Sunday, January 1
After sharing PJ’s “advice” with Bickney when he got home last night, they decided to hold an element of surprise “camp” meeting on the grounds of the church nearest the site of the suspected murder.
A quick internet search revealed that the pastor of that church was Rev.
Misty Ann Moondrop. They crossed that one off the list. On to the next one.
Gina Bickney, Charlie’s loving wife of twenty-five years, was fine with giving her hubby up for the holiday celebration. After their vacation, she had her fill of him. As for Garrett, he didn’t need to check in with anyone, as usual.
Driving in their own vehicles, he and his partner met up in the deserted parking lot. Their headlights, hitting the lawn sign reading “Home of the Spiritually Enlightened,” served as their GPS.
There was something about the darkened church, tucked away in a dense forest, that didn’t sit right with Garrett. Without a moon, it was as dark as hell.
“This place gives me the creeps,” he muttered to his companion as they stood by the enlightening sign.
Charlie yanked a flashlight from his back pocket. “What the hell are you frightened of, Fitzpatricks? You got your gun, don’t ya?” he asked.
“I feel like we’re on a haunted cemetery tour, and we might encounter something bullets can’t kill.”
“Should that happen,” Bickney chuckled, “I’ll race you to see who gets to the bottom of the hill first.”
They spread out. Charlie took off to the left, and Garrett stood on his toes, using his phone’s flashlight to peer into the church windows like a peeping Tom.
The pastor wasn’t doing very well. The church reminded him of the chapel on Little House on the Prairie.
It was small, seating maybe forty people at most, unlike the place he had visited for pre-dawn prayer a while ago.
Either way, aside from the illuminated red-and-white EXIT sign and a single spotlight aimed at a wooden cross hanging on the far wall, it was empty. He didn’t expect otherwise.
In the distance, someone set off fireworks. Garrett eyed his phone screen. Midnight. Happy New Year! All across this time zone, folks were joyfully clinking glasses, toasting, and locking lips. As for him, he wasn’t searching for a warm body but a cold one. What a great life he had!
Short on things to see, he trudged along the exterior. As his hiking boots sank into the mud, Bickney called out, “Hey, Garrett.”
“Yeah,” he yelled back.
“I just found something your bullets can’t kill.”
Sheesh, you’ve got to love Charlie. Mr. Life of the Party would somehow find humor in a sinking ship. Good thing Ed didn’t come along; Garrett would be outnumbered by comedians.
He pointed his flashlight at the ground and followed a raccoon family’s paw prints along the church foundation toward the woods behind the building.
Coming across a small clearing, he saw Bickney, one hand on a minivan, the other on his hip.
The back end of the dark-colored van was backed into the trees.
The driver had flunked parking; the van had come to a stop at a cockeyed angle.
“What do you have, Charlie?” Garrett asked, standing eye to eye with his grinning partner.
“Take a look in the rear window yourself. The vehicle just lost its resale value.”
Garrett stepped over a large rock, adjusted the beam on his phone, and sneaked a look inside. No, bullets couldn’t kill that guy. The male victim was very dead and decomposed. Ugh! Stupid criminal. Don’t bring the deceased home or to your workplace.
“If we’re lucky,” Garrett told his companion, “the van isn’t locked, and he has ID on him.”
Charlie picked up the rock, walked back about five feet, and threw it with a grunt. The window shattered on impact.
“Look at that. Our luck just got better. The owner left the window open.”
Garrett put on a disposable glove and pulled the tailgate handle. It popped open. The stench made him gag and leap back, crashing into a tree. Ouch!
“Charlie, you’d make a lousy burglar. Always try the door handle first. It’s a lot easier.” He shook his head.
PJ would agree with him.
* * *
Nicholas was beside himself when he entered his bedroom after Angelica fled the living room. An empty room hadn’t even crossed his mind.
During the night, he tossed and turned, and with every turn, he downed more wine.
He glanced at the empty bottle and its matching partner, both almost in the same state, resting on his nightstand.
He could vividly see it all. It was a reenactment of what had occurred before.
History repeating itself, like five years ago.
