A Fatal Finale

by Stacey Alabaster

  I thought that maybe Blake was bluffing, but he got his cell out right there and started punching in the number. Uh oh.

  “Okay, fine! I did place the ad!” I said, grabbing the phone before he could make the call and I would be forced to pick up. But he moved away, the phone still ringing.

  He hesitated a moment, glaring at me, while the editor, Stuart, answered on the other end. “Never mind, thank you,” he said, ending the call. He placed his cell back down on the counter and I expected him to yell at me. Instead, his voice was calm and even. But there was an icy edge to it that made me gulp.

  “I can’t believe you did this behind my back, Rachael.” Simona was watching the entire thing from the sidelines with a smirk. “This time, you really have gone too far. Don’t think there won’t be consequences for this.”

  He stomped back to the kitchen and I stood there, trying to pull myself together. That had sounded like a threat.

  Maybe he was right. Maybe I shouldn’t have placed the ad behind his back, sure. But I’d just been putting out the feelers, seeing if there were any buyers interested at all. Blake would thank me in the end if I actually found someone to take this burden off our hands.

  “Blake?” I called out, sticking my head into the kitchen, expecting him to be there, perhaps sticking his head in the oven again, to clean it. He was scheduled to work until the close of day and he told me he’d lock up for the day when he was done, which would allow me to finish at three. But the kitchen was empty and only one light on. And the oven was closed.

  When I returned to the front, I found that just as empty and deserted. Simona had skipped out, leaving nothing but the echo of the bell above the door as she’d exited. No customers. No staff. I slid down into a seat and looked around my bare bakery, wondering how it had all gone so wrong. How I’d ended up sitting there all alone.

  But I didn’t have much time to ponder or to feel sorry for myself, even though a sort of existential dread was starting to creep in. Because just as I’d started to wallow, something happened that I’d never have expected.

  I heard a car pull up, with bright blue lights that shone directly through the shop windows.

  I turned around and shielded my eyes from the lights. Did the cops always have to be so obnoxious?

  Maybe they are here to arrest me. Maybe divining with crystals has been formally recognized as an investigative tool.

  But when I turned back and put my arm down, there was a man, tall and dressed in an expensive suit, at once a total stranger and the most familiar face I had ever seen.

  I slowly climbed to my feet, a warm feeling rising in my stomach and spreading up to my hair. “You’re back,” I said, catching my breath.

  It was Jackson.

  8

  I still felt like the breath hadn’t quite hit my lungs again and I answered in a jittery voice when the waitress took my order. She wrote it down and then frowned at me a little, asking if I was cold. She sounded surprised because it was a warm day and the temperature inside the restaurant was so pleasant that most people were wearing t-shirts. I shook my head and said I was fine and really hoped that Jackson hadn’t noticed my shaking.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Jackson asked. His genuine concern was also mixed with a little bit of amusement. I felt like a school girl sitting across from him, jittery and nervous but trying to pretend that it was no big deal. That I didn’t even like him.

  It was strange to hear a voice so familiar after so long. Every time he said something, I had to pause for a moment to take it in, to make sure that I had really heard it, that he was really there, that he was really speaking. I leaned back a little and crossed my arms and nodded. I may have been excited on the inside, but I was still guarded. How was I supposed to act all this time? Why had he come back to Belldale? Did it have anything to do with me?

  And the final question: did he know about the murder of Rogan? He had to know what had happened.

  Jackson laughed a little. “Well?” he asked, flashing his perfectly straight, white teeth.

  What I had wanted to do, when he’d first stepped out of the car at the bakery, was to run up to him and give him a huge hug, throw myself into his arms. I’d been feeling so low, and to see him had made my spirits rise so much that I just wanted to thank him. I’d just wanted to kiss him.

  But instead, I had held back. Partly out of awkwardness, not knowing how we were supposed to be with each other after so long, but mostly because I wasn’t sure whether he was there on personal or professional business. The lines were often blurred with the two of us. Was I a suspect, or a date?

