Unveiling the Past

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Sean went to his desk, and Meghan walked Sheila to the doors. They paused at the opening, and Sean slid into his chair. The two women spoke briefly, Meghan with her head tipped, leaning in ever so slightly, and Sheila holding her stiff, folded-arms pose. Even though Meghan made no attempt to touch the younger woman, kindness and understanding showed in her expression and attentive frame.

  His heart rolled over. She seemed…motherly.

  Sheila departed, and Meghan scuffed to Sean, her brow puckered and her lower lip caught between her teeth. She perched on the corner of his desk and sighed. “That’s a very angry young woman. Part of it is probably mourning. I got the feeling she’s struggling to hold it together and using anger as a means of protecting herself.”

  Sean gave a slow nod. “You could be right. Or she could be perpetually angry. Some people don’t have a positive attitude. They’re not the easiest folks to get along with.”

  A teasing glint flickered in her eyes. “And what do you always say about folks who are hard to get along with?” She nudged him. “Those are the ones who need love and acceptance the most, right?”

  He rubbed his nose and chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, quote me when I’m trying to get you to think logically.”

  She laughed, but she sobered quickly. “I want to help her, Sean. If you decide to stick with the Dunsbrook case, I’ll try to understand. And I hope you’ll understand why I want to step away from it and pursue this one instead.”

  Sean already understood. Meghan saw herself in Sheila. She was already tangling herself in this missing-person case as much as she had when they set off in search of her grandmother’s long-lost little sister. Meghan was thinking that if she uncovered the truth about Sheila’s father, she would discover truth about herself and her feelings toward her absent father.

  Of course he understood. But he wasn’t yet sure if he supported her desire to jump investigations. He also wasn’t sure he was ready to give up his current case. Didn’t the boys’ parents deserve answers, too?

  He pushed his chair backward and stood. “Let’s talk about it more on the drive home, okay?”

  Captain Ratzlaff strode toward them, carrying a manila folder. “If you’re gonna talk about it, you might as well have all the information available.” He flopped the file into Meghan’s hands.

  Meghan rose, cradling the file as if it were made of glass. “When do you need it back?”

  “I’ve got it saved on my computer, so I don’t necessarily need it back. But if you’re asking when I need to know whether you’ll take the case, how about you tell me Friday?”

  Sean looked at Meghan. She nodded, and he said, “Sounds fine, Cap.”

  “All right, then. Head out of here so I can lock up.”

  Meghan grabbed her purse—the one that reminded Sean of an old-fashioned mail pouch—and tucked the folder into it. Then she headed for the doors without a backward glance. Sean shut down his computer and trotted after her.

  Someone had taped an Out of Service sign on the elevator doors. Sean pointed at the sign. “Bet Farber had some choice words about that.” If Sean and Meghan ended up working with different partners, he’d steer her away from Farber. The detective knew his stuff, but his crassness and penchant for cursing weren’t a good match for Meghan. Or for any female, as far as Sean was concerned.

  Meghan changed course and crossed to the staircase. Sean caught up to her and opened the door. They headed down side by side, the thump of their soles on the concrete steps echoing against the cinder-block walls. Halfway to the main level, Meghan wrinkled her nose. “I hope they get the elevator fixed fast. Or put some air fresheners in here. Ugh, it smells like old gym socks and mold.”

  He waggled his eyebrows at her. “I think I know a way to clear our noses of the scent.”

  “Iriana’s?”

  “What else?” They both loved the downtown pizzeria’s doughy crust topped with everything but the kitchen sink.

  She grinned. “I like the way you think, but it’ll get us home too late to get to Bible study.”

  How could he have forgotten it was Wednesday? He looked forward to the Bible study at their small interdenominational church every week. Too often, investigations took them away for days at a time and they were forced to miss fellowship with their local body of believers. He shouldn’t skip when they had the opportunity to go. But when they reached the main level, he caught Meghan’s hand.

