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The Sunset Witness

Page 7

by Hayes, Gayle


  When I woke up again, Michael was gone. I turned on the lamp by the bed, and walked into the kitchen. The dishes were where we'd left them. I ran water into the pan and put it in the sink and then mechanically cleared the table. I checked the door to be sure it was locked, and then I sat at my laptop to bring my journal up to date. I wanted to write about my day with Michael and my feelings while they were still fresh. There was a note on my laptop.

  HAD TO GO. MICHAEL.

  I took some comfort because he'd left a note. I could not imagine why he had to go. I supposed I'd been too easy for him. For the first time in my life, I'd hooked up on a first date. Some things never change. Men like a challenge. I'd not conquered him. He'd easily conquered me. Would he and Joel laugh about it in the morning? Would Joel's opinion of me change? How would I avoid seeing Michael in a town the size of Sunset?

  Monday, June 6, 2011

  There would have been time to continue plotting my novel Monday morning, but I was not in the mood to relive my past with Nate when I was faced with another failure. I'd reached a place where I was content without a man in my life. If I'd not found Michael so attractive, I'd have found an excuse to avoid him. I typed a paragraph in my novel outline, deleted it, and shut down my laptop. It was no use. I needed this day to grieve. I'd get back to my plan on Tuesday.

  Skipping my self-imposed regimen caused me to feel better almost instantly. I'd not called in sick or cancelled an appointment. I was my own boss and in the mood to reward myself for all I'd accomplished in the last week. In the face of disappointment, I knew it was important to treat myself well and to focus on something positive.

  I tied my old sneakers and headed out the door to the beach. I plodded through the heavy sand, dodging driftwood, seaweed, and human garbage and walked along the sand still wet from the tide. I never walked barefoot on the beach. My old shoes kept me safe and were expendable if they fell apart from the salt. I thought about the previous Monday when I was en route to Sunset.

  My journey to Sunset began three days before I arrived. I left Arizona on the last Saturday in May and drove as far as Pomona, California. If I'd not promised Sarah I'd be in Sunset to interview with Twyla on the first of June, I'd not have been on the road over a long holiday weekend. The first two days getting to Pomona and then to Sacramento were exhausting. By the time I left Sacramento on Monday, some of the traffic had let up with people mostly wherever they planned to be for Memorial Day. I had a schedule to keep, so I'd not seen the sights along the way. I didn't want to get caught in Memorial Day traffic while exploring. Once I was off I-5 and driving the slower secondary roads to the coast, I'd not make good time.

  Monday evening after I exited I-5 on the way to my motel, I witnessed a tragic accident. The driver of a semi-truck ahead of me hit a woman on a bicycle and dragged her about half a block before I was able to get his attention with my horn. The driver was devastated. I called 9-1-1 and tried to find a pulse on the victim. The EMT could not get a pulse, either. The driver of the semi-truck did not smell of an alcoholic beverage, and he was driving slowly. The road was dry at the time, and it was still daylight. It did not appear he would be charged with a crime, but I was fairly certain the woman's family would bring a civil suit against him and the trucking company. I was not looking forward to driving all the way back down I-5 to testify, but that would be months away. For all I knew, I might be living there then. So far, Sunset had been more complicated than I expected, and southern Oregon seemed nice at a glance.

  I stood facing the ocean, took a deep breath, and exhaled. The ocean made up for so much. I did a few stretching exercises and jogged about half a mile. I'd not kept up my exercise routine while I was traveling, and I'd not made time for it in the last week. I was feeling sluggish. Thoughts of Michael lurked in the shadows of my mind. I embraced the air and remembered the way he'd held me at the lighthouse. I doubled over, my arms folded, rocking in silent sobs. Then I heard someone talking to me.

  "Can I help? Are you all right?" he asked.

  I turned around to see Dennis Wagner standing behind me, looking helpless. I was mortified.

  "I'm fine. I was remembering something sad."

