Devil's Food Cake (21 page)

Huh?

Sadie moved on to the actual correspondence, hoping it would have some answers.

Mr. Mortenson,

Thank you for sending the query and first three chapters of your book. I am very intrigued with your premise and writing ability and would like to review the manuscript in its entirety. My agency requests that you give us exclusive rights to review your manuscript for the period of two months so that we may determine whether or not it’s a good fit for us. We look forward to receiving your full manuscript as soon as possible.

Sincerely,

Markus F. Ogreski

Could this be Thom’s acceptance letter for
Devilish Details
?
But the book hadn’t come out until almost three years after the date on this letter. And why would Josh have it? Sadie read it through again and asked herself what she’d learned. Not much. Mostly she had more questions. She closed her eyes and let out a breath. She was tired of questions. They were wearing her out. Glancing up from the letter, she startled at her own reflection in the toothpaste-flecked mirror. There was a purple bruise on the left side of her head where Donna’s frying pan had tried to teach her a lesson and a smudge of dirt across her cheek from the tumble into the bushes. She rubbed at the smudge with the back of her hand before making another attempt at fixing her hair, which felt like dirty straw and didn’t look any better. The last thing she needed right now was a mirror. What Eric must think of her!

Forcing her eyes away, she read the letter one last time before folding it up and returning it to her jacket pocket. As she did so, her fingers touched Josh’s key and she took it out of her pocket. She had some experience with mystery keys and cryptic letters—not all of it good. Could she trust either one this time? She’d have to. It was all she had to go on.

The ringing of a phone interrupted her pondering and she hurried to replace the key and straighten her jacket, the left sleeve dangling as though she were an amputee. By the time she reached the kitchen, Eric had already answered the phone.

“She’s right here if you’d like to tell her yourself—oh, I see.” He looked at Sadie and lifted an eyebrow as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. Sadie didn’t like the sound of this. “Right. Okay, I’ll give her the message.” He returned the phone to the cradle and offered Sadie an apologetic smile of his own. “That was the detective you’d left the message for. He said to tell you to go home and he’ll call you later. He doesn’t have time to talk with you right now.”

Chapter 25

Sadie’s shoulders fell even as her anger rose in her chest, completely overriding her earlier professionalism. “That man is impossible,” she said, attempting to cross her arms. It didn’t work very well since her one arm was under her jacket and bound to her chest. She settled for putting her good hand on her hip. “All I have done from the very beginning is attempt to help him. And I
would
be helping him if he would drop his blasted pride for point three seconds and listen to just the tiniest bit of what I have to say!”

Eric raised both eyebrows this time and stared at her in such a way as to break through her self-righteousness enough to let some embarrassment filter in. Dang it anyway. She preferred self-righteousness.

“Well, then,” Eric said, giving her a half-smile that only managed to annoy her more, “I don’t imagine you’re ready to tell me what it is you’re doing, are you?”

Oh, how Sadie wanted to tell him what she was doing! If for no other reason than to get back at Pete for being so dismissive. But quite honestly, she didn’t know where to start. Did Eric even know about Mr. Ogreski’s murder? And who was Eric anyway? Could he be trusted?

The fact was that two wrongs—Pete dismissing Sadie, and Sadie confiding in Eric out of spite—would not make things right.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, her tone deflating just as easily as it had intensified moments earlier. “I just can’t.”

Eric shrugged his acceptance and moved to the kitchen counter where he started rummaging through a pile of clutter. She took a deep breath and attempted to get control of her momentary lapse in conduct. She worried Eric was mad, but then he turned to face Sadie with a set of keys in his hand. “I’m assuming you need a ride,” he said, smiling valiantly.

Sadie opened her mouth to tell him she’d have Shawn pick her up, but that thought brought another pang of conscience.

“Shawn!” she said.

“No, Eric,” he corrected.

Sadie shook her head, filled with maternal panic. Sharing what she’d discovered about Josh Hender was part and parcel to having the police find Shawn. If the police refused to listen to her, she couldn’t get help for her son, whom she’d sent on a fool’s errand. “Not you,” Sadie said, looking away from him so she could think things out without distraction. “My son, Shawn. He—he has my car, but he’s out there somewhere.” She watched the snow fall outside Eric’s kitchen window. “I need to call him,” she said, looking at Eric. “Can I use your phone again?”

“Sure,” Eric said. He took a few steps to the table and picked up the cordless phone, holding it out to her.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the phone and turning away as though that would give her a little more privacy. She dialed the area code—Shawn had gotten his own plan when he moved to Michigan for school. Then her finger hovered over the keys. Shawn was
number three on her speed dial, she hadn’t typed in his number by hand since she’d put it in her phone two years ago. She knew it was 566 . . . something. Argh! She clenched her eyes shut and concentrated hard.

Harder.

After a few seconds she groaned and opened her eyes. “I can’t remember his number. It’s programmed into my phone—which is currently in the car with him.”

