Forty-Four Box Set, Books 1-10 (44) (128 page)

“What about the guy at that café?”

She shrugged again.

“Maybe. The way his eyes took you in, he always left me feeling like I needed to take a shower. But if they arrested everyone for that… I mean, I don’t know.”

She looked at her watch and sighed.

“Well, I’ve got to get back in there,” she said. “You know, hanging out with thirty kids every day is not what I thought it would be.”

“What did you think it would be?”

“I don’t know. Fun?”

We walked in silence until we were standing once again in front of the brick building.

“It’s strange,” she said, her voice soft. “The pain of missing her feels worse each day. I thought it was supposed to get better with time, but it hasn’t, it doesn’t. It’s… been really, really hard getting my mind around it. You know, that she’s not here anymore.”

She smiled weakly.

“We were best friends.”

Sophie Richardson closed her eyes and held them like that for a moment.

“I mean
are
,” she said, looking at me. “We
are
best friends.”

CHAPTER 25

After swinging back over to the motel to pick up my things, we drove to the airport. Blues came off the stereo, a primitive recording of a lone guitar accompanied by wordless, haunted moaning.

“Who is this?” I said.

“Blind Willie Johnson,” Frazier said, turning up the volume. “Truer words have never been sung.”

I stared out the window for a moment, lost in a memory.

“I was taken once,” I said finally, looking past the cars and the streetlights and people on the sidewalks. “Like Emily.”

It had been almost three years since I was kidnapped after a soccer game and taken to a remote island where Dr. Nathaniel Mortimer was waiting for me.

“I didn’t realize it at first but he wanted to kill me. He was obsessed with my accident, how I died and came back. He was determined to recreate it. He was going to drown me so that he could bring me back to life.”

“I know,” Frazier said. “I read about that before I came looking for you. Besides having psychic abilities I thought that you, more than most, would be in a position to understand what Emily is going through. And that you would have special insight into the mind of the person who took her.”

“There were moments of pure torture where I actually wanted to die, but the worst part was not knowing, always thinking that death was just around the corner. It was like dying over and over and over again.”

Frazier shook his head.

“I can’t imagine the horror you went through, Abby. I really can’t.”

“Nathaniel Mortimer had feelings for me, but he never acted on them,” I said. “Not sexually, I mean. I was lucky that way. Mostly just lucky that I survived it.”

As we sat in silence, somehow I knew that we were both thinking the same thing. That Emily had not been that lucky. On either account.

Blind Willie Johnson murmured mournfully as if he was thinking it too.

“I don’t know how you do this,” I said after a while. “I mean, go home each night and live a normal life.”

“It took me some time to figure out,” he said. “But I did eventually. If you choose this line of work, you kiss a normal life goodbye.”

I thought about that.

“You don’t have to park,” I said when we reached the airport. “Just drop me off over at the curb.”

“Sure thing,” Frazier said, pulling over in front of the passenger unloading zone.

We got out and he shook my hand.

“Thank you, Abby. For making the effort. I know you have better things to do with your time. I have a feeling something may come to you in the days ahead. I’ll be in touch.”

He handed me two envelopes.

“Here’s your ticket. Oh, and this is a little something. Just a token, really. Thank you again.”

I wanted to say I was sorry but held back.

“Thank you,” I said instead. “I’ll call you if…”

He smiled and nodded.

We said goodbye. Frazier closed the trunk and I headed over to the door and out of the drizzle that had started falling from the gray sky.

At the last minute, I glanced back, watching him drive off.

And that’s when I saw her.

Sitting in the backseat, her dark ghost eyes on me, as the car sped away into traffic.

CHAPTER 26

I was glad that nobody was sitting next to me on the plane. I looked out the window as we taxied over to the runway. Dark clouds had moved in and a steady rain was now falling.

The pilot came on and said we were cleared for takeoff. The lone flight attendant breezed through the small cabin once more checking seatbelts, trays, and seatbacks.

