Little Broken Things

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “I believe Olivia planned to expose someone. Could have been Scott Bartlett, or it could have been someone else.”

  “How could he!” Chad yelled. “How could a teacher be so vile with a student—any student under his care? This world has gone mad. Can’t trust anyone nowadays. It must be him. Who else could it be?”

  Chad needed someone to blame, and right now, Scott ticked all the right boxes. Or wrong boxes, depending on the way one looked at it.

  “I should know something more once he’s been questioned,” I said. “There’s, ahh, there’s something else I need to tell you both, something I wish I didn’t have to say, but it needs to be said.”

  Barb started to cry.

  Chad wiped his face with his hand. “Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse. Now what?”

  “I believe Olivia became pregnant when she was in high school.”

  “Pregnant?” Chad shook his head. “Uh-huh. No way. If our daughter was pregnant, we would have known about it.”

  “She admitted she was pregnant to one of her friends. This same friend took Olivia to the clinic where she terminated the pregnancy.”

  “Who’s the friend?” Chad asked.

  “Roxie Moreno.”

  “Did Roxie tell you this herself?” Barb asked.

  “She did.”

  Barb looked at Chad. “Then I believe it. Roxie would never lie. Not about something this serious.”

  “Olivia also wrote a poem about the baby, and she showed it to Roxie. Roxie kept the poem. And yesterday, she shared it with me.”

  “Do you have it?” Barb asked. “I’d like to read it for myself.”

  I reached in my bag, grabbed a copy of the poem, and handed it to her. Chad scooted over, and they read through it together.

  After they finished, Barb buried her head in her hands. “I think I need to lie down. I’m feeling a bit sick to my stomach.”

  She left the table without another word, stumbling down the hallway toward the master bedroom. The front door opened and closed, and the sound of footsteps ascended the stairs. Stuart walked into the kitchen carrying a shawl in his hand. He laid the shawl over one of the kitchen chairs and said, “Barb left this in our car yesterday after the funeral.”

  “Thanks,” Chad said. “Chelsea with you, or is she still at home, sulking?”

  “Ahh, no. She’s at home.”

  Chad looked relieved.

  Stuart noticed me and said, “How’s it going, Detective? Any news?”

  “Trust me, Stuart,” Chad said. “The news just keeps getting worse. You don’t want to hear it.”

  And then he offered Stuart the details of everything we’d just discussed anyway.

  Stuart shook his head over and over again, muttering, “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.” He leaned over the table, voice shaking. “This teacher … he’s going away for a long time, right?”

  “I damn well hope so,” Chad said.

  “I was hoping to get directions to the cabin,” I said. “I want to take a look around, inside and out.”

  “Why?” Chad asked. “What’s at the cabin?”

  “When I talked to David the other day, he said something about a tree Olivia had carved something into, and I’d like to see if I can find it.”

  “What’s a tree got to do with anything?” Chad asked.

  “I don’t know. Hard to say until I find it.”

  “You in the Jaguar today?”

  “I am.”

  “You won’t want to drive it to the cabin,” Chad said. “Some rough roads on the way, a few potholes here and there. Some dirt roads too. I’ve got some time. How about I take you?”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  Down the hall, Barb called for Chad. He excused himself and walked to the bedroom. A few minutes later, he emerged with a look of concern on his face. Barb wasn’t doing well, and he was worried to leave her side. I didn’t blame him.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “I’ll drive home, swap the Jaguar for my Jeep, and head to the cabin.”

  Stuart swished a hand through the air. “No need. I have nothing going on at the moment. I can take you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “To be honest, it gives me a good excuse not to have to return home just yet. Chelsea’s in one of her moods.”

  I smiled. “Looks like we’re rescuing each other this afternoon.”

  Chad grabbed the keys to the cabin, handed them to Stuart, and we were off. Whatever I found at the cabin, I hoped it was worth the trip.