  But there were butterflies. Excitement. Nerves.

  “I can’t believe they finally dragged you back here,” I said as the waitress delivered our drinks. “How is Belldale treating you so far?” I kept it simple and polite while the waitress placed our milkshakes on the table and I wished for a moment that it was something a little stronger so that I might be able to calm my nerves. What I really wanted to ask Jackson was, How long have you been back? Am I the first person you stopped by to see?

  The place was non-licensed and was full of mostly children and young families, hence the milkshakes and the lack of any liquor. Outside, there was an unseasonal sun shower coming down all of a sudden and I continued to shiver.

  Jackson shook his head and I could tell it was a long story. One that he might not have time to unload there in that diner. “Belldale hasn’t changed much,” he said and for a moment, I thought that meant he’d had time to see a fair bit of it since he’d gotten back and I tried to hide my disappointment. “Not that I have really had a chance to tell,” he said with a bit of a sigh as he looked around the restaurant. “Only got back this afternoon. Seems the same so far,” he said with a neutral smile.

  I sat up a little straighter and finally took in a deep breath. So, I had been the first person he’d seen since he’d gotten back. He’d come straight to me.

  It turned out that things had gotten pretty heavy out in Mornington. There had been a murder, almost a year earlier, where the victim was a woman who lived alone and the body had not been found for a few weeks. “It took months to even get a proper lead,” Jackson said, taking a sip of his milkshake. “Had the guys upstairs on my back from day one needing to get a result, and it only got worse as the case dragged on.”

  “And it’s all solved now?” I asked, leaning forward. I wasn’t sure how much he was allowed to tell me. Despite the blurred lines in our relationship, Jackson had always been pretty professional when it came to revealing details about a case. He took his job as detective very seriously. In fact, his serious nature was what both made me love him and what frustrated me at the same time. Sometimes being around him was like being around a grumpy old man. And when someone is that professional all the time, it can be difficult to crack them, to see what they are really like underneath. The human side.

  But he was different from the other men I had dated. He was thoughtful. Responsible. A grownup. He wasn’t the kind of man to chuck his job just so that he could go and play in a band, for example. When he made a commitment, he stuck to it. I was sure that whatever had gone down in Mornington must have been difficult for him. He didn’t like loose ends. And, just like me, he had never not been able to close a case before.

  He wiped his mouth on a napkin. “Not quite,” he said. For the first time, I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. “The trail ran cold. At this time, I have done all I can.”

  “But you’re back now?” I asked, needing reassurance. I leaned back a little. “For good?”

  He nodded, but I couldn’t tell whether he was happy about that or not. He still had that neutral expression. Like he was home, but he wasn’t sure whether it was home sweet home, whether it was good to be back, or whether Belldale was just going to be a drag. “I guess I’ll see how it goes,” he said noncommittally.

  I gulped down my milkshake. Maybe this was a different Jackson. The easy breezy type who just took thing
s as they came. Not quite what I wanted.

  Our food arrived. The milkshake had ruined my appetite a little, but I nibbled on my hamburger anyway.

  “So, I hear there is an unsolved case here too?” he said, taking a bite of his cheeseburger. He ever so slightly raised his eyebrows at me. I put my burger down guiltily. I would have to be insane to even wonder if he knew about Rogan. Of course he would have. Every cop in the state would know about it.

  “Yes. I suppose you have been filled in on all the gory details by now.”

  He shrugged a little. “Not quite.”

  I frowned a little and went back to my burger. His lack of interest and concern was certainly a surprise to me. Someone had been murdered in his hometown—someone connected to his ex-girlfriend—and it barely seemed to faze him. How peculiar.

  I stared out the window. “People are accusing me of doing it, Jackson. I’m not sure where I stand in this town anymore.”

