Devil's Food Cake (41 page)

“I’ll be fine,” Sadie said. She’d actually thought he’d left while she’d been in the shower, but the pharmacy wouldn’t have been open anyway. “You’ll be back by a quarter to ten so we can go back to the police station?”

“Yep,” Shawn said. “It should only take me half an hour.”

“Okay,” Sadie said, still struggling to do up the buttons.

“You’re sure you’re—”

“Good-bye, Shawn!” Sadie cut in.

“Okay,” Shawn said. His voice was a little farther away when he said, “Bye.”

Sadie turned her attention back to the white shirt with navy pinstripes—the only shirt that matched the navy blue shoulder sling the hospital had given her the night before. When she finally finished with the buttons, she let out a breath and smoothed the shirt over her navy slacks which were too tight to be comfortable. At least the shirt wasn’t straining too much. She might have to break down and buy bigger clothes. The thought did not improve her mood.

The pain medication alone should have knocked her out once she finally climbed into bed—she was usually very sensitive to narcotics—but instead, the events of the night played over and over in her mind. When the sun came up—bright now that the storm had passed—she’d pulled herself out of bed and tackled the arduous task of getting herself ready, the thoughts of last night never far from her mind.

After slipping her feet into her hot-pink house slippers, she shifted into the shoulder sling she’d nicknamed “The Contraption” and adjusted the strap around her neck before wrapping the other strap around her rib cage. In addition to the dual straps, there was a cushion several inches thick under her arm which held her shoulder at the appropriate angle. She’d need to make an appointment with a specialist to see if she’d need surgery, physical therapy, or just rest. She was hoping for rest.

Once buckled in, she turned to look at her reflection and scowled. Despite the color coordination of her clothes, and the form fit of the shirt that really did show off her figure nicely, she still looked disabled. Using her fingers, she combed her hair back from her forehead, wondering what, if anything, she could do with it one-handed.

She heard a noise from the other side of the bathroom door and turned her head.

“Shawn?” she asked.

There was no answer, but Sadie felt the slightest flush of discomfort radiate through her chest even as she forced herself to turn back to the mirror. He probably forgot his wallet or something. After last night her nerves were understandably still on high alert. Once Shawn returned to school—hopefully tomorrow so he wouldn’t miss any classes—she would be living alone once again. Now was no time to get paranoid.

Just as she turned on the blow-dryer, she heard the phone ring. Shutting off the blow-dryer, she put it on the counter and headed for the door that separated her bedroom from the master bath. With her cell phone in an evidence bag at the police station, it could be Gayle, or Pete, or even Shawn.

She pulled open the door as the phone rang a third time and took one step into the room just as Thom Mortenson spun around to face her. For an instant Sadie was completely frozen, her mind and body sharing in the surprise that made it difficult to process what she was seeing.

Thom Mortenson was in her bedroom?

They held one another’s eyes for a split second as the phone rang a fourth time, Thom looking as startled and wide-eyed as Sadie felt. “What are you—”

Before she could verbalize the entire thought, Thom got over his shock and lunged at her. She tried to retreat into the bathroom, but he was too fast—something she couldn’t understand. In a flash he crossed the room and took hold of her good arm, pushing her backward with his body until she hit the doorjamb.

White hot pain shot like lightning through her back and shoulder, but his hand clamped over her mouth before she could get ahold of herself enough to scream. The phone rang one more time and then went silent, the caller sent to voice mail while Sadie tried to make sense of what was happening.

Sadie’s heart and mind raced. How was this possible? Thom?

“You should have stayed in there,” he said, pressing harder with the hand on her mouth. His face was only inches from her own. Sadie whimpered behind his hand. He was hurting her. “One more minute and I’d have been out of here.”

Sadie tried to focus on taking deep breaths as her brain whirled through the possible reasons he was there. She couldn’t come up with anything that made sense—at least not when she held it up to the things she’d learned about Thom last night. The last memory she had of Thom was him sobbing like a little boy. And now he was holding her captive in her own home?

