by Meg Muldoon
I glanced over at Trumbow. He was leaning forward in his chair now, having set the newspaper aside. He listened intently.
“Where did you see her?” I asked. “Who is she?”
Vicky stared up at the ceiling, letting go of my arm.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I…”
She trailed off.
A moment later, fat tears flowed over the rims of her eyes. Her body began trembling, and she started sobbing.
I bit my lip.
I imagined all of this was a lot to take on in her weak state.
“It’s okay, Vicky,” I said, patting her hand reassuringly again. “You’re going to be fine. We’re all here for you. You just have to focus on getting better. You have to focus on healing. That’s the most important thing right now—”
“No,” she said, shaking her head emphatically. “No. I need to find that woman. She knows what happened to Millie. She knows, Cinnamon. She knows! She—”
Vicky started sobbing again and muttering things that didn’t make sense.
Chapter 55
“Vicky’s sleeping now,” I said. “But the nurse said she’ll be back in an hour to give her some more meds. She’ll have to wake her up and said you can talk then.”
“How’d she seem?” Daniel asked, a deeply concerned expression on his face.
“Fragile,” I said. “She wasn’t making a lot of sense at the end. I think it was the medication they have her on.”
He nodded, peering through the glass into her room.
“I’m gonna call the station’s sketch artist and see if she can get down here today,” Daniel said. “When Vicky wakes up, maybe she’ll be able to describe the woman who hit you guys.”
I bit my lip, following Daniel’s gaze and looking at how frail Vicky seemed lying there, attached to all sorts of tubes and equipment.
I knew time was of the essence here, but part of me wondered if that was the best idea.
Vicky wasn’t in a good place. And I wasn’t sure if she’d be up for reliving the accident with a police sketch artist.
I was also worried about her getting her hopes up. Even if we did find the woman who had hit us, it didn’t necessarily mean that it would lead to finding out what happened to Amelia.
“You look tired, Cin,” Daniel said, suddenly turning his attention to me. “I don’t blame you after last night. Want me to drive you back home so you can get some rest?”
I shook my head.
I might have been exhausted, but I knew sleep wasn’t going to come to me.
It was the middle of the day and I was still way too jittery from everything that had happened in the last 24 hours.
Anyway, I knew there was only one thing that would help calm my nerves now.
“Thanks, Daniel,” I said. “But I’ll feel best working at the shop today.”
“You sure?”
I nodded, then squeezed his hand before leaving.
I’d been through a lot in the past few days.
But when it came down to it, I was still the same old pie baker who worked her demons out best with a rolling pin and some pie dough.
Chapter 56
“I tell you, Cinny Bee – I know I ought to feel better that the Booze Bandit was caught,” Warren said, digging into the rather large slice Banana Mocha Cream Pie that I’d just doled out on a plate for him. “But I still feel… what’s the word… unsettled.”
Warren chewed for a while before saying anything else.
I was right in the middle of making a batch of Pear Cream Cheese Hazelnut pies. The pie variety was more fall than February. But it featured some of the most comforting flavors known to pastry. And once they were baked and properly chilled, I had plans of cutting myself a big slice and stuffing my face with it.
Warren scratched the scruff on his chin.
“I just wish this Longworth fella would explain more about why he singled out my brewpub to rob,” Warren continued. “He seemed like a real you-know-what that day he came in here yellin’ at ya. But I didn’t peg him as an extremist. More as just a grumpy middle-aged man.”
That had been my assessment, too.
Warren rubbed his face, looking out the window.
“Gollee, it’s been a bizarre week. How are you holding up, Cinny Bee? You still doing okay?”
I’d been getting that question a lot lately from the old man, and I hated that I’d been making him worry so much.
I nodded as I feverishly rolled out the buttery hazelnut pie dough.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I said.
Though truthfully, as I said it, I wasn’t one-hundred percent sure about that.
Something about seeing Vicky earlier in the hospital had really shaken me.
As if sensing my troubled mind, Warren cleared his throat, setting his fork down on the kitchen butcher block.
“Well, just think about all that fun you’re going to be having in Ireland soon, Cinny Bee. Before you know it, you’ll be out of here on that plane, flying over all that blue water and—”
Just then, my phone let out a long, low buzz from the front pocket of my apron.
I was happy to see that it was a local number. I hesitated before answering, looking at Warren – not wanting to be one of the distracted phone-glued doofuses he was talking about the other day.
“Go ahead, Cinny Bee. I don’t mind.”
I smiled, then brought the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hey there, sweetie pie.”
I furrowed my brow, unable to place the voice.
Or who would call me “sweetie pie.”
“Uh, who is this—”
“Oh, c’mon, Cin. We have to go through this every time I call. Don’t you remember what your crush’s voice sounds like?”
“Oh. Hi, Rex,” I mumbled, looking over at Warren.
The old man rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
“Say… I was calling because I heard about your car accident the other day. I wanted to make sure you were doing all right.”