  I drove past the purple farmhouse and slowed for a moment. Should I stop? My foot pressed down on the brake and I started to come to a slow, noncommittal stop. I can just say I was in the neighborhood. Not a total lie. Sure, Pippa’s house was on the other side of town to mine, but I had been driving that way to go to the farmer’s market. It wasn’t like I had driven in this direction specifically to see her. Right?

  I saw the curtain get pulled back and Pippa’s pink hair in the window. For just a moment, I caught a glimpse of her face. But she quickly pulled the curtain back and then pulled them closed even tighter.

  She didn’t want to see me.

  I didn’t know what to do, so I circled the town a few times before I realized I had driven past the police station twice. On that day, it felt like another force was controlling my body. First, it had taken me to Pippa, and now it was taking me to Jackson.

  I got closer and closer to the parking lot beside the station.

  Again, my foot started to come down on the brake pedal, even though I wasn’t sure it was a good idea. At the last moment, I was about to pull out of the lot when I noticed there was someone sitting on the curb right outside the station. Was that a drunk? A homeless person? For a moment, I wondered why no one from the force had come out to either move the person along or help them.

  The man was wearing a suit. I squinted and saw that even though the suit was crinkled, it was expensive. Jackson always favored expensive suits. I turned the engine off and started to walk toward him. It looked like he had been thrown out, the way his head was hanging and his shoulders were slumped. But it was more likely he just didn’t want to go back inside. I knew the feeling. I was avoiding the bakery. Why go inside? We had no customers. And everyone who worked there—the few who still did—hated me. Or it felt like they did.

  I walked toward him slowly, waiting for him to lift his head. Maybe I had misjudged, maybe he didn’t want to see me. Maybe he would be like Pippa, quickly pulling the curtain back and acting like she’d never seen me.

  Jackson looked up and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. “Hey,” I said, hanging back for a moment.

  “Rachael,” he said, his eyes lighting up as he realized it was me. “This is going to sound crazy, but…do you want to just get out of here for a while?”

  I let out a small sigh of relief and laughed as the smile spread over my face.

  “Of course,” I said, reaching out a hand to help him to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “What is it?” I asked as he climbed into the car. I started the engine and pulled away from the station. “The guys weren’t too happy to see you back?”

  Jackson shrugged. “I’m thinking it was more the other way around.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t like the way he kept talking, like he wanted to leave Belldale. He’d only just gotten back. Was he going to run away again already?

  “I’m thinking about giving all this up…” he muttered as he clicked in his seatbelt, nodding toward the station we were about to leave behind. “Just leaving. The force. Belldale. The whole lot of it.”

  I thought at first that maybe it was just the ramblings of a man who’d had a tough few weeks and no sleep. It was just one of those things you said, wasn’t it? That you want to give it all up. I’d said it dozens of times myself over the last few months. Sure, I’d placed the ad in the paper, but I wasn’t just about to walk away from everything I’d built over the past few years. I couldn’t just up and leave town. Could I?

  “So, um, where are we going?” Even though I was the one behind the steering wheel, I didn’t feel like I was in control of the journey. Instead of turning the car in the direction that would take us back to town, I turned it the other way. Toward the exit.

  “I know this place, about two hours south,” Jackson said. The opposite direction to Mornington, then, which wasn’t surprising. He paused for a moment. “Lakes Entrance. I know how this is going to sound, but my family has a cottage there that we barely use.” He sounded a little embarrassed. “It’s right by the lake and surrounded by a wetland reserve. Just sitting there empty.”

  “How is that meant to sound?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral.

  Jackson laughed a little self-consciously while I headed for the turnoff. Were we really going all the way to Lakes Entrance? I’d never actually visited the place before, but I’d read about it in tourist brochures. “Well, makes it sound like we are rich, doesn’t it? A beautiful property just sitting out on the lake, that is just collecting dust on the inside.”

  I shrugged, still heading for the turnoff but feeling as uncertain as I was excited. I was thrilled at the prospect of a road trip, just the two of us.

