Lemon Tart

by Josi S. Kilpack

  Sadie was willing to bet the entire plate of carrot cookies still in one hand that she smelled diapers.

  Carrot Cookies

  1 cup butter

  3⁄4 cup sugar

  1 egg

  1⁄4 teaspoon orange extract

  1 cup cooked and mashed carrots (Steam carrots in microwave until soft—don’t use baby food—bleck!)

  1 teaspoon grated orange zest

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  1⁄2 teaspoon salt

  21/2 cups flour

  1 cup chopped walnuts (optional)

  Icing

  2–3 teaspoons orange zest

  3 tablespoons orange juice

  Powdered sugar to consistency

  Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Cream butter and sugar. Add egg, extract, carrots, and orange zest. Mix well. Add the remaining ingredients and mix until combined. Roll into walnut-sized balls and press flat with fingers or a fork on a greased cookie sheet. Bake 10 minutes.

  For icing, mix zest and juice, then stir in powdered sugar until icing is slightly thicker than a glaze. Drop by teaspoonfuls onto warm cookies so icing melts into cookies.

  Makes 2 to 3 dozen.

  Chapter 30

  Inside the garbage can was a white plastic bag knotted at the top. Sadie moved to the porch and put down the cookies before returning to open the garbage bag. Not only were there a few dirty diapers, but also a shoe box. Sadie picked the box out of the bag, thinking about the pink shoes that she still couldn’t picture Carrie wearing. Then again, she couldn’t picture Jack dating Anne either, or Ron lying to her for months, or Anne being strangled—yet she knew those things had happened. Pink shoes didn’t seem too far-fetched in comparison. But the box was a child’s shoe box, the picture showing Spider-man shoes with Velcro tabs and lights in the heels. She pictured Trevor’s shoes sitting by the back door of Anne’s house. The little boy had been barefoot when he left the house. She also reviewed the trips to the store Carrie had taken yesterday—as she pulled out a box for children’s Benadryl. Would Carrie actually drug a toddler in order to force a nap so she could run errands? Had she kept him downstairs so that in case he woke up, no one would hear him? It was hard to imagine, and yet impossible to ignore the possibility.

  There was one other thing in the garbage can that got Sadie’s attention and she pulled the green hanging file from the bag, snagging the metal end on the plastic. There was nothing unique about the file. Sadie had the same kind in her own filing cabinet, but she’d seen stacks of them just yesterday and that image was fresh in her mind. Scattered around Susan Gimes’s office had been dozens of similar files. Anne’s file had been missing.

  Susan’s voice from yesterday filtered back to her, “We’re shorthanded today.”

  Carrie’s calendar also came to mind. She’d marked working hours for the next three weeks, but she hadn’t worked on Tuesday.

  Susan had verified with her receptionist that K through M was supposed to have been scanned in on Monday—Anne’s file should have been among them.

  What are the chances? Sadie asked herself as she flipped the file open. It was empty, except for the plastic tab that Sadie assumed had once been attached to the top of the file.

  Lemmon, Anne

  Sadie’s hands began to shake. Carrie’s temp job must have been at Susan Gimes’s office. Carrie had found the file and put things together much faster than Sadie had, but somehow had come to the conclusion that Jack, not Ron, had been involved with Anne. Sadie wondered what it was that had made Carrie figure it all out. Maybe she knew about Jack cashing in his retirement, or only admitting to half the inheritance. Maybe she’d seen him talking to Anne that one time and somehow put everything together. But the newest facts marched through Sadie’s brain at a steady pace, not allowing her to focus on Carrie for long. Sadie couldn’t seem to catch her breath and it had nothing to do with the wind that was blowing directly into her face.

  Trevor was here.

  Carrie knew about the affair before Jack said she did.

  Carrie confronted Anne.

  Jack’s taking the fall for her.

  “I did this,” Jack had said at the police station. “I did all of this.”

  “Dear heavens,” she said out loud. Were the documents still in Carrie’s house? It would tie everything together.

  Jack is innocent.

