taxidermy was not her idea of home décor, no wonder it was in storage. The other walls were lined with stacks of Rubbermaid totes as well as a dresser, some laundry baskets full of odds and ends, and a menagerie of miscellaneous household items. The center of the room was mostly clear, offering just enough room for Josh, Sadie, and Shawn to stand and observe. Eric stayed in the doorway.
“Mark left all this here?” Sadie said, picking up a ceramic duck that had been sitting at the top of an open box. The duck was wearing a bow tie, its wings held out, forming a bowl. For candy? Or was it a fancy type of ashtray?
She noted there wasn’t much dust. She’d have expected things to be a lot dirtier after ten years in storage. There was something to be said for having an interior unit.
Josh shook his head. “Not Mark. This stuff is Thom’s. He went from a house in Garrison to an apartment in Orange County,” Josh said, looking around. “When he moved I remember him saying he was going to store some of Damon’s stuff until he decided what to do with it. I’m guessing he never came back for it.” He picked up a black backpack and stared at it.
Sadie wondered if it was the same backpack Damon had taken to prom. Would the police have returned it to Thom?
“Do you think Thom really told Mark to give the key to you?” Eric said. He wasn’t investigating anything, just standing in the doorway, surveying the area with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.
Framed by the doorway like he was, Sadie noticed he had very nice shoulders.
“I don’t know,” Josh said, running a hand through his hair as he turned slowly, taking it all in.
Sadie could practically hear his thoughts. Where do we begin when we don’t know what we’re looking for, or even if we’re supposed to be looking for anything at all?
“It’s Thom’s storage unit,” Eric added pointedly.
“Mark took over Thom’s finances along with everything else,” Josh said, shooting Eric an unappreciative glance. “I’m sure Mark’s kept the key safe for a very long time, just like everything else.”
“And since he knew he was going to off himself, he thought the key would be safer with Josh?” Shawn said, taking the lid off a shoebox. “Sweet,” he said as he reached into the box. “Basketball cards.” He looked at Josh. “You didn’t tell me he was a collector.” He went back to the box, apparently forgetting for the moment that he was still suspicious of Josh.
“Uh, sorry,” Josh said dryly. “I was waiting for the right moment.”
Shawn began riffling through the cards. “Man!” He pulled out a card. “He’s got a Magic Johnson rookie card. Do you have any idea how much this is worth?”
Sadie walked over to her son and picked up the lid he’d set aside. When he saw the lid in her hand he frowned, but took his hands out of the box so Sadie could close it. She gave him a hard look, and he managed to look penitent. What Sadie had hoped to find was something to verify their hypothesis that Mark’s death had been suicide. The fact that Mark gave Josh the key seemed like more than a coincidence, but how could they be sure? The one man who could tell them was dead.
Then Sadie noticed something that had been mostly hidden by a stack of Rubbermaid containers beside it. With the light nearly full-bright now, she could get a better look. “What’s that?” She pointed toward what looked like a lacquered black, upright freezer wedged into the far corner.
The three men followed her finger. “It’s a gun safe,” Eric said from the doorway, finally taking a step inside.
“A gun safe?” Sadie repeated.
Josh was already heading toward it since there weren’t many things in his way. In fact, there was a cleared path that took them right to it—Josh in the lead, Sadie behind him, Shawn behind her, and Eric bringing up the rear. It took all of five steps to get them across the room.
Sadie’s shoes scraped across the floor and she looked down, surprised to see sand on the floor. No dust, but sand?
“Wow,” Shawn said as the procession came to a stop, “imagine that. Josh brought us to a storage unit with a gun safe in it.”
Josh turned his head slowly and gave Shawn an exasperated look. “Really?” he said. “You think I’m leading you guys around for kicks?” He shook his head and turned back to the safe.
“You said this stuff was mostly Damon’s,” Sadie said, hoping to keep everyone focused on the task at hand. “Is the gun safe Damon’s too?”
Josh shook his head. “No, the gun safe is Thom’s. He was an avid hunter before Damon . . . well, before it happened.”
“How many shotguns did Thom have?” she asked.
“Just one. But Damon got his own when he turned fourteen.” Josh pointed at the pheasant on the cement floor. “He got that with it. Thom was real proud of him and had it mounted. When Damon started having a hard time, though, Thom changed the combination on the safe. What most people don’t know is that Thom knew Damon was in trouble and he was trying to get him help. It just . . . wasn’t enough.”
So instead Thom put his name on his son’s book and made millions, Sadie thought, shaking her head. It was hard to reconcile the grieving father with the plagiarizing one. But then, Sadie remembered Thom as he’d looked at Donna Hender’s table. He hadn’t escaped the consequences of his choices and the world would soon know the truth. While Sadie appreciated Josh’s optimistic expectation that Thom would get the help he needed, Sadie couldn’t help but wonder if, like his attempts to intervene on Damon’s behalf, it would be too little, too late.
“Didn’t Damon use his father’s gun that night?” Shawn asked. “Why not use his own?”
