Lemon Tart (21 page)

Maybe I can come
back tomorrow, she thought as she straightened the bedspread that had
been ruffled when the other intruder had sat down—then stopped
short. Am I insane? Planning to
come back again? She hurried toward the front door, the book held tight
against her chest, anxious to get out of there before someone else stopped
in—then she remembered the calendar.

Pausing at the door for the second time, she considered her
options. If she found a way to tell Cunningham someone had been here and the
police then found that the calendar was gone, they’d assume the intruder took
it. But it would be in her possession, which could make things very bad for
her. But to be this close to maybe finding some answers?

She ran back to the kitchen and grabbed the calendar.

Chapter 21

She was home in less than a minute and slammed the
door shut behind her, her back pressed against it, still breathing hard.

“Mom?” Breanna asked from where she sat at the kitchen table, a
big thick textbook open in front of her. “Are you okay?”

Sadie forced a smile. “Uh, yeah . . . it’s just kind
of dark out there.” She peeked out the small oval window set into the oak of
the front door to see if anyone was running after her. The sidewalk was clear.
She’d gotten away with it. She turned back to face Breanna and then heard an
engine. Were the police back already? After stepping to the picture window she
saw that it was just Jack coming back. She wondered where he’d gone.

“What’s that?” Breanna asked, looking at the calendar and book
in Sadie’s hands.

“Oh, uh, just something I got from Mindy.” She couldn’t believe
she’d just lied to her daughter. Terrible. She placed
both items casually on the countertop. She was searching for something to
say when Breanna saved her from herself—at least for the
moment.

“Detective Cunningham called. I didn’t think it was my place to
tell him about Ron but I told him you’d be right back and he said he’d come
over.”

Sadie smiled but her heart was thumping in her chest. What if
he found out she’d been in Anne’s house? Would he be able to tell just by
looking at her? Police were trained to see the slightest detail in the way a
person talked or held their head. And what about the other intruder? There had
to be some way to tell Cunningham about him without incriminating herself.

“He’s coming right now?” Sadie asked, glancing anxiously at the
calendar. She needed to hide it, but didn’t want to draw Breanna’s attention to
it again. She left it there for the moment.

“He said it would be around 7:30, so you’ve got more than half
an hour. Why don’t you go take a shower or something? No offense, but you look
awful.”

Sadie glared at her daughter. “How am I supposed to not take
offense at that?”

Breanna shrugged, still grinning. “You’re the one who’s always
said taking offense is like taking a hand grenade—it’s up to
you.”

“Humph,” Sadie said, smoothing her hair dramatically.

“Okay, fine, don’t shower, see if I care.” Breanna tsked and
shook her head. “Some people’s parents.”

“Thin ice, my dear, thin, thin ice talking to me that way.”

“I’ve got some studying to do, Mom, and then I’ll clean up the
kitchen.”

“You’ll do dishes voluntarily?” In truth Breanna was very
helpful around the house, but Sadie hated to let a good banter session go to
waste. And she had to admit that a shower sounded marvelous. Between the
applesauce this morning and the bed-hiding of the afternoon and
evening, Sadie felt perfectly filthy. But it didn’t overcome her motherly
sensibilities. Sadie sat down across the table from her daughter. “Thank you
for coming down, Bre, but I know you have a very demanding schedule right now.
I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay here.” And yet, she really wished
she would. Though Sadie sometimes judged Carrie harshly for her determination
to hold on to her children too tight, Sadie had found her own children’s
adulthood hard to take as well. She missed the years when she had them in her
home every day.

Breanna bit her lip and Sadie was glad to see she was
considering it. “I don’t want you to be alone,” she said. “Ron’s out there and
no one really knows what happened. If I get up early I can make the drive
before my first class.”

“When the detective comes I’ll tell him about Ron,” Sadie said,
dreading the conversation already. “He’ll know what I should do about it, and
I’ll be okay here by myself. I’m good at being alone.” Sadie patted Breanna’s
arm. “What classes do you have tomorrow?”

“Well,” Breanna said slowly, as if not having planned to reveal
this. “I actually have a midterm at 8:00 and then a lab in the afternoon.” Her
voice sped up as she continued. “But Trina hasn’t called to go back and it
doesn’t seem right to leave you here alone. I’m sure that I could do the
midterm another day.”

“Not unless college has changed a whole lot since I was a
student.” She smiled reassuringly at her daughter. “I promise you I won’t be
stupid.” Breaking into Anne’s house notwithstanding, but it’s not like she was
going to do that again. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’d feel better if I knew someone was staying with you.”

“Not if that means you miss your classes,” Sadie reiterated.
“If I have to I’ll go to Carrie’s, but it’s your senior year—no
time to start slacking now.”

“Well, maybe I’ll call Trina and see what her plan is. I know
she has a midterm tomorrow too. But either way you need a shower.”

“Do I smell that bad?” Sadie asked with mock sincerity.

Breanna laughed. “I’m a zoology major, Mom. My sense of smell
is extremely acute.”

Sadie laughed, finally gave up, and went to the bedroom. The
shower was as divine as she’d thought it would be and she used up all the hot
water before she got out—only then realizing how long she’d
been under the steady beat of water, mentally running through her day. She
threw on a pair of yoga pants and a white T-shirt, then wrapped her
head in a towel. When she got back to the living room, Breanna was wiping down
the countertops. Her books were packed up and her backpack was sitting by the
door. Sadie’s heart sank, and yet she was relieved to know she wouldn’t be the
cause of forfeiting her daughter’s education.