  I have to talk to Detective Cunningham!

  Sadie dropped the file back into the garbage can, picked up the plate of cookies from the porch, and with hurried steps, moved to the side yard closest to her house, already thinking of how to explain this information to Cunningham. The side yard was about ten feet wide, with Jack and Carrie’s white house siding on their side, and Sadie’s cedar fence on the other. Jack had always talked about fencing in his own yard, but he never seemed to get around to it, leaving only Sadie’s enclosed. She was almost to the end of her fence line, where she could cut left for her front steps, when she heard an engine shut off. A car door opened and then shut. She stopped just shy of the corner of the house and pressed her back against the cold siding. Is it Carrie? she wondered.

  Sadie could see her own house from the corner of Jack and Carrie’s house, the black walnut tree close enough to the sidewalk that it didn’t block her view from this angle. She was close, but she couldn’t talk to Carrie right now and trying to cut from Carrie’s yard to her own front door would make that inevitable. She’d just wait until Carrie went inside, then run for her own house and call Detective Cunningham.

  Sadie moved to stand against the side of Carrie’s house, straining to hear footsteps heading for the door of the house, so she could make her escape.

  “Mrs. Wright?”

  Sadie couldn’t see him, and he had to be several feet away, but she knew it was Detective Madsen. She growled low in her chest and came as close to swearing as she’d been since the time Shawn and Breanna had a chocolate syrup and ketchup fight in the kitchen almost six years ago.

  “Do you know where Mrs. Hoffmiller is? I understand she stayed with you last night.”

  Sadie’s heart leapt into her throat and she held the cookies tighter against her chest. Why did he want to talk to her?

  “I’ve been running errands,” Carrie said, though her tone sounded the tiniest bit nervous. Sadie could imagine that hiding so much information from the police would make anyone anxious. Carrie continued. “She was gone before I got up this morning.”

  “Is she here now?”

  “No,” Carrie said. “I came back to pick up some things a while ago and she was gone. Her car is in her driveway though.” Sadie wondered what Carrie was driving. Had she picked Jack’s truck up from the police station or did she have her car back?

  “She isn’t answering her door,” Madsen said with annoyance. “So you haven’t seen her?”

  “No,” Carrie said. “If I do, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her. I’ve got an appointment, Detective. Can I go inside now?”

  There was a pause and Carrie’s cat, Pouches, came around the corner from the back of the house. Sadie shooed at her, trying to get her to go away, but instead Pouches continued out a few more feet—in full view of both Sadie in her hiding spot and Carrie and Madsen in the driveway. Pouches sat down, cocked her striped head at Sadie and meowed.

  Sadie looked at her sternly. The last thing she needed was the cat giving away her hiding place. “Go,” she mouthed—as if the cat could not only understand the English language, but read lips as well. Pouches stretched her front paws in front of her and laid down, still staring at Sadie.

  “Meow.”

  Pouches had distracted Sadie from the conversation between Detective Madsen and Carrie, but she tuned back in as soon as she realized it.

  “Do you recognize this?” Detective Madsen asked.

  “That’s my house key,” Carrie said with alarm. “The one I gave to Sadie. What are you doing with it?”

  Sadie made a face. He’d discovered the key. Shoot. How on earth
was she going to explain that? And Carrie thought she’d just handed it over to the detectives. Doggone it, why didn’t she give the right key in the first place? Then she remembered she wouldn’t have been able to break into Anne’s house last night if she’d handed over the real key.

  “You don’t need to worry about that,” Detective Madsen said. Instead of being angry, he seemed quite pleased with himself. One more reason for him to suspect Sadie. She wondered if Cunningham knew about the key and could imagine the lecture awaiting her if he did. At what point would they stop threatening and actually arrest her for interference? Sadie had a sudden image of herself in the green scrubs she’d seen on Jack a couple hours earlier. Green had always washed her out.