  “Give Iriana’s a call, and place a to-go order for a Clean the Floor pie. We’ll eat it when we get home.” They’d have leftovers for two lunches, too. The pizza loaded with a variety of meats, vegetables, and mozzarella was a four-course meal in a single slice.

  She grinned and fished her cell phone from her purse. “Great compromise.”

  Yes. Compromise. He hoped they’d be as successful in finding a compromise concerning the Dunsbrook and Menke cases. And—his heart caught—parenthood.

  Meghan

  The riverside-area shops were all doing booming business. Or so it appeared by the lack of parking spots. After their second unsuccessful sweep up and down the block, Meghan sighed.

  “Drop me off at the corner. I’ll run in, and you can keep circling until you see me on the curb.”

  “I guess we’ll have to unless we want to leave it behind.” He turned off the main street, braked, and unlocked her door. “Hurry, huh?”

  “I’ll be out as soon as I have our food in hand.” She jogged up the block. The tantalizing aromas of fresh bread and spices met her nose even before she opened the door to Iriana’s, and her mouth watered as she entered the restaurant. The interior was dim, which lent an intimacy despite the crush of tables and the cacophony of laughter, conversation, and kitchen noise.

  She wove her way between tables, heading for the cash register counter, wishing she and Sean had time to take a table and enjoy their pizza in this wonderful atmosphere. When she’d nearly reached the counter, someone called her name. She turned a puzzled look in the direction of the caller and spotted the other four detectives sharing a booth. Greg Dane waved her over.

  She crossed to the men.

  Greg said, “Great minds think alike.”

  Meghan smiled. “Hard to resist the pizza here. I ordered ours to go so Sean and I can get home in time for Bible study.”

  Tom Farber smirked and glanced at his buddies. “Then I guess we won’t ask you to join us.”

  The others had given up on inviting Sean to their get-togethers even before she married him. They’d never invited the two of them. She knew why, too. Their means of winding down after work always involved alcohol. Today it was beer, evidenced by the nearly empty pitcher in the middle of the table, but they weren’t averse to harder stuff.

  When Meghan was a teenager, Mom had told her about her alcoholic great-grandfather who’d died before Mom was born—“We could have inherited an alcoholic gene, Meghan, so be careful about drinking.” She’d also witnessed her friends acting like a bunch of idiots when they tipped a bottle. She’d never had any desire to lose control of herself that way. As a result, Meghan stayed away from liquor. Sean avoided it, too, but for scriptural reasons.

  Tom meant to goad, something he seemed to thoroughly enjoy, but she refused to take the bait. She punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Since you’ve got a jump on dinner, you’ll probably be done in time to go to Bible study with us. Wanna come? We always have snacks during the break. Those ladies know how to bake.”

  Tom laughed, blasting her with his warm, beer-scented breath. He jabbed Greg Dane with his elbow. “How about it, partner? Wanna go to the BS session? Get it? Bible study—BS?”

  Greg cringed, and Tyler and Anthony exchanged embarrassed looks. Greg sent Meghan a weak smile. “He’s had one too many. Ignore him.”

  Tom laughed again and reached for the pitcher. He emptied its contents into his glass. “There’s n
o such thing as one too many after you’ve finished an investigation. This is celebration time.” He half stood and waved clumsily at a bleached-blond waitress taking the order at another table. “Hey, you—Sunshine Girl. Bring another pitcher.”

  Greg grabbed Tom’s arm and pulled him onto the seat. The two began a terse exchange.

  Meghan bent down to Tyler Roach, who sat across from Greg, and whispered in his ear. “He isn’t driving, is he?”

  “We won’t let him. Don’t worry.”

  “Good.” She straightened and inched backward, gesturing to the counter. “I better get my pizza and scoot. Y’all are welcome to come to Bible study anytime—you don’t need a personal invitation.”

  “Don’t save me a seat.” Tom nearly growled the comment. For the first time, Meghan noticed a second pitcher on the table, also empty. Tom must have downed most of it by himself to be so intoxicated already. “Had enough of that Bible thumpin’ when I was growing up to last me four lifetimes.” Scowling, he flapped his hand at Meghan. “Go on. If you aren’t gonna join the fun, then get outta here.”

