Thursday, December 22
More shredding than playing with her paper napkin at the hostess’s kitchen table, Angelica spilled the troubling details of her confrontation with Matt Jenkins.
Speechless for a moment, Leah’s eyes widened. “This is all my fault!” she insisted, her voice thick with remorse. “I should have dissuaded you from seeing him again.”
Dear sweet Leah, taking the blame for what wasn’t hers to carry. Angelica tapped her polished fingernails on the table. “He’s the problem, not you. I thought I’d take control of the outcome. I sure was wrong,” she moaned.
Her friend leaned over in rapt attention. “You haven’t heard from him since, have you?”
“Thank goodness, no.”
Leah dunked her tea bag into the cup of hot water for about the thousandth time. “That’s good. What happened afterward?”
“A detective approached me in the lobby as I was hurrying out. He witnessed the incident while eating at the restaurant. You won’t believe this—,” Angelica rambled, gripping the table’s edge.
“Remember the man at the diner you swore smiled at me? He’s the same guy!
He asked if I needed help. I just wanted to leave.
He gave me his business card in case I have any more issues.
” As her mouth went dry, she sipped her Orange Delight tea.
The last remark sparked a twinkle in her girlfriend’s eyes. “There goes my dentist theory. He sure dresses well for a detective. I’m glad he came to your rescue. So, what’s his name?”
“Garrett.”
“Garrett? Not Detective Somebody-or-other?” Her girlfriend paused for a sip. “Are you going to call him?”
Angelica frowned as her porcelain cup clinked against the saucer. “Why would I do that?”
“By your sour face, not likely.” Leah’s brows twitched, indicating her active mind at work. “I think you should call him. He’s interested in you.”
Angelica blew a loose strand of hair off her face, scattering napkin shreds onto the spotless tiled floor. She bent over and retrieved a handful of the tabletop deserters.
“It so happens I ran into him at the diner yesterday,” she muttered from below, before popping back into her seat.
Leah smiled, savoring the juicy info. “What did you think of him this time? He’s good-looking, isn’t he? Worthy of a call.”
She wasn’t looking to pick up another man right now. Maybe never. “He’s good-looking, and once he’s hired to star in Law and Order, he’ll leave this little town.”
“So you think he’s hot. Now we’re getting somewhere. What did you two talk about?”
Angelica crossed her arms, gathering her thoughts. “Garrett plans to stop by my house for a few nights to check up on me,” she said, leaving out the part about her lack of a vicious watchdog or lethal weapons, licensed or not.
“Wow, you work fast.”
“I didn’t do anything! I merely thanked him.”
“You’ve reached first base. Second base is an engagement. Third, the wedding. Home, the honeymoon!” Leah flashed an impish grin and stomped the floor with feverish excitement.
If only she were as optimistic as her best friend about any guy. The sounds of giggles and a children’s TV show drifted around the corner from the family room. “… Wind down the chimney …”
“… Snowmen prancing down the lane,” Angelica sang absentmindedly, finishing the verse as she raised her cup.
Leah snorted. “Is that how you entertain yourself while you’re working? You watch kids’ shows?”
“What?” Angelica said, raising a brow. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re singing a Sesame Street song.”
Angelica sat back and pursed her lips. Her eyes darted left and right as she pondered. “Was I? I didn’t realize it.”
Leah shooed away the elementary school-age child who charged into the kitchen with a notebook. “Do your schoolwork inside, Becky, and lower the TV.”
“But Ma!”
“Rebecca, ask your sister for help if you need it. Miss Angelica and I will be in soon,” Leah said as her daughter pouted and marched off.
She shook her head. Three kids were a handful, but Leah took it in stride. But Angelica won’t be that lucky.
Leah got back on track, for her, and returned to matters of the heart. “Anyway, I hope you plan on having drinks with the detective. By the fire!”
Trying to steer the conversation away from knights in shining armor, happy hour, and marriage, Angelica said, “As a heads-up, I’m going away for the weekend. I’ll be in Avalone celebrating my birthday and Christmas with Nicky.”
“Who’s Nicky?”
As Angelica reflected on her girlfriend’s question, she realized the story of Nicholas Ponte would require more time than a casual chat over tea and biscuits.
“He’s the friend I stayed with while recovering.”
Leah left the table to silence the whistling kettle. “You didn’t tell me you stayed with a guy,” she said, heavy on the “guy,” over her shoulder as she turned off the stove.