After a few more seconds of silent staring, Thom narrowed his eyes slightly. “If I remove my hand, will you promise not to scream?” he asked in a tight voice.

Sadie nodded, even though she had no intention of keeping the promise indefinitely.

Thom waited a few more seconds and then lowered his hand. “Where’s the transponder?”

“Th-the what?” Sadie asked, hating the squeak of fear in her voice and yet unable to stop it. She was absolutely terrified and there wasn’t really any way to hide it.

“The transponder,” Thom repeated. “A small metal disk. Looks a little like a couple of watch batteries glued together.”

Sadie immediately knew what he was talking about. She’d forgotten to give it to the police last night, forgotten about it entirely, actually. And it was what Thom had come here for?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sadie bluffed.

Thom’s eyes narrowed even more, but he eased up on pressing her against the wall and looked around the room. “You were wearing purple,” he said, scanning the floor. He saw the jumbled sweat suit in the corner near the bed and took a step toward it, yanking Sadie forward. Escaping his grasp was impossible since it took all her strength to keep her balance. Thom reached the sweat suit and, while keeping hold of her arm with one hand, he used the other to shake and shift first the pants and then the dirty jacket, digging his hand into the pockets.

Sadie held her breath, hoping the watch-battery thing had fallen out or that he wouldn’t find it stuffed into the extra-deep pockets. She hadn’t run across it in her pocket even once last night after putting it there—maybe she’d lost it. However, a moment later the tightness on his face softened and he removed his hand, looking at the silver disk he held between his thumb and forefinger. Then he turned his attention to Sadie and his smile fell.

“Now we have to take care of you,” he said. “You shouldn’t have lied to me.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, trying to take deep breaths that would calm her down.

“What’s to understand?” Thom said as he stood up, continuing to glare at her. He was so confident, and that confidence was
so
disconcerting. He was supposed to be a broken man, an alcoholic who didn’t even have a driver’s license. How was she supposed to reconcile the man in front of her with the man she’d thought him to be a mere sixty seconds ago? And how did he get here? Had the police let him go for some reason?

“You took something that didn’t belong to you,” Thom said. “That’s stealing.”

“I’m sorry?” Sadie said, hating that it came out sounding like a question.

“You will be,” Thom said. “And so will I. It might be hard to believe, but I don’t enjoy doing things like this.”

“Like what? What are you going to do to me?” Sadie asked, barely able to get the words out. She glanced down at the disk in his hand, so many questions piling up in her mind. She couldn’t help but ask the one that made it to the top of the heap. “What is that?”

He didn’t answer her immediately, instead he pulled on her arm and moved toward the bedroom door. She stumbled after him and although she tried to resist, he was much stronger than she was and he didn’t even seem to notice her efforts. They exited the room and headed down the hallway toward the main part of Sadie’s house. Thom slipped the disk into his pocket. “The scientific name is an electromagnetic transponder. It’s used to create a temporary magnetic field, which has a side effect of disabling battery-powered devices at close range.”

Devices like the wireless microphone systems? Sadie wondered.

“Josh
was
in on it,” she gasped, thinking of how she’d found the transponder in his pocket. He’d lied about everything!

“No,” Thom said, sounding almost distracted. They reached the great room area of Sadie’s home and he looked around before turning toward the kitchen. “I simply slipped it in his pocket when he was helping me with the already disabled equipment.” He made a growling sound low in his throat. “I couldn’t risk the police finding it on me, and I felt sure I could get it back before anyone else found it. Unfortunately, last night didn’t come together quite the way I planned it.”

