by Stacy Eaton
Trevor shrugged off the vest and handed it over as I got ready. When he said go, I ran like my life depended on it. I told myself I was pushing to prove to him that I was better, but deep inside, I think I was running to see if I could outrun the past.
Chapter Eighteen
Maggie
When I climbed in my car, I was both exhausted and elated. I had passed the obstacle course, but I’d had to do it an extra time. The third time, I had the forty pounds back in my vest, and I struggled again at the wall, but I got over it and missed the target time by ten seconds.
It had taken a lot of convincing to get Greg to let me do it one more time. Luckily, Trevor had talked him into it, and on my fourth try, I got one minute fifty-eight seconds. I had done it. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to pass out or puke after I’d hit the finish line.
Trevor had helped me off the ground a few minutes later, gave me a high five and told me that he was impressed. Greg had given me the evil eye and walked away to start breaking down the obstacle course.
Now, as I drove home, every muscle in my body screamed. My legs ached, and my hands and shoulders hurt, but mentally, I was flying high. Greg couldn’t block me from going if I passed everything, could he? I didn’t think so, but I also didn’t know what everyone else thought.
Right now, I knew that Jake was on board, and Trevor seemed to be also. Although, I had a feeling that if it came up to a vote, he might back Greg. They were close, and they worked together. Plus, I’d learned that they had been together overseas for a time. I couldn’t compete with that. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to come between friends, but somewhere along the lines today, this opportunity became something more than a chance at something different. It had become a possible future, and now, I wanted it.
I wanted this job, wanted the opportunity to work with Trevor and Greg, and the rest of the men, too. I wanted them to accept me and give me a chance to prove to them that I could do this. I knew I could.
I arrived home with enough time to take a long hot shower and begin to prepare dinner before my mother came back. The aide from the nursing home walked Mom to the door, and that was a significant indicator of the kind of night we were going to have.
When Mom was feeling good, and her mind was clear, she’d let herself into the house. On days that she was confused and tired, the aide had to bring her into the house because Mom wouldn’t recognize it or wouldn't remember that she lived here. Those days were few because she had lived here since before I was born. The house was deeply ingrained in her memories, but on those odd days when everything was foreign, so was the house.
I sighed as I turned the stove off, knowing that it was going to take a little while to get her settled. My stomach growled, and I silently admonished it to stop. I snagged a piece of broccoli off the counter that I’d been cutting and popped it into my mouth as I headed toward the front door.
“Hi, Monica,” I said as I came around the corner, and my mother turned, a confused expression on her face. I smiled reassuringly at her. “Hello, Liz, I’m Maggie.”
She furrowed her brow. Her hair was in disarray today. She must have been running her hand through it worriedly.
“Do I know you?” she asked in a small voice, so different than her usual tone.
“Yes, you do. You live here with me,” I told her as I smiled gently toward her. “Come on in, and I’ll get you something to drink while you sit in the living room and see if you remember anything.”
My mother held her purse tightly to her chest as she passed me. Her head twisted back and forth as she took in everything on her way to the living room.
“How long has she been like this?”
“They said she was confused before lunch today. This afternoon she didn’t want to do much, just sat around watching everyone.”
It was going to be one of those nights. “Thank you, Monica. I appreciate it. You have a good night.”
“You too, Maggie.”
I saw her out and then went to find my mother. She stood in front of the fireplace staring at a picture of her, my dad, and me. If I had a dollar for every time that I found her staring at that photograph, I’d be able to afford a private nurse to watch over her.
“Do you recognize those people, Liz?”
“Well, I think so,” she said tentatively. “I know that must be me, and I think this is you, right? It looks like it could be you as a little girl.”
“Yes, that is you and me, and the man is my dad, your husband, Robert.”
“Oh.” She glanced around as if looking for any signs of him. “I’m your mother,” She said it rather matter-of-factly. Somedays she denied it; today she accepted it.
“He is rather attractive. Is he here, your father?”
“No, Liz, he passed away several years ago.”
She studied me, her lawyer cynicism shining through her eyes even though she wasn’t herself. “Why are you calling me by my name if you are my daughter?”
I took a seat on the couch and leaned back. “Somedays you get a little confused, Mom. On those days, you don’t always know who I am, and when I call you Mom, you can get a little defensive. I learned a long time ago to call you Liz when you aren’t feeling like yourself.”
She nodded tentatively as she began to look around. “And I live here?”
“Yes, you do.”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
“Where is your husband?”
“I don’t have a husband, Mom,” I told her.
She frowned as if she didn't like that answer, and I started to get off the couch, my legs aching from all the physical torment they went through today. “Would you like to help me cook dinner? I was just about to put stir-fry on.”
“Do you mind if I look around?”
“Of course not, Mom. This is your house. If you want to see your room, it is up the stairs and the first door on the left. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”
“Okay,” she replied, and as I headed back to the kitchen, I paused at the alarm panel and armed it. Not because I was worried that someone would break in. I was more worried that she would decide to investigate the outdoors and wander away. She had done that once but hadn’t gotten far before a neighbor saw her and brought her home.
