Obsession (4 page)

She grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

“Toni? You sound surprised—or sleepy, or something. Did I wake you?”

Toni smiled. Even when her alarm clock let her down, Brad never did. He was as dependable and predictable as the evergreen state's annual rainfall.

“I'm afraid so,” she admitted. “But I'm really glad you did. I guess I forgot to set my alarm, and I overslept.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he answered. “Good for you. You deserve it. Besides, you don't have a time clock to punch. Technically, your dad's office is closed, so you can get there when you get there, right?”

“Well… true. The office is closed, but…” She spotted the file lying on the floor beside the bed. “Brad, I was up late reading that file and—”

“I knew it,” he interrupted. “I knew as soon as I left last night you'd start digging into it. I think there's more of your dad's detective blood
in your veins than you realize. Sweetheart, what is this obsession you have with this Julie person?”

“Greene. Julie Greene. And it's not an obsession. It's just… well, a hunch, something I need to check out. I really think there's some sort of connection with this girl's case and my dad's death. I think Dad was getting close to finding out where Julie is, what happened to her, and…” Her voice trailed off as she realized she wasn't yet ready to voice her suspicions about what might have happened to her father.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone. “You don't think… surely you don't think that… Toni, your dad had a heart attack, plain and simple. He had a heart problem for several years and was on medication for it. You always knew something like this could happen. So why would you think—”

“I don't know what I think,” she interrupted, “but I know what I've got to do. I'm going to take this file down to the police station this morning and see what they say about it.”

“What?” Brad sounded incredulous. “You can't do that! Have you thought through any of this? What are you going to say? What are you going to tell them? Who are you going to talk to?”

“Of course I've thought it through,” she said. “Well, sort of. After all, Dad was a detective in this town for many years. He has a few colleagues and acquaintances at the station. No one really close, but I'm sure at least one of them will be willing to hear me out.”

There was another pause, and when Brad began to speak, his tone was more conciliatory, as if he were trying to soothe an overwrought child. “Toni,” he said, “sweetheart, listen to me. You've been under a tremendous amount of strain these last few weeks, not to mention the grief. Don't you think you're letting all those emotions cloud your judgment? I think you're reading something into this that just isn't there. I think you need to let it go, to concentrate on clearing out what needs to be done at your dad's office and then focus on getting your life back together. We have plans to make, a wedding, your teaching job, and—”

She interrupted him again. “I'm not interested in making plans, Brad. I know that sounds coldhearted, but it's a fact. Right now the only thing I can think of is that my dad is gone. He's dead, and if there's something more to his death than what we've been told, I want to know about it. Until that's settled, I really can't think or talk about anything else. If my emotions are clouding my judgment, well then, that's the way it is. I really can't set my emotions aside just because you think I should. They're a part of me right now—a big part! And you're just going to have to accept that.”

She heard him sigh, and she realized he was resigned to letting her do what she felt she must do. They had known each other for a long time, and she was confident that Brad knew what to expect when she set her mind to something. In that way, as much as in looks and coloring, she was just like her father. Both were single-minded, with bulldog tenacity once they sank their teeth into something. The problem had been when they dug in at opposite ends of a situation. The impasse could go on indefinitely.

“Do you want me to go with you?” His voice was tentative. “I have a couple of early morning appointments, but I'm sure I could reschedule them.”

She shook her head, as if he could see her. “No. I think this is something I need to do by myself. Thanks anyway.”

“Sure.” Another pause. “So what about an early lunch, since I know you won't take time for breakfast? I can come by your dad's office and pick you up.”

She smiled again. “I'd like that. In fact, with the sunshine streaming through my window, I'm tempted to suggest a nice leisurely picnic at the park.”

“You're on. I'll pick up the sandwiches. See you at eleven o'clock.”

After a quick shower, a glass of juice, and a scribbled note to Melissa, Toni set off clutching the file and opting for a brisk morning walk rather than driving the short distance to the station. As she mounted the steps and reached for the glass door under the “River View Police
Department” sign, the door suddenly swung open toward her, and she found herself staring up into the face of Detective Abe Matthews.

Toni couldn't tell which of them was more surprised. She found her voice first. “Detective Matthews. Good morning.”

He hesitated. “Good morning to you, Miss… Matthews.” He frowned, his dark eyes puzzled. “What are you doing here? I mean, what brings you…?”

He seemed to run out of words just as his forehead smoothed out and his eyes widened. Toni swallowed a smile, determined to maintain a businesslike demeanor.

“I'm here to talk to someone about… my father.”

He raised his eyebrows, and Toni found herself wondering if his eyes were always so expressive. “Your father? What about him? I mean, is there something I can help you with, or…?”

Toni shook her head. “No, it's just that… well, I need to talk to someone who knew Dad, someone who—” She caught herself. “I'm sorry. Really. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I know you knew my father, but…”

“But not well enough,” he said, finishing her thought. “I understand.” He held the door for her and stepped back to let her through. “It was nice seeing you again, Miss Matthews.”

She started through, then stopped. Like her father, she wasn't one to let impulse overtake reason—at least not very often—but this was about to be one of those rare occasions. “Detective Matthews…”

“Abe,” he corrected her. “Remember?”

