by Connie Mann
“I’ll think about it.” She sped off.
He shook his head. He’d never understand women, Sasha Petrov least of all. But dang, that haughty-yet-vulnerable look got to him every time. Always had. He sighed and went to work. Probably always would, too.
He had the second tire off when that familiar tingle slid down his back. He was being watched. He stood slowly and stretched his back, studying the tidy cottages on either side, but he didn’t see a curtain twitch or anyone outside. Just because he didn’t see them didn’t mean someone wasn’t there. He hadn’t known he had that early-warning system until it had saved his life in jail, more than once. He supposed he should be grateful.
After several minutes, he went back to wrestling with the tires. But he positioned himself so he had a clear view of the street, with the cottage at his back. Just in case.
Chapter 5
Sasha drove back into town, hands clenched on the steering wheel and gearshift. Why had Jesse’s simple question rattled her so badly? It wasn’t like she didn’t get asked to dinner on a semiregular basis. This was different. This was Jesse. And Jesse mattered. He always had.
She could never risk hurting Jesse.
Her cell phone rang, and she tugged it out of the pocket of her shorts, too late to answer the call from Eve. She’d call her back when she got to the police station. Half a mile later, Eve called again.
By the time she pulled into the parking lot, it rang a third time.
“What? I’m driving, here.”
“Why didn’t you answer?” Eve demanded.
“And hello to you, too, Sister. I can’t talk on a doggone cell phone and drive stick, OK?”
“Sorry. Why didn’t you call me?”
Sasha held the phone out and stared at it for a moment. “Seriously? Weren’t you supposed to call me when you got back to DC?”
“Oh, sorry. Forgot. So what did you find out? Do you have the files yet?”
“Back up. You read me the riot act when you’re the one who forgot to call?”
Eve sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. As soon as I landed, I got a call from work and I’ve been going nonstop ever since.”
“It happens. Just remember to cut me the same kind of slack you expect.”
Another sigh. “Touché. So, anything?”
“I’m heading in now. Officer Stanton called and said he had the file.”
“Call me as soon as—”
“Bye, Eve. Gotta go.”
Her phone rang again before she reached the reception desk, so she turned the ringer off and tucked the phone back into her pocket.
“I appreciate your calling me right away, Officer Stanton.”
He smiled. “We’re not that formal around here. Call me Nick. I admit your request made me curious. I haven’t been here long enough to know a lot about our old cases, so I wanted to look myself.” He handed her an envelope and she untied the string holding it closed.
“You’re welcome to sit in the conference room if you’d like.”
She nodded and followed him down the hallway, her stomach churning with a greasy mix of anticipation and dread.
“Have you lived here long?” she asked, trying to keep the past at bay. Police stations always reminded her of the awful time after her family died in the car wreck back in Russia. She still didn’t know how she survived the accident. Afterward, at the police station, she was terrified and so very cold, but the policemen got in her face, demanding answers to questions she didn’t understand, asking about people she’d never heard of, making it sound like everything was somehow her papa’s fault. Even at nine years old, she knew better. It had been her fault, but she hadn’t been able to get the words past her tears.
Sasha blinked and forced her mind back to the present.
“I came about two years ago. Chad Everson and I went to college together. He called me when a job opened up on the force and, well, here I am. I like it here.”
She gave Papa’s mariner’s cross a quick kiss as they entered the conference room. Goose bumps that had nothing to do with the air conditioning popped up on her arms.
Nick pulled out a chair for her. “Would you like me to go over it with you? Cops sometimes use their own kind of shorthand.”
Grateful suddenly not to be doing this alone, Sasha nodded. She swallowed hard as Nick pulled the contents from the envelope and spread them out on the table.
She picked up a photo of three-year-old Tony in Pop’s arms and stared. She looked back and forth between father and son, and Pop’s reluctance suddenly made sense.
“I hadn’t realized he looked so much like Pop.” They’d all been concerned about Mama, but what must it have been like for Pop to lose his son?
Nick sat beside her and leaned closer. He smelled good, like some spicy aftershave, but being around him was nothing like the electric current that hovered in the air when she and Jesse were this close.
“There isn’t much, is there?” Sasha asked. The envelope held a scant handful of pages.
“From what I gathered, there was never much to go on.” He picked up one of the pages. “This is the first page of the report, with the date, responding officer, reason for the call, et cetera.”
Sasha scanned the page. “Wait, Chief Monroe was the one who responded?”
He shook his head. “No, this was Chief Monroe’s father, right before he became chief. He was lead on the case.”
Sasha started reading, the brief listing of events a stark contrast to Mama clutching Tony’s teddy bear the other night and asking them to find out what happened to him.
Nick pointed to the report. “So, according to what your mother said, Tony was playing in the yard and she was hanging laundry. She went inside to get another load, and while she was in there, the phone rang. When she came outside a few minutes later, Tony was gone. They searched the area, especially the dock and waterfront, but they never found a single trace of him.”
“Who was Mama on the phone with?”
