Wedding Cake Page 11

  Sadie welcomed the anger while she finished cleaning the kitchen with sharp motions. She absolutely hated that despite their goal to get ahead of Jane they were once again cleaning up behind her. Through Sadie’s on-again, off-again therapy, she’d learned ways to cope with her anger using visualization exercises and release techniques. She tried to still her mind enough to start those processes, but another wave of rage would take her off guard and push her back to the starting line. Over and over she would start and rage and start and rage again. It didn’t help that three more people texted her to tell her about the e-mails. That her anger was so much more powerful than her ability to overcome it made her angrier still.

  “Want some good news?”

  Sadie spun around at the sound of Shawn’s voice, a wooden spoon gripped tightly in one hand. She must have been scowling because Shawn stopped and lifted his eyebrows. “You okay?”

  “I’m furious,” she said, but she relaxed her grip on the poor spoon and proceeded to the drawer where she put it away.

  “Furious is good,” Shawn said coming the rest of the way into the kitchen.

  “Furious is weak,” Sadie corrected. “It puts Jane in control of how I feel, and I hate that. Anger blinds a person, and I can’t afford to be blind right now. I need to outsmart her; I need to get ahead.”

  They’d been trying to get ahead all day and instead of making progress, Sadie had said her e-mail log-in information out loud in a bugged room! Jane couldn’t have known Sadie would do such an idiotic thing, yet she’d taken full advantage of it when it happened. Jane knew that Sadie’s kitchen was her ultimate sanctuary, and she had found a way to invade it. Infuriating!

  Her eyes went to the counter where the bug was still listening to their conversation, and she clenched her jaw. She wanted to rip the bug out and bash it with a hammer, but Malloy was going to track it so it had to remain active. Had she said anything else that Jane could use against her? She would know the police were checking local hotels, and she would know about the Facebook blitz and the sketches. Sadie wasn’t sure how Jane could use that information to her advantage, but if there was a way, she would certainly find it.

  “Well, maybe just live in the anger for a minute,” Shawn said, drawing Sadie’s attention back to him. “Let yourself be as mad as you need to be instead of trying to push it away.”

  Sadie didn’t comment, but she did consider the option even though it went against everything she had learned about coping with negative emotions. She believed that a person’s mood gave off an energy that attracted similar energies back. If she were happy, she would attract happy energy back. If she were depressed, she would pull depressive energy back, making it worse. Anger would do the same thing, and she didn’t want to attract any more of that kind of energy.

  At the same time, she wanted to be mad right now. She had every reason to feel the way she did, so maybe she should embrace the rage and stop trying to fight it. Being mad didn’t help them move forward, though, and they were as stuck as they’d ever been.

  Another text message came through from a friend on the library council asking Sadie if her e-mail had been hacked. Sadie responded, then sent a text to every person on her contact list, explaining she’d been hacked and not to open an e-mail from her. There were plenty of people on her e-mail contact who wouldn’t get the text message, but sending that one simple text made her feel better, like she’d remedied something a tiny amount.

  She looked at Shawn and remembered what he’d said when he came in. “You said you had good news? I’m desperately in need of some of that.”

  “The Facebook page got off to a slow start, but it’s picking up speed. We’re up to sixty-eight shares,” Shawn said, holding up his phone so Sadie could see proof of his claims. He put the phone in his pocket and moved to the computer where he opened Facebook on a bigger screen. “Seventy-one . . . uh, seventy-four. Sweet!”

  Seventy-four people had reposted the information and sketch of Jane. That was good. Any number of people could have seen those updates. It was the only thing that Sadie’s team had done that wasn’t cleaning up something Jane had thrown at them. Sadie felt some of her angry energy shift just a little.

  “That’s great,” she said. “I’d actually worried that posting it in the middle of the day might not go as well with people being at work and things.”

  “Being at work doesn’t keep people off Facebook,” Shawn said. “If anything, they use it more than ever when they need a break from The Man.”

  Sadie kept her sympathy for all those employers to herself while she finished putting away the rest of the dishes.