We didn’t come to a full stop, but instead turned and picked up speed, jerking around a little as we lifted up into the clouds.

The direct flight was supposed to cover the hundred miles between Eugene and Redmond in less than half an hour. Ty would be there to pick me up. The thought of seeing him again cut through some of the darkness I felt at having seen her ghost.

But her eyes stayed with me. They had that haunted, faraway look I had come to associate with murder victims.

My heart was heavy as I thought about her there, alone.

And dead.

If that was Emily in the back of Frazier’s car, why didn’t she contact me before I left? Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she didn’t know how.

I pulled out a copy of the flight magazine and scanned it, trying to erase the image in my mind. A few minutes later, the pilot came on again and informed us that we were starting our decent into Roberts Field.

Then I remembered the other envelop Frazier had given me. I had stuffed it into my backpack. I pulled it out. There were 10 twenty dollar bills inside.

I could have been upset, thinking he was paying me off like some sort of psychic prostitute. But I wasn’t. He was just trying to thank me. He probably hadn’t even gone through proper channels to get the money, like when cops pay an informant. I was sure it had come out of his own pocket.

As we descended, the mountains below spread out beneath us with big white, puffy clouds clustered around the peaks, looking like something from a dream. It was a stunning view. Magical, even. Somewhere that angels might call home.

I wondered about David, about how he was so sure that his angels were around him all the time, watching and protecting him.

And then I wondered why some people didn’t seem to have any.

CHAPTER 27

“Here,” Ty said, handing me a glass. “Drink up.”

“This looks like more than one finger,” I said.

“Drink up,” he repeated.

I made a face as the fire slid down my throat.

“This stuff is harsh, man,” I said between gasps.

“Crater Lake rye whiskey from Bendistillery.”

“Oh, I thought it was antifreeze.”

“No, antifreeze has more of a neon color and a sweet palate similar to the weak soda beers you seem to prefer. If you finish it in the next 10 minutes, I promise to add a little water to the next round.”

“The next round? I already feel like I’ve gone fifteen with Apollo Creed.”

“Drink it, Rock,” he said in an old, gravelly voice. “Speaking of sweet beer, did I tell you about what happened to my latest batch at the brewery?”

I shook my head, taking another sip of whiskey.

“Damn lazy yeast,” he said. “It was one of the first brewing sessions that Scott let me do almost entirely by myself, and the damn yeast fell asleep on me. The beer’s completely under-attenuated, sweet as pumpkin pie. Nobody wants pumpkin pie when they’ve ordered an IPA.”

“Under what?” I asked. 

“The final gravity was way off,” Ty continued, not bothering to stop. “The yeast was a bad man, Abby. The yeast was a very bad man.”

Apparently, the whiskey was having its effect.

“Well, who needs gravity anyway,” I said, not having the slightest clue what either one of us was talking about.

Ty sighed.

“I guess things could have been worse, though. Scott said all we have to do is make up another batch that’s dryer and combine the two.”

“Doesn’t sound like that hard of a fix,” I said.

“It’s not. And like I said, it could have been a lot worse. The beer could have had off-flavors. Like diacetyl. Makes it taste like you’re sitting in a movie theater. You wouldn’t be able to save a batch like that.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Now you’re just using those big words to try and impress me,” I said.

“Is it working?” he said, wrapping his arms around me.

“I’ll get back to you on that.”

We sat for a moment in silence. I got the sense that Ty could have ranted on and on about beer, but he stopped himself.

He knew that my mind was elsewhere.  

“I feel like I let her down,” I finally said.

“You did exactly what Frazier brought you in to do. You saw her ghost.”

I shrugged.

“It’s not enough. How does that help anyway? The odds were always stacked against her being alive. When I tell Frazier she’s dead, it’s not going to come as any surprise. It doesn’t put them any closer to finding her body or the killer.”

I handed him my empty glass.

“I know it feels that way right now, but that will pass. You did what you do. You can’t expect to go back and change something that’s already happened,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

He returned a minute later and handed me my tumbler. It was no longer empty.

