Finding Sarah (12 page)

She turned her eyes up to meet
his. “You know.” Not a question.

He nodded. “I was on the road, on
a case, when my grandmother had a stroke. Technically, it was my day off and
she’d wanted us to go to dinner, but I’d begged off. Work first, even though
there was nothing that couldn’t have waited a day or two. A neighbor found her.
I didn’t get back in time. I’ll always wonder if things would have been
different if I’d been home. I could have had her to the hospital sooner.” Or,
if he hadn’t been engrossed in a damn basketball game and checked on his cats …
He cleared his throat against the constricting heat, raised his hand, palm out,
to cut off Sarah’s response.

“It’s about time to hit the road.
Bathroom’s in there if you want.” He motioned to the guest bath and went in
search of a clean jacket.

* * * * *

They drove in silence. About
fifteen minutes down the road, Sarah reached for the radio buttons. “Do you
mind?”

“Be my guest.”

Sarah punched each button in
turn, listening for a moment before moving onto the next.

“I thought it was guys and TV
remotes. What are you doing? Radio surfing?” Randy asked.

She giggled. The sound sent
quivers through his body.

“No, just trying to get more of a
feel for who you are. I think you can tell a lot about a person by their taste
in music.”

“Do I pass?”

“I expected country, and the
classical surprised me, but four of them are the same ones that were in my car.
When I had a car. And they’re on my stereo at home, too.”

Randy didn’t miss the “my”
instead of “our”. Had David’s memory faded a little more? “Why don’t you pick
one and we can listen?”

Sarah settled on a soft jazz
station, leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.

They were almost to the worst
stretch of mountain road and he turned his concentration to his driving.

When they arrived at the Woodford
police station, Randy chatted with Ned Hodges, the officer in charge of the
case. “So, she still won’t talk?” Randy asked.

“Clams have nothing on her,”
Hodges said. “If you’ll follow me, we’ve got the lineup ready.”

Sarah chewed on her lower lip.
She looked pale, but perhaps it was due to the station’s poor lighting. Randy
put a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

She stiffened beneath his touch. “Fine.”

Hodges held the door for her. “You
understand the procedure, right? We’ve got five women in there. They can’t see
you. They’ll step forward one at a time and say, ‘Unlock the register. I could
use some spending money.’ Then you tell us which one is the lady who held you
up.”

Randy watched as Sarah nodded,
her eyes wide. She sat on a folding metal chair behind a narrow table, peering
through a glass window. He positioned himself against the wall where he could
watch both Sarah and the lineup. Hodges clicked a switch and plunged the room into
darkness. The space on the other side of the window was awash in light. The
door behind the glass opened and a line of gray-haired women paraded in. Randy
waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light and studied Sarah, trying to see
what she was thinking.

She examined each woman in turn.
He could feel her straining to compare their voices with the woman who had
frightened her barely a week ago.

“Do you recognize her, ma’am?”
Hodges asked.

“No,” Sarah said. Her voice
quavered. “She’s not there.”

* * * * *

Randy helped Sarah into his F-150.
After swallowing a huge helping of pride, he’d admitted his screwup to Hodges
and got a booking photo of Gertie—Louise—to do what he should have done in the
first place—confirm her identity with her previous Pine Hills victims, not rely
solely on Sarah. Hodges had positive confirmation that the woman in custody had
pulled the Woodford robberies. Randy tossed the folder behind the seat and took
his place behind the wheel.

“It wasn’t her,” Sarah said. “The
height was wrong, the body type was wrong, and the voices were all wrong. I
have an eye for detail.”

“I believe you, Sarah. It was my
mistake.”

“But if it’s not her, who robbed
me? What do we do now?”

“We go home.” He rechecked his
cell phone display.

“They’ll be all right,” Sarah
said. “The vet would have called if anything had happened.”

“I’m that obvious?”

“I know those cats mean a lot to
you. And it’s all my fault. Someone is mad at me and he’s taking it out on you
and Maggie. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t you dare think that. This
is not your fault.”

Sarah gave him a weak smile. “Tell
me about your grandmother. She must have been nice.”

He couldn’t. Randy saw his
grandmother, the day she’d brought home the kittens. He’d been staying with her
over winter break and she’d let him name them, although she’d lobbied for Patches
and Midnight.

“Look, Sarah. I know you mean
well, but I don’t feel like talking. Please drop it.”

“I understand,” she whispered.
She turned those blue eyes on him and he felt like a jerk, but he couldn’t deal
with it. She’d cut too close. His cats … Gram … he refused to think about them
anymore.