  “Eighty-six shares,” Shawn said. “Holy cow, I can’t believe how fast it’s spreading. Ninety.”

  His phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket, not looking to see who was calling before putting it to his ear. “This is Shawn,” he said. He paused. “Yeah, how you doin’? . . . Oh, yeah? . . . You’re kidding!”

  Sadie stopped with the silverware drawer open and tuned into Shawn’s side of the conversation. He leaned back in his chair, and Sadie hoped it didn’t give out on him entirely.

  “That is awesome, yeah.” He leaned forward and grabbed a pen from the cup holder by the screen and pulled a piece of paper from the printer. “No. . . . Totally won’t blow your cover. . . . Got it. . . . Thanks. Go Yankees!” He laughed and hung up before turning toward Sadie.

  “Go Yankees?” she said, trying to put those words into context with the rest of the conversation.

  Shawn opened his mouth but didn’t speak as his eyes darted to the portion of the island where they’d found the bug. He nodded toward the back door, and Sadie followed him outside. They walked under the shade of a red maple tree—it was hot outside—and then both cast furtive glances to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. Shawn tilted his head toward Sadie, and she moved in closer.

  “Mack’s a die-hard Yankees fan,” Shawn said quietly with a shrug. “Goes to show there’s no accounting for some people’s taste in sports teams.” He gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes and then held up the paper he’d brought outside with him. “But I’ll root for the Yankees if it leads me to Jane’s address.”

  A tremor ran through Sadie’s body, and she took a step back. “What?”

  “Mack’s buddy is hot for this girl who moved into the top apartment in his four-plex over on Stanicker. Mack met her the other night when he stopped by to pick up some tools. Swears it’s her even though she had shoulder-length brown hair when he met her.”

  “Oh my gosh,” Sadie said, grabbing the paper so she could read the address for herself. Stanicker Street wasn’t exactly downtown Garrison, but it was still in the central part of town. A lot of the older homes in the area had been converted into upstairs-downstairs apartments or other types of multi-family dwellings, though many had fallen into disrepair once they didn’t have a dedicated homeowner to keep them up. It was a shame, really, since the homes had at one time been so stately and unique.

  “We should tell . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence because Shawn pulled the paper from her hand—nearly giving her a paper cut in the process—and held her eyes in a way she couldn’t misinterpret. “You think we should check this out ourselves?” she said instead of what she was planning to say.

  “Don’t you?” Shawn asked.

  It took only an instant for Sadie’s mind to go that direction. “The police have to get approvals before they can go,” she said, justifying why they shouldn’t share the information.

  Shawn nodded quickly. “And we both know Malloy isn’t hip on anything that’s our idea. If Jane’s at this apartment, we call the police once I’ve tackled her to the floor. If she’s not there, we can get inside. The cops will need a warrant.”

  Sadie felt a rush of energy at the potential progress this meant to their side of the investigation. To intrude on Jane’s space just as she’d intruded on Sadie’s was like a hot fudge sundae in a waffle cone! But then that rush of eager ant
icipation hit a speed bump. “What about Pete?”

  Shawn made an uncomfortable face. “Isn’t he talking to Malloy right now?”

  Sadie didn’t have to ponder the reason for Shawn’s discomfort since she suddenly felt it just as strongly. “Which means he might not have his phone with him.”

  “If he did have his phone, telling him would be telling Malloy. Pete wouldn’t be able to keep it from him if Malloy’s right there,” Shawn added.

  “So, basically telling Pete would put him on the spot. If he tells Malloy, he goes against us. If he doesn’t, he’s working against his buddies at the department.”

  Shawn nodded. “Exactly. It’s a heck of a position to put Pete in.”

  Sadie hated keeping things from Pete, but it’s not like she wouldn’t tell him at all. Just not this minute, and only because he was with Malloy. Instead, she’d wait until she and Shawn either had Jane in hand or they were in a stronger position through whatever they might learn in her apartment if she weren’t home. Sadie felt certain that by the end of this visit, they would have one or the other and perhaps both if they had a little luck on their side.

