She tossed the catalog for kid’s clothing into the box to go in the recycle bin at the end of the week.
Laughter came from the kitchen.
Jane paid extra for Kayla, their seventeen-year-old neighbor, to start dinner during the week. It was worth the extra fee to come home to the meal being done. Cam would be home in ten minutes, and they’d be ready to sit down and eat.
At the kitchen door, Jane watched Kayla show Liz how to mix the hamburger in the pan. She dumped a handful of cheese into a smaller pan of refried beans.
“Smells good,” Jane said.
“Thanks.” Kayla flashed a smile full of tin. Her braces were to come off in another week.
Jane imagined the girl would become even more popular with straight white teeth to go with her almost white hair. Most found it hard to believe she was seventeen, as thin as she was, and not that much bigger than Liz, who got her mother’s tall genes.
Luke was nowhere in sight.
“Where’s your brother?”
“In his room studying,” Liz said. “Or so he said.”
Her daughter was wiser than her nine years.
“The food should be fine in the oven until Mr. Bayou gets home.” Kayla turned to Liz. “Good luck on your reading test.”
“Thanks.” Liz loved having Kayla’s attention.
It was like having a big sister around, not that Jane knew that feeling. She’d been the oldest of five. Liz would be heartbroken when the girl went off to college next year.
Jane walked the sitter to the door and watched her cross the street to her house. Their security lights clicked on as she neared. Her mother opened the door and gave Jane a wave.
Though they lived in a pleasant neighborhood, all the parents still worried. It was just the way of the world these days. Jane returned inside and headed back to her son’s room. Music came through the closed door. She knocked, then opened it. If the boy wanted privacy, he could pay rent. He was on his phone.
“I thought you were studying,” she said.
“Just seeing what Randy got for an answer in math.” He didn’t look at his mother. “I wouldn’t have to be on the phone if you’d let me go to Neil’s where they both are.”
“Get his parents over here for dinner, and maybe you can.”
“Both work like you and Dad.”
“Ah, no supervision.”
“I’m not a baby.”
“Funny, you sound like one.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
Luke’s face reddened as he swiped his finger across the phone screen. “If you’re not going to let me go to my friends, the least you can do is pay me to watch Liz.” He got up from his bed. “I’m almost thirteen. No one my age has a babysitter.”
“That’s ’cause they don’t have one as pretty as Kayla?”
He glared at her. “It’s not funny, Mom. Don’t you trust me?”
“Yes, I do. It’s all the weirdos out there I don’t trust.”
“I’m not a little kid anymore.”
That was true. She just hated the thought of her kids being home alone. Not that Kayla could fight off a guy breaking in, but with her mom right across the street keeping an eye out, Jane felt more secure leaving her kids with her.
“Let me talk it over with your dad, see what he has to say.”
“So, in other words, forget it.” He let out a loud breath.
He knew her well. While Cam might not have an issue with it, she did. She was overprotective, she knew it. But she’d seen a lot in life that made her that way.
“I’ve got to finish my math,” he muttered.
“I’ll leave you to it.” She closed the door behind her. Even if her son were cheating and sharing answers, she’d never be able to figure it out. Math was Cam’s thing, not hers. She was just grateful he wasn’t out running the streets with a gang of math nerds.
She went into the bedroom and changed her clothes. A car pulled into the driveway. She glanced out the window. Cam. A smile creased her lips. She headed out to greet him and to finish getting dinner set up.
It was seven twenty-eight, and Jane was putting the last of the dishes in the dishwasher when her cell rang in the living room.
“Hello,” Cam’s voice. “Hey, doing great. Yeah, she’s right here.”
It would tick most spouses off if their significant others answered their phones, but Jane and Cam had no secrets.
Cam walked into the kitchen and held out the phone. “It’s Terri.”
“Thanks.” She wiped her hands on a nearby dishtowel and took the phone. “Hey, sis, what’s up?”
“I’m getting married,” Terri screamed.
Jane moved the phone from her ear and waited a second. “What?”
“He asked me last night.”
“Well, it’s about time.” She leaned against the counter. “Tell me all about it.”
Her sister spent the next five minutes going over how Wyatt, her boyfriend of two years, got down on one knee in the middle of their living room and asked her to be his bride.
“There’s only one problem,” Terri said.
“What’s that?”
“He’s getting deployed next month.”
“How long?” Jane shoved the last glass into the dishwasher.
“Eight months.”
“Just enough time to plan a wedding. He can just show up.”
“Except we want to get married before he leaves. Something small.” She released a loud breath. “Mom’s gonna hate not planning a large affair.”
“True.”
“What am I going to do?”
“Give me a minute to think about it.” Jane flipped on the dishwasher. She put a finger in her ear to drown out the machine’s warble. “Why don’t you hold the wedding in Mom’s flower garden? She’ll be ecstatic.” Jane grabbed a pad of paper from her drawer and started a list: flowers, cake, dress. “The hard part’s going to be getting Pastor George at the wedding on such short notice.”