  Pouches rubbed against her leg and she nearly screamed. Looking down, she scowled at the cat again, who was purring loudly and mewing at her. It was true that Sadie sometimes bought canned cat food for Pouches as a treat—Carrie would only buy the bargain dry food and even cats deserved a little something extra on special days—but now she wished she’d never spoiled the feline. It lay down on her feet, and turned its sea-green eyes toward her.

  “Meow.”

  She removed a carrot cookie from the plate and tossed it a few feet toward the back of the yard in hopes the cat would follow. Pouches looked at it, then back at Sadie. Apparently carrot cookies looked and smelled nothing like fish.

  “Meow.”

  Sadie shook her head, waiting to hear Carrie muse aloud why her cat was acting so funny. But Carrie hadn’t seemed to notice just yet.

  “I sure am going to worry about you having a key to my house!” Carrie said loudly. “I want it back.” The anger in her voice surprised even Sadie, who was used to hearing Carrie go off about something or another. But it made sense for her to freak out. Based only on the things Sadie had found in the garbage can, the idea of the police being able to go inside her home at will must be horrifying.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s part of a police investigation,” Detective Madsen said. “It will be returned to you when we’re finished with it.”

  “Finished?” Carrie repeated. “Then give it to me now. You have your confession, the case is over.”

  Everyone was silent. Even Pouches who was lying on Sadie’s feet—weird cat. The flippancy in Carrie’s voice was shocking.

  “So you’re aware of your husband’s confession?” Detective Madsen said carefully.

  Sadie leaned toward the voices, but Pouches protested loudly, so she kept her feet steady.

  “I know all about it,” Carrie said, and the calmness in her voice was more of a shock than her anger had been a few moments before. “He told me last night, before he turned himself in. Now give me my key.”

  Last night?

  Sadie knew Carrie had known about Jack at least twenty-four hours longer than that.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Madsen said. “I can’t give you the key.”

  She continued to argue about it, and he continued to refuse until Carrie stormed up the steps and slammed the door, clicking the lock into place once she did so. Sadie tried to listen for Madsen’s retreating footsteps, but couldn’t hear them over the rustling leaves, then realized he’d see her if he decided to knock on her door again. She’d have to go through the back, which meant walking to the end of Carrie’s backyard and using the gate Jack had put into the fence when they had all their kids at home.

  She nudged Pouches off her feet, no longer worried about the cat’s protests, and walked quickly, picking her steps along the grass carefully, well aware that Carrie was on the inside of the wall she was using as a guide and Madsen could take a few steps to his right at any time and see her shirking away. When she was around the back of the house and under the kitchen window she finally allowed herself to breathe.

  Water ran in the sink above and behind Sadie’s head. Wasn’t there somewhere else Carrie could go for just a minute? Sadie looked down the length of the yard. The gate was on the right side, just past the apple tree. If she headed for the fence now, Carrie would see her from the kitchen window. She couldn’t take that risk. Not only could she not afford Carrie’s suspicion of what Sadie knew, but Carrie was mad about the key. And Sadie did feel very bad about that.

  After a couple minutes of listening to Carrie move around in the kitchen, Sadie heard Carrie start humming.

  More than anything else she’d put together in the last hour, the humming made Sadie’s blood run cold. Carrie killed her husband’s mistress, allowed her husband to take the blame, and now she was in her kitchen, doing dishes—humming as she did so. What kind of woman had Jack married?

  Even more important than that—where was Trevor? He’d been here, but she didn’t think he was anymore. If Sadie had only been able to get into Carrie’s house!

  The humming stopped and Carrie spoke. It took a few words before Sadie realized she must be on the phone.

  “Hi, dear, how is everything? . . . Good, that’s exactly right.” Her voice moved out of range as Carrie left the kitchen. Despite her curiosity about the phone call, Sadie ran for the back gate as fast as she could, wishing she could just keep running and leave all these unwelcome thoughts and feelings about the people she loved behind her. But she couldn’t outrun any of it. She went through the gate and came to a stop when she reached her own side of the fence. She rested her back against the wood and took a deep breath, nearly screaming when her cell phone rang in her jacket pocket.