  Meghan hurried off, more than happy to let Greg deal with his partner. She paid for the pizza and left, but a worry followed her. The captain had said if he split her and Sean, he’d pair each of them with Tom or Greg. Working with Greg would be easier—he wasn’t openly obnoxious. But if she took Greg, Sean would be stuck with Tom, who would rather torment Sean than cooperate with him.

  Sean’s Bronco rolled up to the curb, and she clambered in, careful not to dump the steaming cardboard box holding their supper. The moment she snapped her seat belt in place, Sean rolled the old SUV forward, and she said, “Please pass the Dunsbrook case to Tom and Greg and stay partnered with me on this new one.”

  His eyebrows rose, but he kept his eyes on the traffic. “That’s not exactly the start of a discussion, Meg. It’s more like an appeal.”

  “It is definitely an appeal. A heartfelt one.”

  “I thought you said you’d understand if I wanted to see the Dunsbrook case through.”

  “I know I did, and I meant it when I said it, but”—the aroma coming from the closed box was so tantalizing, she had a hard time ignoring it—“I really don’t want to work with anybody but you. And I don’t want either one of us to have to work with Tom. It’s like he takes delight in being difficult, you know?”

  Sean glanced at her, worry creasing his forehead. “I saw Farber’s car, as well as Dane’s, parked outside the pizza place. Can I presume they were inside and gave you some trouble?”

  “You’re a good detective. Yes, and yes.” She put the box on the floor between her feet, where it wouldn’t tempt her to dive in. “Actually, Tyler and Anthony were in there, too. The four of them were celebrating Tom and Greg’s closed case.”

  Sean set his lips in a grim line. “I can imagine how they were celebrating. They didn’t get obscene with you, did they? Because if they did, I’ll—”

  “No, nothing like that. Just Tom’s usual antichurch stuff. Grandma would say he’s as prickly as a hedgehog when it comes to religion. At least I got some insight about why Tom’s so antagonistic. He said he’d had enough Bible thumping to last him several lifetimes. Do you think his folks took him to a legalistic church when he was young?”

  They left town behind and got on the highway. Sean passed an older-model sedan and eased back into the lane. “I suppose it’s possible. Some churches push grace aside and preach condemnation. It’d be hard to know without visiting the church myself. It’s also possible he’s fighting the Spirit’s tug. We’ve both witnessed to him, and we live out our faith in the workplace. He might feel guilty because he’s strayed from what he was taught, and he may use the Bible thumping as an excuse.”

  Meghan tapped the edge of the pizza box with her toe, willing the miles to pass.

  Sean shot a grin at her. “Go ahead and eat a slice while it’s hot and fresh. It’s okay.”

  She should wait—how fair was it to eat in front of him?—but temptation got the best of her. She balanced the box on her lap, lifted a slice, and took a big bite. The mingled flavors of seasoning, meat, vegetables, and bread flooded her taste buds, and she couldn’t resist a soft groan of approval. “Well, as unpleasant as my exchange with him was, this pizza makes it worth it.” She took another bite and spoke around it. “Greg seemed pretty embarrassed, and he said Tom was drunk. Greg’s used to working with him—he knows how to handle it when Tom gets unpleasant. I think we should leave Tom and Greg to each other and we should stick together.”

  Sean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I think we should thoroughly discuss the pros and cons and pray about it before we make a decision. I get where you’re coming from, and it makes sense from our point of view, but sometimes God leads us to places we wouldn’t necessarily choose in order to help us see something we wouldn’t grasp any other way.”

  She gaped at him. “You think it might be God’s will for us to split up?”

  He reached across the console and squeezed her wrist. “Not necessarily for the long haul. But maybe for this one case.” He released her wrist and gripped the steering wheel again. “And maybe not even for this case. Like I said, we need more time to look at it, to pray about it, to make sure we know what we’re supposed to do. Running ahead of God only gets people into trouble. So let’s use the time Captain Ratzlaff gave us to seek God’s will. Okay?”