“Good question.” He scanned the report. “It doesn’t say.” He pointed to a spot halfway down. “But it does say here that half the town showed up to help search, and they kept at it for several days. They also sent divers down, but nobody ever found even one clue.”
“Do you find that strange?”
He narrowed his eyes as he considered. “No, not really. I’ve been out to the marina—Chad and I like to go fishing—and the house isn’t that far from the water. A little boy could have chased a bird or a butterfly or something and fallen into the water.”
Sasha squeezed her eyes tight as an image of a lifeless Tony superimposed itself on flashbacks of the day her parents died.
He patted her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be insensitive.”
She summoned a smile. “It happened a long time ago.” She read the rest of the report, but there wasn’t much. Transcripts of interviews with Mama Rosa and Pop, several of the local captains, their neighbors—anyone who was anywhere near the marina that day. There was a list of the divers’ names and where and when they searched, plus a list of the volunteers who helped.
Sasha pointed to the bottom of the third page. “I can’t read this. What does it say?”
Nick squinted and held the page up to the light. “Near as I can tell, it says they used tracking dogs, too. The scent ended at the dock.”
Sasha nodded, picking up the photo again. She turned it over. On the back, someone had printed, Tony Martinelli, age 3, born January 31, 1988.
She looked at Nick. “So they searched the area and the water, even using dogs, talked to everyone around that day, and concluded that he drowned.”
He flipped back through the pages and pointed. “Presumed drowned.”
“My mother believes he’s still alive,” she said. She watched his eyes widen, then fill with pity.
“I can certainly understand that—can’t you? A mother’s hope for her children never dies. Sorry, bad choice of words.”
“I understand
. But do you believe it’s possible?”
“That he’s still alive?”
“Yes. That maybe he got washed away and someone found him?”
“I highly doubt it.” He flipped back through the pages. “The news crews came from Tampa and Orlando, and your parents showed Tony’s picture and asked anyone who had seen him to please call. I’m sure the usual wackos called, but nothing here indicates there were ever any good leads, nothing that made anybody think it was anything other than a terrible tragedy.”
Sasha nodded and watched him gather the pages and slide them back into the envelope.
“Can I have a copy of that?”
“It’s against policy to—”
“Please.”
He glanced toward the open doorway of the conference room, then back to her. “I’m going to get a soda from the machine.” He stood and nodded to the copy machine at the back of the room. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Nick winked and eased the door closed behind him. Sasha rushed over to the copy machine and tapped her foot while she waited for it to warm up. She removed the staples and stuck the pages into the feeder and pressed “Start,” eyes glued to the door. The machine clunked and thumped as it worked, and Sasha was sure it could be heard across the street.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered, catching the first page as the machine spit it out.
The copier squealed and ground to a stop. “No! Please don’t be jammed.” She leaned over the display and saw the flashing “Out of paper” message. She yanked open the cabinet under the machine. Empty. She scanned the room, frantic. There had to be more paper.
She jumped when she heard footsteps outside the door. She grabbed the pages and shoved them back into the envelope just as the door whooshed open and Chief Monroe poked his head in.
“Oh, howdy, Sasha. What brings you here? I thought I heard the copier, but no one was in this room.”
Nick slipped into the room behind the chief and placed a can of soda next to her. “I hope that’s OK. I wasn’t sure what kind you drink.”
Sasha forced a grateful smile and popped the top. “This is perfect, thanks.” But she still didn’t have copies of the file.
Nick glanced at the copier, then met the chief’s eyes. “Sasha came to look at the report of her brother’s disappearance.”
The chief nodded and picked up the envelope. Sasha’s heart rate went into overdrive. Would he notice the extra copy of page one? And the missing staples?
“Sad case, that one. Happened just before I joined the force. My pa always wished he could have given your parents something more concrete. Closure.”
“Mama thinks he’s still alive,” Sasha said, watching his reaction as she had Nick’s earlier.
The chief paled, then red raced up his neck. He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
“While I have the utmost respect for your mama, Sasha, the facts don’t support that position.”
Sasha tapped the table for emphasis. “The only real fact we have, Chief, is that Tony disappeared.”
“And was never seen or heard from again,” he shot back. He sighed. “What are you saying, girl? This department did everything they could to try to find that boy and bring him back to his mama. Watching your parents’ grief—” He paused. “It haunted my pa until the day he died. Tony Martinelli drowned. There is no other explanation that makes sense.”
Sasha stood. “I’m not doubting what you’ve said, Chief. There are just a lot of unanswered questions.” She turned to Nick. “Thank you for taking the time to go over the report with me.”
By the time she slid behind the wheel of the Jeep, she was scowling. What was it about that man that bothered her so? And how much did her dislike of him affect her judgment? Just because he struck her as slimy didn’t mean his father hadn’t done right by Tony.
She banged a hand against the steering wheel. She still didn’t have a copy of the report.
“Sasha, wait up.”
Nick jogged toward her, a legal pad tucked under his arm. He leaned over and slid several pages into her hand, blocking anyone from seeing what he was doing. “I noticed the machine was out of paper.”
