Dancing with Detective Danger (6 page)

“You took a bad fall, sweetie.” Amazed at his youthful resiliency, Lacey smiled at her son. His restlessness was a good sign. “The doctor wants to make sure you’re going to be all right.”

Lacey wondered if Tyler had any memory of his last visit to the hospital, of the last time he’d seen his father. “I’m going to get a cup of coffee, honey. I’ll be right back, okay?” Lacey patted her son’s shoulder, her hand ice cold.

“Sure, Mom.”

Lacey walked past the vending machines and followed the hall to an alcove where she could isolate herself. Alone, she hoped to bite back the memories. She had to. It wouldn’t do to fall apart when Tyler needed her. She had to focus on helping him get better.

Tears stung her eyes, her heart wincing as she thought of her little son’s fearsome spirit. He tried to be such the little man, but she could tell he was hurting. And here she was, failing under the weight of her memories.

Lacey sank into a plush chair and rested her head in her trembling hands.
Oh God, I don’t know if I can do this. I miss Nicholas so much. I need him. I want him.

“I’m here, baby. Talk to me.”

Lacey’s head jerked to attention. She glanced cautiously around her left shoulder and then her right.
I’m hallucinating
, she thought.

Shaking her head and clearing her throat, Lacey wondered if she’d been pleading out loud to God and someone had seized the opportunity to play a cruel joke on her. She stood up and stuck her head around the corner, searching for a prankster.

But there was no one. She stood alone with her sorrow in the alcove at the end of the hall.

I am definitely losing it,
she thought, and headed back to Tyler’s room.

• • •

Nice neighborhood.
Sterling drove along the quiet streets, observing all the clues as they presented themselves.

The homes looked typical upper middle class, sporting plush green lawns and top-notch landscaping. Not palaces, but definitely homes expressing lives of comfort and affluence.

Pulling her silver sports car to a stop in front of Sara’s home, Sterling sat a moment and pulled focus. Jerry Rutherford, bank vice president, husband. Born in February of 1968, he was a comfortable forty-something and so was his wife. They’d met at a party a few years after Sara graduated from the local university. They had no children. They’d celebrated their twenty-second wedding anniversary this year. No parties, just a quiet night at home. They kept to themselves most of the time, according to Sara.

Sterling walked to the front door and pressed the doorbell. Moments later, the door opened.

“Hello, Sterling. You’re right on time,” Sara greeted her, leading her down a short hallway and into a pleasant-looking living room. “Have a seat.”

“I know this is a difficult time for you, Sara,” Sterling started. “You probably feel like your life is turning upside down.”

Sara smiled thinly. “Thanks, you’re very kind. Would you like something to drink? Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee would be nice if you have it.” Sterling didn’t really want any, but it would get Sara out of the room.

“Sure, I’ll be just a second. I have some already brewing.”

With Sara gone, Sterling looked around. An anniversary clock sitting on an antique cherry desk ticked out the time. A small, framed picture of Jerry receiving some kind of banking award sat next to the clock. Sterling peered close. Jerry’s eyes seemed dull, disinterested. Glancing furtively toward the doorway, Sterling pulled open the top drawer and quickly sorted through its contents. Her attention stopped as she ran her hand along the underside of the desktop and came into contact with something taped there.
What’s this?
she wondered, ripping it from its hiding place.
A strange looking black key with rows of small teeth running down each side of the shaft. How clichéd. Let me guess — this key will open a secret safety deposit box.

Sara’s footsteps coming close warned her. Sterling shoved the key into her suit pocket and took her seat in the overstuffed chair.

“Here we go.” Setting a steaming mug on a coaster on the table in front of Sterling, Sara sat back into the couch and sighed.

Sterling eyed the woman for a second, trying to get a feel for her state of mind, deciding quickly to proceed. She needed information and there was little point in stalling or making nice. “I know you’re probably wondering why I wanted to talk with you, so I’ll get right to it. Have you been contacted by your husband since yesterday morning?”

“No, not all,” Sara said softly, spooning sugar into her coffee.

“I’m sure the police have already spoken with you.”

“I have been questioned. They asked me the same thing, but I had to tell them no. That’s the truth, Sterling.”