The weather had turned blustery
and Randy fought the crosswinds and driving rain as they made their way over
the winding road through the mountain. Randy concentrated on seeing the road
between passes of the windshield wipers. Rain, the swish of his wipers and tires
on asphalt were the only sounds.

Once they’d reached the other
side of the mountain, the weather cleared. They were driving through the Pine
Hills business district when Sarah said, “Stop at Thriftway, please.”

“What for? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Just stop.
Please.”

Randy pulled into the lot behind
Thriftway.

“I’ll be right back.” She grabbed
her purse and darted into the store.

Randy drummed his fingers on the
steering wheel. This had been one hell of a day. What was she doing in the
store? He heard the door open and Sarah climbed in, two bunches of flowers in
her hands. She placed them behind the seat and said, “Drive.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me
where we’re going?”

“Drive. Left out of the parking
lot. Right on First.”

Randy did as he was told. The
look of earnest determination on her face left him little choice.

“Right at the light,” she said
when they reached the outskirts of town. “Pull into the parking lot.”

“There’s nothing here but the
cemetery. What—”

“I have some unfinished business.
And I think you might, too.” She waited for him to stop, then turned to him. “She’s
here, isn’t she? Your grandmother. Colleen told me on the drive to your place.”

“Yes, but—”

“When was the last time you were
here?” She gave him a blue-eyed stare that pulled the answer out of him, pain
and all.

“For the funeral.”

Her expression said she’d known.
She handed him a bouquet and took his other hand in hers. “You have to do this.
It’s hard, but it’s important. Trust me.”

They strolled along the path. It
took Randy a few false turns, but he found his grandmother’s grave and knelt to
place the flowers in the receptacle by the headstone. He felt Sarah’s hand on
his shoulder.

“I’ll leave you alone. I’ll be
across the path by that big oak tree. But you have to say goodbye. Talk to her.”
Sarah gave his shoulder a squeeze and walked away.

Talk to her? What was Sarah
thinking? Gram was gone. He didn’t converse with the dead.

He brushed a few dead leaves from
around her headstone and ran his hand along the rough granite. The memory of
her last day kicked him in the teeth. Her smile, trying to hide the
disappointment when he’d said he had a lead he wanted to follow. The perfunctory
peck on the forehead he’d given her.

It was your day off, damn it. And
the last words you said to her were, “Sorry, Gram, gotta work. Another time.”

You could never count on another
time.

His throat tightened. Checking to
make sure there was no one else around, Randy took a deep breath as eight years
of suppression slammed through his defenses.

Sarah slowed as she approached
David’s grave. She’d been here often after his accident, but it had been three
months since her last visit. The visit where she had vowed to stop grieving. As
if saying could make it so.

She ached for Randy. He had never
completed his grief. It was devastating not being able to say goodbye to loved
ones, to have them taken without warning. She turned and saw him, kneeling at his
grandmother’s graveside, shoulders shaking, as he dealt with the feelings he’d
kept inside all these years.

She walked the rest of the
distance to David’s grave with confidence. She knelt, placing the flowers one
at a time into the container as she spoke.

“Hi, Sweetheart. It’s been a
while, hasn’t it? I still miss you.” She brushed away some leaves. “I think of
you every day. I know you’re not here because … because you wanted to leave me.
Us. I can’t prove it and I don’t think anyone can. I guess you’re the only one
who really knows.”

After she made final adjustments
to the flowers, she traced the letters on his headstone with a forefinger. “I
met someone. I like him. You’d like him, too.” Her voice cracked, but she
forced herself to speak aloud. “I know you don’t want me to be alone the rest
of my life. No one can ever replace you. You’ll always be a part of me. But
there’s room for so much more. I know you’ll understand.” She remained motionless
for several minutes, hardly aware of the drizzle, feeling warmth course through
her body despite the chill in the air. She wiped a tear from her cheek. David
understood.

Sarah rose from her knees at a
light touch on her back. She turned to Randy and gave him a damp-eyed smile.
His eyes were red, his cheeks were wet, but he looked at peace.

“You better?” she asked.

“Yes.” His voice was hoarse.

“You never cried for her before,
did you? You never said goodbye. You have to grieve, you know, or you never
heal.”

He nodded.

“I had a few things to clear up
myself,” she said. “I think David understands.”

“Understands what?”

“This,” she said, and she pulled
him under the shelter of the oak tree and kissed him. A gentle kiss, one that
spoke of friendship, of understanding, of sharing. His moist lips touched hers.
She tasted the salt of their intermingled tears, felt the sweet tenderness of
his lips and then, without warning, her tongue sought his. Not a chaste kiss
this time, but one deep with passion. He returned the kiss and she crushed her
hips against him. He reached down and cupped her bottom in his hands, lifting
her tight against him, giving her clear evidence of his arousal, and they lost
themselves in the depths of their hunger.

