Celtic Sister (12 page)

“Give me an example.”

“When you think about it, none of the facts we need to share with my folks actually say we think she’s alive. We’re just looking for a notebook. That’s a tangible item.”

“I get it. We just want to find the notebook. You think she left you some information about the dreadful family who might be responsible for her disappearance. It’s more like closure material.”

“I don’t know if we should mention the Richardsons.”

“But then how do we say we know about the notebook?”

“Your ex-husband told you.” Sam steered them in a direction which would circle back to the apartment.

“He’s a Richardson—”

“He’s an old high school friend. Said Emma asked him to give me her notebook.”

“Why did he refuse?”

Sam frowned. “I just don’t want to stir up images of her being threatened, especially by the Richardson family. My mom spent many nights crying. We don’t need to dredge up the nightmare at this point. Since she won’t accept my spiritual outlook on things, it won’t be a joyful possibility in her heart.”

They approached the door and Sam got out his key.

“All right,” Amy said. “Let’s just play with the idea that I found out about the notebook, that it might have had some special poems Emma wanted you to have. Surely everyone can agree on the importance of a treasured memento, especially one known to be intended for you personally.”

“I think that will work.”

Sam tried to call his mother again, to no avail.

“Why don’t you take me back to the motel? I have to work in the morning.”

“On Sunday?”

“We work some days and take breaks on others. Sahil seems to like working Sundays. It isn’t an office environment.”

“Right. Okay, I’ll take you home. I’ll call my parents in the morning. Maybe I can convince my mom to have us over for dinner.” He smiled.

“That would be fun.”

***

Sam pulled up next to Amy’s room. As she got out of the car, she heard nine-year-old Abheek Patel screaming and running toward her.

“Don’t go in, Miss Amy. Wait.”

Sam got out of the car and looked from the boy to Amy in confusion.

Presently, Raksha came jogging across the parking lot.

“Oh, Priya, you’re okay.” She rushed over to hug Amy.

“Of course, Raksha—”

“After that man came here this morning, I was all up in a fuss. And I realized you have no cell phone, so I couldn’t get hold of you.” She pulled a flip phone out of her pocket and handed it to Amy. “Please keep this on you at all times. I taped the number on the back, and I programmed our numbers into the contact list.”

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“Nonsense.”

“Let me at least reimburse you.”

“We’ll talk about that later. I’m just so happy to see you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I was with Sam. I should have told you where—”

“Here’s the nice-looking young man,” Raksha declared as she turned to Sam. “Are you a police officer?”

“No, I uh—”

Raksha put her hands on her hips and examined him. “You just have a protect-and-serve aura about you.”

Sam smiled.

Amy frowned. “Why would I be with a police officer?” She wasn’t sure what bothered her. Was it the sense of helplessness that she would need protection or was it the fear that potential Richardson-owned cops might be pursuing her? Clearly, she gave off the feelings of the latter because Raksha pursed her lips.

“You know, Priya. You live with the twisted notion that the police would not be there to help you if you needed them. That’s just not true. It may be true for some corrupt individuals, but the force as a whole would want to know your situation” – she looked specifically at Amy’s abdomen – “and help you bring justice to those who deserve it.”

Amy waved her off and pulled her keycard out of her purse. “Never mind. In any case, I’m home, I’m fine, and we can all get on with our evenings.”

“Don’t go in,” Abheek warned.

Amy got a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Did someone break into my room?”

“No, no, no,” Raksha said. She grabbed the keycard out of Amy’s hand and led everyone to the door. “We’ve installed an alarm.”

“Are you serious?”

“Just a simple door sensor. Sahil’s friend is putting one in at Banhi’s Grill. He popped over here today and installed it for us.”

“Isn’t that expensive? For one little room by the dumpster?”

“It was nothing. He owes me a favor. And it’s not a high-tech alarm.”

She opened the door, and a steady hum sounded. She rushed over to the closet area and punched a code in a little keypad.

“The code is 5-2-0-2. Memorize that. It’s very loud,” she continued, chuckling. “Best you wear earplugs. At the very least, you’ll know if someone tries to rattle the door. And we’ll hear it from our place.” She pointed toward the office.

