Chapter 43
43
POLLY
I don’t recognize this man.
Part of me wants to drive away, but that would be the worst thing I could do, given what’s hidden in my basement. Anyway, he’s already seen me. At the sound of my Bronco’s engine, the man swivels his head and squints at my car, his eyes making contact with mine.
On the plus side, he doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t look drunk. And he’s not in a police uniform. He’s wearing a woolen hat with a ski jacket over blue jeans and boots. He certainly doesn’t seem like a detective. Maybe he’s just a salesman. Maybe this is nothing to worry about.
So I kill the engine of my Bronco and step out of the car, clutching the bag of ingredients in my right hand. At least he won’t recognize what I’m trying to do with them.
“Hello,” I say with forced pleasantness. “How can I help you?”
The man fixes his bloodshot blue eyes on me as I join him on the front porch. He pulls a hand out of his coat pocket and thrusts it in my direction. “Hi. My name is Dennis Werner. Could I talk to you for a moment?”
Werner. That’s not a name I want to hear right now.
“Yes…” I hover on the porch, the cold air biting at my cheeks. But I’m not going to let him in. “What is this about?”
Dennis Werner shoves both hands back into his coat pockets. “It’s actually… It’s about my sister, Tegan. She’s been missing for the last three days.”
“Oh.” I fix a confused frown on my face. “I…I’m sorry to hear that…”
“She was…she was on her way to see me.” His Adam’s apple bobs slightly. “But I guess she got caught in the storm. Anyway, her car was found wrapped around a tree not too far from here. But the police haven’t been able to find her. And they’ve been looking hard.”
“Gosh,” I say. “How terrible. Yes, they were around here asking about her yesterday, now that you mention it. But I haven’t seen her.”
“Right…” Dennis looks back over his shoulder at the white landscape with snowcapped trees as far as the eye can see. “But it wasn’t like she was thrown from the vehicle. There weren’t any broken windows, and all the doors were closed. Her purse and her luggage weren’t in the car, and… My sister wouldn’t leave on a trip without those things, so she definitely had them with her when she left.”
“How strange!”
He presses his lips together. “My sister is a fighter. She’s eight months pregnant, and she would have done everything she could to find help. And these houses here… They’re the closest ones to where her car was found.”
I lift a shoulder. “I really wish I could help, but like I said, I didn’t see her.”
“This was a few nights ago—the night of the storm. Are you sure there weren’t any sounds? Knocks on your door that you thought might have been something else? If we know she came by this way, maybe we could find her…”
Desperation is in his eyes. I could tell him that his sister is right in our basement. I could put an end to this right now. “I’m afraid not.”
“I see.” His shoulders sag. “What about the other house? I knocked on the door, and nobody answered.”
“Mitch Hambly and his daughter live there,” I say. “He’s usually gone during the day.” I lower my voice a notch. “He’s kind of a drunk, so I doubt he would take kindly to a woman coming by looking for help. But you never know.”
Dennis Werner nods slowly. He takes a shaky breath, blinking rapidly. He’s fighting back tears. “I’m sorry,” he manages. “I…I’m worried sick about my baby sister. I just keep imagining all these terrible things that could have happened to her and…”
Send him on his way, Polly. Tell the nice man you can’t help him, and then send him on his way.
But instead I say, “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee? You can warm up for a minute.”
He hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Thank you. Just for a minute.”
As Dennis follows me into the house, the epic stupidity of what I am doing hits me like a ton of bricks. Our basement is not soundproof. If Tegan calls out for me or makes any loud noises, the jig is up. And Hank and I will get a one-way ticket to jail. And more importantly, we won’t have our baby.
“Cozy house you have here.” Dennis pulls off his cap, revealing a head full of sun-kissed light-brown hair. He looks a bit like Tegan. “Really nice.”
“Thank you. The kitchen is this way.”
I hold my breath as we pass the basement door. It also strikes me that there is a very real chance that Tegan could hear her brother’s voice from the basement. I quickly steer him into the kitchen.