“Using the garden is a great idea.” Terri’s voice held the excitement of a new fiancé. “Please say you’ll help me convince her, Jane. Please.”
“There’s nothing I like more than telling Mom how things have to be.” Jane rolled her eyes. “Does Poppy know?”
“She’s my next call. I thought I’d do a video chat with both of you, then we’d get Mom on the line and tell her.”
“Oh no, you don’t. If Mom finds out we knew first, she’ll play the guilt card for the rest of our lives. You’re on your own for that.”
“Okay, then I’ll tell her before I call Poppy.”
Jane was relieved her sister didn’t beg her to be on the phone. “You’re going to have to find a dress off the rack.”
“Definitely not one I need altered.”
“Not necessarily. If it’s not too fancy, Poppy can make any alterations needed.”
Their middle sister Poppy, a part-time photographer, got the home ec gene in the family. Jane could barely sew a button on a shirt.
They spoke for another few minutes before hanging up. Jane walked into the living room where Cam and the kids had spread out watching Wheel of Fortune.
“Done with your homework?” She asked them both.
“Yes, ma’am,” Liz said while Luke sulked in the corner of the sofa.
The teen years, yay.
“What’s going on?” Cam asked.
“Wyatt finally proposed.” Jane plopped down next to Luke. “They want you to be the ring bearer.”
“Me?” Her twelve-year-old raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah. Gonna have pink tuxes.”
He scrunched his face up. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t say yes.”
“You’re her favorite nephew. How could I not?”
“Mom. I’m too old to be a ring bearer. Not to mention pink.”
“I’m kidding.” Jane reached over and pinched his cheek. “Would I do something like that to you?”
“You think I’m still a baby, so why not?”
“So, when’s the wedding?” Cam asked. “Gotta make sure I’m available to ensure the groom doesn’t bolt.”
“He won’t bolt.”
“His bride to be is Terri. He might bolt.”
Sure, her sister was flighty, but not enough to chase a man away, especially with her thick blonde hair and light blue eyes. “I’m sure everything will be fine. We’re hoping to have it at Mom’s.”
“Oh boy. That puts her right in the middle of the entire thing.”
Jane was sure Cam recalled how Mom tried to make the colors of her wedding garnet and gold. While Jane liked the colors, she didn’t want guests to think of the Florida State University Seminoles during the ceremony.
“Could use some of her flowers.” Cam suggested.
“Great idea.”
Jane loved her mom, but when it came to her daughters’ weddings, she made a habit of wanting to be in charge. She seemed to forget the wedding was for the bride, not the mother of the bride.
***
It was just before eight when the rain slowed enough for Winston to leave work without getting drenched. A full moon was out by the time she pulled up to the bright light on the security gate. It always amazed her how it could be raining on one block and not another.
She grabbed her mail from the mailbox and pulled through the circular drive. The van door used by her yard man was open, illuminating the ground all round with the inside light. Flowers, plants, and bags of mulch filled the back. Carlos Jimenez pushed a wheelbarrow from the garage. Dirt coated his overalls and white t-shirt.
“Good evening,” she said as she got from the car.
“I thought I’d switch out some new flowers at the fountain tomorrow. Those are looking a bit ragged.”
“Good idea.” Before then, she hadn’t noticed any of them were dying.
The three of them had been together since Winston was a teen, and the foster care system had thrust her on them. Carlos took care of the property and Marcia took care of inside the house and did the cooking.
They lived in a two-bedroom cottage on the property, and she paid them well. At least she hoped she did. They deserved everything she had for putting up with her nightmares and mood swings over the years.
Inside the house, the clash of pots and pans sounded from the kitchen, and garlic filled the air. She took her briefcase and the mail into the office on her left before she headed to the kitchen.
Steam from boiling water rose in the air from a pot on the stove.
“Spaghetti?” she asked.
Marcia was at the wood island spreading butter onto a loaf of French bread, a colorful apron around her waist. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face to reveal full lips and dark brown eyes.
“Yes, but I don’t want you trying to reheat it like you did last time.” She used the knife to point at Winston. “I’m still cleaning up that mess.”
“No, you’re not.” Winston gave a light laugh.
She glanced at the light fixture in the middle of the room where pasta sauce had hit. She’d never learned to cook as a young girl.
When she reheated the spaghetti, she’d put the burner up too high, then left to take a shower. She never thought to put a lid on the pan. When she came out, sauce and noodles were everywhere. She’d spent half the night trying to get things clean so Marcia wouldn’t know. If it hadn’t been for one noodle looped hanging like a dead worm from her light fixture, she’d have been in the clear. Winston still didn’t know how she missed it.
Now they could laugh about it, but at the time doing something so stupid mortified Winston.
“How long until dinner?” she asked.
“Twenty minutes.”
Winston retreated to her office and scanned the mail. An invitation to a charity dinner for the homeless. She scoffed. Why not just give the money to the homeless for the cost of the food? Her electric bill was in the pile. She tossed it aside, having it on automatic pay. Two businesses had sent her a postcard asking about buying her house. They couldn’t afford it. And the last, a sale item for tires.
