“I sort of went out with him last night.” I stretched my jaw and grabbed the back of my neck.
Sam’s eyes grew wide and he massaged his chin before he walked toward the back stairs. “I see.” He hesitated. “Officers, again, I thank you for taking the time to come out. That will be all.”
I looked at Andrew.
His partner tore off the piece of paper he’d been scratching down details and put it in his pocket. “Come on, man.”
Andrew nodded. “I’ll be there in a minute.” He walked me to the grass. “Sarah, I don’t think you should let this go. I feel like that guy knows something. Your car is seriously fried.”
I looked up to where Sam stood, looking at me from the top step. His hand rested on the doorknob. As screwy as it sounded not to turn it over, I trusted that Sam could take care of it. I hoped it wasn’t straight naiveté. I was known to be the queen some days.
“Andrew, believe it or not, Sam has a lot of pull and knows a lot of people. He probably has someone on staff who will make it their job to find out who did it. Maybe your partner is right—maybe they thought my car was Sam’s.” I smiled, trying to put Andrew at ease. “He’s not the type who would know something and not say it. If I need you, I’ll call.”
He shook his head and tapped the top of his sidearm. He looked so freaking cute, all dressed up in guns and Tasers. And crap. Law enforcement was certainly a profession I’d yet to date. Not to mention his crazy blue eyes. They were the type that I could get lost in. If I stared long enough. For some reason, I wasn’t loitering on this one. Why, for God’s sake, wasn’t I?
“Is that speaking both in a professional manner, as well as a personal manner? Did you get my text?”
I could see his partner in the police cruiser, waiting. “I did. It was really sweet.” I swayed like a fifth grader.
“So?”
“So?” So I couldn’t remember it verbatim. Give me a break. My car was nose-diving here in front of me. Then, of course, I had the guy on the steed who just came riding up to the crime scene, looking as if he was worried, and might save me.
“I would like to take you out again. This time I promise not to monopolize the conversation.”
As if. The guy was all that and a bag of chips. Salty ones. Just like I liked. Or used to like. Who knew what I liked. Now I was suddenly into the old russets. Baked Lays, the good-for-you ones.
“I would love nothing more than another date with you, Andrew.” I bit my bottom lip. “Can I call you?”
He smiled like a bag of chips would…taunting their addictive capabilities, flashing the guarantee you just can’t eat one. “I’ll be waiting.”
“Sarah?” Sam called out.
Ah, yes. My sexy bag of russets was pinching me from my daydreams of Andrew. The man in the three-piece suit at the top of the stairs was waiting for me to join him. I took a deep breath.
“Andrew, thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming out. Crazy to think of all the officers it would be you.” I touched his arm. It seemed to relax him.
“I don’t have a good feeling about agreeing not to make a report, Sarah.” He kicked at a stray rock, and looked at me with the seriousness of a dad to a daughter who was going on her first date. “I think you’re a rare find. I kicked myself all night for not kissing you goodnight. For not saying things, for not bumping into you just to make contact.” His intense stare held my attention. “It won’t happen again.”
Swoon. I smiled, hoping it wasn’t a toothy grin, as if I were demented. Which incidentally, I felt I was becoming. Too. Much. Of. A. Good. Thing.
He got in the car with his partner and watched me until they reversed out. I closed my eyes, wondered what was going on with the crazy universe, and ran up the stairs.
“Are you keeping your eyes closed?” Sam led me by the hand down the back door stairs.
“Yes.” I cautiously took step by step until we made it to the bottom. Slowly I opened my eyes, and in the driveway was a brand-new Mercedes. It was a sports utility version. Dark gray, chrome trim, tan interior, and totally not me. But boy was it nice for someone else who was worthy and pretentious enough to drive a vehicle that cost enough to sustain a small village for a year or two.
“Sam.” I grabbed my mouth. “What in the world?”
“Your car is unfortunately done, Sarah. The guy at the garage said the most you could salvage was a few parts. The engine was fried. I thought you’d like this in its place.” He guided me to it and handed off a key.