“I believe you. But I wonder if you’ve been contacted without knowing it.” Sterling glanced around the room, then landed her gaze on Sara again.

“What do you mean?” Sara looked genuinely perplexed.

“Have you gotten any phone calls with no one on the other end? Have you come home from shopping to find things different from when you left? Anything like that?”

Sara thought for a minute. “No. Nothing like that.”

“When was the last time you talked with Jerry?” Sterling knew all she had to do was be persistent and patient.

Sara’s eyes seemed mesmerized by the beige sculpted carpeting. “Talked? That’s a funny way to put it. The night before last. He came home late. I was already in bed, reading. He got into bed, rolled over, and said good night. That was all. No talking, really.”

For the first time since she’d met her, Sterling saw emotion spark in Sara’s eyes. “I see.” Her instincts proved right. She suspected if she left space for the woman, she would lay out the truth. Experience told her Sara didn’t need much prodding, not even directing. Just space and a willing ear. “Was that normal for the two of you?”

“Jerry has never been a big conversationalist. It’s funny, too, because when we met he was so charming, so gregarious. I was kind of reserved. I guess you could say he swept me off my feet. My father called Jerry a hustler, but I argued he was just free spirited. I was young and it impressed me that my father and his status didn’t intimidate Jerry. I felt like I had a chance to break away. That was an illusion, youthful innocence.” Sara’s tone was matter-of-fact, as though she’d just reported that it was raining.

Sterling sat in silent witness to Sara’s sorrow and disenchantment, amazed that the woman’s composure remained solid. Apparently oppressed by her father and essentially abandoned as a young bride by her gold-digging husband, the woman deserved a break.

Sara drew up a deep breath and continued. “Life carries on. Anyway, in the last few months he’s seemed even quieter, sort of pulled inside of himself. Now I know why,” she said, frowning and fidgeting with a piece of lint from her shirt. “It was her.”

“What about his activities? How does he spend his time?” Sterling pressed on, but took note of the angry growl in Sara’s voice and emphasis on “her.”

Sara walked to the desk across the room and opened the top drawer, while Sterling squirmed in her seat and fingered the key in her pocket. She had to admit, it wasn’t exactly kosher to lift a piece of personal property, but yes, she sometimes bent the rules.

“This is Jerry’s daily planner. He lives by it religiously, so this might help.” Her hands shaking, Sara handed the small leather-bound book to Sterling. “It’s odd he didn’t take it with him. I didn’t give it to the police and I probably should have.”

“Don’t worry about it. It might be nothing, but thanks.” Sara seemed near the edge of breaking down. Sterling stood and walked toward the doorway out. “I’ll look this over, but you be sure and call me if your husband contacts you.”

Sara stopped at the front door and aimed darkly clouded eyes at Sterling. “Our marriage was one of convenience for Jerry. I’ve known for a long time he married me because of my father’s wealth. But I loved him.”

“Loved him, past tense?”

“I loved him when we got married and I have remained committed to our marriage, even though it’s been pretty lifeless for a long time.” Breathing a heavy sigh, she continued. “If Pamela Witt hadn’t coaxed him to wander, maybe I would have had a chance. I would have thought twenty-two years of marriage would account for something, but I guess not.” Her gaze shifted and she opened the door. “Thanks for helping, Sterling.”

Stepping out into the warm afternoon, Sterling felt the oppressiveness of the house lift. “Oh, one more question,” she said, turning back. “Do you or Jerry have family in this area where he could be staying?”

“No. Jerry was an only child, his parents are both dead, and my family is in Denver, Colorado. He would never go to them.”

“Okay, I understand. It was just a thought.”

“I know I must seem pretty pathetic to you. I have nothing, no children, no love.”

“You have a lovely home, Sara, and I’m sure there must have been some love between the two of you.”

A tear slipped down Sara’s cheek. “I always thought there would be more. Eventually. I never gave up.” Her look hardened. “Not even when I suspected another woman. That woman.”

Sterling placed a hand gently to Sara’s arm. “It’s not too late.”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll find Jerry, and when I do, you’ll learn the truth about a lot of things. Then you’ll know what to do.”

“Do you think so?”

“Truth can be a hard thing, but it will always offer direction.”

