Chapter 9 #2
“Oh, Jenna.” Bonnie reached over to clasp her shoulder.
Then the door jangled and Sam came in. He must’ve had an errand to run and was back to fetch his mother.
He was a tall, handsome drink of water, Christine thought.
Brown and gold hair, kind brown eyes, a smile that included dimples so deep they ought to have a sound effect.
“Jenna, you remember my son, Sam,” Bonnie said.
Jenna looked up at Sam and smiled but her eyes were still moist. “Hi, Sam. How’s it going?”
“Looking at houses today,” he said. “We’re moving home.”
“Really? Wow. Bonnie, you must be so happy. You’ve wanted this for so long.”
“She has?” Sam asked as Bonnie waved a dismissive hand and made a “psssh” sound.
“I mean, one assumes,” Jenna said, realizing she’d revealed more than Bonnie wanted.
“He’s a detective with the Cortland Sheriff’s Office,” Bonnie explained, and yes, there was pride in her voice. But you know, “my son the cop” was right up there with “my son the doctor” in the proud-mamma hierarchy.
Jenna dipped into her purse, fished out a biz card and handed it to him. “I could use a friendly contact at the sheriff’s office”
He took her card, looked at it as he muttered, “I don’t have any cards yet, or a badge, or a phone, but uh—hey this is impressive. Cortland Standard, Binghamton Press and Sun Bulletin, Syracuse New Times and Post Standard? Congratulations!”
“I’m just a stringer.”
“You’ve got hustle,” he said. “That’s what it takes these days. You impress me, kid.”
“Yeah, not a kid.”
“Yeah, I know.”
She glanced up at him and Christine’s discerning eyes detected a bit too much sparkle from both parties.
Bonnie jumped to her feet.
Yeah, she saw it too. Old broads. We don’t miss much.
“Welp, time to go,” Bonnie announced. “Don’t want to be late. Later, girls. Bye, Jenna.” She grabbed her son by the forearm. “Sam, has Marina arrived yet?”
That would be the wife Bonnie struggled to like.
Christine saw right through it. Most sons married women like their mothers.
Bonnie must feel betrayed because her son had married her opposite.
Marina was a thoroughly modern woman, treated her husband as an equal in every way, and never hesitated to express her opinion.
Bonnie liked things nice and friendly and polite. A lot of Marina’s personality traits were things women their age had been raised to consider rude or pushy.
“Marina’s on her way,” Sam returned. “She’s meeting us at the showing,” he said.
“Oh, good,” Bonnie said. “Bye, girls.” She tugged her son along and out the door.
“I can’t wait to see Marina,” Bonnie lied through what she hoped was a bright and not-at-all-worried smile.
She was sitting in the passenger seat of her son’s SUV, on plush seat covers.
The interior smelled like the gym shoes she’d spotted splayed across the back seat. “Anything new with her lately?”
“Uh…no. Not really.”
“Does she have another job lined up? I can’t imagine her wanting to give up her job at the law firm.” She should’ve said the firm’s name to show Sam she knew it, only she couldn’t remember it. “Unless… Wait, did she get an even better job?”
He kept his eyes on the road, but lifted his eyebrows, tilted his head sideways, and said, “She’s decided to open her own law office.”
Bonnie smacked her son’s sturdy shoulder. “That’s wonderful, Sam! And even more reason to celebrate. We should get some wine.” She always overcompensated where Marina was concerned. She wanted to love her daughter-in-law and felt guilty that she found her grating instead.
“We did all that, Mom. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. When the woman you love makes a change like this, you can’t celebrate that enough.” She shook her head, patted his shoulder, and said, “You’re just distracted with the move, the house hunting, and the new job.”
“Which starts tomorrow,” he said, but not to her, really. It seemed more like he was reminding himself.
“I’ll take care of everything,” Bonnie promised. “Don’t worry.”
“Mom, there’s really no need—”
She just gave him a look. “We’ve met, right?”
He closed his eyes briefly, then put them back on the road.
“I’m doing this. If dinner’s too fussy, I’ll make a special lunch, maybe bake some lemon squares. It’ll be perfect.”
“Did you hear me say I start work tomorrow?”
“On a Saturday, Sam?”
“Crime doesn’t take weekends off,” he said, in a dramatic, TV announcer sort of voice, and that made her laugh softly.
“I’ll make it later then. An early dinner, instead, so you’ve finished saving the world for the day.”
By then he was slowing and entering the line of barely moving traffic that stretched from the high school parking lot, halfway down the road that led to it. He kept looking at her as if about to say something, then looking away again.
