“When we got there we found him on a bench.” Holly’s voice cracked. By this point she had been crying so much that she had to snort back the snot from her nose. Her eyeliner streaked down her face. I genuinely felt awful for her. There were some tissues on her kitchen counter. I got up and handed them to her.
“Thank you.” said Holly before blowing her nose. She gathered herself, then finished her story. “We found Dennis on a bench. At first we thought he’d passed out. He did that sometimes when he got too high. But after trying to wake him up a couple times, Caroline tried for his pulse. He didn’t have one.
“We dragged him to Caroline’s car. Then we sped to Saint Mercy. I was in the back with him. Somewhere along the way I got over my denial. He was dead and I knew it. When I told Caroline, she slammed on the brakes. She was scared. What were we going to do? We panicked and decided to drop him off at the emergency room. Maybe we were wrong and he’d get help. And if we were right… no murderers would take their victims to the hospital, right?”
I took a moment to digest Holly’s story. It made sense. Seeing and hearing her tell it, I believed her. We sat there in silence for awhile. Holly was able to regain her composure.
“Are you… are you going to tell the cops?” asked Holly meekly.
It was a good question. Professional ethics told me that I should alert the authorities about what really happened. But what would that accomplish? Holly would most likely be separated from her child for at least a little bit. Her friend, Caroline, who just wanted to help, would get in trouble. No, the poor girl had been through enough. I’d tell the Clarks but not the Stone Harbor Police Department. If they choose to do so then that’s their prerogative.
“I don’t see any reason to. I will have to tell Dennis’s parents, though.” I got up and walked towards the door.
“I understand,” said Holly. She got up and walked me to the door.
Before I left, I turned around and asked, “I’m just curious, what’d you name him?”
Holly smiled. “Dennis.”
Bacon and Eggs
I spent the rest of the early morning awake, after seeing Holly. What she revealed kept churning in my mind. For hours, I just laid in bed staring at the spinning blades of my bedroom ceiling fan.
My thoughts centered around the moral dilemma the visit to Hunters Glenn introduced. What Holly and her friend, Caroline, did was illegal. A number of charges could be brought against them. Most of them would land the women in jail. But were they really criminals? Yes, they did something wrong, but did they deserve to be locked up?
The other half of my time unable to fall asleep was spent wondering how I was going to break the news to the Clarks. How do you tell someone that their son did indeed kill himself? How do you tell them that the love of their life got so depressed, he stuck a needle in his arm and pushed away his life with the plunger? How do you demolish their hopes that maybe he didn’t do it?
Moments after the sun rose, I found myself in my car. I was only technically awake. Everything appeared through a hazy filter. The green leaves of the abundant tree life seemed to blend together. Mailmen and morning commuters moved in slow motion. My mind and attention was on everything but the road.
It was a miracle that I made it to the Side Car. Muscle memory guided the steering wheel. And when I finally arrived at the diner, an avalanche of relief fell over me.
I stopped worrying. Somewhere along the ten miles from my apartment to Saluda and the Side Car, I found clarity. What would I tell the Clarks? I’d tell them truth. There is no need to sugarcoat it. What would I do about Holly and Caroline? Nothing, I’d do nothing. There’s no reason to. Not a single good thing would come from it.
One of the great things about diners is that you don’t have to wait to be seated. If you see an open booth or stool, you take it. Me, I had a regular seat. A booth near the back was where I sat every time I ate at the Side Car. On this particular morning, I chose a stool.
“Changing things up darling?” asked Carol. She was behind the counter pouring another customer coffee. Carol reminded me of the grandmother I never had. It wasn’t that she was that old. Looking at her, I’d guess she was no older than sixty five. The way she carried herself and interacted with others had a certain sweetness to it.
“For now.”
Carol walked over until she was right in front of me. “Changing what you order too?”
“Bacon, eggs and toast,” I ordered without looking at the menu.
“Let me guess, scrambled and buttered?”
“You’ve guessed correctly, Ms. Carol. And can I also get a cup of…”
“Orange juice,” said Carol, cutting off my sentence. She poured the citric juice out of a pitcher. You could see the little bits of orange pulp as it cascaded into my glass. I nodded and smiled.
In my half-awake state, every smell and sound in the diner was amplified. I could smell the grease from the kitchen. I could hear the sizzling of cooking breakfast meats and eggs. I could even pick up the traces of liquor from the trucker sitting to the right of me.
My pocket started vibrating. I took out my phone. There was a text from Sam. It read, “R U awake?” Seeing that I was, technically, I answered back. “Yup, having breakfast.” He didn’t even have to ask where I was. Sam just texted, “Be there in a bit.”
As I ate my bacon and eggs, one ear was focusing on the front door. Sam was going to walk through it and reveal to me why it was so important for him to see me at seven in the morning.