Sophie squealed and ran for the back door to get inside.
“I can’t drive this. What if it gets nicked, bumped, or splashed with acid? No, I’m prepared to rent something until I find a car.” I handed him back the fob. “Dad already checked with my uncle, who supplies us with our insurance. I have ten days’ worth of a free rental while searching for a new car…well, a used car.”
“This is for you, Sarah.” He took my hand and pushed the key back into it. “I won’t take no for an answer. You need something safe to transport Sophie.”
“So then this is really a loaner for you…to transport your daughter.” That made me feel better.
“It’s yours. Why are you making it into something? Take us for a spin.”
“I don’t have my license, and Sophie’s seat is in the garage.”
“I had them put a new one in. And no one is going to pull us over just riding around here.”
I shrugged and walked to get in while he buckled in Sophie. The new car smell nearly knocked me out. Only the finest cow was sacrificed to fill in the interior of this baby. Actually, several cows probably. I’m not sure, but it looked as if the floor mats were even donning the leathery veins. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say I didn’t miss the knock of my car and the sticky brakes that I prayed would be nice to me and stop eventually.
“See? This is better, isn’t it?” He seemed to be proud of his purchase.
“It’s amazing. And I will agree to transport Sophie in it, but I’m still checking into the loss of my car and what I can put toward a new one.”
“Let’s talk about that later.” He stared out the window.
Thank goodness for acid. Of course I didn’t think that at the specific time my car was singeing, but it seemed to put a hold on all the serious talk that happened last night in Sam’s office. And all the other stuff that went on in Sam’s office. I pretended to be very displaced at dinner. Shoving pots and pans, cursing the salad for drowning the tomatoes. I even made sure I was the one to tuck in Sophie for bed, reading an extra-long book. I looked both ways down the hall and scurried to my room, locked the door, and kept very quiet. I just wasn’t ready to give Sam an answer whether I would like to dip my toe in the water of complicating our living arrangement with free range kissing and an end to my online dating. Imagine that! I was hiding from someone who wanted to discuss commitment. On some level, I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.
Ping.
I looked down at my phone on the bed. Holy crap. It was Andrew.
I enjoyed seeing you today. Perhaps I can enjoy seeing you tomorrow?
I did that teenage, giddy act where I jumped up and down a few times, smiling from ear to ear. What was I thinking? Not less than twenty-four hours ago, I was being forced against a wall and enjoying what could’ve been Andrew’s goodnight kiss…but actually it was Sam who was inside my mouth, massaging my back, making me purr. For a girl who was in search of a wholesome relationship with tons of longevity, I was acting like a complete floozy.
My fingers hovered over the keypad. What to write…? Finally I decided on something.
Super busy day tomorrow, but I also enjoyed seeing you today.
Text messaging is so dangerous. A blow-off could come across hopeful, and hopes could come across as “whatever.” I’m not sure how he would be taking my brilliant comment. But I couldn’t see him tomorrow. It felt weird. As if I had to clear it with Sam, or something. One mess at a time.
Maybe I’ll
catch you then on another crime scene. Have a good night.
Have a good night? The last boyfriend who texted me “have a good night” was…I’m not sure. It’d been so long since I’d had decent relationship talk I was fading fast with my recollection. Rob, I do remember, was a bit more crude in his nighttime messaging.
My fingers wavered as I decided whether to write something back. Clearly he stamped the end of the conversation with “have a good night.” I would only prolong it with “have a good night, too.” No. I let it go, turned out my lamp and plopped on the bed.
Another sleepless night awaited.
“Yes, Mary. This is Patrick at the front. There is a Ms. Sarah Keller here to see Mr. Turner. Should I send her up?”
I looked around at the place. This was where Sam worked—or rather, owned? The name on the sign outside actually did say something Turner or other. But oh my gosh, this place was a museum. Multi-colored marble with shiny specks, white columns you’d see in some sort of Parthenon on encyclopedia pages, and heavy wood trim on all the little door openings—make that big door openings. Huge door openings, ones you could easily squeeze twin elephants through at the same time. It was a place to see on a field trip, not to come to work.