I was in the kitchen, the last of the ingredients cut and ready to go into the wok when the doorbell rang. I turned the stove off again and hoped that this was a quick interruption.
I disarmed the alarm and pulled open the door as my mother came down the stairs.
“Maggie Valor?” A man in jeans and a black t-shirt stood on the opposite side with a package in his hands.
“Yes, I’m Maggie Valor.”
“Here, this is for you.” He held the package out to me, and as soon as I took it, he spun and started heading back down the walkway.
“I don’t need to sign anything?” I called as I glanced at the box. I turned it over in my hands, but there were no labels, no stamps, no nothing. There was something substantial inside the box that shifted as I moved it. I shook the box to see if there was a sound, but heard only the muted thud of the contents. “Who is this from?” I called to the man as he reached his car and climbed in.
“Who was that?” my mother said from beside me.
“I don’t know. Some delivery guy.”
“What is it?” she asked as I closed the door.
“I have no clue. I’ll open it after dinner,” I told her and carried it into the kitchen with me, setting it on the counter and going back to the stove. I was more interested in food than the mysterious package from a rude man.
Mom followed me into the kitchen and took a seat at the table. As I cooked, she studied every inch of the room. From time to time, as I stirred the food, I glanced at the box. Why were there no labels on it? Not even my name? It was starting to make me a little uneasy as I contemplated it.
I glanced at my phone, wishing that I had Greg’s number to call him. He never had texted me when he said
he would. What if I called Jake? Would he think I was paranoid? Maybe. Or maybe I could tell him I had a question for Greg or better yet, Trevor. Trevor wouldn’t think I was paranoid, would he?
I picked up the phone and sent a text to Jake, asking him to have either Greg or Trevor call me because I had a question about something from today. A few moments after I sent it, he replied with a simple letter K.
I was just getting ready to put the food on plates when my phone rang, and my mother spoke up. “Um, I’m not sure what’s in your box, but it looks like it’s bleeding.”
I glanced at the counter and saw the cardboard was dark. As I lifted the phone to my ear, I noticed that there was liquid oozing out from under the box.
“Hello?” I said absently.
“Maggie, it’s Trevor. Jake said that you had a question.”
“Um, Trevor, can you please call Greg and tell him that I need him to come over? I think it’s an emergency.”
“Are you alright?” Trevor asked, sounding immediately concerned.
“I am, I think.”
“What’s going on?”
“I had a package delivered a little while ago—and it’s bleeding.”
“What?”
I explained to him what had happened, and then what the box looked like. “Maggie, don’t touch it. I’ll call Greg. We’ll be over in a little while.”
“You don’t both need to come. Maybe just one of you can check this out? Or do you think I should call the police?”
“No, let's see what it is before we get the police involved.”
“Okay,” I told him and hung up directly after. I backed away from the offending box as if it were poison, and turned quickly for the sink. I scrubbed my hands like I was about to go into surgery. What the hell was in the box?
“Who is coming over?”
“Um, friends of mine,” I told her absently and wished that she wasn’t here. I didn’t know how this was going to go over. Usually, when she was in this state, I didn’t have visitors come to the house because it confused her more. I didn’t think I had a choice tonight, though.
I fixed our plates and brought them to the table. While we ate, the two of us kept glancing at the box.
“Do you think it is blood?”
“I have no idea, Mom.”
“Maybe we should open it.”
“I think we should wait until Greg and Trevor get here.”
“Those are your friends? Do I know them?”
“Yes, they are my friends. You know Greg, but not Trevor.”
“And how do you know them?”
“Because they work for a company that I want to work for.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a reporter.”
“Like a news reporter?”
“Yes.”
She looked excited. “Oh, do you get to work on those big stories?”
I laughed. “No, not yet.” I didn’t bother to tell her I only wrote a romance column. She probably would have laughed at me if I had told her that. As it was, she looked disappointed that I wasn’t a prominent journalist. Yeah, well, stand in line.
The doorbell rang, and I wiped my mouth and went to answer the door. Trevor stood on the opposite side, and Greg was pulling up to the curb. “You guys are fast.”
“Yeah, well, what you told me was a little bothersome.”
“I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important.”
“I had just finished dinner.” He grinned as Greg joined us.
“Ah, too bad. I was going to offer you mine. I kind of lost my appetite,” I joked with Trevor.
“You alright, Mags?” Greg asked as he came to a stop right in front of me.
“Yeah, just weirded out.”
“Where is the package?”
“In the kitchen,” I said, and Greg went to step around me. I grabbed his arm. “Greg, Mom’s not in a great headspace today. She’s pretty confused.”
“No problem.” He winked at me, and I followed Greg and Trevor back to the kitchen.
