by Dale Mayer
She needed to focus on what she would do when he left. And that meant finding a better job and potentially day care. And hopefully wages that would allow that to work. Online or work from home would be the best.
On that note, she put on the teakettle and headed to her laptop with Sari at her side. “Don’t you worry, little one. Mommy’s got this.”
Weston headed into town, wondering what he was supposed to do, but knowing that staying there in a comfy cozy family setting was both a draw he couldn’t really afford to let distract him and yet something he didn’t want to resist. He had brought up a parental relationship earlier in his discussion with Daniela, but his mind was already going further into the relationship area. It made no sense, but he didn’t know if it was his daughter—which was the sweetest sounding word he’d ever heard—or if it was Daniela herself. She was one seriously attractive woman, both outside and inside.
No doubt he could succumb to that whole sweet family setting, but she wasn’t his wife, and, although he felt Sari was his daughter, legally she wasn’t. It was a screwed-up deal, and it was playing with his head. He really liked what he saw and loved how he felt, but that didn’t make any of it a reality.
As he drove into town, his first stop was a grocery store, where he picked up steaks. With the temperature in Anchorage in July well above freezing, he also picked up a small cooler and some ice, because it’d be hours before he returned home. Shambhala was more than interested in the package. When he returned to the truck, he put the meat and the ice into the cooler, and placed it and a few other necessities behind the seat, safely out of the dog’s way.
Hopping back into the truck, he and Shambhala headed to the police station. When he walked in, he asked if he could see the detective. He’d sent a message earlier but hadn’t received a response. The front desk contacted the detective, and, sure enough, while Weston stood here waiting in the small front office, Detective Kruger came through an inner door. He motioned for Weston to follow him.
As they headed in to his office, he offered a seat. “Can I get you a coffee?”
“Sure,” Weston said with a smile. He had Shambhala at his side, and she lay down at his feet. She seemed completely unconcerned being in the office with him. And the detective hadn’t had a problem either apparently.
When the detective came back though, he noticed the dog for the first time. “I forgot she went home with you,” he said. “I still think of her as Grant’s.”
“But you took Grant away, and I couldn’t leave the dog there.”
“Agreed,” the detective said. “Grant has been released, by the way.”
That was news to Weston. “Interesting. No reason to hold him?”
“Not yet,” he said. “His story is beyond odd, but, even though he’s a twin, his DNA will still be unique.”
“I wondered if anybody would know Grant or the brother enough to identify which one may have died.”
“I’m not sure,” the detective said with a frown. “It’s possible, but I don’t have much of a list.” He pulled the file toward him and opened it. “Ginger had more friends than Grant did.”
“Before they went homesteading, did either of them work in town?”
“Grant used to work at the feedstore, actually.”
“You’d think he would have stayed part-time while he was homesteading,” Weston said. “It’s not like a whole lot of money is in homesteading.”
“No, but Grant wasn’t exactly one of the hardest-working people I know either. Still, he did do a lot of work on the house, and he had taken a job up north to bring in more money, so he was stepping up.” He thought about the dog then. “After the accident, I’m not surprised Shambhala went to the feedstore, since she would have known some of the guys there.”
“You’re right. The dog is fairly identifiable with a missing leg, not to mention the eye.”
“Exactly.”
Weston frowned. “Mind if I go back to the feedstore and talk to them?”
“Feel free,” the detective said. “But, as far as we’re concerned, we don’t really have any reason to exhume the other body, and we don’t have any reason to suspect that this person is anyone other than Grant.”
“Maybe, but then you have a body buried under the wrong name.”
The detective shrugged. “Grant does want the name on the stone changed.”
Weston sat back and thought about that. “That’s just way too convenient for my taste,” he announced.
“Mine too,” the detective agreed. “But budgetary constraints come into play here.”
“What about Ginger’s family?”
“As far as I know, she’s a local gal. Her parents passed away a few years back. I don’t think she has any siblings.”
“What about children?”
“I think she does have one or two. From a previous marriage. I’ve spoken to her ex-husband, and he’s told his family. Why?”
“Just wondering if they were old enough to be a factor here. If we do know for sure Gregory died in the accident,” he said, “you’re not exhuming and looking for a cause of death?”
“An autopsy wasn’t done at the time because the crash was a fairly obvious cause of death,” the detective said. “I doubt the kids are involved. They don’t have anything to do with their mother and aren’t in the will.”
“Sure, but now it seems you’re closer to having a motive for murder.”
“Maybe, but we don’t have anything other than a possibility,” the detective said. “Mark my words. If we do have reason to believe, that’s different, but, at the moment, we don’t.”
“Good enough.” Weston hopped to his feet, intent on leaving.
Then the detective asked, “Did you really come here for the dog?”
“I came here because of both the dog and my daughter,” Weston said. “Speaking of which, how do things work in terms of an adoption up here?” He explained the situation and what had happened with Angel.