“She’s sending someone to come and take you to Mr. Turner,” said the guy, in his blue suit and striped tie, at the front desk.
I nodded and smiled. Sam texted me his address and told me to come by after lunch. Maybe he waited for me at breakfast, and figured he’d bait me out of my room one way or another. Who knows—maybe he wanted to fire me for not getting back to him on the whole “can we try this thing out.” And the workplace was neutral enough to do it here.
“Patrick where is she? Did she leave? I had to stop at the restroom for all of thirty seconds. Oh my gosh, she left.”
I turned to see a girl, almost out of breath, pulling at the neckline of her blue cardigan set. Her pants were gray—the crease on the front of them looked like a traffic line. She wore a matching hair ribbon, the color of her cardigan set. Patrick nodded toward me. She turned three shades of red. It was progressive, starting as a light pink and ending in stoplight, apple red.
“I’m so sorry. Please follow me.” She tucked her chin and guided me to the back hall.
“Don’t feel bad, please. There were a lot of people out there. It could’ve been any one of us, really.” I tried to keep up with her pace. Her feet might’ve been ballerina small, but they moved pretty quickly.
She turned slightly and slowed her pace. “It’s just that I thought…I thought…they said to come and get… You know what, never mind. Just follow me.”
Okay, so now I needed to know who I was referred as to go and get. I’m pretty sure I heard Patrick announce me by name. What was code for Sarah?
I reached out and touched her sleeve. “I’m Sarah. And you are?”
She turned and stopped before we made it to the first doorway. “I’m Erin.”
Her small smile spread an inch and a half wide. She would be easy to crack. I had such a problem with not leaving something alone that really bugged me. And when she came to get me, I could tell she wasn’t expecting who she saw.
“So, who exactly did they tell you to go and get?”
She bit her lip and turned to walk. I two-stepped to catch up. “I’m just curious. No big deal, really. I know—did they say I was Sam’s mother or something and you thought I’d be older?” Crap, I think his mother is deceased.
“Not exactly, ma’am.”
Well, that’s something I’ve never been called. “Who then? Who were you expecting?”
She stopped and looked to the ground. “I’m Erin. You know, the girl who has been fetching copies, coffee, and making sure the copy room is adequately supplied with paper, cartridges, and paper clips. They just promoted me to assistant to the assistant.” She fidgeted with her charm on her silver necklace. “I mean, I’ve only seen Mr. Turner’s girlfriend once, twice at the most. I don’t even know her by name. And then I get this task today of booking a hotel room and the name is Sarah Keller, so I just assume.” She was practically in tears. I had to place my hand on her shoulder to calm her down. “And then they say come and get Sarah Keller, and anyway, you aren’t his girlfriend.” She cupped her hands over her mouth and her little eyes popped wide. “I’m sorry. I’ll probably be back in the copy room after this. His…his…” She put her hand over her mouth.
“What?” The girl made no sense. And the white hallway we stood in was so white and bright, it made my eyes bleed a little. Or maybe it was Erin and all her babbling. Hotel room?
“Please forget I said a thing.” She grabbed my arm with her little cold hand. “It’s a matter of copy room attendant, and having a desk with five drawers. I love my desk. I’ve put a picture of my dog, Russell, on the corner of it. I even have one of the staplers I inventoried last fall on it, too.”
“I would never think of you going back to a copy room. But let me get this straight.” I talked slow because I was thinking slow. “You booked a room in my name, thinking it was his girlfriend, who has visited a few times, and then I showed up, using my name, but I didn’t match said girlfriend who has visited in the past.”
“Exactly.”
“Wow.” I leaned against the windowsill in the hall, trying to take it all in. “So what did she look like?”
“Who?”
“Mr. Turner’s girlfriend.”