  “We need to go right now,” Sadie said, the decision made but her mind not completely settled about it, “before I second-guess this.”

  Shawn consulted his phone and then grinned at his mother. “A hundred and seventeen shares,” he said, obviously impressed. “And over three hundred likes.”

  People were looking for Jane around town, and the police were checking with all the hotels in a 150-mile radius. Pete was having a tête-à-tête with Malloy, and Shawn had procured Jane’s address. They were in the most powerful position they’d been in so far, and in the wake of the anger and frustration she’d felt, Sadie was ready to take full advantage of it.

  Besides there was supposed to be a barbeque in her backyard four hours from now. Time was of the essence. “Do you want to drive or should I?”

  Chapter 15

  Sadie played copilot while Shawn drove, but it wasn’t hard to find the address for the faded blue two-story home that, according to Mack, was made up of four smaller apartments. Sadie had noticed the house before; there weren’t many blue houses around.

  “So, there’s two apartments on the main floor,” Shawn said as he slowed down in front of the house but made no move to pull over. “Mack’s buddy lives in the basement apartment, and Jane—who he thinks calls herself Beth—moved into the top floor just a couple of weeks ago.”

  “And Mack met her when he was visiting his friend in the basement?”

  Shawn nodded and sped up again now that they had identified the house. There was no silver Honda parked anywhere in the vicinity. Shawn drove a block south before he pulled into the back parking lot of the senior center and parked next to one of the Meals on Wheels vans.

  They locked their doors behind them and headed toward the uneven sidewalk that ran in front of Jane’s apartment, discussing their plan. Shawn would go to the door first in case Jane was home. Sadie kept to herself her concern about Shawn wanting to be the person to throw Jane to the ground. While she didn’t support violence, she had a hard time coming up with reasons why Shawn shouldn’t have a chance to work through the frustrations Jane had caused. If Sadie thought she could adequately restrain Jane physically, she’d probably vie for the chance to do it herself.

  If Jane wasn’t home, Sadie would be the front man. She would pick the lock to get inside and take a good look around in hopes of finding something of value. It had been more than a year since Sadie had picked a lock, and doing it again felt a little bit like ending her days of sobriety, as it had been a habit she’d consciously tried to break. Too bad they didn’t give out tokens of success for overcoming things like that. And yet she’d felt a giddy sense of familiarity as she’d pulled the case of tools from the desk drawer where she stored them and slid them into her purse before leaving home. She wore the purse across her chest so she could be hands-free if necessary. There was something empowering about knowing that whatever lock Jane had on her door would not keep Sadie out.

  “Where’s the entrance to the upstairs apartment?” Sadie asked, taking in the two front doors off the bungalow-style porch surrounded by a badly peeling white railing. Sadie didn’t want to accidentally break into someone else’s apartment.

  “Mack said there are some stairs around back.” Shawn indicated a driveway on the far side of house. The entrance to the basement apartment ran alongside the house, and a teal minivan was parked in the driveway.

  Sadie kept close to the side of the house in hopes of staying out of view of the neighbors on the main floor. She and Shawn rounded the back corner of the house, and she immediately saw a long stairway heading straight to the second floor. At the top was a simple door cut into what Sadie assumed had originally been a window when this house had only one family living in it.

  Sadie stayed at the bottom of the stairs with 911 on speed dial. She watched Shawn go up the stairs and braced herself for what could be a dramatic few minutes.

  At the top of the stairs, Shawn knocked on the door and then put his ear against it, listening for any movement on the other side. Sadie was frozen just like Shawn for ten seconds until he pulled back. He knocked again, paused again, and then tried the knob. It didn’t move in his hand. He looked at Sadie and shook his head, obviously disappointed. He headed back down the steps and Sadie, in turn, started up them. They met at the halfway point.

  “I’ll play lookout for you,” Shawn said, his expression showing his reluctance to step out of the center ring. “I’ll call your phone with any alerts so make sure you answer it.”