  Dennis asked if I'd prefer to be alone. There was something more vulnerable about him. I thought he might be just the distraction I needed. We walked back the way I'd come and then stopped to rest on a cluster of rocks with a light dusting of sand on them. We made small talk for a few minutes before we were silent.

  "Rachel, I need to tell you something. Your father and I were on different sides of a case once. It seems you were put in my path for a reason," Dennis said.

  I wasn't surprised he'd opposed my father. I sensed his disapproval when I first met him. I was surprised he was talking about it. So far, he kept our conversation light. I'd been thinking about the accident I witnessed, and I was not at all sure I wanted to be burdened with something else. Perhaps it was not so serious. I told him to go ahead. I'd been told more than once that people trusted me because I could keep a confidence.

  "My name isn't Wagner. It's Wojohowitz. I don't know if you remember Jacob Gregory. You might've been too young. Your father represented the man who killed him. Salvatore De Luca. I testified against De Luca. Your father got De Luca off. I got death threats, changed my name, and disappeared.

  "This spring, my grandson joined a religious order. It's a lot like the witness protection I was part of for the last fifteen years. He can't have any contact with his family…ever. I went to see him before he entered the monastery. I knew it meant I lost my protection, but I realized how much I missed my family, and hiding out wasn't living.

  "I went to De Luca's son and asked for his forgiveness for testifying against his dad. His dad didn't do any time, so I figured he'd shake my hand and let it go. De Luca owed Ricky Russo a favor. Ricky is a piece of crap, but he has control over everything in Seattle. He's been gunning for the guy who put his dad in the slammer when Ricky was about thirty. De Luca said he'd let bygones be bygones if I took care of Frank Christopher. That's why I came to Sunset."

  I knew instantly who Frank Christopher was. Could Dennis be asking for my help? Had he already killed Frank? I hadn't talked to Frank since Friday when I called to ask if he needed anything from Hoquarten. I did not want to know the kind of secrets Dennis had heaped upon me. I was angry.

  "Why are you telling me this?" I asked. I was getting up off the rock to leave.

  "Rachel, please sit down," he said.

  In spite of what he told me, he looked old and pitiful. I sat on the rock and stared straight ahead.

  "Once I met Frank, I couldn't do the hit De Luca ordered. We've become friends over the last couple months. I know it's only a matter of time before someone else comes for Frank, and then me. I know you think a lot of Frank, so I hope you'll help me protect him if it comes to that," Dennis said.

  I was angry. "And it's only fair since my father got De Luca off. I owe you, right?" I asked.

  "No. That might be the only advantage I have. This isn't about payback, Rachel. I'm asking you as a mutual friend of Frank's," he said.

  "How could you even consider killing another human being? You could've gone back under protection," I said.

  "I was naïve. I thought De Luca would be satisfied with an apology. He wasn't. I was desperate. I saw the end of the line for me. I wanted a few years to enjoy life. It was a tough spot to be in. I didn't want to kill somebody, but my life was killing me. I didn't do anything to deserve it. I tried to do the right thing and testify against De Luca. It seemed to make sense at the time," he said.

  "You weren't a hero for testifying against De Luca. You did it to save your own skin. I was fifteen at the time, and I took an interest in the case after my parents had a terrible argument over it. You were De Luca's accomplice. You didn't have to do any time. You shouldn't have expected your life to be normal under protection. It was still better than prison."

  "I made mistakes in my life, but I think fifteen years in is
olation was punishment enough." Dennis was more defensive.

  "Have you told Frank any of this?" I asked.

  “No. I wanted you to know in case something happens to Frank and me at the same time."

  "Frank wouldn't leave even if he knew. He told me he came here to die. But he's a good man. He deserves to die in his sleep, peacefully. I could try to hide Frank."

  "You should stay away from Frank now. That way, they won't connect you to him."

  "I planned to see Frank before I went to work today. It's been a few days. I don't want him to think I've already forgotten," I said.

  "His feelings might get hurt, but it's better than the alternative," Dennis said.

