Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes (26 page)

Joe didn’t come home until around two in the morning. I felt like Mildred, snooping through the window, as I spied on him. But Joe didn’t go directly in his house; he went to my shed. He opened the door, slipped inside and came out less than a minute later. What could Joe up to?

And how did he get in?

Joe went inside his house. As he passed my bedroom window, I noticed his clothes were dirty and grimy, like he’d been rolling in dirt. A million questions ran through my mind, but I was tired of pondering it all. I just wanted to go to sleep and so did Muffy. She lay on my bed and looked irritated that her glares hadn’t stopped me from getting up and down. I finally fell asleep, cuddling Muffy, until I couldn’t take the smell rolling out of her every ten minutes and covered my head with a pillow.

The next morning, I made a pot of coffee and stared at the television. Here I had gone to the trouble of getting cable and I still hadn’t watched it. So I turned it on, flipping through two hundred channels until I found a rerun of
Little House on the Prairie
. I spent most of the morning slumped in the chair, which made me frustrated. I had a day and a half left to live and I was watching reruns.

I made myself shower and dress, and then clean up the mess in the kitchen. There wasn’t much to clean but we’d left out Chinese food cartons and the chopsticks were stuck to the table. I threw everything away and found two fortune cookies, still unopened. In twenty-four years, I had never had a fortune cookie, which seemed pitiful. I ripped the cellophane wrapper open and broke the cookie in half, pulling out a rectangular paper.

Your future looks bright and promising
.

I almost laughed. I must have really bad karma.

The phone rang, and I jumped. Everything startled me these days, obviously with good reason.

“Rose? What are you doing home? Why are you off work again?” Joe asked.

“Joe, if you don’t think I’m home,
why
do you keep callin’?” I asked, suddenly weary.

“I wanted to leave you a message.” He sounded like a kid caught throwing rocks at the neighbor’s window. “I wanted to apologize for last night.”

I sat silent, unsure what to say. He took my silence as encouragement.

“I was really harsh with you and I shouldn’t have been. I didn’t expect to be called into work last night. They called me in for a tense situation and it made me short. I’m sorry.”

I still didn't say anything, unsure how I felt. Why did he have to be so complicated? But then, if that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black, I didn't know what was.

“Can I make it up to you tonight? I want to take you out to dinner. We can go to the Italian restaurant, Little Italy. Then you can check off
go to Italy
since you can’t actually fly there before Sunday.”

My eyes burned. “You remembered
Go to Italy
?” How did he remember?

He heard the crack in my voice. “Oh, Rose, don’t cry. I’m so sorry about last night. Of course, I remembered. I remember everything about you, including your list. Please, just give me another chance. I promise to make it up to you.”

I wiped the tears off my cheeks. I’d be an idiot to say yes. I wanted to ask him why he was in my shed the night before, but then he’d know I’d been snooping on him. Why did I have to like him so much?

“Please?” He was begging, desperation clinging to his voice.

It was a public place, what could happen? I’d make him answer my questions and if he didn't answer them to my satisfaction then I'd just avoid him all day Saturday.

“Okay,” I sighed.

I heard his exhale of relief.

“But I’ll meet you there. We’ll go separately.”

“Why? No, never mind. I don't care. How about seven-thirty? I’ll make reservations.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

I hung up, exhausted. There were a million things I needed to do, but I couldn’t face a single one. Instead, I went to bed to take a nap, pulling an afghan over me.

Muffy sat on the floor by the bed and whined. I patted the space beside me. “Come on, Muffy."

I woke up hours later, rested but groggy. For someone not used to naps, I seemed to be getting my fair share. I looked over at the clock. It was six o’clock. I had literally slept the day away.

Unsure whether to dress up or go casual, I decided to go fancy since I might never get the chance again. I wore a red sleeveless dress with a deep V in both the front and back. The slim skirt hit above my knee. I almost hadn’t bought it, wondering where I would wear such a thing. Now I was glad I did. I decided to wear my red lingerie underneath. Might as well go all the way. I flipped the ends of my hair out and put on makeup. After I put on my strappy black heels, I looked into the mirror and felt pretty. No, beautiful. I felt like a princess.