  She fished the phone out of her pocket with her free hand, the plate of cookies still in the other one, and saw it was Breanna.

  “Oh, Bre,” she breathed once she answered, resting her head back against the fence. “I’m so glad you called. You got my text?”

  “Yeah,” Breanna said. “I got it as soon as I finished the lab. What’s going on?”

  Sadie searched her mind, trying to remember what it was she’d wanted to ask Breanna about. Oh, yeah, Trina. “Did Trina drive Carrie’s car home last night?” She was careful to keep her voice down so as not to draw anyone’s attention.

  “She did,” Breanna said. “Uncle Jack explained it after we left the house. I couldn’t figure out what the big deal was, and why they were in such a hurry to leave if we were taking separate cars, but he said he was worried about Trina driving back by herself and wanted to make sure I followed her until we got back to town.”

  Now Sadie understood why Jack was so hesitant about her coming over last night. They must have sent Trevor with Trina, using the darkness to cover up what they were doing. And they couldn’t have buckled Trevor in a car seat or else Breanna might have noticed. How horrible—and irresponsible, especially in regard to Trina’s emotional state at the time. Sadie wondered where Trevor was now—hiding in Trina’s dorm room? It didn’t seem likely, but what else would she do with him? She tucked the information away and returned to her questions.

  “Did they, by chance, open the trunk?” Sadie asked, still trying to catch her breath for a multitude of reasons.

  “No,” Breanna said after a short pause. “Why?”

  Sadie closed her eyes and argued with herself. The last thing she wanted to do was get Breanna involved in this, and yet the clock seemed to be ticking faster. “I need a favor,” Sadie said. “I need you to look inside that trunk. I think Carrie loaded a two-drawer black filing cabinet into the back of the car.” She paused. “It belonged to Anne.”

  She and Breanna briefly discussed what Sadie had learned. Once Breanna felt sufficiently informed, she promised her mother she’d call as soon as she learned anything. Sadie put the phone back in her pocket and headed up her back porch steps, her feet and her heart heavy. She had her hand on the doorknob when she remembered Trevor. Could he have been in the car with the filing cabinet? Sadie was pretty sure he hadn’t been at the house last night.

  So many questions.

  Once inside, she shut the door quietly, not wanting anyone to hear it slam. She let out a ragged breath and after a few seconds, headed toward the phone in th
e kitchen so she could call Detective Cunningham.

  She was stepping past the bathroom when a movement caught her eye. She automatically turned to look into the darkened room only long enough to see the light reflect off his hair. Before she could do anything else, his hand was over her mouth and the plate of cookies fell to the floor as she was pulled against him.

  “Don’t scream,” Ron said in her ear as her heart raced all over again. “I need you to understand that I didn’t mean to do it. It was an accident.”

  Chapter 31

  “You won’t scream?” Ron asked after a few seconds. Sadie shook her head. He hesitated a moment, then removed his hand from her mouth, but he immediately grabbed her arm and held on tight. Sadie knew panic should be coursing through her, sending a rush of adrenaline, but she barely reacted at all. Ron had been waiting for her, she still believed he’d been involved in Anne’s death—in fact he’d just said as much—and he was wanted by the police for questioning. Big deal.

  “I’m not going to run, either,” Sadie said, rubbing her mouth where she still felt the pressure from his hand.

  She turned her eyes on Ron, who now stood a few feet away, carrot cookies at his feet. He didn’t look anything the part of the cold-blooded killer she still thought him to be, but he didn’t look like the man she’d been planning to share her life with either. His deception and his anger at the restaurant clouded the vision of the future that had at one point seemed so clear. Instead he was shifting his weight, running the hand not clamped to her wrist through his hair. There were bags under his eyes and the lines of his face seemed deeper.

  “I’m not going to run, Ron,” she said again.

  His face reacted at her use of his name and it showed her that she still had some power. She wondered how much he knew she knew and yet the details she thought she understood an hour ago had shifted thanks to the information she’d gathered about Carrie. But at least she was finally in a place where someone was going to offer her some answers. “What do you mean it was an accident?”