Wedding Cake Page 4

  “All she did was send some text messages, and if what she wanted was to make everyone scramble, she’s certainly achieved her goal. If she’s still around, I want her to see that she isn’t pulling my strings. And if she does get close enough, we can throw her in jail, and I won’t have to worry about her coming back. If she’s already left town, then I don’t want my wedding affected more than it already has been.” She opened her mouth to say more, but Pete’s expression never changed, and she realized she would only be repeating herself. She closed her mouth and kept her chin up.

  Shawn had been amused by everyone arguing with her in the beginning, but she could feel his tension as they waited for Pete to respond. Pete wasn’t a police detective anymore—he’d retired two months ago—but the Garrison police department listened to him more than they would ever listen to a retired schoolteacher who had muddied up more than one of their cases. Never mind that she was also the reason those cases had been solved. She was a wild card for them, someone who followed her gut rather than their guidelines.

  Because of his relationship with the officers working this case, including Detective Malloy whom Pete had worked with for years, Pete’s response carried weight unparalleled to anything else Sadie had on her side. As the seconds ticked by, she felt her chest tightening. He knew more about police procedure and criminal mind-sets than she ever would, but he didn’t like the way Sadie tended to put herself in dangerous situations, which meant he might side with Malloy’s more cautious approach. She could appreciate Pete’s protective feelings toward her—he loved her and wanted her to safe; how could she not appreciate such things?—but she hoped, hoped, hoped that he wouldn’t let that part of his nature get in the way of what she believed to be the best course of action.

  “Jane held you at knifepoint, Sadie, and she assaulted Mrs. Wapple and her sister. She is not a benign criminal, and we don’t know anything about her actual history.”

  “Except that she’s never been arrested. If she had, her fingerprints would be in the database.”

  “Not every crime justifies fingerprinting,” Malloy cut in.

  Sadie ignored him and kept her eyes on Pete. “Violent crimes do and there was no match to her prints. That means something.”

  “It means that she’s never been caught in a violent crime,” Pete said. “It doesn’t tell us anything about what she may have done or what she may be capable of doing now.”

  “Didn’t the profile you developed suggest that she wasn’t out to kill me?”

  When Sadie had been in Hawaii—recovering, sort of, from Jane’s attack in Boston—Pete had sought the help of a retired FBI friend to come up with a criminal profile of Jane. There had been several key points that suggested Jane’s manipulations and scare tactics were not motivated by a desire to kill Sadie. She could have killed her that night in Boston and didn’t. She could have killed Mrs. Wapple or her sister, but she didn’t cause any permanent damage to them either.

  When Sadie had first heard the supposition that Jane’s intentions weren’t fatal, it had brought her little comfort as her imagination had built Jane into a veritable demon with supernatural abilities. Sadie had come a long way since then, though, and relied on the comfort that profile provided them now.

  “The profile did suggest that,” Pete confirmed. “But it was a limited report due to the limited amount of information they had to consider. You know that.”

  Malloy cleared his throat, and she reluctantly shifted her gaze to his round face. He wore plain clothes now that he’d been promoted from patrol officer to detective, and she decided she preferred him in a uniform. It gave him an air of distinction that his too-tight collar and rumpled jacket did not. He’d put on some weight since she’d first met him and didn’t carry it well.

  “We’ve only been looking for this woman for twelve hours,” Malloy said. “And having you involving yourself in this investigation will be an extra complication.”

  Sadie bristled at his tone. She knew what he meant: another citizen in a similar situation could be trusted to go home and be still. Sadie would not be still. She would react to anything that happened and wouldn’t necessarily consult with the police for permission before she moved. She sat up a bit straighter and was preparing an argument, when Shawn stood up. His large presence in the small room felt even larger due to the fact that everyone else was sitting.

  “Well, I’m going home,” he said, turning toward the door.

  “What?” Malloy said a split second before Sadie could say it herself.

  Shawn faced Malloy, though he glanced at Pete long enough to see that he had everyone’s attention. “My mom’s house isn’t a crime scene, no crime has even been committed other than the stolen cell phone, and that bed at the hotel sucks.” He turned to Sadie. “Are you coming with me, Mom?”

  Everyone was silent for a moment, then Malloy straightened in his chair. “This investigation is all about keeping your mother safe. To return home when we have expressly asked that she stay out of the way and allow us to do our job compromises her safety and—”

  “Look,” Shawn said with forced calmness, zeroing his attention on Malloy. “We both appreciate what you’re doing, but I think you’re forgetting that my mom isn’t some Sunday school teacher who doesn’t understand what’s what. In the last four years, she has put over a dozen people in jail, found missing persons, discovered frauds, uncovered conspiracies, solved several murders, saved lives, and managed to break a few noses in the process. To not consider any of those things is . . . dumb, and with this threat targeting her, I think she has the right to be heard in regard to how she’d like to handle things. That she’s talking to you at all is merely because, at her core, my mother is a well-mannered woman. She doesn’t need your help—heck, she’s not even asking for your help—she’s simply asking that you support her instincts, which have proven to be right time and time again.”