The rain began in earnest, and
they drew apart. Randy placed one gentle kiss on her cheek before he grasped
her by the hand and they raced to his truck.

When Randy pulled to a stop in
front of Sarah’s building, he reached over and stroked her cheek. “This can’t
go further, you know. Not while I’m working on your case.” He took her hand and
brought her fingers to his lips. “I’ll work round the clock to close it.”

“I understand. But please call if
you find out anything.” She saw the underlying pain in his eyes. “Or if you want
to talk.”

She closed the door, then ducked
her head and hurried inside. Once she was in her apartment, Sarah crossed to
the window and pulled the curtain aside. Randy’s truck was still there. She
raised her hand. He flashed his headlights and she watched the black pickup
crawl away.

While she fixed her dinner, Sarah
noticed the lights in the apartment across the way. She reached for the phone
to let Maggie know. No. She brought her plate to the table. Tomorrow would be
soon enough.

* * * * *

Randy drove to the station, his
emotions in turmoil. He sat behind the wheel in the parking lot until he
gathered the composure to go inside. Sarah had yanked the bandage off an old
wound, releasing all the festering guilt. He’d heal cleanly this time, thanks
to her gentle touch, but the incision was still sore.

Memories of her kiss made him all
the more determined to solve the case. He made a quick stop in the men’s room
to rinse his face, then went straight to his desk, giving cursory nods to the
few officers he passed on the way. Behind a closed door, he checked his voice
mail, thumbing through his pink message slips while he waited for his computer
to boot. Nothing from Dr. Lee, but Maggie’s name leapt off one of them.

He seized his phone and punched
in her number.

“I’m sorry to bother you on a
Sunday, but I knew you were working,” Maggie said. “I thought I’d check with
you before I said anything to Sarah, in case it’s nothing. She’s had enough
scares lately.”

A chill ran through him. “What
are you talking about?”

“I went to the building next door
to welcome the newcomers with some brownies. A man came to the door, probably
in his forties, kind of fat. There was no furniture in the living room. There
was a card table in the kitchen covered in pizza boxes and burger bags.”

“And …” He forced himself not to
snap at her. Let her talk. She was obviously trying to make up for the mistake
with the heater man.

“And, I saw these two easy chairs
parked right in the dining room area. Kind of strange for a dining room, wouldn’t
you say?”

“Maggie, I’m sure there’s a point
here someplace. So far, you’ve got a fast food-eating man whose furniture hasn’t
been delivered, who decided to put a chair in the dining area of an empty
apartment. Maybe he likes the view.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying
to say!”

“What do you mean?”

“The view. That dining room looks
right into Sarah’s kitchen window. And I can’t be sure, because the guy was
doing his best to get me out of there before I could see anything, but I think
there were some binoculars and maybe some other fancy techno stuff on a little
table by the chairs. Anyway, it didn’t look kosher, and I thought you might be
able to find out who rented the place. We don’t need peeping Toms in the
neighborhood.”

The thought of someone watching
Sarah made his skin crawl. “Hang on a second, Maggie.” How much would someone
know if they’d been watching her apartment? Techno stuff, Maggie said.
Listening equipment? Could he hear what went on in Sarah’s place? Shit. He
wanted her out of there. Now. “Would the man have a view of Sarah’s front door?”

“No, it’s off to the side.”

“Here’s what I want you to do. Go
across the hall and get Sarah to your place.”

“Why can’t I call her?”

“If the man has listening
equipment, he can hear her side of the conversation.” Which, Randy knew, would
probably be loud and clear.

“I get it. All hush-hush. Don’t
worry. I’ll get her out on the Q.T.”

If his nerves hadn’t been firing
on all cylinders, he might have laughed at Maggie’s enthusiasm. “Good. Have her
call me from your place. She has my cell number.”

He paced his office while he
waited for the call. Today was Sunday. When did Maggie say he’d moved in? Was
it only one man? Damn. No matter what Sarah said, he couldn’t see Diana as a
major player here. But this whole case looked like someone was playing
puppetmaster. Diana didn’t seem to have the brains. But the more he thought
about it, the more he wondered. She knew how to use her … charms … to get what
she wanted.

Slow down. He was a cop, and it
was time he started acting like one. He had a whole bunch of nothing, but it
all surrounded Sarah. He took his legal tablet and had half-filled a page with
disjointed notes when Sarah called.

“I’m at Maggie’s. Now, will you
tell me what’s going on?” Any fear in her voice was hidden beneath the
indignation.

