Finding Sarah

by Terry Odell

  Memories of her conversation with Randy hit her like a two-by-four across the skull. Survivor’s guilt, he’d called it. Of course. Chris had recommended the artist David saw the day he died. Chris felt guilty. That was why he’d become so persistent after David died.

  Empowered with a new sense of resolve, she straightened. She’d make him see there was no need to blame himself. That she could hang on without him. She freshened her lipstick and went to find Chris.

  As they drove home, she tried to tune out his chatter and collect her thoughts. Tell him. But the words wouldn’t come. He parked the Eclipse in the alley behind her house. She opened her door before he had a chance to. As she swung her legs around and got to her feet, she wobbled a little and felt his arm at her waist.

  “A little too much wine, Sarah? Let me help you.”

  “I don’t need help,” she said. But she gripped the handrail as she made her way up the stairs. At her door, she turned to face Chris, forcing herself to speak. “Thanks for everything.” She formed her words carefully, hearing them from a distance. “You don’t have to feel bad, you know. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “David. You feel guilty, that’s all. It’s called survivor’s guilt. Randy explained it.”

  Oops. She wasn’t going to talk about Randy in front of Chris. Too late. “Just because you gave him the name of that artist, it wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you. So you don’t have any obligation to help me.”

  She squinted to see if Chris reacted, but his face was blurry. “You’re out of it, Sarah. Get some sleep and we’ll talk another time.” He kissed her forehead and squeezed her hands before leaving her at the door.

  She rubbed her fingers, staring at her hands. The man had quite a grip. She sighed. He’d been right about one thing. She’d had more than her share of that bottle of wine. It took two tries, but she unlocked the door, remembering to lock it behind her.

  Her head swam, but it wasn’t just the wine. David, Randy and Chris whirled through her brain like horses on a carousel. She floated to the stereo and put a CD into the player. “Building a Mystery” filled the room. Knowing sleep wouldn’t come easily, she powered on her computer. As she had done so many times after David had died, Sarah sat playing Mahjongg solitaire. With enough complexity to require her full attention, the game had filled the lonely days and nights. She hadn’t played in months and she began familiarizing herself with the intricate tile markings.

  Mahjongg’s magic hadn’t faded. Sarah rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock. Ten-thirty. She remembered the other benefit of the computer game—staring at the screen numbed her brain and made her tired enough to sleep. She got ready for bed and crawled under the covers. The phone on the nightstand beckoned. She reached for it. No, she’d been the one to say they should keep things distant. After ten minutes of tossing and turning, she succumbed. Without turning on the light, she punched the button for Randy’s home number, her heart thumping.

  She heard his voice, the television in the background. She almost hung up.

  “Hello?” she heard again.

  “Hi. It’s me. Sarah. Are you busy?”

  “Not that busy.” The television noises disappeared.

  She stifled a yawn. “Anything on my Gertie?”

  “Sorry, not yet. She’s a phantom. And you sound tired.”

  Sarah turned onto her side and snuggled deeper under the covers. She felt her body sinking into the mattress, her eyes closing. “Had wine with dinner.” No need to tell him she’d had dinner with Chris. She didn’t want to think about Chris now.

  “Where are you? It sounds like a bad connection.”

  “In bed. Under the covers.”

  Sarah heard a deep intake of breath. “God, Sarah, don’t do this to me. I’ve spent the last two days trying not to think of you like that.” Randy’s voice had become hoarse. “You are making things very hard.”

  Sarah giggled. “Hard, as in difficult?”

  “That, too.” He groaned.

  Sensations built deep in her belly. Time to change the subject. “Can you tell me about the kitchen case?” She heard Randy take a breath, pause and when he spoke again, she heard the professional cop.

  “The Sherman’s maid ratted on the daughter and I found evidence at a frat house at Willamette University. The Sherman girl was pissed at her parents for not letting her date the older guy and thought that having someone trash the place, take a few things, would be a good way to get at them. She told her boyfriend that her parents would be out and suggested the Zimmer’s house, too, as a cover-up.”