  It seemed entirely unfair that I was burdened with Dennis' conscience on top of everything else I was feeling at the time. I could count on no one, but people kept unloading on me. I felt sorry for Frank and didn't want him to die violently and alone. I left Dennis sitting on the rock and did another run. I was climbing the steps from the beach when I heard the siren. I'd forgotten the tsunami drill every Monday after the noon hour. I was already on edge after talking with Dennis, and the siren didn't help my mood.

  When I arrived at the beach house, I saw a dozen red roses in a vase on the porch. The card was from Michael. I unlocked the door, placed the roses in the middle of the drop leaf table, and fixed a salad. Suddenly, I had an appetite.

  As I ate, I wondered why Michael had not written a note on the card. The florist was in Hoquarten. They wouldn't deliver half an hour away. Michael must have gone there for the flowers and brought them himself. Maybe he thought I'd be there when he arrived. There was a chance he'd come again before I left for work. I put my dishes in the sink and took a shower. While I did my hair and makeup, I listened to Rachmaninov again. My emotions were on a roller coaster. I had no idea how long the climb would be or if I'd linger for a while at the top before I plunged into the pit of despair again.

  When I arrived at Twyla's, she was at the bakery counter helping a customer. I knew Breanna should be there and sensed her injuries were worse than I thought. I walked into the kitchen to get my apron and pad. Simone was doing advance preparations for the fish entrée. She told me I'd have to cover for Joel. Breanna had surgery that morning, and Joel wouldn't be back until Tuesday. I felt ashamed for not seeing her at the hospital Sunday. While Joel dealt with the trauma of her accident, Michael and I were indulging our passion.

  I was concerned about being on my own. With luck, Monday would be slow. Of course, it wasn't.

  The regulars inquired about Joel and Breanna. The Robinsons asked if I knew Breanna's room number so they could send flowers. Twyla suggested they wait because there was so little room in the ICU. I decided I'd split my tips with Joel. The customers were even more generous than usual because the dining room was small, and the bad news got around quickly. Joel would not be paid for his shift, and I already knew he didn't have a cushion in an emergency. It seemed the least I could do for him after brushing off the accident to be with Michael.

  The large number of customers was both good and bad. It was very stressful to deliver the kind of service Twyla was known for by myself, but it meant the night passed quickly and I had little or no time to think.

  Twyla showed me how to close at the end of the night. When we'd finished and the deposit was in the safe, she asked how I was getting along. I told her I still had so much to learn, but I thought I was doing all right for my first week. She'd heard some nice comments about me and told me to keep up the good work. It was just what I needed to hear.

  She unlocked the door for me to leave, and then locked it again. I wished Michael was there to walk me home. I kept looking around and walked as if I knew how to handle myself instead of betraying how frightened I was. It'd been several days since the knife appeared in the mural. I thought the person responsible must have seen me by now and realized Sarah was gone. There was still the hitman Dennis had warned might already be in Sunset. I had no idea who he was. I could be looking at him and not know it. Did hitmen really look the way they are portrayed in movies? If I was sending someone to do a hit, I'd choose a person who was not so obvious.

  After changing into my pajamas, I answered email and checked my Facebook page. I was not in the mood to update my status. What would I say? Good News: The psycho with the knife didn't come back. Bad News: Now I'm on the lookout for a hitman. Everything seemed trite and insignificant in view of my new reality. I stared at the plot I'd started for my novel. My mind was blank. I left a message for Joel, saying I was sorry to hear about Breanna. I asked him to let me know if there was something I could do. Then I decided to get up early and drive to Hoquarten. It might not matter to Breanna, but Joel would probably appreciate the gesture.

  Tuesday, June 7, 2011

  I made my own version of a sausage and egg McMuffin. It wasn't difficult since I'd bought a package of English muffins, eggs, cheddar cheese, and ready-cooked sausage patties. I blamed my insatiable craving for junk food on PMS and then wondered why I was late. I'd never been late before.

  I was on the road by ten o'clock. I'd have enough time to get to Hoquarten, go to the hospital, have lunch with Joel, and get back to Sunset in time for my shift at the restaurant.