Randy forced himself to keep his
tone neutral. “I’m sorry. Your new neighbor might be spying on you.”

“That’s ridiculous! Watching me?
If he is, why don’t you arrest him?”

“It’s not that easy. Watching
someone isn’t against the law. As a precaution, I’d like you to stay with
Maggie for a little while. I’m going to do some database searches and see if I
can trace the rental.”

“I’m not running away because
some pervert might be looking in my windows.”

“It seems too much of a
coincidence that a peeping Tom would move in now, on top of the fire, the robbery
and the break-in. I’d like to see if I can figure out who this guy is.” He
clicked his way through layers of links until he reached the database he
needed.

“How long should I stay out of my
apartment? It’s making me angry to think someone can force me out of my own
home.”

“Will you give me an hour? That
should give me enough time to do some research.”

Nothing but silence.

“One hour, Sarah.” When she didn’t
respond, he hung up.

Randy turned to his computer.
While he worked his way through databases, directories, reverse directories and
property tax lists, he made a quick call to Dr. Lee. She’d left for the day,
but according to the receptionist, Starsky and Hutch were hanging in. Othello
was improving and they might have identified the poison.

Randy permitted himself a moment
of relief, then returned to his monitor. After another half hour, he rubbed his
eyes and leaned back in his chair. Ownership of the building was buried under
layers of holding companies, but ultimately, it was yet another of Consolidated’s
tentacles. Consolidated was showing up all too often for his taste. He added
Diana’s ex-husband to his list.

His stomach growled and Randy
glanced at his watch. Seven-thirty. He rummaged through his desk for any
leftover snacks while he punched Maggie’s number into the phone.

Ripping the wrapper from a
Snickers bar, Randy heard Maggie come on the line.

“Have you found out anything?”
she asked.

“Yes and no,” he said around a
mouthful of candy. “There are lots of players, but the building is owned by one
of Consolidated’s holding companies.” He took a deep breath. “The vet said
Othello’s doing better. Do you know what happened?”

“Dr. Lee started to explain, but
I don’t remember. Sounded like he might have chewed on a cigar or something.
Frankly, I was so glad he was all right, I wasn’t paying attention. How are
your cats?”

“Hanging in.” That was all he
would allow himself. “Would you ask Sarah to sit tight while I pay a visit to
her curious neighbor.”

* * * * *

Randy bounded up the steps and
pounded on the apartment door. He took a deep breath, telling himself to act
like a cop, not an irate boyfriend.

Boyfriend? Whoa. Slow down.

The door opened to a man matching
the description Maggie had given him, a beer bottle in one hand. His bloodshot
eyes squinted at Randy’s badge. The apartment reeked of cigarette smoke, pizza
and stale beer.

“Is there a problem, Detective?”

“I hope not, Mr.—”

“Mazzaro. Tony Mazzaro.”

“Mr. Mazzaro, are you new to the
building?”

“Oh, I don’t live here. I’ve been
waiting for the power hookups and some furniture.”

“At eight at night?”

Mazzaro’s eyes roamed before they
returned to Randy. His gaze fixed on Randy’s chest, not his eyes. Beads of
sweat started to pop out along his receding hairline. “Technically, I’m not
supposed to be here nights. But the missus and I have been having some trouble.
This beat a hotel.”

“Who hired you?”

“I work for Temps Unlimited. I
think Consolidated hired them for this job.”

Even from the doorway, Randy
could see the binoculars, headphones and a parabolic sound reflector. Fancy
techno stuff indeed. Thank you, Maggie.

“You want to explain that?” Randy
said, pointing to the dining room. “I’ve got some concerned neighbors across
the way.”

The man slumped. “Come in,” he
said. Randy followed him to one of the two chairs in the room. “I didn’t want
to do it. But he knew about me and Trixie.”

“Let’s back up,” Randy said. “Who’s
‘he’?”

“Some guy. Said if I’d keep an
eye on the comings and goings in the apartment over there”— he pointed to Sarah’s
kitchen window— “he wouldn’t tell my wife about the affair with Trixie.” He
gave Randy a pitiful look. “A divorce would kill me.”

Yeah, he’d probably have to get a
real job. “Who called you?”

“Someone called Adams, I think.”
He thought a moment. “Yeah. Andrew, maybe. Mostly it was Mister Adams.”

“Can you describe him?”

“I’ve never seen him. It was all
done by phone. Said he worked for Consolidated and would get me this assignment
and the money was good for sitting around. Then he mailed me pictures of me
with Trixie. I had to do what he asked.”

“You have the pictures? The
envelope?”