When you love someone and watch them unravel before your eyes, knowing there’s nothing you can do, you feel helpless. He had an emerging kingdom, but what good did it do him? It changed nothing as the drama unfolded before him.
First, Nicholas stood there in shock. Then he stepped forward and made an effort. He took the leap, took the steps to reach her, but he couldn’t catch up. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop Angelica’s fall. She had outpaced him.
Maybe Angelica did need a psychiatrist. It was suggested in the past, but there was denial on his part. Then again, the neurologist mentioned brain trauma and the possibility of residual neurological effects. They gave Angelica medication; she got better.
Nicholas walked across the room, unlocked his wall safe, and placed the engagement ring box back in the dark hole. He ran his hands through his hair several times, then found himself at the bedroom window, watching his world whirl by at its own pace as he paced at another.
This can’t be happening again. Angelica can’t handle stress at all. She crumbles. She’s not strong. Makes bad decisions, acts impulsively. He thought he had waited things out. The timing was right.
Letting her go to Arbortown was a terrible decision.
He couldn’t keep an eye on her or care for her once she left.
When he gave her the seventy-five grand, he assumed she’d go on a wild shopping spree.
High-end designer bags and shoes. She liked to do that.
Not buy a dilapidated cabin and end up at the Canadian border.
He shouldn’t have given her that check. That was a moot point; there were many things he shouldn’t have done.
What she needs is a vacation—time to relax and renew her spirit.
Bask in the sun and just float; she loves frolicking in the water.
Angelica has never taken a real trip. Who wouldn’t feel better on a tropical island?
Warm waters, gentle breezes, and palm trees could heal anything that ails you.
Instead of staying for the two weeks he’d planned, he’d extend it to three.
However, he’d probably be on the phone with Dom every hour.
Got to check in on his lots full of his foster kids. Make sure they go to good homes.
Nicholas dressed in his suit for his usual Sunday morning rendezvous.
After he comes home, if Angelica is asleep, he’ll do what he’s never done before: go into that room and carry her back to his bed.
He’ll make love to her as he did last week, but this time for the whole day, not just the night.
When they come up for air, he’ll slip that diamond on her finger.
She’ll be home before he knows it. She needs him, especially now.
And he needs her. Then they’ll start life all over again.
With no mistakes or interruptions this time.
* * *
The spectacular orb, rising above the horizon and promising new, bright hopes for the New Year, shone in Angelica’s eyes. She reached for the necklace; it was still around her neck—an absolute symbol of Nicky’s love for her.
What had she been thinking? She had been so foolish last evening.
She didn’t have to suffer alone. Why hadn’t she asked Nicky to hold her and soothe her fractured nerves during the thunderstorm—the kind of storm that set her off since her accident?
Why had she run from the only man who loved her—the one person who loved her unconditionally and unrelentingly?
The man who had been there for every one of her needs over the past five years.
In the same outfit she wore to Tessa’s party, now wrinkled and mostly undone, Angelica sprang out of bed with a sense of urgency. She hurried to the bathroom, straightened her clothes, looked in the mirror, and saw a mess of her tousled hair. She left it as it was. Nicky liked it that way.
At her fastest pace, she rushed into the spacious dining and living room, her renewed hope for the future in tow. The same space that had been filled last night with the malevolence of the storm and the pleasure of desire.
“Nicky ... Nicky!” she called. Seeing the rooms empty and silent, she headed to the kitchen. All she found were high-end appliances and dirty glasses and dishes on the counter.
Angelica doubled back and stopped outside his home office.
It was dark and empty. She limped back into the center hall and bumped into a table in the entryway.
The vase on top wobbled, tipped, and spilled flowers and water onto the wooden tabletop.
Water spread across the polished surface and onto the floor tiles.
Angelica straightened the vase and shoved the flowers back inside.
She scooted around the table toward the closed doors of his bedroom suite.
“Nicky!” She excitedly threw open the double doors. An unmade bed and sparkling sunbeams dancing across the room greeted her.
As she was about to leave, she noticed the wall safe on the opposite wall, partly ajar. Like a magnet, her curiosity drew her to explore its contents, urging her to peek inside and see its treasures. Discover what fortunes the cavernous space held from prying eyes and swift hands.