by Brenda Novak
“We have only a couple of days to get ready for Robin Strauss,” he said, obviously trying to distract himself.
“From the state?”
He nodded.
“We’ll be ready,” she promised. At least she could help him with that.
* * *
Sly was at the gym on Tuesday morning when his phone started to buzz. Pete was trying to reach him. They both had the day off, were going to the range later. They often went target shooting—if not at the range, where they had to put in a certain number of hours to remain on the force, then out in the mountains, where they shot things up for fun. Although they probably spent equal time developing their skills, Sly took great pride in the fact that he was the better marksman.
Because he was lifting, he let the call transfer to voice mail so he could finish his curls. He would’ve waited to call Pete back until he was on his way home, so he wouldn’t be interrupted and could finish quicker, but Pete seemed determined to reach him. When the phone rang again, Sly slouched onto the weight bench where he’d left his phone and answered.
“What’s up?”
“Where are you?” Pete replied.
Sly straightened his right leg to admire the definition in his quads. He looked good. The Stanozolol he’d been taking was making a big difference. “Charlie’s Fitness, why?”
“I just stopped by your place.”
“But we weren’t supposed to get together until after lunch...”
“I know. I have something to tell you. I hope you’re sitting down.”
This sounded ominous. Sly dropped his foot back to the mats that covered the floor. “Is there a problem?”
“There might be. When I went in to the station this morning to finish a report I was supposed to turn in yesterday, I overheard a snatch of conversation I don’t think you’re gonna like.”
Sly wasn’t too worried. He grabbed his towel, which he always left on the bench with his phone while he lifted, and wiped the sweat from his face. “I’m sure you were getting an earful. Chief Thomas is still pissed at me for what happened at Lolita’s on Sunday, but don’t worry about it. I’m having dinner at his place tonight so that we can discuss my ‘recent behavior,’ as he put it. I’ll just tell him about all the shit Sadie’s been putting me through, how she’s been playing me hot and then cold, sleeping around when I think we’re getting back together and trying to turn my own kid against me, and he’ll understand. What man wouldn’t? Thomas might curse and yell, but he’s always got our backs. That’s what’s important on the force, right? Solidarity. He says it himself all the time—we’re stronger if we stand together.”
“Thomas will come around,” Pete agreed. “He always does. But...this is something else.”
Sly tossed the towel aside. “The complaint Sadie filed against me? I already know about that. Thomas called me first thing.” He laughed without humor. “She’s got her nerve, man, thinking anyone at that station would take her side over mine.”
“No, it’s not that, either, buddy. If you’ll just listen...”
Sly felt his first trickle of unease. What else could there be? “Fine. I’m all ears,” he said. “Shoot.”
“There’s a guy, a Damian Steele, coming from LA. Sounded like he was some kind of forensics specialist, so—”
“Are we still trying to gather evidence on the Reed murders?” Sly broke in, hoping he’d figured it out at last. If so, that was a good thing. He’d love nothing more than to see Dawson Reed go to prison for the rest of his life, or worse. Without him standing in the way, providing food and shelter and work for Sadie, she wouldn’t be acting the way she was. She’d have nowhere to turn, would be down on her knees, begging him to take her back.
“I thought maybe that was the case, too. It’s killing me that he’s running around town as if he’s as innocent as everyone else. But when I looked up this Damian dude on the internet, I found out that he’s an arson investigator. A good one.”
Sly’s stomach plummeted to his feet. “What’d you say?”
“You heard me.” There was a moment of silence, then he said, “That’s not a problem, is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Sadie’s telling everyone you had something to do with the fire. After what I saw at the diner, I thought... I don’t know. I thought maybe you did do something stupid.”
“Hell, no. Of course not. I’m not an idiot.”
“Whew! I’m relieved.”
“You thought I might have...”
“Not really. You just...haven’t been yourself lately, that’s all. Sadie...she’s gotten inside your head.”
Sly was reeling so badly he was having a difficult time sounding convincing. He’d been so careful that night. But...had he left anything behind? “That’s bullshit. I can’t believe you’d even consider it.”
“Yeah. You’re right. Sorry, bro. Doesn’t matter who comes to town. Just wanted you to know—in case.”
“I appreciate that. So...the department is hiring someone else? An outsider?”
“Not the department. Thomas was surprised by the call. He tried to say we had it covered, but the guy must’ve convinced him he had some right to see the property, because Chief Thomas set up a time to meet him there.”
“When?”
“Noon on Thursday.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, kicking over his water bottle. “We don’t need no outsider meddling in our business.”
“Yeah. No one likes it much, but it is what it is.”
Sly took a moment to process everything he’d just heard. “The weird thing is...if we didn’t hire him, who did? The fire department?”
“Doubt it. They don’t have the money for that kind of thing, not for a fire where no one was actually hurt.”
“Is it Maude, then? She’s got money. Is she not satisfied with the investigation?”