“Like you in a way. Dark hair, pretty hair and smile.” She shook her head. “Yep, you all could be sisters.”
“Hmmm.” I was always curious. Although I imagined an older woman, probably one who wore hats with colored feathers stuck in them. Stubby nose, small-set eyes, and wore pant suits. Okay, maybe skirts, but someone completely unattractive. It was easier to imagine someone like that over someone with long legs, no need to wear Spanx, and a chest like Betty Boop.
“So you don’t know her name?” Come on, Erin. I needed a name at this point, so I could stalk her on Facebook. Look at pictures of them together as a couple. See whether I was jealous or whether it was like I was seeing pictures of William and Kate, for whom I cold stare at all day long. Now there was a wholesome couple. There was no way that girl had a Facebook account.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know her name.” She lowered her head and frowned.
“No need in feeling bad, Erin. I think you’ve done very well with what you knew. Now, this will be our secret and you can take me on to Sam.”
Erin took a deep breath and smiled.
Sam had some explaining to do about a hotel room. Maybe he was putting me up in one until I found a place to live. And this was why I should’ve never kissed that man. Nothing but trouble.
“I do remember something!” Erin stopped walking and turned around. “She didn’t come here often, but there was this once I remember seeing her in yoga pants. And I say this because she was usually dressed very smart.” Erin waved her hand, trying to stay on track. “Anyway, she seemed to be very upset. After the yelling was over, she slammed his door and took out of here.” Erin had become very animated about the whole scene, using her arms and moving her eyebrows up and down. “And all of us came into the hall to see what was going on.”
Hmm…crazy lady. I sort of understood that from the night at Sam’s house. Mark that on the con side of the list—crazy ex.
In no time, we were in front of Sam’s secretary, Mary. The one who obviously gives the command for subordinates to fetch girlfriends.
“Here she is.” Erin turned and smiled at me before she left. “Have a great time. And I hope you enjoy the show,” she whispered.
Okay, so she knew a little more than toner and rubber bands these days. How many people did Sam have in his personal life? And how was it she didn’t know the name of the girlfriend?
“Please go in.” Mary raised her hand and pointed to the massive doorway that I guessed led to Sam.
“Thanks.”
I opened the door to find Sam at his desk, ta
lking on the phone. He held up the universal sign for “one second.” I smiled and looked around. A heavy trimmed coffered ceiling held up a large chandelier, and the window furnishings were a mix between green and blue. Tassels held them back from closing. Sam’s desk was historic-looking, to match the scheme of everything else. There were pictures of older, important-looking guys on the walls. Some seemed to be from the era of George Washington.
Sam looked small sitting behind his desk. I took a seat on the tufted chair that matched the drapery. A pitcher of water sat on the bookcase behind him.
“Sorry about that. I’ve been very inundated with last-minute things.” He stood and walked around to me. “So I see you’re carrying flowers, again. It reminds me of the first time we met.”
“I remember. Gee, that was so long ago.” I smiled.
“I opened the door and thought, who is this girl and why is she carrying flowers?”
“And I thought, who is this man, and why is he drinking like it’s a Friday night, when it was only a Wednesday evening?”
“I was going through a lot.”
“So I gathered. Lest we forget the…no, let’s forget that, indeed.”
He looked down at his shoes.
“But while we’re in the neighborhood of remembering, recalling, and yada, yada, yada. Funny thing happened just now.”
“Yeah, what?”
“I was sort of mistaken for your girlfriend. You didn’t tell me she was young and adorable.” I did my best impression of a kewpie doll.
“So on to the reason I asked you to come down.” He was bypassing that bait and moving right to the point. But I wanted him to gnaw on the worm I just cast on my line, a little bit longer.
“So what’s her name? You know, just so I can look up her picture. I’m sure she’s got to have something portraying herself out there in cyberspace. A LinkedIn account, a rap sheet, something I can look at and compare myself to.” Did I really say that out loud?
“Sarah, don’t. It’s over.”
Searching For Sarah (The Sarah Series Book 1) Page 13