  Sadie blinked back tears of pride and gratitude as his words reverberated in the silence of the room. She had no idea he felt this way about the things she’d done these last years, especially since it was only six weeks ago that her skills were put to use poking around in his business, which he hadn’t liked very much. That he was proud of her and saw her as strong and capable was an enormous boost of confidence.

  When no one spoke following Shawn’s monologue, he turned to her. “Are you coming with me, then?”

  Sadie glanced at Pete, who had yet to react, and felt her stomach tighten. She didn’t want to discount what Shawn had said—especially since she completely agreed with him—but neither did she want to be at odds with Pete. Not now; not on this. Pete held her eyes but gave no indication of his feelings. Frustrating, but she couldn’t base her actions on his. She stood side-by-side with Shawn, though she didn’t even reach his shoulder.

  “We would like your help,” Sadie said to Malloy. She let her eyes flicker to Pete, disappointed that he maintained his blank expression. “And I’ll be careful, but I will not be held hostage like this. I don’t know what Jane’s intentions are or if she’s still here, but I won’t hide anymore. I don’t feel like I can defend myself if I take a position of fear, and if Jane really is back—if she means to take this as far as she did in Boston—I need to be able to defend myself.”

  Another silence. Finally, Pete gave the slightest nod, filling Sadie with relief and confidence, though she didn’t know why he couldn’t have given her such a signal earlier.

  “And I’m willing to help her do what she needs to do,” Shawn added.

  There was another silence until Malloy spoke up. “I agree that your mother has done some impressive things,” he said to Shawn, as though Sadie weren’t there at all. “But she has also crossed more than one line and created more than one complication in past investigations. She is not a member of law enforcement; she is not trained on how to proceed in situations such as this. I will reiterate that in order for us to properly investigate—”

  “Yeah,” Shawn cut in with a no
d, then looked at Sadie as though Malloy hadn’t spoken at all. “So, I’m gonna go. You comin’?”

  Sadie looked at Pete and worked hard to contain her relief when he stood and faced Malloy. “We don’t need to work against each other on this,” Pete said. “I’ll keep you informed of what we might come across.”

  “You’re going to support this,” Malloy said. Sadie couldn’t decide if he sounded more disappointed or surprised.

  “I haven’t worked with many officers who have a success rate like Sadie’s, and I can’t argue with her wanting to take a less defensive tack. All we have are some text messages, and there was nothing discovered last night to give us additional leads to follow up on. There has been no blatant threat, and if this situation can be defused without aggressive interaction, we should explore that possibility. We’re supposed to get married tomorrow, and with Sadie’s willingness, I’d like to continue toward that goal.”

  Sadie worked hard to keep her expression neutral in the wake of Pete’s words.

  After a few seconds, Malloy made a disgusted noise and shook his head. “Fine,” he said, putting up his hands as though in surrender. “Do it your way.” He shooed them toward the door, and they all turned except for Sadie.

  “I, uh, need my phone back,” she said. She’d checked her purse in at the front desk that morning—standard procedure—but the police had taken her phone last night and she needed to make sure she didn’t leave without it. Jane had the number; maybe she would contact her again.

  Malloy glared at her as he got up from his desk and left the room without comment. Pete, Sadie, and Shawn met him in the hall a minute later where he handed Sadie her phone—completely dead.

  “Thank you,” she said. Malloy said nothing, went back into his office, and closed the door with a snap.

  Pete reached for his car keys and looked between Sadie and Shawn. “I’ll drive,” he said. “And while we drive, I’ll go over the controls we’ll put in place to keep you safe. Deal?”

  Sadie stopped trying to hold back her grin. Boy, did she love this man. His support, especially in the wake of Malloy’s lack of support, meant so much to her. She held his eyes and nodded quickly. “Deal.”

  Chapter 6

  The drive wasn’t long enough to adequately cover Pete’s suggested “controls” so he continued even after they’d arrived at Sadie’s house, unlocked the front door, and disabled the alarm that started beeping as soon as the door was opened.

  Sadie plugged her cell phone into the charger she kept in the kitchen and set about throwing out the rice pudding that had sat out all night—mourning every bit of it.

  When that was done, she went to work on the things she’d planned to do today, starting with breakfast. She’d promised Shawn yesterday that she’d make her mother’s cheese blintzes this morning, and she was glad to be able to fulfill that promise.

  “So, will you agree to those stipulations?” Pete asked as Sadie dropped the first spoonful of lumpy batter on the preheated griddle.