  Chapter 47

  Stuart and I made small talk during the half-hour drive to the cabin. I learned he had owned a nursery in San Luis Obispo for more than a decade. From time to time, he’d point out the window at various flowers and trees, telling me what they were, from where they’d originated, and any other interesting factoids he thought I might be interested in.

  We discussed his wife, and how they were high school sweethearts. Chelsea had been as much of a spitfire then as she was now, but somehow, he adored her in spite of it—flaws and all. They planned to vacation in Italy next year, the first country outside of the US they’d ever traveled to together.

  We arrived at the cabin, and I was surprised to see it was a lot more spruced up than it had been in the photo I’d seen. A floral garden complete with a stone water fountain had been installed in the back yard, with a gravel trail leading up to a white gazebo in the center. The cabin itself appeared to have a fresh coat of lacquer, and the bright-red door was now a mossy shade of green that blended in well with the rest of the scenery.

  “It’s so different from the photo Barb showed me,” I said.

  “Yeah, I expect it is,” Stuart said. “Olivia was going to get married here. We were getting it all spruced up for the wedding. It was a surprise.”

  “A surprise?”

  “Olivia wanted to get married in front of a justice of the peace, with just a few of us there, followed by a simple reception in her parents’ back yard. We planned on bringing her up here a few days before the wedding and showing her what we’d done. Barb was so excited about it, but it never happened. Olivia died before we got the chance.”

  “What a beautiful location for a wedding. It’s a shame.”

  “Sure is—a damn shame. It’s difficult to be here, seeing it all again, knowing the time and effort spent to make sure she had a perfect day.”

  He stared at the gazebo for a moment and then stepped onto the porch and unlocked the front door. We went inside. The first thing I noticed was the pile of wedding decorations on the kitchen counter, all of it still in its packaging, waiting to be put together. There were centerpieces for the tables, packages of balloons, all sorts of ribbon, and a cake stand with a cute figurine topper in the shape of a heart. It was the wedding that would never be, and though the items would have all been purchased in recent months, they seemed like nothing more than ancient relics now.

  “I’ve gotta hit the bathroom,” Stuart said. “Go ahead and look around if you like. There are a couple of bedrooms on the main floor and a master bedroom on the second with stairs leading to a loft on the third.”

  He disappeared around the corner, and I snooped around, looking in cupboards, cabinets, and closets. Aside from the essentials one needed when spending time at a cabin, the rooms were functional, but plain. A king-sized bed in one topped with a quilt, several bunkbeds in the others, and plenty of extra blankets and pillows in the closets and drawers.

  Nothing inside the cabin stood out—nothing seeming out of place or worth investigating. I headed outside. I walked to the gazebo and stood where I thought Olivia and Casper would have as they said their vows. The view was breathtaking and looked out over rolling hills, brimming with trees. Even the air seemed different here—fresher, crisper somehow. I crossed my arms, inhaling a lungful of it.

  Stuart joined me, and for a moment the two of us stood in silence.

  “I understand why the family celebrated holid
ays and events here,” I said.

  He nodded. “Lots of great memories have been made in this place over the years.”

  I glanced at my watch. If I planned to get back to Giovanni on time, I had thirty minutes to look around before we needed to leave.

  Time to get moving.

  “What’s the best way to search through these clusters of trees?” I asked. “Are there any trails or specific areas people would gather?”

  “I don’t believe so. Might be best to wing it, walk around, see what we can see.”

  We entered the wooded area and roamed around for a good twenty minutes before I noticed an oak tree that was a lot bigger than the others in height and girth. I walked over to it, circling the outside, looking for any indication Olivia had left a carving behind. To my disappointment, the tree had been untouched. And I was out of time. It felt like I’d made the wrong move.

  Perhaps I should have remained in town, ready to search Scott Bartlett’s house when the search warrant came through. Still, I couldn’t shake the dream I’d had or feeling like I’d been drawn here for a reason.