“You really think I need this?”

Sam entered the room and examined the keypad.

Raksha nodded. “For now, Priya, yes. I don’t like that Brent. He kept spouting off that he’s a Richardson. I told him I don’t care if he’s the vice president.”

“You know Beaumont Richardson, right? Brent’s his son.”

“Sounds familiar, but I’m not impressed. If I see his face or his car, I’m calling the police.”

“They own the police.”

“See? There you go again.” Raksha’s accent thickened as she got angry. “Not everyone is in cahoots with self-important people. I know very well the officers who patrol this area. They will take my word over this Brent Richardson any day.”

“Until they return to the station and find out their jobs are in jeopardy.”

Raksha touched Amy’s arm. “Sometimes you have to trust that things will work out. That someone is looking over you.”

Sam touched her other shoulder. “I fully agree.” Then he nodded and made his way to leave. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Oh for goodness’ sake, join us for dinner. We were just getting started when you pulled up—”

“I couldn’t—”

“Nonsense. There’s too much food. Sahil and Ravi aren’t here tonight. I would be honored to serve my Priya’s protective friend.”

Sam agreed, and they made their way to the Patels’ apartment behind the office.

When they entered, Amy noticed that Nisha exchanged a knowing glance with her mother, and she whisked the wine glasses away. Amy found this irritating but figured it was just as well after last night. She didn’t need another embarrassing scene. Nevertheless, Amy thought it ironic that wine was not being served on the one day the family alcoholic was not present.

During dinner, Sam regaled the Patels with the story about the notebook and their theory about the birdhouse. Thankfully, he left out the part about Roxy and the man at the window. Raksha would have thrown a fit. But he did hint at the possibility the Richardsons might want to get their hands on the notebook, that it might contain potentially incriminating details.

The chaotic chatter Amy typically associated with a dinner at the Patels was all but absent. Every member of the family was fascinated by Sam’s storytelling.

After Sam finished, Kashi Patel made a suggestion. “You know, when you find the notebook, you should make several copies of the pages. Keep the original in a safe somewhere.”

“We have a safe-deposit box,” Raksha said. “You’re welcome to keep either one copy or the original there.”

Sam nodded. “That might be a good idea. We’ll have the upper hand if we control the notebook, assuming my sister knew something valuable.”

Raksha frowned. “I still think Brent should be punished for what he did to Amy.”

“There’s no proof,” Amy protested.

Kashi quieted them before the discussion could get out of hand. “One thing at a time, Raksha.”

After they said their good-byes, Amy and Sam made arrangements for the following day.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to go to my parents. They would have told me if they were out of town. Hopefully, they don’t already have dinner arrangements.”

“I usually work until four o’clock. Can you pick me up at Banhi’s Grill?”

“Yes. Do you normally exit out the front door?”

“Of course.”

“So how about if you exit through the back? If anyone is following you on a regular basis, they will expect you to come out the front as usual.”

“Now you’re getting all cloak-and-dagger on me.” She grinned.

“Let’s just see if we can get to my parents’ house unnoticed. This following thing is very unsettling.”

“I agree. So let’s say about four o’clock.” She pulled out her new flip phone. “I’ll text you if there’s a chance I’ll be later.”

“Sounds good. Text me now, so I have your number.”

“Will do.”

He leaned over, gave her an awkward kiss on the cheek, and rushed to his car. Amy smiled as he drove away.

After Sam left, she sent him a quick text and settled into the room. Her mind was churning over the day. Only once had she thought of her lost baby, when she saw the photograph of the pregnant woman. Now the images plagued her again, and she wondered if she would ever feel normal – if the pain and the horror would ever wash away. She thought of Mrs. Foster finally moving on, accepting her daughter’s death and refusing to consider the seemingly quixotic possibility that Emma was still alive. Amy concluded that Mrs. Foster’s resistance to Sam’s conviction was a way to shield her heart from yet another disappointment. It made total sense. Amy’s child was undeniably dead. It didn’t make it easy, but at least she didn’t have to wait a year or two to begin the process of grieving.