This time she let the smile sneak out. “Abe,” she repeated. “Then, please, call me Toni.”

He returned her smile, and she couldn't help but notice that it was dazzling. She took a deep breath and plunged in. “I… well, maybe you could help me. I really didn't have anyone specific in mind to talk to, and since we've already met…”

The smile moved from his lips to his eyes, warming her even more than the morning sun, as they both stepped inside the building. “Let's
go into my office. Down the hall, third door on the right. Let me get you some coffee.”

Hi, Dad. It's such a beautiful day today that I thought I'd come and spend it with you. I even brought my lunch
—
and my journal, of course. Just like when you and I used to take the day off and go fishing, remember? You got the fishing gear together, I packed the lunch, and then we'd jump in the truck and head for the lake. And you'd tease me about bringing my journal along, asking me whether I planned to catch the fish or write letters to them. You always could make me laugh.…

Melissa set the pen down and leaned her head back against the huge pine tree that stood guard over her parents' gravesites, breathing deeply of the tree's pungent scent and listening to the trilling
caw-caw
of the bandit blue jay that rested in its boughs. In spite of her pain, it was peaceful sitting here. For some reason, she didn't feel quite as alone as she did at home, especially when Toni was gone and her father's absence seemed to echo from room to room.

This was the first time she'd seen her father's headstone in place, which somehow made her loss all the more final. “Paul Matthews,” it read. “Beloved husband and father, July 25, 1946-May 21, 1999.” Brief and simple, the way her father would have liked it.

She glanced over at her mother's grave, obviously not freshly dug like her father's, and wondered,
Is this what you've been waiting for, Mom? Are you and Dad finally together again after all these years? Are you happy? Are you in heaven, worshiping God, the way Pastor Michael says you are? Is there really a God? Can he hear me? Can you hear me?
She stifled a sob.
Mom… Dad… does God care that I'm talking to him, that my heart is breaking? Does he care at all?

A lone tear escaped, and she wiped it from her cheek as she began to write.
I wish I'd known you, Mom, at least long enough so I could remember you. I see you in pictures with Dad and Toni, and
some pictures where you're holding me. Everybody says I look like you, and I guess I do. But I don't remember you. I don't know what you smelled like, or how you felt.… Did you sing to me when you held me? Did you pray for me, Mom? I hope so.…

I know you did, Dad. You told me so. But I never heard you. Carrie's parents both pray for her
—
out loud. I wonder why. Can't God hear us if we don't talk out loud? I sure wish I knew.…

She put her pen down again and took a sip of water from the bottle she'd brought along. The sun was almost directly overhead now, and even in the shade, the temperature was rising. If she and her dad had been out fishing, they would have come in with their catch of fish by now and be cooking them over an open fire. The thought sent a shudder through Melissa, and she gasped at the depth of pain it produced. Would it ever get any better, she wondered? Would she ever stop hurting and wishing things had been different, wishing that her dad hadn't gone to the lake, or that she had been out of school and had gone with him, or that someone—anyone—would have been with him that day out in the boat, or… ?

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the painful thoughts. As hard as she tried, they persisted. It was then that she noticed the flowers she had placed in the sunken vase between her parents' headstones were beginning to wilt. She reopened her bottle of water and slowly emptied the contents into the vase, pouring until the vase overflowed—even as she gave in to the pain and her eyes overflowed, watering the flowers with tears. What would she do? Would she live with Toni and Brad after they got married? Would she stay in River View forever? Or was there something else for her, something or someplace, maybe even someone who would someday ease her pain and help her find happiness again? Did she dare hope for that, or had her last chance for happiness died at the lake with her beloved father and dearest friend?

The coffee was hot, black, and strong. Not being much of a coffee drinker, Toni nursed the cup of liquid caffeine until it was tepid as she pored over the Julie Greene file with the attractive, attentive police detective. For the most part, she managed to keep her mind focused on the file rather than on Abe's nearness. But every now and then she would look up and catch those dark, penetrating eyes gazing at her. The concentration and concern for what she had to say was obvious, but was there more? Or was she reading something into his attentiveness that wasn't there? If so, why was she doing it? Certainly she wasn't interested in pursuing a relationship with him, nor did she wish to encourage any interest he might have in her, beyond their discussion about her father. Each time she found herself thinking along these lines, she immediately turned back to the discussion at hand, determined to block everything but professional thoughts about the charming, charismatic law enforcement officer sitting beside her.

“It all comes back to this,” she said, pointing once again to the notation in the file that read
Eagle Lake, 6 A.M., Wednesday.
“I could ignore the rest of it, except for this. It just seems to be too much of a coincidence that Dad was—that he died—at Eagle Lake on a Wednesday morning. Then, when you start adding up all the other notations in the file—a missing teenage girl, a strange man named Carlo, Dad's suspicions about an illegal baby-selling ring and Carlo's involvement in it—not to mention the urgency in Julie Greene's grandmother's voice when she called and her belief that Dad had just been on the verge of finding out what happened to Julie….When you tie all that in with the fact that Julie left her parents a note when she ran away, saying she was heading west to start a new life with Carlo, whoever he is…” She took a deep breath and looked up at the detective, who this time was gazing intently at the notations in the file.