I pulled up to Little Italy right at seven-thirty but didn’t see Joe’s car in the parking lot. I ordered a glass of wine to sip while I waited. And waited. At seven-forty-five, Joe still hadn’t shown up. I pulled my cell phone out of my purse, surprised to see a text message Joe sent only a minute earlier. I wondered why I hadn’t heard it ding, and saw it was still on silent.

Can’t make it. Tied up at work. I am so sorry. I’ll make up to you tomorrow. Promise
.

I shook my head.
Over my dead body
. Then I laughed at the irony. Give him a day and it would be.

I couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with me. Two dates and both guys left me stranded in a restaurant. One thing was sure, I wouldn’t go hang out in the bar and get the bartender killed.

The thought made my heart skip.
Oh my goodness, had
I
gotten Sloan killed
? Joe had a good point. That was a lot of activity for a small city like Henryetta, all of it having something to do with me. The memory of Daniel at the DMV came back.

“
Sloan isn’t your brother, is he
?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“He’s a cop, isn’t he?”

Daniel Crocker thought Sloan was a cop and I was somehow involved with him
.

Oh my God, I got Sloan killed
.

Facing my own death was one thing, but causing the death of someone else was completely different. It made being stood up on a date seem pretty insignificant.

I paid for the glass of wine and left, unsure what to do. I felt drawn to the funeral home. Sloan’s visitation might be tonight. I could pay my respects. It was the least I could do if I really got him killed.

I drove past the building, the parking lot filled with cars. It didn’t mean it was Sloan’s, but I knew one way to check. It was so crowded, I had to pull into the gravel overflow parking. Picking my way through the gravel proved a challenge, considering I wasn’t used to wearing heels. By the time I made it to the paved lot, teetering on asphalt felt like walking in flip-flops.

A sign propped up inside the front door announced that Sloan Chapman occupied the Magnolia Room. The Magnolia Room was the big room, which explained all the cars in the lot. I walked down the hall, making my way around the mourners milling about.

“It’s such a shame,” a woman said to her companion in a hushed tone. “He was such a nice guy.”

I knew that firsthand.

Overdressed for a wake, I attracted more attention than I wanted. When I entered the Magnolia Room, at least four times the size of the Jasmine, I stood toward the rear, getting my bearings. A throng of people gravitated to the front, where an elderly woman stood next to the casket, weeping. A younger woman stood next to her, looking shell-shocked.

I found it hard to believe that a week ago I had been in the same spot.

“Did you know him very well?” The man next to me wore a suit, but he tugged at the collar like he wasn’t used to being dressed up. I guessed him to be around my age.

I shook my head. “No, not really. I only knew him from Jaspers. He was really nice to me.”

“That was Sloan, nice to everyone. He took off to Dallas for several years and came back about six months ago sporting his tattoos and his earrings, but still the same sweet guy. A giant teddy bear.”

What little I knew of Sloan, I believed that. “Why did he come home?” I asked.

“His mom is sick. That’s her up there.” He pointed to the woman up front. “She got breast cancer. Sloan came home to help her out.”

A lump formed in my throat, making it difficult to talk. “I’m so sorry.”

He turned to look at me with a quizzical expression. “Yeah, everyone is sorry. The world’s a sadder place without Sloan.

The casket lid was propped open, but I didn't think I could bring myself to go up and look. I’d seen enough. I was ready to go.

Turning to leave the room, I saw him standing at the door watching me.

Daniel Crocker.

“I wondered if you’d show up,” he said, looking me up and down. “You look nice. I was about to give up on you but patience is what got me where I am today.”

“Where? In a funeral home?” My retort was so unlike me, but I found his cocky attitude irritating, especially if he killed Sloan.

“Feisty, huh? We’ll see how feisty you really are.” He grabbed my arm. It looked innocent enough, a man assisting a woman, but his fingers pinched deep into my arm. “Let’s take a walk, shall we?”