As the annoying voices in her head prattled on and on, Amy knew she wouldn’t sleep unless she had at least one drink. She refused to become her mother, but this period in her life was simply too painful to endure in the naked reality of the raw feelings. Just one more night. One more drink.

Amy drank in the darkness. She stared at the glowing light of her new alarm until the numbness welcomed her into the respite of sleep.

Chapter Thirteen

At 4:03 p.m., Amy stepped through the back door of Banhi’s Grill into the delivery lane. Sam stood near a pole on the west side. He sauntered toward her casually. She had borrowed another silk blouse from Raksha and taken the red one to the dry cleaners.

“No suspicious cars here,” he said. “I glanced in the parking lot when I drove by, and I didn’t see anyone sitting in their car, but I didn’t want to drive too slowly and become conspicuous.”

They walked down a side street.

“Where’s your car?”

“At the end of the block.” He pointed.

When they reached the car, Roxy popped up, her tail wagging.

“That’s a good girl, Rox. I told you I would only be a few minutes.”

Amy got in on the passenger side, and Roxy stepped forward to look in her lap.

“In the back, girl,” Sam shouted, and they pulled away from the curb.

Sam drove through the neighborhood in an erratic pattern before making his way to the main road. Although somewhat paranoid, Sam’s actions comforted Amy. The snooper from the previous night had rattled her more than she cared to admit.

Sam’s parents lived near the foothills in Littleton in a beautiful development. As Sam slowed down and approached the house, Roxy stood up, stared out the window, and wagged her tail. Sam rolled down the window to allow her to sniff the various smells of the neighborhood.

Amy experienced some mild anxiety as they approached the door. They were about to discuss a sensitive topic, some of the more troubling aspects of which needed to be carefully guarded. Amy wanted to present the story in a way that was respectful yet honest.

Sam’s mother opened the door enthusiastically. The twinkle in Mrs. Foster’s eyes told Amy the woman might be expecting a potential girlfriend at her son’s side. Last night’s kiss could mean Sam was considering the idea as well, but Amy felt too damaged – and married – to consider a relationship of any significance. Still, she had to admit someone like Sam would be a blessing in her life.

“I’m Rhonda.” Mrs. Foster stretched out a hand.

“Amy.” She grasped the hand firmly.

“This is Ed.” Rhonda pointed to the man behind her, but between the commotion of Roxy’s enthusiastic greeting and Sam’s attempt to cross the threshold, Mr. Foster could not reach Amy, so they settled for a wave.

Rhonda led them inside to a lovely living room with a couch, two armchairs, and a glass coffee table, oddly shaped by the natural wood with which it was made. High ceilings, nature paintings, and nooks displaying vases and knickknacks gave the room an inviting appeal. The living room looked out on a backyard filled with trees and gardens. No neighbors were visible on any side due to the high foliage. Rhonda pointed to the couch and indicated that Amy should have a seat.

“So nice to meet you, Amy.”

Roxy crossed the room and lay at Rhonda’s feet.

“You too, Rhonda.” Amy nodded. “And Ed.”

They spent a good fifteen minutes making small talk about the weather and their current projects. Amy implied she was helping with the opening of Banhi’s Grill. She didn’t go into detail about the grease or the mouse droppings.

Eventually, Sam steered the conversation in the direction of the real purpose of their visit.

“So, Mom. Amy has an interesting story. Dad.” He nodded at his father. Ed was clearly the quiet, thoughtful member of the family. Sam seemed to feel the need to make sure he wasn’t being left out. “I think you’ll find it very intriguing.”

With that, Sam turned and looked at Amy. He had dropped the ball in her court with very little warning or introduction. Caught off guard, Amy took a moment to compose herself. Everyone was looking at her.

“I’m not sure where to begin,” she said.

“You have a friend,” Sam hinted.

“I have a friend who knew your daughter.”

Rhonda shifted in her chair, but no one asked Amy to stop.

Amy felt slightly emboldened.
You can do this.
“My friend said that Emma made a notebook she planned to give to Sam. Apparently, she really wanted him to have it.”

Both Rhonda and Ed glanced at Sam and returned their attention to Amy.