“Thank you, Sterling.”

Walking to her car, Sterling sensed a presence, like someone reading the newspaper over her shoulder. She glanced around, but saw no one. Nearby, a dog barked insistently and tree limbs danced in the soft breeze, but nothing stood out to explain the odd feeling. If it were something she needed to pay attention to, Sterling knew it would reveal itself eventually. That’s what she’d come to understand about her gut feelings, a PI’s best friend.

Pulling away in her car, Sterling lit out, wanting to distance herself not only from the sense of foreboding, but also from the Rutherford house.

The picture Sara had painted of her married life left Sterling with a pallid winter feeling chilling her heart. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. Marriage shouldn’t leave you feeling lonely, she thought. Love might just be the world’s biggest joke.

It hadn’t been like that for her parents, though. From back when she was very young, Sterling remembered the gleam that lit up in her mother’s eyes when her dad walked in the house after a day of work, and the matching shine in her father’s face. She remembered the comfortable feeling that filled her just watching her dad cuddle up to her mother. Her mom would respond by resting her head against his shoulder and Sterling had believed all was well with the world.

She’d been so naïve, so gullible. In its sweet simplicity, that life had lulled her into believing in the happily ever after.

All that love and security vanished, like a shimmering mirage, the night her dad died, and nothing, not even the strength of love, had been enough to shield her mother from the terrible pain.

That’s the double-sided edge of love
,
Sterling raged to herself. That’s the joke.

Ben slid onto a stool at the bar, welcoming the comfort of the familiar sounds of the neighborhood pub. From the tinkling of ice in glasses to the chatter and background of sports commentary on the TV hanging on the wall behind the bar, the sounds distracted his thoughts.

“What’s your pleasure tonight, Ben? A burger or just a beer?”

“Just coffee, Bridget,” Ben told the bartender. He knew the hunger gnawing inside his belly couldn’t be filled with a greasy hamburger. And it was not his style to dowse it with alcohol.

“Hey, don’t listen to him, Bridget. Give that guy a beer.”

The voice came from behind him in the corner of the dimly lit room, but Ben knew who it was before he turned around. “Hi, Jay.”

“Bring yourself over here and keep me company.”

Ben grabbed his cup of coffee and headed to the table.

“Funny, I haven’t seen you around for a while. What you been up to, old buddy?”

Jay slurred the words just enough to clue Ben that he’d been at the bar a while. Thoughtfully, he slid into a chair across the table. “Oh you know, same old same old.”

“No, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t see you much anymore. Not since this.” Jay pointed to the cane leaning against the wall. “You’re not letting this little thing keep you away, are you, buddy?”

“Of course not, Jay. I’ve just been working. Besides, I saw you a couple weeks ago. Here in fact.” Ben held a mouthful of coffee inside his mouth, focusing on its deliciously bitter flavor before swallowing.

“Yeah, I’m here a lot these days, since the accident that gave me this cane.”

Ben flinched inside. “Jay — ”

“Oh, I don’t mean anything by that, Ben. You don’t think I’m feeling sorry for myself, do you?”

“I don’t know. Are you?” Ben was beginning to wish he’d never walked through the bar door tonight. It was hard to watch his friend’s life take the turn it seemed to be taking.

“No. I mean, what do I have to feel sorry about?” Jay threw back another swallow of beer. “Lots of guys would love to be in my spot. Life of leisure is where it’s at. Of course, not for you. You’re different, right? Nose to the grindstone and all.”

“Yeah. That’s me.” He eyed Jay, trying to find the person he knew. The partner he’d worked with up until the day Jay got sidelined to a desk job by a gunshot, one that wouldn’t have happened if Ben had been more cautious on the job. “What do you want me to say, Jay? Do you want to talk about it? If you do, then let’s do it.”

Jay narrowed his eyes and sat staring at his empty glass as the seconds turned to a full minute. “No. I don’t want to talk about anything. I don’t want to talk about the filing I do. Although it’s fascinating stuff, I tell ya. I bet you didn’t know that the department has a very complex filing system. It takes a really good cop to manage it.”

Ben’s stomach twisted harshly. He wanted to do the right thing, but damn, it was so hard to know what the right thing might be. He listened to Jay go on.