“I’m terrible for you, like poison.”
“Beyond terrible, worse than poison,” he agreed. She leaned away again, and he moved from besotted to agitated. “Don’t you want to kiss me?”
“More than I would have thought possible,” she said.
“Then stop acting like me, act like yourself, and do something stupid and impulsive.”
“Okay,” she agreed. She stopped trying to spare him from himself and gave in just as the trap door beside them banged open, and a head and a gun sprang into view.
Chapter 17
Sadie screamed and threw her arms around Luke’s neck.
“What is going on in here? Why are you in my deer stand?” It was Gideon and, surprise, he didn’t sound happy to see her.
“Dad?” Sadie said, still unable to believe it was him, and still unable to unwind the death grip she had on Luke’s neck.
“Who else did you expect?” Gideon asked.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I saw Luke’s car at the side of the road, got out to inspect it, and saw your chicken suit lying at the base of the ravine. What are you doing here? Has this been your make out spot all these years? Because that’s not the kind of information I want to learn when I’m holding a gun,” he said, eyeing Luke with disapproval.
With effort, Luke unlocked Sadie’s arms from around his neck. “We don’t have a make out spot. We were hiding from some crazy reporter who tried to kill us.”
“What?” Gideon said.
“Can we talk about this on the ground?” Sadie asked. “I need to check my uniform.”
Sadie led the way back to the edge of the ravine while Luke explained the situation to Gideon. “Why didn’t you call for help?” Gideon asked.
“Because neither of us had our phones,” Luke said. “Mine was in the car, and Sadie…” he gestured to Sadie as if to say where would she have put it?
“And why are you half dressed, child of mine?” Gideon called.
“Because the suit is a million degrees,” she said, not bothering to slow down as she practically steamrolled back to the spot where they had left her suit. They reached it, and she picked it up to examine it. “Not too bad,” she decided.
“Not too bad?” Luke repeated. “Sadie, it’s filthy, missing half its feathers, and has little holes all over it.”
“I can wash it and glue on some new feathers.”
“And the holes?” he asked.
“At least it will be more breathable now,” she said.
He shook his head. “You can’t wear that again.”
“I have to or else I have to pay three hundred dollars to replace it, and that’s more than I’ve made. So this is going to have to do.” Her voice cracked. She stopped talking and took a breath, clutching the hideous suit close.
“If you had been diligent about saving money like I taught you,” Gideon started, but Luke interrupted.
“Not now, Gideon. Can’t you see she’s been through enough, and she’s tired? Just let it go and leave her alone.”
If Sadie hadn’t been so tired, and so on the verge of an emotional collapse, then she might have laughed at the shocked expression on her father’s face. Receiving a reprimand from mild-mannered Luke was probably the last thing in the world he expected. After a moment of stilted silence, Gideon spoke again, to Luke this time.
“I already called a tow for your car. Do you need anything else?”
Luke shook his head.
“Fine. Sadie, in the car, let’s go.” He turned and stormed in the direction of his truck. Sadie trotted after, clutching the chicken suit like a lifeline. “Bye,” she mouthed to Luke.
In answer, he waved and turned to watch her as she walked away. It was a good thing she couldn’t hear his inner monologue because he was calling himself every kind of fool for his near miss in the tree stand. What had he been thinking? He hadn’t; that was always the problem when it came to Sadie. When they were kids, she could talk him into crazy stunts. Now she didn’t even have to use words; she simply had to turn her unfathomable blue eyes on him, and he was a goner. When he realized that he had both proposed to her and tried to kiss her in one day, it somehow seemed far crazier than the fact that someone had taken shots at him while he tried to rescue her.
She had to go before he lost what was left of his sanity, and since the only way to ensure that was to help her wrap up her investigation into Aunt Abby’s death, he determined to do whatever was necessary to help. And then he would personally put her in her car and drive her out of town if that was what it took to get rid of her.
Sadie, on the other hand, had always been able to compartmentalize unpleasant or complicated things. She put away the incident with Luke for further inspection, and turned her attention to mending her suit.
“Luke’s right; you can’t wear that,” her father said.
“Once again you both underestimate my determination,” Sadie said.
They rode in silence a couple of minutes while Sadie plotted how to salvage her suit.
“Why would a reporter shoot at you?” Gideon blurted.
Since Sadie was doing her best not to remember the horrific afternoon, she hadn’t given much thought to the question. Now that she did, it didn’t make sense. “I don’t know. But if it wasn’t a reporter, then who was it?”
“A crazed stalker, maybe? Have you been getting any weird letters or phone calls?”
“No.”
He was silent a few more minutes as he pondered. “Maybe it wasn’t gunshots at all.”
“It was gunshots. Someone was shooting at us.”