Almost on cue, Sam walked in just as I finished eating. He sat down to the left of me. From his appearance it was clear that he too didn’t get any sleep. His collar was loose and tie even looser. Dark circles hung below his eyes which were red and slightly swollen. With him he carried a manila folder that he put down on the counter.
“So… what brings you to Saluda, Sam?” I asked.
“You do, Riley. And so does Ms. Carol,” answered Sam, loud enough for the waitress to hear him.
“What can I get you, sweetie?” asked Carol.
“Coffee and a blueberry muffin, please.”
“You got it.” Carol went about getting Sam his breakfast.
“Have you solved our case yet?”
“Yep, last night.”
There was a short pause. In that time, Sam got his muffin and coffee.
“Well, are you going to tell me or not? Don’t leave me hanging.”
“Turns out y’all were right. It was an accidental overdose.”
Sam spun his stool so he was facing me. “Wait. You’re saying I was right? I think this may be the first time that has ever happened. Can you say it again, just so I make sure I remember this glorious moment?”
“You were right,” I said quietly.
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”
“You were right!” I said significantly louder.
“Hot damn, that was worth the trip all in itself.” Sam’s enthusiasm suddenly subsided. He took a more somber tone. “Have you told the Clarks yet?”
“No, not yet. I was going to stop by their house when I get back to Stone Harbor.”
“I can’t imagine going through that. God forbid anything happened to my kids. I don’t know what I’d do. In other words, I don’t envy you.”
“Not that I don’t enjoy your company, but why are you here?”
Sam held up the manila folder. “This is why. Go ahead and read it.”
I took the folder and opened it up. There were a couple of sheets of paper that looked like copies. On the papers were names on the left and numbers on the right. It looked like a spreadsheet, or maybe financial records.
“What’s this?” I asked.
Sam took a bite of his muffin. He answered while chewing. “We picked those up from Fresh Horizons. Turns out Dr. Janice was a stickler for keeping the books. On those sheets are the records from January, 1999, to March, 1999.”
“Why are you showing me this?”
Sam smiled. “K
eep reading. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
I kept reading. The names and numbers meant nothing to me. That was until the second to last row on the second page. In sloppy doctor handwriting was the name “Troy Reid”.
Seeing my dad’s name on those financial records took me completely by surprise. My eyes went wide and I think I stopped breathing. It was the first time I had any real proof that perhaps my parents weren’t dead. If he was conducting business with Dr. Wen and Fresh Horizons in 1999, then he lived past his disappearance in April of 1998.
“This, this is…”
“Crazy, right? I figured you’d be interested in that.”
I didn’t know what to say. Instead I just hugged him. It took Sam by surprise. He almost lost the half-chewed blueberry muffin in his mouth.
“Thank you. Jesus, Sam, this is amazing.”
“I know I’m pretty great, but comparing me to the son of God is a little much.”
“Do you know what this means?” I asked as I held up the manila folder. “This means I have a reason to keep looking. This is validation that it wouldn’t be a waste of time. This is hope, Sam. I don’t even know how to make this up to you.”
“No need. It was worth it just seeing your reaction.”
I got up from the counter. After paying my bill, I got ready to leave. With a gentle kiss to Sam’s forehead I told him I loved him. As I exited the door I heard him say, “If only that were true.” He didn’t think I heard him but I did. It wasn’t true.
There was an abundance of love in my heart for Sam. But my feelings for him were as a friend. He had made it perfectly clear over the years that he felt differently. And I knew that every time I rejected his advances, it hurt. Was there a part of me that could see him in a romantic light? Sure, there was. My own fear of what that meant made me bury those parts.
The Awful Truth
The elation I felt from finding out that my dad might still be alive hadn’t lasted long. When my car door closed, the reality of what I’d have to do next hit me. My next stop was 107 Bainbridge Road, the Clark residence. There, I’d have to tell them that their son died by his own hand.
As I drove, the script of what I was going to say kept repeating in my mind. No matter how I put it, it sounded really bad and really harsh. I didn’t want that. I needed to find a way not to come off as cold. And that was always really hard for me. Social skills like that were something I had struggled with for as long as I can remember.
I pulled up in front of the Clark residence. It was a beautiful spring morning. You could both hear and smell lawns being mowed. Several kids passed by me in my parked car on their bicycles. There was so much life.
Behind the door of number 107, there was grief. Behind that door, all the sunshine and playing kids were from another world. And I was going to make things even worse. In that moment, I wished I had kept a flask of something hard in my glove compartment. I wished I had anything to make my job easier.
I took a deep breath then got out of my car. As I walked up, I turned off my cell phone’s ringer. Sweat started to form in my armpits. My hands were shaking a little bit. After I went over the script one more time in my mind, I knocked on the door.
Mrs. Clark answered. “Hello, Ms. Reid.”
“Hi. I would’ve called but I felt it was more appropriate to do this in person. May I come in? I need to talk to you about your case.”