“Please have a seat.” I gesture at the kitchen table. “How do you take your coffee? Milk? Sugar?”
“Just a little of each.” He slides off his ski jacket and hangs it on the back of his chair. He’s slim and muscular, but he would be no match for my husband. Unfortunately, Hank isn’t here to protect me at the moment. “Thank you so much…”
“Polly.”
“Polly.” He manages a smile. “Good to meet you. Sorry I lost it a bit out there.”
I start the coffee brewing, hoping to get him out of here as quickly as possible. My hands shake a little as I scoop the grounds. “Completely understandable.”
“And I keep blaming myself,” he goes on. “She was coming out to visit me. I thought she had time before the storm, but she didn’t leave when I told her to. I should’ve come out to see her instead. I didn’t want to miss work, but… Christ, she’s my sister, and she’s pregnant. I should have…”
“You can’t think that way.” I glance nervously at the gurgling coffee pot, willing it to brew faster. “And if they didn’t find her in the car, I bet she found help somewhere. I bet she’s fine.”
“Then why hasn’t she contacted anyone?”
“Maybe she lost her memory?”
“Yes, but she has her purse.” He shoots me a perplexed look. “Her wallet is in there with all her information.”
I don’t have an answer for that one that doesn’t involve telling him that his sister is trapped in my basement without access to a phone. “I usually try to think positive. I’m sure she’ll turn up safe and sound.”
He manages a tiny smile. “You sound like Tegan. She always tries to be positive about stuff.”
“It’s the key to happiness.”
He shakes his head. “I…I’m just scared they’re going to find her buried under a snowdrift, frozen to death.”
The coffee machine buzzes, signifying the coffee is ready. Thank goodness. I grab one of the white mugs from the cabinet over the sink and I pour him about two-thirds of a cup. I add a splash of milk and a pinch of sugar, and then I present him with the steaming cup.
“Thanks so much,” he says. “You’re not having any?”
If I drink a cup of coffee, I’ll be ready to jump out of my skin. “That’s okay. I had some earlier.”
Dennis sips on the cup of coffee while I join him at the kitchen table, willing him to drink faster. I absently start drumming my fingers against the table.
“Sorry,” he says. “You must be busy. I should get going.”
“I just have a few errands to take care of.” I force a smile. “But I wish you the best of luck finding your sister.”
He slides the half-drunk cup of coffee across the table and starts pulling on his coat. I let out a sigh of relief. He’s leaving. I made a stupid mistake, but nothing terrible will come of it.
And then there’s a loud crash from downstairs.
Dennis jerks his head up. “What was that?”
“That?” My laugh sounds horribly fake to my own ears. “That’s our cat. She’s always knocking things over. I’ve gotten up in the middle of the night thinking we had a burglar in the house!”
“Oh.”
For a moment, Dennis Werner studies my face. My cheeks grow warm—he’s going to see right through me. He’s going to burst into the basement and find his sister down there, and it will all be over.
Of course, if I’m really quick about it, maybe I can push him down the basement stairs. A fall like that would surely knock him unconscious. I can get him tied up before he comes to— if he comes to. But then there is the matter of his car. I’d have to find a way to get rid of that too. But he’s got the keys in his pocket.
I can get rid of this man if I need to.
“I used to have a cat growing up,” Dennis says. “She was always knocking things over. You couldn’t leave a glass of water on the table.”
“You know what I mean then!”
He smiles at me. Hallelujah—I’ve gotten away with it. I don’t have to knock him out and dispose of his body after all. Good thing, because I’m honestly not sure I could do it.
I follow him back to the front door. He thanks me one more time for my hospitality and scribbles down his phone number on a piece of paper. He tells me to call him if I hear anything at all. I promise that I surely will. And just like that, he’s gone.
The second the front door slams shut, I hurry to the basement door. I throw the door open and call out, “Tegan? Everything okay?”
There’s no answer.
I open my mouth to call her name again, but before I can get the word out, I get a powerful whiff of smoke. And not just a little smoke—it’s strong enough that I’m shocked I couldn’t smell it upstairs.
Our house is on fire.