I heard him sigh.
“Yeah, she used to spit the gumballs at me from across the ice cream parlor.”
I remembered and laughed. I’d told her to do that because he was flirting with snooty Laura Mills. Summer had never told on me. He cleared his throat, all humor was gone now.
“I left you a message about the deposition.”
“Yeah, I got it. When do I need to be there?”
“Bennet said, ‘The sooner, the better’.”
“OK. I’ll come up Monday.”
“What about Summer’s will?”
I chewed on my thumbnail some more. I really didn’t want to be at that meeting. Then again, did Jimmy want me there?
“I’m not sure what to do about that,” I said finally.
“I’d understand if you don’t want to be in the same room as Mona and Parker.”
“I’ll be down for the deposition. The will is family business. I shouldn’t be there.”
“You are family. Don’t you know that?”
He sounded exasperated. I remembered his message from earlier. He missed me. I hadn’t given him much, and yet he’d reached out.
“I’ve got to get back.”
“All right.”
I hesitated, my heart racing. I whispered into the phone.
“Jimmy…”
“Yes, Rain?”
“I miss you too. I miss…us.”
He was silent for a moment, and then I heard him inhale like he’d been holding his breath.
“Are you sure?” He asked finally, tentatively.
“I’m sure.”
There was an awkward silence between us, and I listened to him breathing on the phone. I didn’t know how to finish the conversation. I wished I was standing in front of him instead of miles away. His voice was low, measured, when he finally spoke.
“I’ll see you soon, then.”
“Monday at the latest.”
I hung up and stared at the phone in my hand. Was I sure that I wanted to walk back into Jimmy’s life? I could never truly belong to that kind of privilege. I’d tried and paid dearly. Was I strong enough to try again?
Four years ago, I couldn’t be a part of his life in the way he wanted. Yet, no one could take his place. I couldn’t remember a time when my heart didn’t belong to him. But our paths always produced tragedy.
When I’d broken our engagement and moved away, Jimmy followed, but I refused to reconcile. Not after what we’d been through. His reaction to the horrible loss we shared was the complete opposite of mine, and it drove us apart.
But Summer had been our tether to one another. Though not together, Jimmy and I often worried and hoped for her with one heart. Now that she was gone…the more I thought about not talking to or seeing Jimmy at all, the more panic pulled at my soul.
I walked back to the office and made my way down the hall to my entrance. There was a box leaning against my door. It was long and rectangular, and then I remembered John carrying in the box earlier in the afternoon. I picked it up, unlocked the door, and carried it inside. Wrapped in brown paper, it looked exactly like a flower box when I tore off the paper. Something ticked in the back of my mind. Flowers were delivered via delivery vans, not parcel trucks. They needed refrigeration. I dug some scissors out of the drawer and clipped off the ribbons. Maybe Jimmy had sent it?
I tried to remember if I had a vase anywhere. Distracted, I reached into the box before I saw it. Gasping, I pulled my hand away and backed up, the hairs on my neck standing on end. Lying on top of a bouquet of brilliant daffodils was a dead rat. A fetid smell came from its twisted body. I scrambled to the door and slammed it shut, locking it. I leaned against it, panting. I stared at the box of Summer’s flowers, and fought back tears.
With trembling hands, I phoned Salem.
“Can you…can you please come to the office?”
“Are you OK?”
My heart slammed in my chest, and blood began to pound in my head. Then anger and adrenaline boiled their way into my mouth, and I shook with the taste of it.
“I need reinforcements.”
“Reinforcements?”
I looked at the daffodils and saw red. My voice came out in a snarl.
“I’m going to war.”
Purple Knot
11
A few hours later Salem and I sat around his new computer system with my list of search databases. I decided to go after Parker’s financial information. It was more risky in terms of being noticed, but it seemed the element of surprise was a moot point now.
Salem sighed heavily while I typed.
“I still think you should call the cops. I mean, what if you were here when the guy delivered them?”
“It was John the parcel guy, Salem. I saw him deliver the package while I was having coffee across the street.”
“I know, but what if he was watching? And how can you be sure it was Parker, anyway?”
“I’m 99.9% sure, Salem. Are you paying attention to what I’m doing? This is crucial stuff here.”
He folded his arms and watched me work on the computer.
“I have Parker’s full name and birthday, so I’ve logged onto the website of the Seattle county clerk’s office.”
“County clerk’s office?”
“You’d be amazed how much paper people don’t realize they have. Free public websites are a goldmine of personal information.”
“So what are you looking for?”
“I’m just fishing right now, so I’m going to the official records link and do a search with Parker’s full name.”
I got a hit on the search. It was in the Property Appraiser’s records.
“This is where anything having to do with real estate is stored. I think Summer said that Parker sold his condo before they were married.”
I hit the link and up popped a document image of the appraisal on Parker’s condo. Salem leaned forward and tapped the amount.
“Well, he made out.”
“Yeah, but this is what I’m after.”
The appraisal had the last four digits of Parker’s social security number.