“Now you’re sure there’s some water in this?” I said.

He nodded and smiled like a little boy caught in a lie.

I took a sip. Either he was telling the truth or the stuff was growing on me.

I played with the remote for a while and finally stopped on
Legends of the Fall
. It only had a few minutes left to go.

“This looks interesting,” Ty said.

“Looks kinda freaky. Check out Brad Pitt’s crazy hair.”

“Whoa, and look at that thing living on Anthony Hopkins’ head,” he said. “You think I should let my hair grow like that?”

“Like Anthony Hopkins? No. Say, speaking of Montana, does your dad look anything like him?”

“Hmm, now that you mention it, maybe just a little. But it’s more a
Silence of the Lambs
Anthony Hopkins. Only, you know, without the lambs. We don’t raise lambs back on our ranch.”

“That’s good,” I said.

I giggled a little, but it wasn’t long before my thoughts returned to the case.

“You know, working with Frazier these last few days has really made me realize that I wouldn’t want to do this. I mean, regularly. He’s a very nice man, but he’s so sad. And how could it be any other way, doing what he does? The losses far outweigh the wins and the few wins there are don’t bring back the dead.”

I was rambling and babbling but there was also truth mixed in with the water and rye.

“In soccer the best strikers miss more shots than ever go in,” I went on. “But with cops like Frazier, there are lives at stake. It’s for keeps. It’s life and death.”

Ty rubbed my arm.

“I don’t want to end up like that. I want to be happy.”

“Let’s be happy then,” Ty said, getting up.

I switched off the TV and let him lead me into the bedroom.

CHAPTER 28

I woke up with a pain behind the eyes. My tongue felt like sandpaper, coarse and heavy on the grit.

I stumbled out to the kitchen and made some coffee, the sound of the grinder drilling a hole in my head. I watched the dark liquid make its way through the filter and down into the pot and called Frazier to tell him about the ghost. It went to his recording, so I left a message for him to call me back.

I quickly scrambled up some eggs and topped them with a little sharp cheddar. I had a few bites and took the rest in to Ty along with some coffee.

“Umm, breakfast in bed.” He rubbed his eyes and stretched. “I could get used to this.”

“Gotta boogie,” I said and kissed him goodbye. “Kate’s coming home today.”

I rolled down the Jeep windows and took a deep breath. It was good to be back in the high desert.

Kate had flown into Portland last night and had probably just started driving back to Bend. That gave me plenty of time to make the cake.

I was assembling the ingredients when my phone rang. It was Rebecca. I answered.

“Can we meet this afternoon?”

Her voice was business-like, a little colder than usual. I reminded myself not to jump to conclusions as I spread some hazelnuts out on a cookie sheet.

“Sure,” I said. “I can stop by after work.”

“I’ll be here. See you then.”

She clicked off and I decided to just let it go. It was a good thing, I told myself. I would settle this, one way or another. I loved river guiding and hoped I still had a job, but there were more important things to think about. I didn’t have any regrets about what I had done.

I was no pastry chef. I had tried to make a chocolate hazelnut cake last year and it was a huge disappointment. It was dry and gooey at the same time, the frosting sticking to the back of the throat and setting off a gag reflex faster than a new dental assistant taking x-rays.

But since then I had read up on a few recipes and techniques and was looking forward to taking it seriously and redeeming myself.

The one thing I had learned was that baking wasn’t at all like cooking. There could be no pinches of this and that to balance out flavors, no going by taste or adjusting the recipe as you went along. It was more scientific, with everything needing to be exact to get the best possible outcome. Things needed to be precise. Eggs needed to be at room temperature, as did the butter and milk. Dry ingredients were best measured on a scale.

I mixed everything together carefully, put the cake pans in the oven, set the timer, and opened the sliding glass door.

My head felt better and I put on some jazz. The music blended nicely with the summer morning and I began wishing that I could blow off work and just hang out with Kate all afternoon.