Angelica’s eyes did a lazy eye roll. “He’s the take-charge guy who used to live next door to us.
My parents called him to handle the intricacies of “my crisis.” I ended up at his house because it was closest to the hospital.
He worked six days a week, and I had live-in nurses.
Whoopee! I spent a lot of time in bed. Alone! ”
Steam rose from the kettle’s spout as Leah topped off the teacups. “I bet you can’t wait to see Nicky again. It’s wonderful to have such a caring and generous friend.”
Angelica grimaced before taking a sip. She’ll light the fireplace and eat a pint of ice cream when she gets home. That should take Nicky off her mind for about an hour. She hoped.
* * *
Garrett sat in his unmarked car, staring out the grimy windshield; nothing was clicking. The view of the rundown Cooper’s cabin was as unclear as his leads. Sometimes inspiration struck him as he absorbed the negative ions at a crime scene. Not today.
The mixture of freezing rain and snow from the night before made everything more challenging.
The ground around the cabin resembled a mud-wrestling ring.
The tire tracks of the anonymous caller, along with any earlier tracks and footprints, were washed away or flattened by the police vehicles in the slushy mud.
He sprayed the windshield washer fluid, and the wipers swished from side to side, evenly spreading the grime. He should go to the car wash. It wouldn’t clear his head, but it would improve his vision while he was in the county vehicle.
Garrett’s cell phone rang as he started the engine. He grabbed it from the passenger seat before shifting into gear. The caller ID read “Angelica Whitely.” Perhaps it was a social call, but he didn’t hold much hope.
“Angelica, is everything okay?” he barked, sounding like a police officer breaking up a crowd of vagrants. His phone skills stunk when a woman called.
Sobs preceded her words. “Garrett, my home’s been robbed!”
Nix a social call. A tear-jerker call. “Are you hurt?”
“No. What should I do?”
“Is the robber still in your house?” He held his breath.
“I don’t know … I just walked in, and I’m standing by my front door.”
Garrett’s spine tightened, his blood pressure shot up by at least fifty points, and he tugged at his collar. “Get out of the house!” he shouted. “Drive to the corner of Hardscrabble and Pinegrove and wait for me. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. And don’t open your car door to anyone.”
“I’m leaving!” The line then went dead.
Shit! Did someone in her house end the call, or is she leaving on her own? Garrett tossed the phone onto the seat, then jerked the car into reverse. Mud and rocks shot out from under his spinning wheels as he floored the gas pedal.
Angelica didn’t need this; she was already traumatized. If he’s lucky, she’ll be calmer by the time he arrives, which makes him wonder why he’s responding to this call instead of a 911 officer. Yeah, he knew the answer.
It didn’t take Garrett fifteen minutes to reach his destination; he arrived in eleven, racing at warp speed. Pulling up behind her lone black SUV, he slammed on the brakes, yanked off his tie, and jumped out of his car.
When he reached her driver’s window, Angelica sat hunched over the steering wheel, crying uncontrollably. She screamed and lunged toward the passenger seat as if bullets were flying through the glass when he knocked on the side window.
“It’s me, Angelica,” he called.
Catching sight of the detective, she threw open the car door, leaped out, and collided with him.
“Can’t … breathe …” she wheezed, her attempt to speak lost in ragged breaths.
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Take some slow, deep breaths, Angelica.”
Between her labored breathing, hacking wails escaped. Far from his typical routine, Garrett had better get this right.
“No one’s going to harm you,” he said as soothingly as possible.
It didn’t work—his comforting words had no effect. The same response he’d gotten from clear-headed women. They don’t teach this stuff at the Academy, nor did he learn it at home. How could a guy his age be so damn bad with women? Now what?
To make the situation even more challenging, she began to shake.
Or was it a tremble? A quake? Did it really matter?
No, it only deepened his desperation to find a way to calm her.
His mind told him one thing, his heart another, and the rights and wrongs of police procedure flew out the window when, lacking another option, Garrett gathered her into his arms.
Angelica pressed her face into his shirt.
As she clutched the lapels of his blazer and sobbed, his right hand settled at the small of her back while the other cradled her head, her wild hair spilling over it.
She was so delicate that he feared she’d break if he held her too tightly, or worse, that this was all a figment of his crazed imagination.
With the wind whispering through the crisp air and birds chirping, she wailed as they stood, grounded yet ungrounded, on the side of the road, sheltered beneath a canopy of spruce, hemlock, pine, and cedar.