  “That’s rotten.”

  “Yes, but it’s in the hands of the court system now, and I’m back on your case. Kovak’s got a case involving Oregon Trust and I’m going to see if there’s any connection to yours.”

  “Mmm hmm.” His words barely registered.

  “You didn’t hear any of that last part did you?”

  “Of course I heard it. But I think you’ll have to tell me again another time, when it makes sense.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Friday morning, Randy dragged himself to his desk and stared at the mound of paper. Damn, the stuff must multiply when the lights went off. He pushed the power button on his computer and headed for the break room for a caffeine fix.

  Some idiot had scheduled Randy’s three court appearances over the whole damn day, which kept him in the office. More database searches. More phone calls. Maybe make a dent in the pile of reports to review and file. Ignoring the headache that had settled at the base of his skull two days ago, he went back to work. A little of that headache disappeared when he saw the notation, “Sarah” on his schedule. Dinner and a play.

  Randy didn’t realize Kovak was in the room until he spoke. “You’ve got an hour before you’re due in court. Come with me.”

  “I’m busy.”

  “You’ve been busy for the last three days. Your cats?”

  Randy rubbed his eyes. “Hanging in.”

  “No more leads?”

  Randy shook his head. He saw Kovak standing in the doorway holding his coat.

  “I said come with me.”

  “I can get in some more searches before court,” Randy said.

  “Yeah, and you can collapse from exhaustion, too. Let’s get out of here. Consider it an early lunch. I’m buying.”

  Randy recognized the irritation in Kovak’s tone. He massaged the back of his neck and pushed away from his desk. He followed Kovak outside, squinting when the sun hit his face. The cool breeze erased some of the fatigue. “Where are we going?”

  “Follow me.” Kovak led the way until they were at the entrance to Pioneer Park, stopping to buy two hot dogs and sodas from a cart. He handed one of each to Randy and slowed his pace, ambling down the dirt path until he came to a picnic table near the playground. “Sit.”

  Randy lowered himself to the wooden bench and set his hot dog on the table behind him. He sipped his cola and watched moms push little ones on the swings and mediate sandbox arguments. Kovak sat beside him.

  “Deep breath, big guy,” Kovak said. “Smell the flowers.”

  Randy cracked a grin. “More like pine trees, but I get the idea.”

  “Now, you gonna tell me what’s going on? How much sleep you had in the last few days?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “What’s it to me? Other than we’re partners and if we get a call, you’re the one who’s going to be covering my ass? Right now, that’s not a comfortable proposition.”

  Not having a response, Randy turned and picked up his hot dog. “Shit, you had to get the works? I’m not eating chili and sauerkraut before court, you idiot.” Or before his date with Sarah.

  “Hey, don’t toss them.” Kovak extended his half-eaten dog.

  Randy scraped the toppings onto Kovak’s bun, resisting the temptation to slip and let them fall into Kovak’s lap. He took a bite of his denuded hot dog, feeling the snap as his
teeth bit though the skin. The juices hit his tongue and he was suddenly ravenous. He decided to worry about the garlic later and devoured the rest.

  “Now, talk to me,” Kovak said. “I’ve never seen you like this. If I didn’t know you better, I’d say it was a woman.”

  A pink and blue plastic ball bounced against Randy’s legs and he bent to pick it up. A blonde toddler of indeterminate gender stood about three feet away, hands outstretched.

  “Here you go.” Randy rolled the ball along the ground and watched its owner grin at him before picking it up.

  “What do you say?” came a feminine voice from across the playground. The toddler stopped, turned and said something close enough to, “Thank you”.

  “You’re welcome,” Randy said.

  “You know, that’s almost the first civil word out of your mouth since I got back,” Kovak said.

  “Three words. Or does the contraction count as one?”