Her shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank you, Nick. This means so much.”
“I hope you find the answers you’re looking for, Sasha. Wish there was more I could do.”
She drove back to the marina, waiting until she could pace the dock before she called Eve.
“So, what happened?”
“Not much,” Sasha admitted. “The report is only three pages. I didn’t learn anything new except that half the town joined the search, for days.”
“I believe it. They would have all been horrified.”
“Something’s not right, Eve.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t explain it, but Nick went over the report with me, and then he left the room so I could quickly make a copy of it, and then the chief suddenly showed up.”
“You have a copy? Can you scan it and send it to me?”
“You’re missing my point.”
“Which is?”
“There was something off about the way the chief told the story. Too neat and tidy.”
“You think he was lying?”
“I don’t know. It’s nothing I can put my finger on. Just a weird sense, like we aren’t getting the whole story.”
“But the report didn’t show anything new, anything we can use?”
“Nope. Except the list of everyone who helped in the search.”
“So, OK, you should . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she cleared her throat and started over. “What’s your next step?”
Sasha smiled. “Thank you.” Giving up control of anything, no matter how insignificant, was huge for Eve. “I think I’ll see how many of the people they interviewed that day are still around, see what they remember.”
“That sounds good. You’ll send me a copy of the report? And keep me posted?”
“Absolutely.”
Silence hummed over the line. Finally Eve whispered, “What if he’s still alive?”
The thought had crossed Sasha’s mind, too, but she thought it far more likely he wasn’t. “Then we’ll find him.”
They said good-bye, and when Sasha hung up the phone, she turned and almost tripped over Blaze. Shoot, she’d forgotten her.
The teen had her hands clenched at her sides, fury radiating from every pore. “You promised! You promised and then you went without me.”
Before Sasha realized her intent, Blaze shoved her with both hands. Sasha windmilled her arms but couldn’t keep her balance. She landed backward with a mighty splash, water rushing up her nose. She came up sputtering to see Blaze standing on the dock, shock apparent right alongside the fury on her face. Beside her, Bella barked and spun in a frantic circle before she leaped into the water to get to Sasha. Footsteps pounded on the dock, and Sasha looked up to see Jesse racing toward her.
He got down on his knees and extended a hand, the other braced against the dock. She put her hand in his, and before she could blink, he hauled her up onto the dock and into his arms, barely keeping their momentum from carrying them into the water on the other side. Below, Bella paddled and barked. Sasha turned and pointed toward the boat ramp.
“That way, girl. Go on.”
Bella swam until her paws touched solid ground, then marched up the ramp and onto the dock. She walked right up to a guilty-looking Blaze before she shook the water off her coat. Sasha crouched down and rubbed her behind the ears.
“Good girl, Bella. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“I think I helped, too,” Jesse said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
Sasha stood. “I appreciate it. Would you like a doggy biscuit, too?”
Blaze stepped between them and demanded, “Why didn’t you take me with you?”
Sasha swiped the water off her face and propped her hands on her hips. “Did you go somewhere with Pop this morning?”
Blaze’s eyes widened and she shrugged. “Yeah, so? He needed me to help with some errands.”
“So if you had been here when the police called, I would have taken you with me.”
Jesse said, “Pushing her into the water wasn’t cool, Blaze. You need to apologize.”
Blaze crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “You don’t tell me what to do.”
“If you did the right thing, nobody would have to tell you what to do.”
She huffed out a breath and shot Sasha a quick glance. “Fine. Sorry.”
Sasha bit her lip to keep from saying things she knew she’d regret. Instead, she took a deep breath and locked eyes with Blaze.
“I’m going to go change, and then I’ll tell Mama what I learned from the police report. You are welcome to join us.”
Blaze nodded. “Sorry,” she muttered again.
Sasha turned and sloshed back toward the house, her stomach in knots. How was she going to take Mama back in time to that awful day without breaking her heart all over again?
After a lukewarm shower in the tiny upstairs bathroom, Sasha found Mama dozing in her padded rocker on the porch. She still couldn’t get used to how sick Mama looked, as though someone had taken all her features and rearranged them in a way that didn’t make sense. Oh, God, I need courage.
She dropped the copy of the police report on the small wicker table and eased down in another rocker. While Mama slept, she rocked and tried to figure out the best way to phrase things.
Blaze clumped out to the porch and let the screen door slam shut behind her with a thwack before she saw Mama. When Mama twitched and woke up, she mumbled, “Sorry,” and took the rocker next to Sasha.
Sasha gripped the arms of the chair, debated chewing her out again, but let it go.
Mama started smiling before she came fully awake.
“My girls,” she whispered. Even her voice sounded wrong, and it made Sasha want to hit something. She couldn’t stand to watch this disease take her mother from them in little chunks. For a moment, she wished she’d never come home. This emotional torture was why she stayed away. She could get the facts from Eve, dispensed in tidy email messages so she wouldn’t have to deal with all the heart-wrenching realities.