I smiled slightly.
“That’s nice of you, Rex. I’m hanging in.”
There was a pause before he spoke again.
“I, uh, I wanted to also see if you guys have made any headway with the Greyhound Girls,” he said. “A little birdy told me you were making new inquiries about it. And I…”
A big sigh crackled from the other side of the line.
“I know I should just let it go, Cinnamon. But I can’t. All these years later, it still haunts me.”
I lowered my voice and headed over to the window.
I thought about telling him what we’d found out from talking to Laura Baynes’ son.
And about what Sully had said at the prison.
But then I looked back over at Warren, and I realized now wasn’t the time to talk about this.
“I know how much it all means to you, Rex. And I promise – when the Sheriff’s Office has new things to share in the cases, I’ll make sure Daniel sets a meeting with you. We’ll keep you updated.”
There was another long pause, and for a split second, I could have sworn I heard Rex snivel as if he was getting emotional.
“I’m sorry to be making such a fool of myself,” he said.
He cleared his throat.
“That would be… that would be real nice, Cin. Does Sheriff Brightman have my assistant’s number?”
“No, but I do and I’ll be sure to pass it along.”
He cleared his throat.
“Thanks a bunch, Cin. You keep feeling good, honey. Once you feel 100 percent, ol’ Rex will take you out on another date. To somewhere fancy this time.”
He laughed heartily, switching back to his hammy weatherman persona in one second flat.
“Bye, Rex. I’ll have Daniel call soon.”
“Thanks, Cin.”
I hung up, sliding the phone into my pocket and going back over to the pie dough I’d been working on.
“That ol’ Rex better
stop calling you,” Warren said, folding up the newspaper he’d been reading. “That wife of his is going to catch on and make him pay.”
“He doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know that,” Warren said. “But don’t expect Suzy Dawson to understand. She’s got a history of throwing jealous fits. She got one of the lady co-anchors at the station fired a while back because she thought Rex had a thing for her. Then she made Rex volunteer at their church every Friday and Saturday night for the next year as penitence.”
“Really? How come I never heard about that?”
I’d only met Suzy Dawson a couple of times at events thrown by Jo Pugmire, the mayor’s wife. Suzy was a city council member and life-long vegan, which meant we didn’t exactly travel in the same circles.
Warren shrugged.
“It was a little before your time, I suppose.”
Warren finished off the last bite of pie and pushed the plate away in front of him.
“Anyway, I’d say if Rex calls again, you best not answer. No need getting Suzy all riled up for no good reason. It’ll only cause trouble.”
Warren let out a chuckle.
“I doubt she would have let Rex host that bachelor’s auction if she thought there was any chance he’d get a date himself. He probably never told her about you two getting brunch the other day.”
Warren shook his head in amusement.
“The way some people live their lives.”
His eyes drifted over to the tin of remaining banana mocha pie sitting on the far counter.
“But then, maybe I ain’t one to talk,” Warren continued. “Aileen doesn’t know I’m over here sneaking some delicious pie. She probably wouldn’t approve of me eating two slices of this here banana mocha.”
I smiled, taking the not-so-subtle hint.
A moment later, I was serving him up another slice.
“I guess we all have our secrets,” Warren said, taking up his fork again, a twinkle in his eye.
Chapter 57
I was locking the front door of the pie shop for the evening when I saw a large figure coming toward me in the mist.
He walked hard and fast down the empty street, and when I realized that he was heading right for my shop, I felt my stomach lurch forward.
Normally, the sight of him would have lifted my spirits and put a smile on my face.
But I didn’t feel that way now.
In fact, I felt the small fingers of fear begin to wrap around my heart as I watched him.
He stopped a few yards away from me.
“Marty,” I said quietly. “What, uh, what can I—”
“I’d like a word, Cin,” he said, digging his hands nervously into the pocket of his work jeans. “And some coffee if you can spare some.”
I paused for a moment, sizing him up.
Then I unlocked the door and gestured for him to come in.
As he stepped in the shop, I checked that my phone was still in my pocket.
Just in case.
Chapter 58
Marty Higgins went through a cup and a half of coffee before he spoke again.
When he finally did, he set his fork down and leaned forward across the booth – his piercing blue eyes drilling into me.
“I’m not a bad a person, Cin,” he said.
I felt my stomach tighten.
I wagered that anytime somebody began a sentence with that, what followed wasn’t usually good.
But I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea of Marty having a bad bone in his body.
Marty was one of the good ones. One of the few that you could really count on to be fair and honest and kind.
But the way he was looking now, I knew that I was wrong about at least one of those things.
I gulped hard.
“I’ll call Daniel,” I said. “He’d probably like to hear this.”
Marty shook his head.
“No. I want you to hear it first. Because we’ve known each other a long, long time. And we’re friends, aren’t we?”
I nodded.