“The landlady? Come on. She wouldn’t think to call in a specialist. Anyway, her homeowner’s policy will pay to rebuild whether it was arson or not.”
“Whoever invited this guy has to be paying a lot. Someone like Damian Steele is an important man. He’s not going to drop everything and drive out here on his own dime,” he started, then stopped. Son of a bitch! It was Dawson Reed. It had to be.
That prick was coming after him.
21
Dawson spent a long two days trying to make up for the time he’d lost over the weekend, but thanks to the desire he felt for Sadie, which he was trying so hard not to act upon, the nights were longer still. He’d managed to get through them, however, managed to make it all the way to Tuesday night—which felt like a real accomplishment—but now he was facing another hurdle. The time had come to clean his parents’ bedroom. He couldn’t put it off any longer.
As he stood in the hallway, staring at that locked door with the cleaning supplies in a bucket at his feet, he would’ve procrastinated yet again if he could have. But he had no excuse to do so. Just yesterday he’d spoken to the forensics specialist he’d hired. Ed hadn’t learned anything from the samples he’d collected quite yet, said it would be several weeks before the results came in, but he’d reiterated that he was done with the bedroom.
The only thing stopping Dawson from cleaning it was his own reluctance. Why didn’t he allow Eli and Gavin to handle the gruesome task for him? Then he wouldn’t have to face his feelings, could continue to compartmentalize his grief.
He looked down at his hands. They felt awkward and clumsy, and he hadn’t even inserted the key. He’d stood in the same spot many times and managed his emotions just fine, but this was different. He had to actually open the door, couldn’t shove the memory of what was inside into the back of his mind and walk away, like before.
Downstairs, he heard Sadie and Jayden come into the ho
use. They were back from the store. Already. He’d thought he’d have more time, didn’t want to be doing this with them in the house. But the woman from the state would be here first thing in the morning. He could easily imagine what she’d think if she found the murder scene pretty much as the police left it. She wouldn’t understand the conflicting emotions that made him so reluctant, wouldn’t understand that washing away the last of his parents’ blood somehow erased them, too—or what was left of them—when he hadn’t quite let go, couldn’t let go until he’d found the person who murdered them. She’d merely assume he wasn’t coping as well as he should be, and she’d decide that Angela would be better off remaining at Stanley DeWitt.
He closed his eyes as he listened to Jayden downstairs.
“Want me to carry it, Mommy?”
“No, honey. It’s too heavy for you. Here, let me.”
“I can do it!”
“No, you get the other one. There’s nothing that can get broken in there.”
Planning to go in and lock the door behind him, before Jayden and Sadie could even realize he was in the house, Dawson picked up the cleaning supplies, removed the key from his pocket and, with a sigh, inserted it into the lock. He had to do this, and he had to do it now. He couldn’t let Angela down. He’d already let his parents down by picking up that hitchhiker. If he hadn’t done that, they’d probably still be around and Angela wouldn’t be in an institution—
He froze in the open doorway. There was no blood spatter on the walls or bed, no overturned or broken furniture, no mangled lamp. Even the smell was different—not musty stale but tinged with disinfectant.
His gaze shifted from the bed frame, which no longer had its mattress (the police had taken that when the crime occurred and never brought it back), to the drapes flapping near the open window, to the dresser where what hadn’t been broken and removed had been carefully arranged.
“Sadie?” he called.
He heard her tell Jayden he could have only one of something before footfalls indicated she was climbing the stairs.
He turned as she stepped into the room behind him.
“I didn’t realize you’d come in from the fields.” Her eyes dropped to the cleaning supplies before returning to his face.
He gestured around him. “Did you do this?” It had to be her, didn’t it? Unless, while the three of them were in LA, she’d let the Turner boys come in, there was no one else.
She seemed a little nervous when she nodded, as if she feared she might’ve overstepped.
“When?”
She cleared her throat. “After you were asleep last night I got the key off your dresser, where you put...well, where you put all the stuff from your pockets when you undress.”
He couldn’t believe she’d found a time when he was unconscious enough not to hear her. He felt as if he’d spent most of the past two nights hoping she’d visit his room, but for very different reasons than to pick up a key. “Why?”
She averted her gaze. “Because I knew it had to be done, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to do it. I hope... I hope it doesn’t upset you that I was so...presumptuous. I was afraid if I offered, you’d only turn me down—like you did Eli and Gavin.”
“I would’ve turned you down. It couldn’t have been easy to...to do what you did.”
“It wasn’t.” She wiped her palms on her jeans as if she was still trying to get the blood off. “It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”
“I didn’t mean for you to get stuck with the job. I told you in the beginning that I didn’t expect you to take on something like...like this. That it wasn’t part of your duties.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I was planning to do it myself.”
“I’m just glad you don’t have to.” She touched his arm. “Thanks for everything you’ve done for me,” she said softly, and taking the bucket away from him, she carried it back downstairs.