  Seven

  Kendrickson, Nevada

  Diane

  Diane stared at the lines of text filling the email memo box. She’d written the message three different ways, and she still wasn’t satisfied with it. Shouldn’t an English and literature teacher be able to compose a simple email? But then, she was fairly new at teaching English and literature, and this wasn’t exactly a simple email. Toss in her exhaustion from surviving the final full days of the school year—always a challenge between the kids’ excitement and all the end-of-year grades to compute—and her brain didn’t want to function.

  She set the laptop aside and tipped her head against the sofa recliner’s puffy headrest. Her trio of dachshunds snuffled in their sleep, and Miney bumped her nose against Diane’s knee. She automatically ran her hands through the dog’s thick ruff. Funny how empty the sofa felt with only three dogs lounging around her instead of four. She sure missed Ginger, the matriarch of her doggy family.

  The sweet old girl had succumbed to heart failure after the first of the year, and she and Mother had cried for days. Mother even bought a little wooden box with the phrase Pets Leave Paw Prints on Your Heart carved into its top. They put Ginger’s ashes in the box, which now rested in Mother’s china curio. Diane never would have imagined her mother mourning a dog, let alone allowing its ashes to be displayed like a prized possession. How much Mother had changed since Diane’s childhood.

  Had Kevin Harrison changed over the years?

  Miney sat up and whined, her pointed nose aimed at the hallway leading to Mother’s private suite. Diane peered toward the shadowed opening, and Mother stepped into the living room. Her pert gaze landed on Diane.

  “Are you still up? Gracious, Margaret Diane, it’s almost midnight. If you don’t get some sleep, you aren’t going to be worth a plug nickel tomorrow.”

  Diane chuckled. In some ways Mother would never change, including using her daughter’s full name. At least Diane had come to appreciate it, now that she knew its origin was Mother’s beloved sister. “Friday’s only a half day. End of the school year, you know, so I’ll be all right.”

  Mother stared at Diane for a few seconds, her snow-white brows pinching into a V, and then her expression relaxed. She lowered her slender frame into her wingback chair and propped her bare, wrinkled feet on the chair’s matching island-sized ottoman. Miney hopped down and joined Mother, who smiled and scratched the dog’s curly ears with her arthritis-bent fingers.

  Diane pul
led Duchess into the spot Miney had vacated. “Why are you awake?”

  “I need to sit up awhile. Heartburn.” She grimaced, shaking her finger at Diane. “No more spicy food for supper. My constitution can’t take it.”

  Diane bit back a laugh. The vegan fried rice they’d eaten nearly six hours ago had been anything but spicy. Diane suspected the real culprit was the box of Junior Mints Mother had consumed while watching television. No sense in chiding Mother with the reminder, though.

  Mother’s frown dropped to the laptop balanced on the sofa armrest. “Are you still figuring final grades?”

  “No, I finished an hour ago.”

  “But I heard you tapping on the keys until right before I got out of bed. What else are you working on?” Awareness dawned across her lined face. She dipped her head in a slow nod, as if agreeing with herself about something. “Ah. Still giving you fits, hmm?”

  Diane sighed and put the laptop back on her lap. She opened it and squinted at the unsent email. “What if he doesn’t even remember me? If he writes back ‘Who are you?’ I’ll be mortified. But I don’t want to write our whole history—short as it was—as a memory jog. I’m starting to wish I’d told Meghan to surprise him and leave me out of it.”

  Mother smiled, shaking her snowy head. “Your protective instincts wouldn’t allow it, and I’m proud of you for stepping in even though it’s hard for you to contact him.”

  Hard didn’t seem a strong enough word. After decades of squelching every thought of the man who’d fathered her child, intentionally bringing him to the forefront of her thoughts was torture. If he was still the self-centered, manipulative, apathetic person he’d been when they were in college and he took aim at her precious daughter, she wasn’t sure how she would react.

  “Why don’t you read me what you have?” Mother crossed her ankles and lifted Miney into her lap. “I’ll give you some constructive feedback.”