  “So, you mean, just for a drive?” I wondered out loud. “Will we be back for dinner? Because I really need to let Sue know. It’s my night to cook.”

  Jackson shook his head. “No, not tonight,” he said, a slightly wild look there in his eyes. “I was being serious before, Rachael. Let’s just escape for a little while.”

  I had already turned the car onto the highway and Belldale was already disappearing in the rearview mirror.

  “I don’t have any bags packed,” I said, realizing how unprepared I was.

  “We can stop on the way for anything that you need.” Jackson shot me a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I bought my credit card with me.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded, shooting him a laugh. “Let’s do this then,” I said, hitting the gas pedal. “Let’s have an adventure.”

  The two-hour drive to Lakes Entrance seemed to fly by. As the fields grew greener and the sea got closer, I started to tell Jackson about the time I was a child and thought I could communicate with fairies. “My cousin Lacy was the one who introduced me to them,” I said with a laugh. “She lives not too far from where we’re headed actually. When we were both eight, we were like sisters. She came to me one day, in my garden, and told me that she was holding a fairy in her hands. But that I would only see it if I really believed it was there…” I trailed off for a moment, thinking about Tegan and her ‘powers.’

  “For a while, I did believe,” I said. “Lacy told me we each had a fairy guide, and that if I ever wanted to see mine, I had to look on top of the lake, because that is where they danced. But one day, another girl at school teased me for my beliefs and I never saw the fairies again.” I wondered if maybe I had been too harsh on Tegan.

  Jackson had been very quiet. I glanced over at him for a response. I’d thought he was going to laugh at me, but instead, he listened to the story carefully and replied with pursed lips and a little nod. “Well, often children are more sensitive to these things than adults are. Who knows what it is you saw?”

  I laughed a little and turned my attention back to the road. “Well, I appreciate your open-minded attitude. But I’m quite sure now that it was all my imagination.” I looked at the forest passing us to the left. “Although there are some people who are a little more intense when it comes to this…sort of stuff. They never grow out of believing it.” I
hadn’t meant for my voice to grow so bitter and I tried to smile and brush it off. But Jackson could tell that something was upsetting me and asked what it was.

  “I suppose there are reasons that I want to escape Belldale as well,” I said to him. “You are not the only one. I was driving around aimlessly today, before I found you.”

  He had a gentle expression. “What happened, Rach? Is it all the Rogan stuff?”

  “Yes and no,” I replied, taking a deep breath before I explained everything to him. The way everything had played out, the diving profits, the argument with Blake, and of course, the horrible night at my house when Sue had prepared the trifle.

  Jackson was shocked when I told him the story about my falling out with Pippa. We’d fought before, of course, and Jackson had been around for many of those fights. But those were just the usual squabbles between best friends, when tempers flared and feelings got hurt. This time, feelings weren’t just hurt. Pippa had actually accused me of killing a person. It wasn’t just the words and the accusation that had hurt. It was the fact that she really believed I was capable of that. That she didn’t even know me at all. That our friendship of nearly twenty years amounted to nothing. How could she just leave me all alone like this, right when I needed her the most?

  “The two of you will work it out?” Jackson said, but it was a question. I knew why he would say that. We always had in the past. He was just going off the evidence that he had seen.

  I shook my head. “We won’t. She doesn’t want to see me. I’ve tried.” I hung my head a little and gripped the steering wheel.

  “And what about you? How do you feel?” Jackson asked.

  It was funny, I hadn’t really thought about that so much. I’d been so focused on how Pippa felt. About how she would never want to speak to me again. About how she had rejected me when I had driven by her farmhouse. But when I was asked the question, I looked over at him and had to admit something. After what she had done, and the way she had reacted since that night at dinner, I didn’t think it was all a one-way street. Even if Pippa hadn’t pulled the curtain closed that day, what would I have said to her? Would I have really wanted to make things right with her?