  When I arrived at St. Luke's Hospital in Hoquarten, I told the nurse I was a friend of Breanna and Joel and asked her to let him know I was in the waiting room. After a few minutes, he came through the door and was smiling. The surprise on his face told me I'd done the right thing. He said Michael had come early Monday and returned periodically to give him a break. Breanna's mother was going to relieve Joel so he could go to lunch and the bank. I told him I'd read a magazine while I waited for him.

  The waiting room was small. A sofa with a pillow and blanket on it so family members could stay overnight was centered on the only window. A ceiling-high plant with rubbery leaves stood between the sofa and a chair. A coffee maker and cups were in one corner, and a water cooler was in the opposite corner. A magazine stand was next to my chair. I started flipping pages in a copy of People magazine.

  It was a relief to know Michael had left my arms to be there for a friend. I wondered if he would have preferred spending Sunday at the hospital. On the other hand, he did not give me the impression he was in the least distracted by Joel's misfortune. In the end, both Michael and I had done what we could to support Joel.

  I closed my eyes and leaned my head back on the chair. My mind wandered to the overlook at the lighthouse. I was looking into Michael's eyes. Then he kissed my nose, and started laughing. I was startled and excited to see him at the same time. I thanked him for the roses, and was surprised he looked blank. We had started talking about them when Breanna's mother came into the room. I stood up, and Michael introduced us. She thanked me for coming and left.

  After a minute or so, Joel came into the room and suggested we all go to lunch. We took his car, stopped at the ATM drive-up at his bank, and went to a deli. Joel told us Breanna was doing better. The doctor expected her to recover, but she would be in the hospital several more days.

  Once Michael and I were alone again, I asked him about the flowers. He had no idea what I was talking about. He was sorry he didn't think of it himself, because he could tell how much it had meant to me. He thought I must have received the delivery by mistake. He guessed someone else in Sunset was wondering why she did not get flowers.

  I left sooner than either of us preferred, but Twyla was depending on me, and I didn't want to let her down. I also realized it was a good opportunity to prove my value to her. Michael put his arms around me and kissed me. It was the kind of kiss that ends too soon and leaves you looking forward to the next one.

  While I was happy to have seen Michael and to know he did care, my joy was tempered by the fact he'd not sent the flowers. If he hadn't sent them, who did? Why would someone pretend the flowers were from Michael? As soon as I was in the door, I checked the card and found the florist online. I called and told the woman who answer
ed that I'd received flowers and wondered who sent them. I told her the name, Michael, was written on the card and that no one I knew had sent them. I asked if someone else had complained of not getting a delivery in Sunset. She knew of no missing deliveries. I asked if she remembered who paid for them. She was not in the store when they were purchased. The clerk who took the order was on a week's vacation. I asked for the name on the account, credit card, or check. She was not allowed to tell me.

  I'd not talked to Frank Monday. I'd not seen him since the previous Thursday morning at his house. I called his number and was relieved when he answered. He sounded glad to hear from me. I explained my life had been more complicated than usual lately, and two friends I worked with were dealing with the aftermath of a serious accident. He was very sympathetic and said he'd heard something about it. I felt a little phony for using Joel's and Breanna's bad luck to make myself look better to Frank. I could not think of any other explanation for not visiting him.

  I did not want to tell Frank I'd spent Saturday looking for a friend who was missing or hiding. Telling him about Michael seemed premature. There was not much to tell. I was sure Frank would not have approved of my hooking up with Michael when I hardly knew him. I could tell Frank we toured the area on Sunday, but he would realize it did not take all day to see the lighthouse. Now, there was the bouquet of flowers out of nowhere. It seemed everything I might have talked about was tainted somehow. After spending the night on Frank's sofa because someone had been in my house, I was afraid Frank would begin to have a low opinion of me. I valued his friendship, and I wanted him to know he could count on me if his life really was in danger. As it turned out, I had to hang up with Frank because someone was at his door. I was sorry I could see only the roof of his house from my window after Dennis told me someone might come for Frank eventually.

 

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