I felt like I’d just been hit in the gut with one of the tools that Marty was always carrying around on his belt.
He leaned back, sucking in a deep breath.
“I’m a liar,” he said. “I’ve been a liar for a long time now.”
I bit my lip, not sure if I could stand hearing what was to come.
“But I couldn’t change my story, you see. If I did that, then the police would know that I’d been lying, and they’d think I was guilty of worse things.”
Marty stared down into the steam of his coffee mug.
“That day in ‘93? I saw her sitting on that picnic bench. I went over to talk to her – not because she was pretty, the way I told the cops. But because even from across the street I could see that she looked scared. Alone. I went over because I thought I could help her somehow...”
He trailed off, then shook his head.
“She looked like she needed a friend. But I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, Cin. I had no idea how that simple action would affect the rest of my life.”
Marty let out an unsteady breath and paused, as if the words he was looking for weren’t there.
“What happened that day, Marty?” I asked.
He rubbed his beard.
“I just can’t carry this around any longer.”
A tear dripped down his cheek.
I felt sick to my stomach seeing it.
Chapter 59
“Like I said, I was out pumping gas when I saw her over there, sitting on the picnic table. She looked cold and hungry, shaking and dropping her cigarette and shaking some more. I went over to ask if she was okay and if there was anything I could help her with. She asked me if she could get a ride somewhere. My lunch break was coming up anyway, so I told her I’d take her wherever she wanted to go.
“She wanted to go north, so I took her up toward Madras. The whole time, she was trembling. Once, I had to pull over because she needed to throw up. I asked her what was wrong. At first, she wouldn’t tell me. But then I guess as time went by, she thought she could trust me.”
Marty closed his eyes.
My heart was still pounding hard in my chest.
“She said that her name was Millie and that people were after her. She told me she’d worked in a bar in Portland that used to be a front for a big drug kingpin named Jimmy McDaniels. When she first started working there, she didn’t know who he was. She didn’t know that the bar was basically just a front. She got tangled up with him without really knowing what he was capable of. She was…
Marty let out an unsteady breath.
“She was pregnant with his child.”
I held in a gasp, my eyes growing as wide as pies.
“And she told me that she was leaving him because she found out what a dangerous man he was. And she had to protect her child. She told me that when he found out, he’d come after her. And he’d kill her for leaving him. Because she knew things about Jimmy. Things that could put him away for a long, long time.”
The room was spinning as my mind ran ahead with the implications of what this meant.
“I asked her why she didn’t just go to the police. She said that Jimmy McDaniels had the cops in his pocket, and she couldn’t trust anybody. Anybody. All she could do was try to make a run for it and hope that they wouldn’t find her.
“I told her she should go to the police. And that if she didn’t, I would. But she begged me, Cin. Begged me not to tell anybody that I’d seen her or helped her. She said her life and her unborn baby’s life depended on me keeping the secret.”
Marty drew in a deep breath.
“I didn’t feel good about it, but I dropped her off in Madras at another bus station. I bought her a ticket for a bus headed up to Missoula. A few weeks later, Sheriff Sully Coe brought me in for questioning about the disappearance.
“I thought about telling Sully the truth, but then I thought that if Amelia was right, then w
hatever I said might get back to Portland PD – to those dirty cops. So I kept quiet. For a while, I actually thought that maybe Amelia was mentally ill and that she’d just gone off her meds or something. I thought about going back and telling Sheriff Coe. But then…”
He trailed off, rubbing his beard some more.
“About a week after I gave Amelia that ride, these two beefy-looking police officers from the Portland Police Department came to my house and started pounding on my door. I lived with my mom then, and when she asked them for their badges, they pushed her to the ground and barged into the house. They asked me where Amelia was. And I knew then… I knew that every word she’d said was true. And that these cops were working for Jimmy McDaniels.
“I told them I had no idea and all I did was share a cigarette with her at the bus stop. They… they started beating on me, trying to get the truth out.
“But I kept to my story. I knew the lives of Amelia and her baby were at stake.”
Marty gulped hard.
“In the end I guess I convinced them. I don’t know how – I was so scared, Cin. But they left that day and didn’t bother me again. And when that second woman disappeared a year later and Sully came round to grill me again, I made sure to stick to my story.”
Marty stopped speaking.
I tried to scrape my jaw up off the ground.
This was all so unbelievable.
“Do you think Sully was involved with it?” I asked after a long moment.
“No. I don’t think he knew anything about Jimmy McDaniels – he was too busy being a lazy sheriff. But I didn’t want to take the chance if he was involved. I never deviated from my story. Even when Amelia’s face went up on all those billboards and her family was in the news. I thought about telling them what really happened, but I didn’t know who could be trusted. And I was still scared, too.”
Marty let out a long, beleaguered breath.
“And that’s the truth of it all, Cin. The whole truth. No more lying.”
Marty Higgins suddenly looked as if a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.
Twenty-five years-worth of weight.