“If Daniela has proper papers,” the detective said, “then the child is hers. But if something was shady about the process and the paperwork used, then who knows what a judge might entertain.”
“Meaning, if the adoption skirted the legalities, it could be ruled null and void, and the biological mother could get the child back. Correct?”
“Let’s just say that the biological mother would have a lot more power and a better chance of getting her daughter back. Particularly if she comes up with any proof she was pressured into giving away her child.”
“And considering that I’m the father, do I have any rights?”
“Just as much as the mother apparently,” the detective said. “But, even if she was pressured into doing it, she hasn’t shown up for all this time. But then, neither did you.” There was no pulling a punch on that one.
Weston nodded. “I didn’t even know about her,” he said. “I found out when Angel called me drunk one night, but, by then, the adoption was already done. I had no idea what to do. Daniela contacted me not long ago.”
“And this Angel seems pretty positive you’re the father?”
“That’s what she said to me and to Daniela. But what she would say to a judge is anybody’s guess. We’re actually waiting on DNA.”
“That would be good. It would give you more legal cause for a judge to grant you custody.”
“What if I’m content to have Daniela keep her?”
“It’s hard to say. If the judge doesn’t want that, it will become between you and Angel.”
“In that case, I’d fight to get her myself,” he said firmly. “Angel’s not a fit parent.”
“Then you should probably prepare for a legal defense, just in case.”
“And, if Angel does want Sari, for some nefarious reason, … like blackmail,” he said, letting his voice trail off.
“If that’s the case, you let me know,” he said. “Because that is something I can act on. If she gets into criminal behavior we can prove, then she can be charg
ed.”
“Right,” Weston said, “but, in the meantime, it could get ugly.”
“Yes,” the detective said. “These things are just sad. And, if she didn’t want the child in all that time, you have to wonder why she wants her now.”
“That’s exactly the problem. I don’t get a good feeling about any of this.”
“Doesn’t matter if you do or not. Stay on the good side of the law, and hopefully the paperwork is in order, and it won’t be an issue.”
“Right, well, we’re working on that,” Weston said. “I’ve got the paperwork in to a lawyer, so we know where we stand there.”
“I can take a look, if you want to send it to me.”
Figuring it couldn’t hurt, Weston brought it up on his phone and emailed the documents. The detective printed it off, sat back to look at it. “I can get somebody in the department here to take a look at this. It looks aboveboard to me, but I’m not a lawyer.”
“Neither am I, which is why I was looking for a second opinion.”
“So Daniela had a lawyer when this was originally drawn up?”
“Yes,” Weston said. He searched his email and frowned. “I don’t have the name of the lawyer here, though I can text her for it.”
He sent Daniela a text, and, while he and the detective discussed the paperwork, they waited for a response. When it came in, he shared the name with the detective, who nodded.
“That is a reputable firm, so things are looking better and better in that regard.”
Weston felt a wave of relief at that news. “That is great to hear. At the time of the adoption, Daniela was married, and her husband has since passed away.”
“That’s always a problem too,” the detective said. “This is a generality, of course, but, when there are issues, and custody cases come before a judge, the stability of the homes is a consideration—like, if there is a dispute, and any chance of a decision being reviewed, if one party is married and is in a more stable situation, often that can influence the decision of the judge.”
“Meaning, the judge would prefer to have Sari raised by a husband and wife?”
“Yes.”
As Weston left the police station, he wondered about contacting the lawyer’s office himself. He hopped into his vehicle, wondering if the office could still be open, and brought the firm up on his GPS. When he realized it was just around the corner and a couple blocks away, he drove over and parked in a back lot up the street.
Shambhala strode happily along at his side, seemingly content to just be with somebody and to have a purpose. Weston reached out a hand and gently scratched her behind the ears as they walked the block. The legal firm was located at the front right corner. He turned the knob, but it was locked. He knocked on the door.
There was no answer, and it was dark inside. He frowned and walked to the adjacent parking lot. A couple vehicles were there, but he didn’t know who they belonged to. He went back to the lawyer’s office and tried again, but it was definitely locked. Heading to the nearest window, he couldn’t see anything because of the shutters, but, as he walked to the other edge, a little bit of space provided him a look inside. He peered through the window, and his heart froze. He couldn’t be sure because of the shades blocking his view, but somebody appeared to be lying on the floor.
Swearing, he called the detective. “Hi, it’s Weston. I’m at the lawyer’s office. I can’t get into the front door. It’s locked, but I’m looking through a window I can barely see through, and it looks like somebody’s on the floor in there.”
“Be right there,” the detective said, his voice brisk. “It would be pretty shitty timing if it happened to be the lawyer in this case,” he said and hung up.