  “I guess there was no point in me coming out here,” I said. “Maybe I’ll come back again later when David can …”

  Several feet behind the oak tree I was standing in front of, I noticed another tree, and it was even bigger. I trekked over to it, my eyes zeroing in on a heart carved into the trunk’s base.

  Stuart joined me. “Is this it, do you think? The tree you’re after?”

  “Looks like it.”

  He bent down, inspecting the heart. “I don’t see any words or anything. Looks like all she carved was this heart.”

  I eyed the ground in front of the tree, shaking my head, and pointing. “See how the soil beneath the heart looks different than everything around it? It’s been moved around. There might be something buried here.”

  I used my hands to start digging. Stuart bent down and joined in. Less than a foot beneath the soil, I felt cold metal. We cleared the space around the metal object, unearthing a small box. I undid the clasp on the front and flipped it open. Inside was a pair of brown crocheted baby booties. Inside one of the booties, a torn piece of paper had the words: forgive me, little one, my dearest sweetheart. Inside the other bootie a second piece of torn paper said: forgive me for choosing my own life over yours.

  “These words … they’re snippets from a poem Olivia wrote when she was pregnant,” I said. “The poem she gave to Roxie.”

  He stared at the bits of paper. “Is there anything else in the box?”

  There was something else.

  One more item she’d left behind—a photo, which looked to be a selfie Olivia had taken. It showed the slightest hint of a baby bump, a bump no one would have noticed unless she had pointed it out.

  Stuart looked at the photo and said, “May I?”

  I handed it to him. His eyes teared up as he brushed a finger over Olivia’s face. “She was always such a beautiful girl.”

  Then he said four words that changed everything: “Pretty as a picture.”

  Pretty.

  As.

  A.

  Picture.

  I stumbled backward, staring at him in horror, and saying, “What did you just say?”

  Chapter 48

  “You!” I said. “It was you Olivia was talking about in her poems. She even used the line you just did—pretty as a picture.”

  I jerked my gun out of its holster, but Stuart was quick, a lot quicker than I’d anticipated. He smacked the gun out of my hand, and as it spiraled into the air, Stuart lunged toward me, wrapping his fingers around my neck. Using the force of his body, he slammed me against the tree. I reached up, trying to peel his fingers off my neck, but his grip was too strong for me to shake.

  Time for Plan B.

  I swung my leg upward, kneeing him in the groin. He released me and bent over, shouting obscenities, while I scanned the ground for my gun.

  Where is it?

  Why can’t I find it?

  In seconds, he was upright again, barreling toward me. Retrieving my gun would have to wait. If I could get to the truck, I could get to my cell phone. I sprinted toward the cabin. Stuart was on my heels, closing in, his heavy breathing so close I could almost feel it blowing onto my neck.

  I found my way out of the thicket of trees a few minutes later.

  Truck in sight, I glanced over my shoulder.

  Stuart was gone.

  But he was close.

  I was sure of it.

  I yanked the passenger-side door open and reached for my cell phone. Stuart grabbed a fistful of my hair, jerking me backward, and tackling me to the ground. He got on top of me, grunting, “You were so close, Detective. So close to putting away the wrong guy. You almost made it out unscathed. But the teacher wasn’t good enough, was he? You couldn’t leave well enough alone. You had to keep picking away, always searching for other suspects, other motives. I never meant for this to happen, any of this, believe me.”

  He fisted a hand and smashed it against the side of my face, the ring on his finger ripping through my skin. Blood trailed down my left cheek. Blood I could taste in my mouth.

  I closed my eyes and opened them. The whack I’d just been dealt had impaired my vision in my left eye, but with the right, I spotted a rock within my reach—a rock big enough to do some damage. As he raised his fist a second time, I lunged to the side, grabbed the rock, and smashed it into his head.