  Sadie nodded, then stepped ahead of him and continued up the narrow stairs. Where was Jane if she wasn’t here? She’d hacked Sadie’s e-mail less than an hour ago—where had she done it from? Could she have hacked it from here and then left in order to execute the next devious plan on her list? What that might be reminded Sadie of everything Jane had already done and the resulting fresh wave of anger helped solidify her motivation.

  At the top of the stairs, Sadie pulled out her pick set and got to work. Picking a lock wasn’t as much like riding a bike as one might think; Sadie felt as though she were all thumbs, and the heat from the sun at her back made her increasingly uncomfortable. She finally got the lock on the doorknob undone but then let out a breath of frustration. The dead bolt was engaged as well.

  Dead bolts were already the hardest type of lock to pick, but this one was particularly tricky since it was old. The pins were either rusted or just stiff. Sadie doubted the landlord changed locks between tenants, which not only was an unsafe practice, but it also created great difficulty for her attempts to break in. She wished she’d thought to grab her WD-40 from home. It wasn’t the best product to use in a lock—it got sticky as it dried and would probably ruin the lock entirely given a few weeks to pick up dirt, dust, and metal shavings from inside the casing—but it would work for the immediate situation. Sadie didn’t keep liquid graphite on hand like she should.

  Finally, with sweat dripping from her hairline and down her back, she got the last pin to pull back and the lock opened. She looked at Shawn as she turned the knob, surprised he hadn’t come up to help her. Not that he knew anything about picking locks, but simply because of the time it took her and the increasing anxiety that each second cost them both. He nodded and waved her inside.

  Sadie pushed the door open on well-oiled hinges—not a squeak or a grind to be heard—and then shut it quickly. She blinked in order to help her eyes adjust to the darkened interior. The miniblinds had been twisted closed, muting the daylight that filtered in, but also hiding her from anyone who might see her or notice the lights on.

  She flipped the light switch next to the door and took in the apartment. Calling this a second-floor apartment was generous. It was more an attic space since both walls sloped with the roofline. The room was long and narrow. At the end was a small kitchenette and two doorways, both of which were open enough to
show a bathroom and a small bedroom.

  Sadie scanned the room and guessed it had been listed as a furnished apartment due to the old and utilitarian furniture: a brown couch, ’70s era coffee table with narrow legs and a parquet design on top, two end tables, and a halogen light in one corner. There was a small butcher-block table closer to the kitchen area with two chairs pulled up against it.

  She walked toward the doorways on the other end while scanning every inch of surface area within the small space. At first glance, everything seemed bare—as though Jane had moved out already—but then Sadie saw a plastic file box under the table and, as she got closer to the kitchen, a stack of newspapers on the far side of the two-burner stove.

  Her heart rate increased with both the numbing fear of being in Jane’s space and the anticipation of what information she might be able to find. She pulled the cotton garden gloves she’d thought to bring from her purse and put them on before she opened the fridge to reveal a few dozen yogurt containers, a carton of orange juice, and a few packs of Camel cigarettes. Jane hadn’t given up smoking, apparently—that would be something they could put on the Facebook page. There was no mustard or butter or salad dressing—things that would make the apartment seem a bit more lived in.

  Sadie’s phone vibrated in her pocket and made her jump. She pulled it out, noting it was Shawn before quickly answering his call. “Is she back?” She felt a rush of anxiety while turning toward the door.

  “No,” Shawn said. “I just want to know what’s up there.”

  Sadie turned back to the kitchen, relieved. “So far a file box and some newspapers, but I haven’t checked out her bedroom yet. The place barely looks lived in.”

  “Which makes sense if she’s only been here a couple of weeks,” Shawn said.

  “And isn’t planning to stay long,” Sadie added. She headed to the bedroom and flipped on the light. The unmade queen-sized bed was pushed up underneath the sloped ceiling on the right side. There was a dresser on one end with some papers on top, which Sadie moved toward. She knew better than to touch anything. It could interfere with a police investigation, and there was the added risk of Jane noticing if something were out of place. Sadie wanted to learn what she could without Jane knowing she’d been there.