“It wasn’t just shitty timing,” Weston thought. “It could be catastrophic.” He headed back to the front door and rattled it again. There should be another door. He walked around back and found a second door. It was unlocked. With the dog at his side, he pulled it open, propped it open with a rock and stepped inside. Immediately the smell of death assailed him. Shambhala let out a whining howl. He reached down and comforted her.
“You’re right, sweetheart. That’s not something either of us wants to smell again, is it?” He debated going in, then realized the detective would have his hide for potentially damaging a crime scene. As it was, he didn’t have to wait long because the detective was here in a matter of minutes. Weston stood at the open door, as the detective drove up into the parking lot. As soon as he saw him, the detective frowned.
“Have you been in there?”
Weston shook his head. “No. As soon as I opened the door—which was already unlocked—we could smell it, and we stopped.”
“I hope so,” he said, “because I won’t be happy if you compromised the scene.”
“I didn’t,” Weston said calmly. “I do know how this works.”
“Maybe.” The detective went in, took one look around, came back out, already on his phone. He looked over at Weston and said, “It’s the lawyer. It’s his office, and he’s dead.”
“Anybody else in there?”
“Not that I saw. I’d like you to stick around, so we can get your statement.”
He nodded. “Any chance I can go ahead and take a look?”
The detective just looked at him with a hard glare.
“I do have some experience with this and obviously have a personal interest here,” he said with a shrug.
“All the more reason not to,” the detective said smoothly.
At that point, Weston realized he really would get shut out. He nodded and stepped back with Shambhala. They waited outside until a young officer came over to talk to him. Weston gave him the little information he had, then drove off, heading straight to the feedstore. It looked like Daniela would need a new lawyer.
Chapter 12
It wouldn’t be so bad trying to get some work done, except for the fact that Daniela kept getting phone calls with nobody on the other end. After the third call from Private Caller and yet nobody there, Daniela slammed down her phone beside her in frustration, only to see Sari looking up at her with tears in her eyes. Immediately she felt terrible and raced over to pick up her little girl. She tossed her in the air, playing with her until the sunshine came back into her face.
“It’s fine, silly,” she said. “I don’t know who’s trying to get a hold of me though.”
“Daddy,” she said.
At that Daniela froze. “No,” she said. “It’s not Weston.”
“Doggy,” the little girl tried again.
“I don’t think the doggy knows how to use the phone yet.” She walked into the kitchen to put on the teakettle and realized Weston had been gone for a couple hours already. She sent him a quick text, asking if he would make it home for a six o’clock dinner.
She got a strange answer back.
Yes, if I can make it.
She didn’t know what that meant, but, if they weren’t having steak, she needed to do something else. But, for her and Sari, dinner didn’t have to be a big deal, only if she was expected to feed him too.
When she’d made a cup of tea, she headed back, and, as she sat down, her phone rang again. She picked it up, saw it was a Private Caller, and she clearly and succinctly told the other person to take a hike. Then she hung up. As she slammed down the phone again, she thought she heard a voice. But she checked, and the call had ended. She waited for a call back, but there was nothing. She started thinking there might be a problem, and what she had taken as an interfering prank caller with time on his hands might have been a person in distress. She frowned at that.
It was hard, almost impossible to get back to her work now. And when the phone rang again a few minutes later, she picked it up with relief when she saw it said Private Caller. When she hit Talk, she said hello; again there was nothing. “Are you in trouble?” she asked. “Do you need help?” She strained to hear any answer, but there was nothing. Finally, she put the phone back down and ended the call.
>
“Stuff it,” she said. “I don’t know who it is, but they can stop hassling me.”
When Weston got home, she’d get him to take a look at it. But she hated to depend on him more than she already was. Just having him here when Angel was causing trouble was huge. But she didn’t want it to become a habit, and she didn’t want him to think that she couldn’t live without him. Because, at some point, he would go home. If she didn’t move to a state where he lived, chances were she would remain alone.
The phone rang yet again, and she stared at it with growing frustration. Finally she picked it up. “Hello.” This time she heard laughter on the other end. Her stomach sank. “Is this Angel? What’s wrong? Are you high on drugs again? You’ll never get your daughter back if you’re just a druggie,” she demanded. “Leave me alone.”
“Oh my, you’re getting a little unnerved,” Angel said. “What’s the matter?”
“As if you don’t know,” Daniela said in disgust. “You’ve got nothing better to do than make prank phone calls all day or what?”
“This is the first call I’ve made today,” Angel said.
But her tone was mocking. Daniela didn’t know if she should believe her or not, so chose the not.
“Not likely,” Daniela said. “What brought you back to town anyway? Last I saw you, you were desperate to leave here.”
“Maybe I missed the place,” Angel said.
“You couldn’t wait to get out before,” Daniela said. “So I doubt it.”
“I never did say, Sorry about Charlie’s death,” Angel said abruptly.
“No need to say it now either then,” Daniela answered smoothly.
“He was such a sweetheart,” Angel said. “Especially in bed.”