Josh shrugged. “Who knows what was going on in Damon’s head? He somehow got his dad’s gun and sawed off the barrel, presumably so it would fit in the backpack. Maybe he didn’t plan to kill himself and didn’t want to ruin his own gun. I don’t know.”
Once again, the only person who could answer that question was dead.
“Do you by chance know the combo?” Eric asked.
Josh shook his head.
“Can you break in?” Sadie asked Eric hopefully. He’d gotten her out of handcuffs and found out what the key belonged to. She’d have never guessed how handy a locksmith could be before tonight.
But Eric was shaking his head. “Safe cracking is a whole different ball game,” he said. “It’s not your basic lock job.”
“I bet the police have someone who can bust into it,” Shawn said. The comment cast a heavy pall on the group, reminding them how this evening was going to end.
Josh reached for the handle almost as an afterthought. As soon as he grabbed it, however, he paused and looked up in surprise. “It’s open.”
“It’s open?” Shawn, Sadie, and Eric said at the same time.
Josh pulled back on the handle and the door began swinging open.
Shawn nearly trampled Sadie as he pushed forward.
Sadie slid forward, unable to get traction on the sandy floor. She clutched at Josh’s arm to keep from falling headfirst into a large laundry basket full of CDs.
“Whoa,” Shawn said, grabbing the edge of the door and holding it closed, the muscles of his
forearm straining. “We’re just going to let this guy open a safe presumably full of guns? He could kill us all.”
“He couldn’t kill us all,” Sadie said in quick defense, eager to see what was inside the safe. “Maybe one or two of us, but not all three.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Josh said, shaking his head. “I’m not going to kill anybody.” He glared at Shawn who was easily twice his size. “You’re freaking paranoid.”
Shawn scowled and then let go of the door. He kept his eyes on Josh, though.
Josh’s jaw was tight as he pulled open the door, temporarily blocking Shawn and Eric’s view as it swung open.
Sadie was close enough to see everything Josh was seeing and she braced herself for what they might, or might not, find. Along the back of the safe were grooves, two of which supported gun barrels—a rifle and a .22, Sadie thought. No shotgun. Above the guns was a shelf, presumably to hold ammunition. However, instead of bullets, the shelf held a large stack of paper and propped against it was a white envelope with a word written on the front. Sadie recognized the handwriting from the copy of Devilish Details she’d found on stage. In the book, the words had said “I’m sorry.” Now, the same handwriting spelled, “Thom.”
Chapter 47
I think this is Damon’s original manuscript,” Josh said, reaching into the safe and thumbing through the stack of papers. The edges of the paper weren’t crisp and squared up like a brand-new ream, rather they were bent and imperfectly aligned.
Shawn swung the door all the way open so he and Eric could see inside too.
Josh hesitated, then reached for the letter. Everyone took a step back, allowing him to turn around in the tiny room that suddenly seemed much smaller. He held the envelope in his hand a moment, then pulled back the flap which, apparently, wasn’t sealed.
Sadie watched Josh’s methodical movements as he pulled a single sheet of paper from the envelope and unfolded it, the paper sounding unnaturally loud in the tense silence.
His eyes scanned the paper first, and Sadie found his expression difficult to read. Finally, when she was about out of patience, Josh cleared his throat, opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. After another moment, he handed the letter to Sadie, who took it hesitantly. Unlike Josh, though, she didn’t read it to herself before verbalizing what it said.
The letter was typed, so she couldn’t match up the handwriting.
Thom,
It seemed so simple in the beginning, didn’t it? And here we are, ten years later, broken men who have run out of road. If you don’t know already, you’ll know soon enough that our secrets are secrets no more. I’ve spent weeks trying to decide how best to handle this before coming to the conclusion that I’d rather not handle it at all. I’m not proud of what I’ve done, and what it’s done to you, and I’m not proud of running away from the choices I’ve made, but I’ve never professed to be a good man.
I killed Diane Veeter, Thom. I had to. She said she could prove you hadn’t written the book. But I was still high on the rush of success the book was having. I wasn’t going to let her ruin it for me—for us. But now, a reporter at the Denver Post has started to put the pieces together and, although I’ve had a hard time living with myself these last few years as I’ve watched you sink deeper and as I’ve faced my own demons, I’m not willing to go to prison. Tell the police they can find information about Diane Veeter in my file at work. Closing out the rest of my life ought to be an easy task. I find it a sad reflection to note that you are the only person I have left to say good-bye too. The lies have isolated us so much from the rest of the world. I wonder if anyone missed us?
As for you, old friend, I can only say I’m sorry. I didn’t want things to come to this, but as a final gift, I hope that the attention created by my “larger than life” exit from mortality will at least breathe new life into your future. What’s that they say—“Have a scandal and you’re sure to have a hit”? I take full responsibility for everything. I took advantage of a weak man and made him even weaker. It is my hope that once the blood-thirsty media is through with this story, Devilish Details will rise like a phoenix from the ashes and remain in print. It is also my hope that the courts will show you the mercy you were never able to show yourself. I beg of you to take what you have left and live a life you can be proud of—finally. I will no longer stand in your way.