Dawson closed the door before walking over to the window. He hadn’t cried since the murders occurred. He’d been too damn angry. He didn’t want to break down now; he just couldn’t help it. A tear rolled down each cheek as he stared at the box spring that no longer had a mattress. His parents were really gone, completely out of the house. He’d known that acknowledgment would be hard. But it was Sadie’s kindness that had been his undoing.
* * *
While Jayden watched cartoons, Sadie put away the cleaning supplies and unpacked the items she’d purchased—the hamper she’d been meaning to get for Dawson, a few groceries for the meals she had planned in the next few days and some more underwear and clothes for Jayden. She hadn’t heard Dawson come out of his parents’ bedroom even though there wasn’t anything left to be done in there. As difficult as it had been to see the blood, the missing mattress, the broken lamp and the hatchet marks on the headboard and wall, all of which had made the details of the killing so much more vivid, she’d ignored the reality of what she was doing and scoured that place from top to bottom.
So what was he doing now? Was it just that she couldn’t hear his footsteps above the TV?
After she put the butter, cream and chicken breasts in the fridge, she walked to the base of the stairs and gazed up. The door was closed, but she was pretty sure he hadn’t come out. Was he okay? She didn’t want to intrude, but she was beginning to wonder if she should check on him, see if he needed a little consolation.
Her phone went off before she could decide whether to go up. She thought it might be Lolita from the restaurant. She’d been waiting to hear all about her boss’s meeting with Chief Thomas, but it was her landlady, Maude.
“Maude, how are you?” she said.
“Fine. More important, how are you and Jayden?”
Because she and Maude had checked on each other before, Sadie knew this was merely an intro to something more important than the usual small talk. She figured Maude had some information from the insurance company or an estimate from the police on how much longer it would be before they could start the cleanup and reconstruction phase. “We’re okay, thanks to Dawson.”
At the mention of Dawson’s name, Maude hesitated. Sadie knew her former landlady wasn’t quite comfortable with Sadie’s new situation. But Maude couldn’t complain too loudly. Sadie was a grown woman and could make her own decisions. “Sly’s very unhappy that you’re staying out there with the Reeds’ son,” she said at length, shifting the concern to Sadie’s ex so she didn’t have to claim it herself.
After checking to make sure Jayden was still glued to the TV, Sadie walked toward the back of the house and slipped inside the bathroom off the porch so that her voice wouldn’t carry upstairs. “How do you know?”
“He came by here a few minutes ago.”
“Why’d he do that? Please don’t tell me he’s part of the investigation.” She immediately assumed he was there to destroy any evidence he might’ve left behind. “Or did he just want to see what was left of the house?”
“He didn’t even go in back. He came to talk to me.”
Sadie sat on the edge of the tub/shower combo. “What’d he have to say?”
“He told me that Dawson has hired a special arson investigator to determine the origin and cause of the fire.”
Sadie curled her fingernails into her palm. So her ex knew. She’d wondered if and when he’d find out about Damian Steele—and how he’d react once he did.
“Is that true?” Maude asked when Sadie didn’t volunteer a response.
“Yes.” She’d tried to tell Dawson not to spend the money. But once they’d returned from LA, and he’d gone onto the computer to show her more of the website belonging to the investigator he’d found who wasn’t even that far away, she hadn’t been able to refuse. If they could prove Sly was responsible for the fire, he’d never be able to get custody of Jayden. “I feel it’s important,” she
explained.
“Who’s paying for it?”
“Dawson. For now. You know I don’t have the money. But I’m going to pay him back. It’s just a loan.”
“Are you sure it’s necessary to spend the money in the first place, Sadie? You can’t seriously believe that Sly might be responsible for what happened.”
Sadie gripped the phone tighter. “Sly told you we think he set the fire?”
“Yes. He was insulted, upset. Swore he would never do such a thing, that he loves the two of you and, as a police officer, he’d never willfully destroy property, etc., etc. He was quite impassioned.”
And convincing, obviously. “He’s a pretender, Maude. He’s pretended our whole marriage to be far more law-abiding than he is. Trust me, he’ll do what he thinks he can get away with. And he thinks he can get away with this.”
“Has he ever hurt you?” she asked, sounding unsure.
“Not yet. But he’s done plenty to lead me to believe that he’s capable of it. One was starting that fire.”
“Why would he risk the lives of people he loves?”
“Because he didn’t think he was risking us. He made sure I was awake, remember?”
“But what about his career?”
“Like I said, he did it because he believed he could get away with it. He never expected me to have the resources to hire my own investigator. He thought destroying the home I was living in would leave me with no choice except to come back to him.”
“You wouldn’t have had the resources without Dawson. But are you sure you can trust him? I mean...it seems to me that you have things backward here, Sadie. We’ve known Sly for years. Whatever his faults might be, I’m convinced he loves you. He’s also on the police force. That should give him some credibility. At least he’s never been accused of murder!”