“Trina’s going back too?” Sadie asked.

Breanna turned to look at her and nodded. “Yeah, it’s sure
weird over there though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Aunt Carrie answered the phone and said Trina couldn’t
talk, so I asked her and she said Trina was staying, but then Uncle Jack was,
like, all mad in the background. So she said she’d call me back and a few
minutes later Uncle Jack called and said that Trina was going back with me as
soon as I was ready to go. So I guess she’s coming over in a minute.”

It was unhealthy for Carrie to put so much of her security into
her children. Out loud, Sadie said, “Carrie really misses her.”

“Ya think?”

Sadie gave her a reprimanding look, but agreed completely. “Did
Jack say if he was staying over there tonight?”

Breanna shook her head and laid the washcloth over the divider
in the sink. “He didn’t say.”

Just then there was a knock at the door, reminding Sadie of
Detective Cunningham’s arrival. She reached up to find the turban on her head
and panicked.

“Tell him I’ll be right there,” she said, running toward her
room, then turning around and grabbing the calendar and book from the counter,
earning an odd look from Breanna before she bolted for her bedroom again.

She was fingering some gel through her wet hair to bring out
her natural curl—she didn’t have time to dry and straighten it
right now—when Breanna showed up in the doorway.

“It’s Uncle Jack and Trina. We’re going,” she said. Sadie
rinsed her hands, dried them on a hand towel hanging next to the sink, and
pulled Breanna into a tight embrace.

“Thank you so much for coming,” she said, closing her eyes and
reminding herself it was best that Bre go back to school.

“I’m supposed to work Saturday morning, but maybe I can find
someone to cover for me so I can come home this weekend.”

“That would be wonderful, but if you can’t, that’s okay.”

“I’ll try,” Breanna said again as she pulled back. “You call me
if you need anything, okay?”

Sadie nodded. “I will.”

“And keep your phone on,” Breanna said with mock
reprimand.

Sadie saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Love you, Mom,” Breanna said as she turned and
disappeared.

“Love you too,” Sadie called after her. She heard voices in the
living room, the door closed, and then the darned silence settled back into the
house. She swallowed the emotion and told herself she would be okay.

Turning back to the mirror, she noticed how tired she looked.
She also remembered that Detective Cunningham would be arriving any minute. She
didn’t want to put on makeup this late in the day, so she settled for
moisturizer, some foundation, and just a touch of lipstick before fluffing her
hair with her fingers one last time, frowning at the old lady look it gave
her.

She wondered what it would be like to be one of those women who
just looked great all the time—like her daughter. In truth,
though, an active life and a good diet—Sadie liked to believe
homemade sweets were much healthier than their processed counterparts—had
kept her looking good for her age. She couldn’t even blame her hips on
childbirth or getting older; they’d always been wide, but Sadie didn’t think
they were necessarily unattractive. Sure she had wrinkles and her hair might be
totally gray if not for home-coloring kits, but compared to other
women her age, she was doing just fine. With that thought she turned off the
lights and left the room, and the mirror, behind.

The doorbell rang before she even made it to the end of the
hall. She took a deep breath and opened the door. To her relief, Detective
Cunningham was alone. She was glad he hadn’t brought Detective Madsen with him,
sure the younger man would have carted in his own lie detector test or
drug-sniffing dog.

“Your message said you had some things to tell me,” he said,
not smiling or saying hello. The masked expression on his face told her that he
was not entirely pleased with her and her stomach sank. Detective Madsen had
probably told him what happened at the library.

“Yeah,” she said sheepishly, moving aside to invite him in.
“Can I get you anything? Some herbal tea, hot cocoa—apple
juice?”

“No, thank you,” he said, holding her eyes in such a way as to
make her feel as though she were shrinking.

She swallowed and realized the moment of truth had arrived.
“There’s something I didn’t tell you earlier.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Only one something? That’s not what I’ve
been hearing.”

Chapter 22

“That’s all you have to tell me?” Detective Cunningham
asked a few minutes later after she told him all about Ron—his
being with Anne last night, the toys at his house, the scene at the restaurant.
The tone of Detective Cunningham’s voice reminded Sadie of the questions she
asked her children when she already knew the answer. She wasn’t sure how to
respond.

After a few seconds of silence Detective Cunningham spoke
again. “And what about the information you got from Susan Gimes?” he asked,
tilting his head.

He knew about that?
She said nothing out loud as he continued to stare her down. Even when he was
annoyed, he was a very distinguished-looking man.

When she stayed silent, he continued. “Susan and I have worked
on cases together before. She’s a good attorney, a smart woman—smart
enough to tell me the truth when I asked her if you’d come by today. She can
get in a lot of trouble for giving you any information.”

“She said it was okay,” Sadie explained. “That it wasn’t
confidential.”

“Confidential or not, she told you information that was meant
only for the police.”

“That was not my fault,” Sadie said, suddenly in a hurry to
defend herself. She wondered how Susan Gimes had explained it. “If Detective
Madsen hadn’t bullied her then she wouldn’t have told me anything.”