  Stuart rolled off me, but the impact of the rock wasn’t as hard as I’d intended, and I knew I didn’t have much time. I pressed my hands into the dirt, stumbling as I tried to bring my weakened legs to a standing position. I tried to walk and couldn’t. My left leg throbbed like it was broken. I reached for the bed of the truck, using it to pull me up, and then I bent over, grabbing my cell phone. I managed to press a single digit before Stuart hovered over me, whispering, “Too little, too late, Detective. Night, night.”

  I was hit on the side of the head by something heavy and hard.

  Everything around me started spinning.

  I fought it, tried to stay balanced, focused, aware.

  Instead, I found myself sprawled out on the gravel drive, and I succumbed to the darkness.

  Chapter 49

  I woke to find my hands tied behind my back, secured around a pole on the front porch. Stuart was across from me, sitting in a rocking chair, tapping my gun against his leg. I had no idea how long I’d been unconscious, but the sun hadn’t set all the way yet.

  A half hour?

  An hour?

  Longer?

  I wriggled my wrists back and forth, trying to find a way to free myself from the ropes that bound me.

  Stuart leaned forward and said, “Don’t bother. You won’t break free until I cut you free, and when I do, you’ll be dead.”

  “Think about it,” I said. “My car is parked at Barb’s house. They know I’m here with you. There’s no way you’ll get away with killing me.”

  He reached into his pocket, dangling my car keys from his finger. “Good thing I have these, then. And hey, don’t worry. When I get back, I’ll be sure to park your precious car somewhere safe. Somewhere it will never be found. Figure I’ll wrap you up and toss you in the trunk. Your car’s a nice ride. Not a bad resting place as far as coffins go.”

  I ignored his comment, focused instead on keeping him talking.

  “How could you rape your own niece?” I asked.

  “She wasn’t my niece by blood. She was my niece by marriage. It isn’t the same thing.”

  “She was a child.”

  He snorted a laugh. “A child trapped in a twenty-five-year-old woman’s body.”

  “Was she the first girl you assaulted, or have there been others?”

  “One in college, before I met Chelsea. And since I no longer have to worry about you snooping around, there’s a young barista I flirt with at a coffee shop downtown. She’s a cute, slip of a thing. Might pursue her for a while.”


  If only I wasn’t tied down …

  “When did it start with Olivia, and how long did it go on?” I asked.

  “Why do you care? You’ll be dead in a few minutes.”

  “You’re right. And I won’t be able to tell anyone what you told me. The way I see it, now’s your chance to get it all out in the open without any repercussions.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “I see your point. Let’s see now … she was fifteen the first time. Barb and Chad went to a movie in the city. On the way home, they got stuck in traffic. Car accident, if I remember right. Police said traffic wouldn’t be moving for a few hours. David was out of town with the track team, and my wife was playing tennis with a friend, so Barb called me to look in on Olivia. I never planned on having sex with her that night. It just happened.”

  “It didn’t just happen. You made it happen. You forced her.”

  “I’ll admit, I’d fantasized about it ever since her body started developing when she was fourteen. Still, I waited an entire year before I acted on my feelings I had. When I saw her that night, dressed in a cute tank top and shorts, no bra, I couldn’t help myself. My body ached for her. I tried to control it. I couldn’t.”

  My stomach rolled, sickened by his vile confession.

  “How many times did it happen?” I asked.

  He considered the question. “Four.”

  “From her poems, it’s obvious you forced her against her will.”

  “I’m not sure forced is the word I’d use. Slipped a bit of ecstasy into her drink the first three times. I knew she liked to sneak a bit of wine here and there when her parents weren’t around. I was happy to oblige.”

  “You just said you never planned on it happening the first time. If you had ecstasy with you the night you checked on her, what you did was premeditated.”

  He shrugged, his lips twisting into a devilish grin. “What can I say? You got me.”

  “When was the last time?”

  “It was here, somewhere amongst the trees we just searched. Don’t remember the exact spot. She was wearing a yellow and white polka-dot dress. It was a bit see-through when it hit the sunlight. Hugged her curves in all the right ways.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. “Intoxicating. Even with family here, no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t resist.”