“Hi, Mrs. Valor,” Greg said as he entered. “I’m not sure if you remember me or not, but my name is Greg Blaire, and this is my friend, Trevor Vaughn.”
My mother studied them both. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”
“That’s okay,” Greg said in a kind voice. “Sometimes I’d like to forget this meathead too.”
We all chuckled, and then Greg glanced around, pointing at the box that had a nice little puddle around it now.
Trevor removed purple medical gloves from his pocket and handed Greg a pair of them as he removed a knife from his pocket. They were about to cut into the box when the doorbell rang again.
“What now?” I asked as I tossed my hands in the air. I turned back for the door, and my mother stopped me, leaning forward to speak quietly as she eyed Greg and Trevor. “You said you weren’t married, but are either of them?”
“Mom, not now, okay?” I returned to the front door and pulled it open to find two police officers on the other side. Wow, did this have to do with the package that I had gotten? If so, who told the police? “Officers, what can I help you with?”
“Are you Maggie Valor?”
Aren’t I the popular one today. “Yes, I’m Maggie Valor.”
The officer stepped into my house, and I backed up. “Ms. Valor, we’re going to need you to come with us.”
“What?” The other officer took hold of one arm as the first one moved behind me, pulling my wrist back. “What are you doing?” My voice began to rise, and a second later, Greg appeared in the hallway.
“What the hell are you doing?” Greg growled, and the cop jumped slightly, his hand going to his gun.
“We’re taking Ms. Valor in for questioning.”
“Questioning for what?”
“I’m sorry, sir, we can’t tell you that.” Cold metal snapped around my wrist.
“Why are you arresting me? I didn’t do anything wrong! What is going on? Greg, do something!”
The officer put his hand up toward Greg. “You can call down to the station and speak with Detective Highmore later.”
“Wait! You can’t take me away! My mother has dementia! She can’t be left alone in the house.”
“Can’t your husband watch her?” one of the cops asked.
“He’s not my husband, and she doesn’t know him! You can’t do this. I didn’t do anything wrong!”
Trevor stepped around Greg. “Yo, Bigsby! What the hell?”
“Hey, Vaughn, sorry, we have our orders. Does her mother really have dementia?”
“Oh, my god! Do you think I would lie about that?” I hissed at the cop.
Greg approached the cop. “Yeah, she has Alzheimer's, and Maggie is her primary caregiver. What the hell is going on?”
“Come on, Bigsby, tell us something.”
The cops looked at one another, and then Bigsby replied, “There is reason to believe that Ms. Valor was involved in the jewelry store robbery and kidnapping.”
“What?” I shouted as my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
Chapter Nineteen
Gregory
I was just getting out of the shower when my cellphone rang. “What’s up?” I asked Trevor as I answered.
“Did you see the text from Jake?”
“No, I was in the shower. Just got out. What’s going on?”
“Maggie reached out to Jake, asked one of us to call her.”
The last thing I wanted to do was to speak with Maggie right now, not after what I’d just finished doing in the shower. Hearing her voice again would put me right back in that sexually frustrated zone. “Can you give her a shout?”
“You are such a chicken!” He laughed.
“No, I’m starving. I bet you got home and had food waiting for you from your gorgeous fiancée, right?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Yeah, so I didn’t. I need food. Give Mags a call and see what she wants.”
“Fine,”
he muttered and hung up. It wasn’t five minutes later he called again.
“What did she want?” I asked in the way of hello as I dug around in my fridge, looking for something to eat.
“What’s her address?”
I stood up straight. “Why do you want to know that?”
“Because I need you to meet me there.”
“What’s going on?” I closed the fridge.
“Maggie got a suspicious package delivered to her house. No label, no return address. Some guy showed up at her door, handed it to her, and walked away without a word.”
“Okay, so what’s in it?”
“She doesn’t know, but she said it’s bleeding.”
“What?” I paused for one second and then put the phone on speaker as I rushed back to my bedroom. I grabbed socks and my sneakers, and while he was telling me what she had said, I put them on.
He was just finishing when I gave him the address, grabbed my keys and wallet off the counter, and rushed to the garage.
Who the hell was sending her things that bled? Had she pissed off a reader? Maybe someone had tried her romance advice and it hadn’t worked, and now they were threatening her.
I arrived just after Trevor and in we went. I made sure to try and relax before I introduced myself to her mom again. Was it only the other day that her mother had given me a hug when I arrived and had thought that Maggie and I were still high school sweethearts? I could not imagine what that did to Maggie on a regular basis. Did her mother ever forget who Maggie was?
The counter was a mess; the dark blood was congealing around the box, and luckily Trevor had thought to bring gloves. We were just about to cut the box open when Maggie went to answer the door, and her shrill voice echoed down the hallway.
“What? What are you doing?”
I brushed by Trevor in a flash and went out to the hallway to see two cops trying to cuff Maggie.
Luckily, Trevor knew one of the guys and was at least able to get something out of him.
“How could they possibly think she had something to do with that mess? She was held captive just like I was.”