“You’ve always had an overactive imagination and flair for drama, Sadie.”
“Then how do you explain Luke’s missing rear window and side mirror, Dad? Or the fact that I saw the gun and heard the shots, and so did Luke. To my knowledge, an overactive imagination isn’t something you can pass from one person to another, so if I imagined it, then he did, too.”
“I’m just saying that in the heat of the moment, things can become confused.”
“You never listen to me, Dad. You never listen to anyone. Is this what happened with Abby? Was she trying to ask you something or tell you something, and you refused to listen?”
“Abby said a lot of things that nobody listened to, Sadie, especially near the end. Not even Doc Jones believed her, and he knew her better than anyone.”
“Yes, well, Doc Jones may be changing his mind soon.”
Gideon white-knuckled the steering wheel. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that he started to rethink some of whatever happened to Abby before she died; I’m talking about the fact that, unlike some people, he actually listened to me, and is willing to figure out the truth of what happened to Abby.”
“What truth? Abby died, Sadie. She died peacefully and happily. Why can’t you accept that? People die and life goes on.”
“Sometimes it goes on before people are even gone,” Sadie muttered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.
“Exactly what it sounds like, Dad. Mom’s death was barely a blip in your radar. I was surprised you even took a day off work for it.”
“You have no idea what your mother’s death cost me,” he said.
“You had a funny way of showing it. You all but ignored her for the last few years, and before that, all you did was argue.”
“You want to know why?” She didn’t answer, but he pressed on anyway. “Because I spent the first years of our marriage trying desperately to make her happy. She hated I was a cop, she hated where we lived, she hated the way I arranged my clothes in the closet. She even hated the way I chewed my food. After a while, I gave up trying to make her happy, and focused on surviving. And then you came along, and I tried my level best to make sure you didn’t turn out like her.” He gave a sad little laugh and shook his head. “Some joke. Not only do you look exactly like her, but you act just like her, too. You�
��re practically a clone.”
They arrived at the house, but made no move to get out. “No, Dad, I’m not, but not for lack of trying. I tried to be everything Mom wanted me to be. I wanted to be a popular cheerleader, just like her. I tried to do everything she said for me to do, to live the life she wanted me to live. But here’s the kicker—she never would have survived what I’ve been through. I’m stronger than she ever was, and I’m glad because now that Abby’s gone, I’m all I’ve got.” She stepped out, dragging her chicken suit behind her.
She hadn’t eaten supper, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to go to bed and give way to the tears that were threatening to spill over. But the suit needed cleaned, so instead of going into her room like she wanted, she bypassed it and went into the bathroom where she spent the next two hours cleaning and repairing the suit. Somehow in the last few days, the chicken suit had come to represent Sadie’s will to survive. She had no money, no career, no prospects, no future, no family, no friends, and she was a national laughingstock. But she was making it one day at a time, even if it meant she had to cluck for dollars, she was still alive.
Finally, the suit was wearable again. She hung it in her closet, and fell into bed. Sleep wouldn’t come. Instead her traitorous brain wanted to try and remind her of everything that was going wrong. She wouldn’t let it. The key to survival was getting out of town, as quickly as possible. In the morning, she would once again work on clearing up what happened during the final days of Abby’s life. After that, she would take her meager savings, hit the open road, and drive until the gas tank read empty.
Cheered once again by the prospect of going someplace else, Sadie finally fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
In the morning, Gideon’s bad mood increased Sadie’s sense of urgency and impatience. She had to finish and get out of town, the sooner the better. With that thought in mind, she decided to make another visit to Doc Jones. She wanted to reassure herself that he was actually working on what he had promised. Somehow she sensed that he was the key to unlocking the mystery of Abby’s strange behavior. He was the one person in the world who knew all of Abby’s secrets. If Sadie could convince him to open up and share, she could find peace of mind and closure.
The morning felt almost brisk—a pleasant change from the heat and humidity of late. Since she was already dressed in yoga pants and an old cheerleading shirt from college, she decided to go for a run after talking to the doctor. Maybe he would give her the information she needed and the run would feel like a celebration. Maybe she could leave after her shift at work was over. After today, she would have enough money for one tank of gas. How far from Virginia could she go on one tank?
While her brain was consumed with trying to calculate gas mileage and fuel economy, the short walk down the street to the doctor’s house passed without her notice. Like the Kaplans, he lived too far to be considered a part of the inner neighborhood circle. His connection with Abby was all that had kept him at the core of the group. Sadie wondered if he moved to the neighborhood to be close to Abby or if it was a happy coincidence. There was something both sad and sweet about him moving close to the woman he loved—sweet because it was a romantic gesture, and sad because it hadn’t worked except to make them neighbors. Would he move now that Abby was gone? Or would he stay? Did the sight of her house, now under the care of Luke, make him feel sad and lonely?