“But the first five numbers are x’ed out. How do you get the rest?”
I wrote down the numbers and then typed another website into the browser.
“It’s actually different with each person. There’s a lot of different ways to go about it, some more tedious than others. Fortunately, I know that Parker’s been arrested.”
“How does that help?”
“Well, most government sites now truncate, or hide, the first five digits in response to heightened identity theft concerns. However, if you know a little about the person’s past and what databases to hit, you can piece the number together. In our case, we search the Seattle Department of Corrections database.”
I navigated the state government site, found the Washington Electronics Court Systems database or W.E.C.S, and typed in Parker’s name.
“You see even though most government sites redact, or block out, the first five digits of the social security number, this government site actually does the opposite. Washington’s Department of Corrections system blocks out the last four digits and gives you the first five.”
The inmate locator brought up Parker’s stats and I copied down the first five numbers. I now had his whole social security number, and it took me all of five minutes. I turned to look at Salem. He wasn’t as thrilled.
“Aren’t you impressed? That’s impressive,” I teased.
“I’m serious, Reyna, you can’t just assume you know who this is.”
I hit the print button on the webpage and walked to the printer in my office. I grabbed the paper and handed it to him. He set it aside without looking at it. Resigned, I sat down and patted his shoulder.
“Salem, who else would know that daffodils had significance, that they were Summer’s favorite flower?”
“Yeah, but…”
Besides, I didn’t tell you about the text message he sent.”
>
“Text message?”
I nodded and slid the phone across the desk.
“I got it last night a few minutes after the canned horn thing.”
Salem navigated the text messages. “Reyna, this is a warning…a threat. We should tell the cops about this.”
“No.”
I was determined to keep the cops out of this for as long as possible.
“You’re not going to back off, are you?” Salem looked at me incredulously.
“You saw what he sent, Salem. There’s no way I’m letting this pass.”
“Yes, but most people would take something like that as a warning, not a challenge to hit back.”
“It’s just Parker trying to scare me.”
His glasses fogged up. He was nervous and scared. I didn’t blame him. If I wasn’t so mad, I’d probably be terrified.
“How can you know that for sure?”
“Because all of this, the prank call, the text message, the stupid rat flowers all started as soon as we started in on Parker.”
“The police…”
“What do you want me to report to them, Salem? That I got flowers? I’m sure they’ll rush right over with S.W.A.T.”
“Now you’re being cranky,” he sniffed.
I got up and paced the room.
Salem slid the paper over and started typing in the next database.
“I’m sorry, Salem.” My shoulders sagged, and I felt the steam go out of me. Salem was helping, and I’d snapped at him. I walked over and gave him a quick hug. He smelled like oranges.
He shrugged. I was forgiven. He never stayed mad.
“Listen, I know that you’ve declared war on Parker, but this could get dangerous. If he hurt his wife…why wouldn’t he go after you?”
“That kind of stuff is passive. It’s what a bully like him saw in a B-movie and decided to copy. Well, I’m not having it. This move was a mistake.” I motioned toward the box of flowers on the table. I started pacing again. Parker had tipped his hand. “We barely did any digging, and he panics? I’m not backing off. Not one bit.”
“I typed in the site you wanted.” Salem frowned, but didn’t argue. His fingers tapped out a few more lines of commands.
I needed to access a data broker. It was time to turn to Chuy who could get privileged information. He wasn’t cheap though, at five thousand a pop, so I only used him when all my searches came up empty.
“This guy Chuy will help us get to Parker. Put in a request for a credit report, credit card statements if he can get them, and any unpublished phone numbers. Give him Parker’s social security number and birth date.”
Salem typed it in. I knew he wanted to say something by the way he was bouncing his leg under the desk. I stopped him with my foot.
“What?”
“I’m worried that you’re being reckless.” He got up from his chair and ran both hands through his hair.
Given Salem’s past, reckless didn’t even begin to cover his ‘borrowing’ of a hundred thousand dollars from one bookie’s account to pay off his gambling debt to another. He’d been lucky they didn’t kneecap him.
“I’m not being reckless, Salem. I’m just not being a doormat. A spooky present isn’t going to stop me from proving that Parker was behind Summer’s death.”
My breath caught in my throat. I’d admitted out loud that Summer was gone. I felt my lip tremble and I walked to the window. I wasn’t afraid of Parker. I was furious at him.
“Just promise you’ll be careful.” Salem hit ‘send’ on the email.
“I promise.”
Purple Knot
12
When I was young, I lived in constant fear that people would discover how bad things were at home. My father was a maintenance worker for the docks that kept the beautiful boats belonging to the families who owned vacation homes on Bainbridge and the other islands. They’d ferry over from Seattle, and he’d get their yachts and speed boats seaworthy for parties and summer. He was good at fixing boats, but not his family. My father was a raving alcoholic.
He often missed work because he was picked up in a bar fight and had to sleep it off in the drunk-tank. He’d once been arrested for trying to drive home with his truck’s hood up. It wouldn’t have been so bad had he not also been naked when the sheriff pulled him over. Apparently he’d gotten hot. He missed a lot of work. Consequently, we didn’t have much money.