I hope you enjoy this excerpt of Fires and Lies – Book #2 in the Riley Reid Mysteries
Date Night
It was the night of July 2, and I was on a date. Amy Paxton, an officer of the Stone Harbor Police had set it up. The handsome man, several years my younger across the table from me, was a stranger. His name was Jimmy Alvarez. And he liked to talk.
“So … tell me about being a PI. Is it as exciting as it sounds?” asked Jimmy. He had an easy smile, like a comedian or conman. The candlelight produced shadows that highlighted the contours of his face.
“Exciting?” I laughed and then finished my wine in several large gulps. Jimmy was eagerly awaiting the rest of my answer. He looked like a child waiting for the ending of a story. “There’s nothing really exciting about it. In fact it’s mostly waiting and researching.
“C’mon, there must be more to it than that?”
“Not really.” I called over the waitress with my hand.
“What can I get you, Miss?” Miss? I didn’t like being referred to in that way. It made me feel old. When it came from a lovely young woman in her early twenties, it made me feel ancient. She didn’t know that though. There was no need to be impolite.
“More wine, please.”
The young waitress nodded and left our table. We were in the middle of DeRomano’s, an Italian Restaurant in Newport News. It was a nice place. In the summer, diners were given tables outside on the top floor deck. From there, you had a picturesque view of the bay and the surrounding town.
Every table had a small candle on it. Glass candle chimneys enhanced the light they gave off. I could smell the salt water. Fumes from the kitchen made my mouth water. It was a situation I would have loved to be in with anyone but Jimmy.
There was nothing wrong with Jimmy. He was nice enough. But the date was doomed from the start. Amy practically forced me into it. As much as I wanted to decline, I knew doing so would lead to more drama than it was worth. Besides, I think it was a test. She wanted to know if I was attracted to men, for reasons obvious to anyone who had ever met her.
“Didn’t you help bust that crooked rehab center? What was it called … New Horizons?” Jimmy just didn’t give up.
“Fresh Horizons,” I corrected my date.
“Sorry, Fresh Horizons. That must’ve been exciting.” Jimmy dug into the complimentary basket of fresh bread.
“They tried to kill me and my best friend.”
The grin left Jimmy’s face. Perhaps my answer was a bit harsh. “I … I didn’t know. I’m sorry to hear that. Who tried to kill you?”
My mouth often got me into trouble. I had a bad habit of speaking before thinking. “I don’t know. But I will figure it out.”
Jimmy smiled again. “I’m sure you will, smart girl such as yourself. And you’re not only smart, but beautiful…”
I stood up. “I’ll be back. I need to use the ladies’ room.”
I left the table and Jimmy, and went downstairs. It was crowded. Saturday nights were exceptionally busy for DeRomano’s. The place was popular, especially for couples. Despite the amount of people there, it was romantic. And more importantly, it wasn’t too expensive.
As I waded through my fellow diners, I wondered. Did they love each other? Were there any other victims of arranged meals like myself? Was the tension sexual or nervous?
Men and women gathered around the bar. Each one of them struggled to get the overworked bartender’s attention. I almost pitied them. Then I remembered that I wasn’t exactly having an awesome time, either.
There was a wait for the women’s bathroom. That was okay with me. I didn’t really have to go that bad. It was an excuse to get away from Jimmy. In my purse, I heard my phone ring. When I took it out and looked at who was calling, I saw Detective Sam Greyson’s name. I held a hand over one ear and then answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Riley. Are you at your place?”
No, unfortunately I wasn’t at home. Instead I was out on a blind date with a nice but annoying guy and I wanted Sam to come save me. “No, I’m out. Why? What’s up?”
“It’s Lisa.”
“Hold on.” I quickly made my way to and out the front door. When I got outside where it was quieter, I asked, “What about Lisa?”
“I think you should get down here. She’s a mess. Just … can you get down here?” If I could somehow manage to travel through the invisible phone transmission and choke an answer out of Sam, I would’ve. Why not just tell me what happened?
“Yeah, where are you?”
“At the station.”
“Okay, I’ll leave now.” I hung up and hurried back into DeRomano’s.
“Is everything okay?” asked Jimmy as I arrived back at our table, out of breath.
“I gotta go, I’m sorry.”
“Oh … okay.” Jimmy was confused and a little disappointed. “Can I at least walk you out?”
“No, that’s necessary. Bye! Thanks for dinner.” I hurried away towards the stairs to the ground floor. Then I rushed out the door and to my car.
About the Author
jamiegarrett.com
Riley Reid Mysteries
Jesters and Junkies – Book 1
Fire and Lies – Book 2
Ends and Beginnings – Book 3
Hi, I’m Jamie. I live with my husband, two beautiful children and two cats. I loves to read almost as much as I loves to write, and can’t imagine anything better than getting to be an author and writing every day. There is at least one cat draped over the keyboard at all times.
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