He came to a stop and looked around the great room, glancing in turn between the table and the kitchen cupboards, his bushy eyebrows pulled together as he continued to talk. “I didn’t realize until after I left the hotel that the transponder continued to keep a magnetic charge after being activated. I had it in my pocket with my cell phone for a couple of minutes—maybe five—and when Josh showed up, I got rid of it. When the police took my phone, someone commented on the fact that your phone was dead too. You’d been in Josh’s room
and
you’d found the key. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.” He turned his attention back to the kitchen. “When the police hadn’t seen it, and were still discussing how the wireless microphone had malfunctioned, I knew you had to still have it.” He gave her what she thought was supposed to come across as a sincere look. “I didn’t think it would come to this, Sadie.”

His regret was little relief. “
You
killed Mr. Ogreski,” she whispered, undoing all the things she thought she’d learned last night and merging them with what she knew now. Thom Mortenson was not the broken man he’d appeared to be and that fact changed everything. Thom had driven from Denver to Garrison, accessed the storage unit, rigged the podium, and then played his part tonight. Wow. It was hard to even process it.

“Had to,” Thom said matter-of-factly. He pulled her forward into the kitchen, grabbing one of Sadie’s sturdy kitchen chairs as he did so. He dragged the chair and Sadie behind him until he reached the middle of the tiled floor. Then he swung the chair around and pushed it up against the cabinets next to the sink.

Sadie looked at the chair, trying to determine what he was doing. Everything was happening so fast.

Thom kept talking. “Mark’s depression and anxiety were getting worse. For years I’d played the part of the incompetent fool, forcing him to stay close to me—guilt, you know. As long as he felt responsible for what I’d become, I could feel secure that he wouldn’t dare unburden himself for fear of what that would do to me. When we found out about the book going out of print he seemed relieved that the whole thing was coming to an end. And then I found a reporter’s number on his cell phone. After a little more digging, I found out they were meeting.” Thom shook his head and let out a breath. “He was going to tell, and where would that leave me—the poor, sick man who needed him so much?”

“But you’re not a sick man,” Sadie said, well, not in terms of alcoholism anyway.

“Mark didn’t know that,” Thom said as anger built behind his eyes. “For all he knew it would destroy me, and he didn’t care.”

“So you faked a public suicide,” Sadie summed up.

“Like he said in the note, it was his way of giving my story new life.” He smiled, obviously proud of himself.

“You wrote that note,” she said.

“I’ve had lots of time to practice his signature while Mark was busy running my life.”

Sadie had so many other questions—like how he’d gotten in her house in the first place, and how he’d set Mr. Ogreski’s affairs in order like the note had said.

“And now I’ll go to treatment,” Thom continued. He seemed to really like talking, and Sadie wasn’t inclined to interrupt in hopes that the more time she had to think would help her come up with a solution. “I’ll free myself from the demons of alcohol and lies and emerge a stronger, better person for my trials. I’m guessing by the time I finish my treatment, the publisher will not only have decided not to take the book out of print but it will be on its way to another printing. I’m even thinking of writing a book about my journey from darkness to light. Everyone loves a redemption story, you know.”

“That’s horrible,” Sadie said, disgusted.

Thom snapped his head around to glare at her. “It’s not horrible,” he spat. “It was necessary. Do you have any idea how hard it is to pretend you have no will of your own? To play the part of a fool? After all those years Mark was going to betray me! It proved to me all over again that a man has to look after himself because no one else will. I have to put myself first, or get trampled under the feet of everyone else rushing to the front of the line.”

Which meant that anyone who got in his way would be trampled instead. “
You
killed Diane,” Sadie said after a few more seconds of deciphering what he meant.

“She was going to ruin me,” Thom said easily, closing the cupboard and moving to the next one. “I should have assumed Damon had help querying agents, but I had no reason to guess it was her. Damon was a dropout—not the typical teacher’s pet.”

“But she sent the letter to Mr. Ogreski,” Sadie said, wanting answers, needing answers. Thom had already admitted that it was his goal to kill her. That would mean no one would be around to accuse him of the truth. If she somehow managed to get out of this, she needed to know those answers.