  “I didn’t drag you out here to discuss the finer points of grammar. I’ve covered half your cases for two days while you’ve been gallivanting all over the state about a robbery that didn’t amount to much more than a few hundred dollars. Then I figured it was your cats. I know … well, I know what they are.”

  Randy shrugged.

  “Shit,” said Kovak. “It is a woman. Someone finally got through that brick wall of yours.”

  Randy stared at the playground. Kovak broke the lengthy silence. “What’s going on? There’s nothing in the case files that would keep you this busy. And shit, don’t tell me I’ve been covering for you so you can spend time with her.”

  Indignation flashed like a summer storm. Randy glared at Kovak, snatched up his trash and slam-dunked it in the nearest trash can. “Thanks for lunch. A veritable feast. Now, I need to find some mints before court.”

  He felt Kovak’s hand on his shoulder. He twisted away, but the hand came back, to his forearm this time, gripping like a falcon. Randy yanked free, clenched his fists.

  Kovak’s eyes blazed, but he lifted his hands in surrender. “What the hell has gotten into you? I was out of line with that crack, but—shit. If something’s going down, I’m here.” His voice was gruff but Randy heard the concern.

  “You’re partly right,” Randy said. “All those extra hours have been for her. Not seeing her, though. Trying to find out if someone’s trying to put her out of business. Maybe do her a favor and see if her husband’s suicide was really suicide. Get her the insurance money. Ease her mind a little.”

  “But?”

  “But it’s like you said. The robbery’s open, but it was a negligible amount. There might have been some vandalism afterwards, and someone was watching her apartment. Most of the investigating is outside the box, though.”

  “Chief’s getting pissed, you know. I’m sure he knows I’m covering for you.”

  “Yeah, well I appreciate what you’ve done. Really. I’ve got a bunch of names with no bodies. Some hooks to Consolidated, but there are too many layers. I’m tugging at threads, but they’re not unraveling the right parts of the cloth.”

  “I don’t know if it’ll help or make things worse, but those two insurance files you asked about? Oregon Trust finally got everything put back in order and five files were missing. Two of them were claims from Sarah Tucker.”

  Randy jerked to attention. “And you were going to tell me when?”

  “Easy, big guy. I found out about twenty minutes ago, and I brought you out here because I didn’t want you doing something stupid. I’m telling you now. My case, remember? I’ve stressed the importance of finding the missing files to the folks at Oregon Trust.”

  Randy exhaled. Kovak knew his job. “Thanks. Another thread that might lead nowhere. But I’ll follow up.”

  Kovak tilted his head back and drained the last of his soda. “On one condition. You do it Monday.” He tossed his soda can toward the trash can, giving a fist-pump when it landed inside.

  “What do you mean, Monday?”

  “I mean, take your weekend. Oregon Trust is missing five files. They’re looking for them. Nagging won’t help. As for anything else, I’m on call. If something hits, I’ll get Fletcher to back me. Get some rest.” He tilted his head to meet Randy’s gaze. “I mean it. I’ll call if something pops with your cats, or the robbery. Big guy, you need to regroup. Maybe see your woman?”

  When Kovak smiled, Randy knew he’d have to work on his poker face. Sarah’s transparency must be contagious.

  * * * * *

  When Sarah slid into the empty rear seat of the bus after work, her anticipation of the night ahead changed to apprehension.

  Stop it. She was going to dinner and a play. Community theater, nothing fancy. Why was she thinking about the afterward part?

  What was she doing? She barely knew Randy. Never mind that he turned her to jelly every time she thought of him—she’d known him less than two weeks. She hadn’t slept with a man in over a year. Of course she’d be aroused. Could that be all it was?

  Her mind flew through all the other possibilities. He couldn’t want her just for sex. Surely he could get any woman he wanted. How many other women had he already had? What did she actually know about him? She didn’t even know how old he was. Somehow, they’d hardly spoken about anything but the case.