His boss was his brother, Ted, which is why my father was never fired. Ted and my father didn’t get along as kids growing up. Even after my mom died of cancer when I was seven, Ted didn’t warm up to my father and me.
One Christmas I was home from school and someone knocked on our door. When I opened it, I saw that someone had left a box on the porch. Wrapped in Christmas paper, the present had my name on it. I remember being so excited I couldn’t breathe. I opened it and found a plug-in space heater. I didn’t understand until later that night. It snowed, and we didn’t have any heat.
Years later, when I asked, my father told me he’d asked Ted for money for the gas bill, but Ted told him he wasn’t going to hand my father any cash. Instead, he bought and wrapped a space heater for me. Had they given my father the cash, he would have drank it at the local bar. I’d been afraid for nothing. Everyone already knew how bad it was at home. My prayers were heard, even back then. I just didn’t know it yet.
****
The day after we sent the email to Chuy, I sat at my computer staring at the zero on my email inbox. I felt like a Pavlovian dog, salivating and waiting for the ding of the desired bell. Every time the inbox counter clicked I opened the email only to find an advertisement for Caribbean vacations or pet medicines. I kept working, digging into the information we had from Parker, but I needed those accounts to make any real headway. By late afternoon, I was nearly mad with frustration.
Why hadn’t Chuy responded? Didn’t anyone have work ethics anymore? I chewed on my thumbnail, tasted blood, and looked at the ragged tear in my cuticle.
Salem walked into the office and raised an eyebrow. “A watched pot.”
“Still boils,” I muttered.
“It’s only been twelve hours, Reyna. Who, besides you, works that fast? Besides, shouldn’t you be buying something?”
“Buying something?” I looked up at him, confused.
Salem sighed and put his knapsack on the table. He pulled a printout from one of the pockets and handed it to me. “That’s a list of flights to SeaTac airport over the next two days. You need to pick one so I can book it for you. Your deposition is scheduled for Tuesday.”
I’d been so wrapped up in this Parker thing that I hadn’t even packed. I was supposed to fly out on Monday, that’s what I’d said to Jimmy. I sighed. Jimmy.
I checked my watch. It was after four in the afternoon. I circled a flight leaving at seven-thirty in the evening and handed the paper back to Salem.
“You better get packing.”
I was offended.
“How do you know I haven’t already packed?”
He snorted a laugh and pointed to the door.
“I’ll go pack.”
****
A couple hours later, I walked back into the office with my suitcase. I forgot to upload a couple of reports to the client server and I didn’t want Salem to need to go in early tomorrow morning. I flipped the computer on and rummaged around in the mini fridge while I waited. I found some left over Yassa Chicken and walked over the microwave when something went very wrong.
The silent alarm over the outside entrance tripped. I froze while the strobe flashed. Salem never set it off by accident. No one in our building did, because it only went off if the door lock is forced. My stomach flopped. People who get attacked have a window of a few seconds to decide if they were going to be victims or survivors. In that few moments before panic sets in, what one chooses to do could save one’s life.
I ran for the safe under my desk. Barely breathing, I pulled back the rug, typed in the combination, and
pulled out my gun; a shiny .45 that only saw daylight when I took it to the shooting range.
I checked the clip, shoved it back up into the handle, and chambered a round. I counted under my breath how many seconds had passed since the alarm. The police were supposed to respond within a few minutes. I hit the lights and looked around for the office phone. It was cordless and always missing. My cell was in my car.
Someone in the hall outside tried the door handle. Creeping forward, I leveled the gun over the desk. If they wanted me, they’d have to run at me while I fired like a hopped-up bank robber. I saw movement behind the frosted glass to the right of the door. I licked my lips, still counting. How long did a few minutes take? The outline of the body pulled away from the door, and then a crowbar came crashing through the window. I screamed. His arm reached through, feeling for the lock, undoing it.
“Leave me alone!”
I screamed hysterically, and fired. The arm disappeared. I fired again, angry now, wanting to face off with whoever was terrorizing me. A third round slammed and I noticed crazily that the bullet holes were clustered together pretty nicely. I heard pounding as someone ran away down the hall, and swung the already unlocked door opened, my gun going off again.
Jimmy flew sideways, yelling.
I screamed because I was nearly frantic with adrenaline.
“Stop shooting, stop shooting,” he yelled with his arms over his head.
I stood panting, hearing the fire door alarm, and realizing the attacker had escaped. And I’d just remembered where I saw the name Sweet Cheeks before.
Purple Knot
13
His name was Stan Wicket, and he was not amused. He was the detective who caught my alarm call. Detective Wicket seemed to not like the idea of guns in the hands of private citizens.
“Tell me again why you fired the first shot?” He prompted, pencil in hand.
“She already answered that,” Jimmy said from the window. “Someone broke into her office while wielding a crowbar. She fired in self defense.”
Purple Knot Page 6