“So, couldn’t you call your phone?” Eric offered.

Sadie blinked at him. Yeah. That could work.

The phone rang five times before it went to voice mail where her voice told her to leave a message. Did she really sound so whiney?

She didn’t leave a message and instead called her phone a second time. It went to voice mail again. What did that mean? Why wasn’t Shawn answering? Was he simply ignoring it? Or was he out of the car and unable to hear it? Or was he bleeding to death on the side of the highway somewhere? The last thought made it hard to breathe. She’d told him to chase Josh. What kind of mother puts her son in such a dangerous situation? She wished she’d given him more instructions. Would he call the police on his own? Would he try to confront Josh himself? The idea made the room spin slightly.

“Are you okay?”

Sadie shook her head, trying to swallow the anxiety building in her throat. “What have I done?” she said under her breath.

“You tell me,” Eric said.

She was glad to see he wasn’t smiling this time. They looked at one another for a few seconds before Sadie looked away, once again embarrassed to be there, to have Pete dismiss her to this man, and to have not kept better track of her son.

What do I do now?
she asked herself, thinking through her options. Pete wanted her to go home—but that was impossible. She couldn’t leave Shawn out there, and she couldn’t pretend she didn’t know what she knew. Which meant she only had one option, even though the thought made her wilt inside. It wouldn’t be pretty.

“Can you take me to the Carmichael Hotel, please?” Sadie asked, not liking the sound of surrender in her voice. She needed to make Pete listen to her, she knew that, but she dreaded facing him again. Based on his reaction when she tried to tell him about Jane, as well as the fact that he’d told her via Eric to go home
again,
she had little doubt it would be an awkward discussion. She could only hope that once she got the words out, Pete would realize why she had to go to such great lengths to make sure he heard what she had to say.

“The hotel where the shooting took place?” Eric asked.

“You know about the shooting?” Sadie asked, looking quickly at him.

“It was on the news.” He pointed his thumb at the TV set in the living room. The picture was still on, but he had muted the sound. “Is that what this is all about?”

Chapter 26

Strangely enough, though Eric’s house was a disaster area, his car—a Jeep Cherokee—was clean enough that she was able to relax for the first time that evening. The scented air freshener smelled like vanilla. She liked that; it reminded her of baking.

“There’s a loading area around back,” Sadie said as they approached the hotel. There were easily a dozen news vans lining the road beside the main parking lot, which was still blocked off.

The snowstorm had gotten worse since her fall into the bushes. Wind whipped through the naked tree branches and the snow was coming down fast and hard through the darkened night, making the roads quite treacherous. She was glad Eric’s car had four-wheel drive.

He followed her instructions, pulling to a stop at the back lot entrance as an officer stepped out from his car that was parked nearby. “Thank you for doing this,” Sadie said quietly as they waited for the officer to reach them.

Eric smiled. “Letterman’s a rerun,” he said with a shoulder shrug. “Besides, now I’m curious. I’m still hoping to figure out what exactly is going on.”

Sadie felt guilty about that. Didn’t he deserve to know? Especially since he was driving her around?

The officer reached the door, and Eric rolled down the window, allowing snow to come into the car.

“The hotel’s on lockdown,” the officer said.

“She needs to see Detective Cunningham,” Eric said with authority.

Sadie did a double take. How did he know she was coming to talk to Detective Cunningham? Then she remembered he’d seen the news, listened to her 911 call, and talked to Pete himself.

Eric continued with confidence. “He needs to hear what she has to say.”

The officer hesitated. “I’ll need to get permission,” he said, grabbing for his radio.

“I know where Thom Mortenson is,” Sadie yelled across the seat, causing both men to look at her in surprise. “Or, at least where he was twenty minutes ago. I tried to call Detective Cunningham, but he . . . didn’t seem to understand what I was trying to tell him. I really need to speak with him.”

“She really needs to speak with him,” Eric repeated, speaking calmly as though he knew all the details. He was so comfortable that she couldn’t help but wonder if he knew more than she thought he did. But how could he? He was a random homeowner of a random house she’d run to for help. She shook her head in hopes of shaking the suspicion from her mind.

Meanwhile, the officer spoke into his speaker-thing and then leaned back into the window.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Sadie Hoffmiller,” she said.

He nodded and went back to his speaker-thing for a few more seconds before turning back to the car. “Go in. They’re waiting for you in the ballroom.”

Sadie couldn’t hide the triumph in her smile as Eric nodded and pulled into the parking lot. There were two police cars back here now, and most of the cars that had been there earlier were gone—probably staff who’d been allowed to go home. Sadie wondered if Jane was still inside.

Eric pulled into a parking spot and Sadie climbed out, trying to ignore the constant pain in her shoulder. These murder investigations always seemed to end up a little brutal on her poor body. She was surprised when Eric met her at the back of the car.

“Come on,” Eric said with a rueful grin, which emphasized the laugh lines around his eyes. “You didn’t think I was going to let you go in alone, did you?”