She clicked on her home computer to look up news reports about the killing of Kevin Newberry. His killer, Joseph Xavier, had been seventeen with a juvenile record. With those records sealed, the news station didn’t say what his conviction had been for. The details would likely come out during the civil trial.
After reading a couple articles, she headed to the obituary page on Jacksonville.com, the local newspaper. Family members of Joseph’s listed in the obituary were: his mother Susan Xavier, father, Andre Martinez, and two siblings, Reginald and Darla.
Winston switched over to the Duval County Clerk of Court website’s online records and searched Susan Xavier’s name. Three cases came up—two for bad check charges and one for shoplifting. Too many were named Andre Martinez to tell if any were the father of Joseph.
Winston next looked up both siblings. Nothing on Darla, but Reginald had several convictions, the latest an armed robbery which had occurred two years before. He was serving twenty years in prison.
She read through a couple social media sites before finding Susan on Facebook. Seems her daughter Darla was a straight A junior at Ribault High School and a member of the National Honor Society. Good for her. Hopefully, she’d stay away from boys, go to college, and get a degree. There was too much pressure on girls these days to be physical, which took their attention away from studying.
“Dinner’s ready,” Marcia hollered.
“Okay.” Winston closed the lid on the computer laptop.
Either the girl had common sense or Susan kept a tighter rein on her daughter than she did her sons.
***
It’d been a long day at the office, and Gabriel’s neck hurt. He’d already missed dinner with the kids, but he had to finish up. He dimmed his lights as he pulled back into the woods.
His phone beeped. A text was coming through.
Employee 368: Wife is back home, nothing in her vehicle.
Gabriel replied.
Company: And you checked everywhere in the house?
Within seconds, Employee 368 responded: Yeah. But cops searched first.
Bile rose from Gabriel’s stomach. Hopefully they didn’t find the key. But if they did, would they be able to find the location of the storage unit before he did?
Company: Keep looking. We need that key and the location of that unit.
Employee 368: No problem.
He slid his finger across the screen. Tapping his little finger against the steering wheel, he thought about his next move.
There was a good chance those files weren’t in a storage unit. Conmen were well versed in lying. But he had to be sure, no matter who got hurt.
After a few minutes, Gabriel looked up at the sky. Would God forgive him for that baby? His minister said abortion was a sin. Murder had to be worse. But it wasn’t his fault an employee lost control.
His phone buzzed. Analyn.
“Hello, beautiful,” he said upon answering.
“How much longer? Olivia’s insisting on your reading to her.”
“About fifteen more minutes. Can she wait that long?”
“I don’t know. She has school tomorrow.”
“I’ll try to make it sooner.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“I love you, too. With all my heart.”
There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his family. That’s why he had to get rid of all the files.
He parked in the dark clearing. No one was around, no security cameras. Surprising considering the equipment. Of course, it’d be hard to hide a stolen backhoe. He glanced around before getting out of the car and walking to the trunk. He opened the lid and picked up the box of files he’d retrieved from Tampa. At least his lying ex-employee hadn’t gotten to them.
Gabriel let out a curse word. How had things gotten so out of hand? First employees wh
o shouldn’t have known each other had an affair, then one discovered Gabriel owned The Company. Breaking in, retrieving the information from his computer on the insurance policies, then using the information for blackmail.
If someone hadn’t killed him, Gabriel swore he’d have done so himself.
But first he’d have found out where the file cabinet that had been stolen was hidden. That stupid home invasion had brought on a whole new set of problems.
No time to think of that now. His daughter was waiting.
He carried the box to the charred remains where the construction crew had burned a batch of trees. After emptying the box, Gabriel returned to his car and pulled out the can of gasoline. He poured it over the files, stepped back, and lit the flames.
The beautiful orange and red glow swallowed up the documents.
Once sure they were gone, he got back in his car and pulled out to the road heading home. He’d make it to read to Olivia in ten minutes instead of the fifteen he promised.
He glanced at the red glow of the fire in the rear review mirror. It wasn’t close enough to cause any damage to anything. Besides, if it did, the construction company would likely be blamed.
Chapter 8
The noise of glass breaking. Loud voices. Gunshots. The smell of coppery blood.
Pamela jerked awake, coated in sweat. A quick look at the empty pillow next to her told her the dream had been real. What she wouldn’t do to have Phillip beside her.
She glanced at the clock. Two fifty-two in the morning. She laid back and listened to the sound of darkness. Nothing but stone-cold silence. No snoring from the other side of the bed. No loving arms around her.
She shook her head to get the thoughts out before she fell apart like earlier once she’d gotten Trish to leave.
Pamela shoved the blankets to the side. She picked up her wedding photograph from the bedside table. It’d been such a happy day. Just her and Phillip, at Spanish Point saying their vows in the small chapel before heading to a nice hotel on the west coast of Florida for their honeymoon. She thought they’d be happy forever.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were in trouble?” She touched her husband’s cheek.
Chasing a Dead Man Page 4