  But he felt so … so … right. When he held her, she melted right into his body. She told herself she couldn’t sleep with him, not yet, not tonight. She swore she wouldn’t do anything to encourage him, but she knew if he made the slightest move, she’d be all over him like someone lost in the desert stumbling on an oasis.

  Protection? No way was she going to buy condoms. And even if she did, what would she do when … if … the moment arrived. Tell him it was okay if he didn’t have anything, because she happened to have a six-pack in her purse? She sucked in a deep breath. She knew she was clean, because she’d been celibate since David died and he’d been her first and only lover. But Randy. How could she ask him that? But how could she not?

  Her face had to be beet red by now. She looked out the window and realized she’d almost missed her stop. She jumped up and pulled the cord and stood at the back exit of the bus, positive that anyone who looked at her would be able to tell exactly what she’d been thinking. Darn her transparent face.

  Now she wanted to call the whole thing off. Maybe Randy’d have to work late on a case or something. The walk from the bus stop gave her time to regroup. She would enjoy the evening. She would be calm and proper and they’d watch the play, and then they’d both go home. And if he tried to kiss her good night, she’d say she never kissed on the first date. Right. She kissed before the first date. She’d even made the first move. Scratch that plan.

  Sarah got to her apartment and shut the door with a bang. Her heart dropped to her stomach as the beat-up table and two chairs that now graced her dining area mocked her. No regrets, she’d told herself last night when the eager newlyweds had come by to pick up her old set. The memories of meals shared with David were just that. Memories. She didn’t need a table to retrieve them.

  According to Diana, Chris hadn’t called her yet and the money from the sale of her dining room furniture had bought her Diana’s promise not to listen to him for at least another month. And there was enough of a cushion to make sure the utility bills would be paid on time.

  She stepped around the table, letting her fingers explore all the scratches and gouges in its dull beige laminate surface. With a sigh, she found a tablecloth in the linen closet and spread it over the table. Memories were one thing. Constant reminders of her failures were something else. A pair of candlesticks, a vase with some silk flowers and … and it was a cheap table with a couple of candlesticks and some silk flowers. Nothing more, nothing less.

  She sighed. Randy wouldn’t be here for two hours. She shouldn’t have let Jennifer talk her into leaving early to get ready. Time would have sped by at the shop with Jennifer and customers to talk to. What was she going to do for the next two hou
rs to keep from going crazy? She turned on her computer and started running the bath water.

  Sarah soaked in a peach-scented bubble bath until her fingers and toes turned to prunes. She tried a curling iron on her hair, pronounced the result intolerable, shampooed it and began again. Some gel, some fluffing, some hairspray and she was finally satisfied. Next week, for sure, she’d get a professional trim.

  She stood in her closet agonizing over what to wear. She settled on a blue print skirt and a pale blue silk blouse. Nothing fancy, something she’d worn to work many times. Shoes? She pulled out her highest heels and slipped them on. Three steps to check the mirror and she almost twisted her ankle. She’d need stilts to bring her height anywhere close to Randy, so what was the point? Being able to look at his collarbone instead of his sternum wasn’t much of an improvement. She kicked the shoes back into the closet and put on a pair of black pumps with a much lower heel. Sensible. Hardly provocative.

  Sarah stared at the pile of clothes strewn about her bedroom and burst out laughing. She took one final look in the mirror. Almost as an afterthought, she unbuttoned the top button on her blouse. Casual, not revealing. She’d play Mahjongg until Randy showed up.

  Sarah lost count of how many times she got up and peeked out the living room window hoping for a glimpse of his black F-150. At five-fifteen she saw it drive past the building. She put on her coat, picked up her purse, and checked her hair and makeup in the mirror again. She strained her ears for sounds of footsteps approaching her door.

  The knock came at last. Sarah squinted through the peephole and her heart raced even faster. She knew she had a stupid grin on her face, but there was no hiding it. She pulled the door open.