My heart wanted to fling itself from my chest. Should I scream? Should I try to run? I couldn’t get very far in my three-inch heels and screaming seemed irreverent to Sloan. Getting him killed was bad enough; I didn’t want to disrupt his visitation.

“What do you want?” I asked, trying to keep up with him. I willed myself to be brave. I needed to be brave to get out of this.

“You know what I want. Let’s not play stupid.”

He continued to drag me down the hall toward the back exit, past the offices. I knew from standing outside with Joe at Momma’s visitation that the rear of the funeral home was fairly secluded. Going out there alone with Daniel Crocker was a very bad idea.

“You’ve got the wrong person. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I tried to pull my arm out of his grasp without making a scene, but his fingers dug deeper. I almost cried out in pain, but swallowed it down.

“Now, now Rose. You and Sloan were sly, just not sly enough. Come on.”

We moved past the crowd in the lobby and started down the empty hall to the exit. I knew it made a right angle at the end of the hall, turning into a three-foot section at the exit. That area would be completely out of view of the mourners in the lobby. My panic rose like a freak desert flash flood; one minute everything is calm, the next, it was raging out of control.

Keep it together, Rose. You can get out of this
.

We reached the end of the hall and I dug my heels into the carpet. Daniel Crocker turned to face me with an evil grin. “Wanna do this the hard way, huh?” He gave my arm a vicious jerk and I flew forward into his chest. He made a low guttural sound. “I like you, Rose. I'd like to think we can work something out.”

I had trouble holding down my fear.
You can't give into this panic or you won’t be able to think.
I pulled away from him, trying to back up in to the hall visible to the people in the lobby, but he grabbed both of my arms and pulled me toward him, out of sight.

“You wanted your anonymity, which was all well and good until you failed to deliver what you were paid for.” He growled into my face. His breath smelled of garlic and onions. “And we had reliable information that you worked at the DMV. I just didn’t know who you were until that Friday I came in. I was there trying to sniff you out and the look on your face when you saw my name told me everything I needed to know.”

I couldn’t hold back the sob that pushed its way to the surface. “I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t even know Sloan.” I choked out.

Daniel pinned me to the wall by the back door. He leaned his body into mine. “Now, now, baby. I thought we were past the games.” His eyes traveled down to my chest and back to my face. He smiled, but it was more of a leer. “I like how you’ve spent the money. If it were just me, I’d be willing to forgive and forget, but my partners aren’t as understanding as me. They’re tired of waiting.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. I don’t know what you want.” My words sounded like a whine. So much for being brave.

We stood a few feet from the door. Daniel Crocker was bigger and stronger than me. If he wanted me to go outside, I was going outside. At least if I stayed in the funeral home, I stood a chance.

“I want lots of things, baby, but right now I want the flash drive.” He leaned toward my neck and took a deep breath. “You smell delicious. I bet you taste as good as you look.”

I let out a whimper and he pulled back and laughed. “Like I said, I like you, Rose. Maybe we can work out some sort of compromise that will work in both of our favors.”

“What kind of compromise?” I was surprised I got the words out at all, considering that I could hardly breathe.

He ran his hand up and down my neck, his finger tips trailing down to my cleavage. “Meet me at The Trading Post, tomorrow night. Ten o’clock. You bring the flash drive and I’ll convince my partners this was all a huge misunderstanding. And if you’re lucky, I’ll make you grateful I did.”

“What if I can’t make it?”

Rage replaced his smile, his face exuding pure evil. “You don’t want to find out. Be a smart girl and come see me.” He released me with a shove, then flung open the back door so hard it smacked into the brick wall. The back of my head bounced off the wall just about the same time a vision started coming.

It was night and I lay on my back in the woods, my limbs at odd angles with a vacant expression on my face. The light of the full moon filtered through the trees, casting odd shadow shapes. The moonbeams lit up the small hole centered in my forehead.

“I’m gonna die.”

I wasn’t dead yet, but apparently, I was scared witless because I just stood there, as if I waited for Daniel Crocker to change his mind and come back and take me with him.

Snap out of it, Rose. Move
.