To peace.
Sincerely,
Markus F. Ogreski
Sadie finished reading the letter and the silence pressed upon her until she looked up to see the faces of Shawn and Eric registering the same sobering surprise she herself felt. Josh, standing beside her, had his arms folded over his chest as he stared at the floor.
Sadie reached into her pocket and pulled out the letter she’d taken from Thom’s jacket. She unfolded it and put it on top of a storage container next to the new letter. She looked at the signatures. “They’re a pretty close match,” Sadie said, wondering if the ten-year time span could account for the minimal differences.
“He did it for Thom,” Josh finally said. He chuckled without humor and shook his head. “He knew the truth was going to come out and he bailed.” He looked up, his eyes narrowed in anger. “He left Thom to face it alone. What a coward.”
Sadie was hard-pressed to disagree with him and looked back at the two letters—one written at the beginning of the lie, and one written to end it.
“Public suicide to sell books,” Shawn said, sounding dumbfounded. “That’s insane.”
Sadie agreed wholeheartedly, but found herself distracted by Eric, who was scuffing his shoe on the floor. Sadie could hear the sand under his shoe. He seemed rather intrigued, which of course intrigued Sadie. Eric leaned down and touched the floor before looking up at them. “Metal shavings,” he said.
All four of them looked around the room with new intent.
“If Mark sawed off the barrel here, would he have left the hacksaw behind?” Josh asked as he pulled open a box. He paused and Sadie turned to him. Had he found the hacksaw?
What he pulled from the box, however, wasn’t a hacksaw. It was a spool of what looked like wire. He looked up at Sadie. “Doesn’t this look like the stuff used to wire that gun into the podium?”
Sadie nodded slowly. It looked just like the cable she’d seen tangled around the gun back at the hotel. Josh would have seen it as well, since he was on stage after the shooting. She looked from Josh to Eric just in time to see Eric stiffen and turn quickly to look over his shoulder.
Sadie, startled by his sudden reaction, opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong when a familiar face appeared behind his left shoulder.
“Lady,” Officer Malloy said, making eye contact with her across the room. “You can’t imagine how much trouble you’re in right now.”
Chapter 48
Ten minutes later, Sadie stood against the front wall of the storage unit with Shawn to her left and Josh and Eric to her right. The three men were in handcuffs; Sadie had simply been instructed to keep her good arm at her side while a police officer stood guard. All of them had been read their rights in regard to the most obvious charge: evading arrest. Sadie suspected charges for kidnapping and interfering with a police investigation weren’t far behind. She felt sick. All of them were silent as the reality of what they’d discovered mingled with the equally difficult reality of what lay ahead. Sadie couldn’t imagine how much worse things would get when the police learned the manner in which Josh had become part of the crew.
Officer Malloy hadn’t come alone. Two police cruisers were parked out front and although Sadie wasn’t facing them, the alternating red and blue lights outside reflected off the white walls in front of her. She swore they were making her dizzy, but was open to the possibility that she was just looking for reasons to be unsettled. There were plenty. Jane had identified Eric’s Jeep, which was how the police had found them. Sadie wondered if Jane was in trouble or if she’d talked her way out of it.
Sadie was try
ing to be calm, but her anxiety was growing and she was finding it difficult to hold it back. What would happen next? Would they all go to jail? What would happen to Shawn? There were other thoughts as well: Where was Thom? How would he handle this? Would the police believe them now? Or would they continue to discount everything Sadie had learned? The knot in her stomach grew by the second, and she tried to anticipate what the rest of this night would be like.
She heard the whooshing of a door being opened and turned her head, stiffening when she saw Pete walk in amid a swirl of snow. The officer who’d been left to guard them moved toward him, but Pete didn’t pay any attention to him, heading instead toward Sadie, his eyes frantic.
If she hadn’t already been up against the wall, she’d have taken a step backward, unprepared for how to deal with Pete. But he didn’t yell or scream; he didn’t even look angry. Instead when he reached her, he wrapped his arms around her as if that type of physical affection was something that came easy to them.
Sadie felt herself stiffen even more, holding back a cry of pain as her shoulder protested the embrace. She was hyperaware of Shawn, Josh, and Eric looking on and although part of her just melted to be in Pete’s arms, another part was embarrassed. After a few seconds, she raised her good hand and patted him on the back, trying to return what warmth she could.
Only then did Pete pull back, his arms still around her. “Sadie,” he said quietly, but not quietly enough. Sadie was well aware of everyone watching them and straining to hear what they said. “I am so sorry.”
Sadie was unprepared to hear his apology. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” Pete said again sincerely. He seemed to notice the sling for the first time and took a step back. “Are you okay?”
“I-I’ll be fine,” Sadie said, trying to overcome her surprise at Pete’s attention.
They looked at one another, too many things needing to be said and both of them unable to find the words. Finally, Pete dropped his arms, but the soft expression on his face remained. “So much has happened,” he finally said.
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