She reached out and rubbed a hand over his scruffy cheek. “You leave this a little scruffy on purpose, do you?” she asked.
“Mom.”
“Dimples show through, but it hides that chiseled jaw. Trust your mother. Shave.” She opened her door.
“Mom, we’re in traffic.”
“Traffic’s not moving. I’ll walk the rest of the way. You can turn around at the corner.” She pointed to a spot he would reach after a few more sporadic stops. “Thanks for the ride, hon.”
“You need me to pick you up after?”
“Nope, I have a Lyft booked.” And she had to convince its young driver to hack a stolen phone for her without asking any questions. “I’ll see you all tonight. Marina too. Love you.” She closed the door before he could reply.
Then Bonnie hitched her teal and yellow beach bag up higher on her shoulder, and walked up the sidewalk, moving far faster than the line of drop-off traffic. But she’d only gone a few steps when it occurred to her that the man who’d threatened her might be watching.
They hadn’t heard another thing from him since the night before. She hoped he’d given up. But she wasn’t taking any chances. They were going to get whatever was on that phone copied first.
Today.
She walked a little faster, pumping her arms, breathing a little harder, much like she did on the power walks she took most mornings.
As she passed the standing-still cars, she looked at the people inside them.
Women, mostly, but more men than there used to be.
Heck, back when she’d started teaching, there hadn’t been any drop-off line. Kids had ridden busses.
When she got up to the front of the line of traffic, she saw the holdup.
There was a police car in the school parking lot.
Cortland County Sheriff’s Office, her son’s employer starting tomorrow.
The parents were rubber-necking, which made them drive slower.
As she made her way to the main entrance, she heard parents asking questions of any adult they saw.
They even asked her, “Why are the police here?”
“I don’t know. I just got here myself,” Bonnie replied to the worried mom in the cute Jeep with an impatient teenage girl sitting beside her.
“Well, I don’t feel comfortable letting my daughter go in there, then.”
“Mom,” The girl stretched the word out and made it both demanding and whiny. “If there was a shooter, they wouldn’t be letting anybody in.” She got out and slammed the door.
“Marie-Louise Paige, you get back here right now,” the mom said. But the girl was already on her way into the building.
The harried mom sighed and pulled out of the way so another parent could pull up and call out, “Why are the police here?”
One of the office aids came out wearing a powder blue pantsuit that would have made Christine cry. Every parent shouted from their car windows. Apparently, somebody inside had finally caught wind of the hold-up and come out to address it.
The aid, a new one Bonnie didn’t know by name, held up her hands and said very loudly, “Everything is fine. There is no danger to your kids. Please move along.”
“Why are the police here?”
“Missing person,” she said. “Not a student. That’s all I can say. Move along now.”
The traffic started moving again, and the woman in the bad blue suit kept reassuring parents as they stopped and dropped their kids.
“Missing person,” rang in Bonnie’s head. Her mouth went dry as she headed into the school to take over for Mr. Terrence’s math-busting study class, which would be an ordinary study hall for the foreseeable future.
Bonnie went toward the office to check in, and the arriving students flowed past her, their murmurs garbled and hollow.
The gold patches on the shoulders of a black uniform came into view as she neared the office door.
Beside the deputy stood a tall white-haired man in a dark suit, with a white shirt. His badge was attached to his belt.
She wanted to turn around and walk the other way, but then the sixty-something suit turned, saw her, and beamed a smile that made crinkles fan his striking blue eyes. “Hello, Mrs. Tucker. I’m Detective Sterling. This is Deputy Brown.”
“Hello, Detective. Deputy,” she said. The detective had offered a hand, so she took it. It was a longish, slender hand, but strong.
There was no shake, just a squeeze. “You’re not related to Detective Samuel Tucker, are you?” Detective Sterling asked.
“I’m his mom,” she said. “He just dropped me off, actually. Otherwise I’d be scared to death right now.”
“Oh, oh, no. I’m sorry, that was a stupid way to ask. It’s…he’s replacing me. Today’s my last day on the job.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. I’m retiring. Voluntarily, unlike some. Got bigger plans, to be honest.”
“Well, that makes me feel better,” she said. “I’m overjoyed that Sam’s moving home.”
“I bet you are. He seems like a great guy.”
“Oh, you’ve met, then?”
“Not in person, no. We’ve exchanged a few emails. I was out of town when he came in for the interview.”
Bonnie blinked. “He came in for the interview?” She felt a tiny thorn pierce her heart. “Here, in Cortland?” Detective Sterling nodded. “When was this?”