She reached the front porch and put out a hand to knock. There was no answer. She checked her watch. It was still early, but how early did doctors go to work? She knocked again in case he was outside or hard of hearing as everyone suspected he might be. Sadie had once heard Abby tell him to get hearing aids; it was one of the many things they had bickered about. There was still no answer at the door. Sadie turned to go, intending to catch him at his office, and that’s when she heard it. A faint sound came from inside, almost like a cat meowing. She froze and held her breath, and the sound came again.
Did the doctor have a cat? She didn’t know. But she wasn’t even sure it was a cat. There was something off about the sound, something that made her heartbeat kick up a notch and sweat break out on her palms. She knocked again and pressed her ear to the door. She heard the sound again. Was it a moan?
“Hello,” she called.
There was no answer.
She tried the door. It was unlocked. She opened it and took a step inside, calling again. “Hello, Doctor Jones? It’s Sadie Cooper. Is everything okay? Hello?” She walked as she talked, announcing her presence in case he was home and all was well. She did not want to have an encounter of the just-leaving-the-shower variety. “Hello?”
She walked toward what she presumed was the kitchen. No lights were on and the shades were drawn, so it was dark. As soon as she hit the tiled kitchen floor, she slipped and grabbed at the wall to right herself. Her adrenaline kicked into overdrive, and she could hear herself breathing heavily, but she wasn’t the only one. Grasping about frantically for the light switch, she finally located it and threw it on. The floor was drenched and slick with blood. Sadie could see the streak her shoe left when she slipped. She followed the trail of blood around the corner of the island and saw Doctor Jones lying in a tidal wave of his own blood.
With shaking fingers, she pulled out her phone and dialed 911 as she knelt to check his pulse. It was weak and thready, but it was there. At her touch, he opened his eyes and grasped her hand. She gave the dispatcher instructions, tossing the phone onto the counter in impatience when the woman insisted on gathering more information than she knew. How was she supposed to know what had happened when she had just gotten there? She left the line open and began searching the doctor’s torso for a wound. She found it in his abdomen, but she had no idea what to do. Should she press it to stop the flow of blood? It looked too late for that.
“Doctor Jones, what happened?” she asked, clutching at his hand with both of hers.
“Abby,” he gasped.
At first she thought he was hallucinating his lost love, and then she understood that he was trying to tell her something. “Yes, Abby,” she encouraged.
“Abby, Shady Acres,” he rasped.
He closed his eyes. Sadie thought he was gone, but then she heard him gasp. Realizing that he might truly be dying, she decided to get the most pertinent piece of information first. “Doctor Jones, who did this to you? Can you tell me who did this?”
He opened his eyes, but they didn’t quite focus on her face. Instead, they looked somewhere to the left of her head. “Gideon. Gideon Cooper. Abby. Shady Acres.”
“What?” Sadie asked. She was sure she had heard him wrong or misunderstood. She knelt closer, drenching her knees in his blood. “What did you say?”
“Gideon. Abby. Shady,” he tried again, and then he was gone, just like that. Sadie knew because she had watched her mother die, had watched the mysterious life force disappear until all that was left was a soulless shell.
Outside, tires screeched and feet pounded pavement. The door banged open, and the room filled with officers and paramedics. Two of the men took a side of Sadie and removed her from the doctor’s side while others swooped in to assess his condition. One retrieved an oxygen tank and a defibrillator.
“It’s too late,” Sadie said. “He’s gone.” It was odd that she would have to tell them that. Shouldn’t they already know? She didn’t get to see if they tried the paddles and oxygen because the officers herded her to the other room and began assaulting her with a barrage of questions. She was vague in her answers at first, but the more she started to talk, the more she became coherent once again. Soon she was able to rehash the story rationally, and then she wrote a statement. She told them everything, everything but the part about Doctor Jones accusing her father of murder. That part she kept to herself because it was too bizarre to be true, and no one would believe her anyway. These were his men, after all, and they still held a deep affection for their old chief.
By the time they let her go, a small crowd had gathered outside
the doctor’s house. The sun felt harsh and glaring after the darkness of the house. Sadie put her hand up to shade her eyes. Someone called her name. It was Luke.
“Sadie!” He yelled for her again, and then fought his way through the unmoving crowd. He ducked under the line of yellow tape the policemen were setting up and grasped Sadie by the biceps when he reached her. “Are you okay? Look at you; you’re covered in blood. Are you hurt?” He ran his hands over her arms and back, searching her from head to toe for signs of injury.
She shook her head, but he wasn’t looking at her face. “No, I’m okay. It’s not my blood.”
Satisfied when he found no injury, he put his arm around her shoulders and began to lead her home. “What happened?”
Pecked to Death Page 15