  “No,” Sadie said casually. She actually hadn’t listened that closely after the first few minutes because it had become apparent that Pete was being ridiculous. She sensed he knew it, too, since each stipulation had been accompanied by a long explanation of why it was important. Too much justification usually signaled a lack of confidence. “If I can’t go anywhere or do anything then I may as well have stayed at the hotel.”

  Shawn spoke without looking up from texting on his phone. “Except there was no way to make ugly cheesy pancakes at the hotel.” He had called cheese blintzes “ugly cheesy pancakes” since he was little; an apt description.

  Sadie gave him a withering look, which he didn’t see because he was still focused on his phone. She focused on shaping the batter into an imperfect circle with the back of the ladle. “I came home to get some work done, Pete, and to live my life; not to be a prisoner in my house.”

  “But we can’t compromise your safety, and I can’t be here every minute.”

  “Jane isn’t going to take me out with some sniper shot from the bushes,” Sadie said. “But I will agree to have someone with me everywhere I go, and I will tell you if anything strange happens—so long as I can get ahold of you.”

  Pete frowned. “You’re really going to go about the day as though nothing is different?”

  “Yes,” Sadie said with a nod, giving him a strong look she hoped would further convince him she was not going to be passive about this. “If Jane is still here and bent on making trouble, she’ll contact me again. If she’s gone, then she’s gone.”

  “And if she wants to hurt you?” Pete asked.

  “Honestly?” Sadie said in an attempt to prepare him for the truth she knew he didn’t want to hear. “If that’s her intent I can’t hide long enough or go far enough away to stop her—not forever. I didn’t stop hiding because I felt safe, Pete, I stopped hiding because I would prefer an encounter rather than living in fear of one. If she’s come back to exact some kind of revenge, I want it to be the very last time I ever have to deal with her.”

  He held her eyes for a minute. “You understand why that’s hard for me to support, right? If something happened to you, Sadie. If she hurt you or worse . . . I can’t imagine how I would live with that.”

  Sadie flipped the blintzes, feeling the weight of Pete’s words. “I know that, but you understand what I’m saying.”

  Pete made a grunting, growling sound, something he did when he was frustrated. It also meant he did understand what she was saying. He knew what it had cost Sadie to hide—not just physically, but emotionally too. He’d seen how the paranoia and anxiety had taken their toll and knew how frightening it was for Sadie to consider a return to that shell of herself.

  Pete didn’t answer, Shawn continued texting, and Sadie removed the first batch of blintzes to a plate before putting the next set on the griddle.

  “Are we still going to have the barbeque?” Pete asked as she finished making the fourth imperfect circle. “Are we going to invite everyone over here despite the fact that Jane might not have left town?”

  Sadie moved a little slower shaping the last pancake and frowned, considering Pete’s point. Continuing on as though nothing had happened wasn’t only about her. It might put other people at risk. She’d felt that sense of responsibility when she told Breanna to stay in Minneapolis, but her thoughts hadn’t expanded to include the rest of their families.

  “I hate to cancel it,” she said. Pete’s family had a special meal they used to make whenever they went camping: Frikadeles with Ruskumsnuz. It was Swedish and was basically fried meatloaf topped with creamed peas and potatoes. Pete’s kids had offered to make it for the family dinner that would be held in Sadie’s backyard. Plus it was an opportunity for their families to get to know each other better before the formalities of the actual wedding day. Sadie let out a breath as she considered both options—cancelling the dinner and disappointing so many people, or the possibility of Jane using the event to do something to the people Sadie and Pete cared for the very most. It was one thing to argue Jane’s prints not matching those of a violent criminal when Sadie felt it was only herself she put at risk with such optimism.

  Pete interrupted her thoughts before she’d drawn a conclusion. “It’s only 9:30 in the morning. We have several hours before we need to make a decision one way or another, but it’s something we should keep in mind. Maybe we just let things sit as they are for now and hope we find Jane before then.”

  “I agree,” Shawn said, putting down his phone as though he’d been an active participant in the discussion all along. “Besides, if we’re going to act as though nothing has changed, we can’t cancel something as big as the family dinner. Plus, that meatloaf stuff sounds good.” He pushed out from the table and stepped behind Sadie to get more plates out of the cupboard.

  “Wait and see” wasn’t the best solution, but it was a temporary resolution Sadie was willing to agree with.

  “By the way,” Shawn sai
d as he put the plates down, “I told Maggie to take her original flight to Denver. Bre and Liam will already be there and the three of them can hang together until we give them the green light to come up.” Shawn put two of the blintzes on his plate and sat down at the kitchen table where Sadie had set out a variety of topping choices. Shawn went with the ranch dressing and diced ham.

  “So, for right now the plan is that we’re going to go about the day and hope Jane has either left town or that she’ll make herself known when she sees us acting as though nothing has happened?” Pete asked.

  “Yes,” Sadie said, though she felt she’d been abundantly clear about that at the police station. “I have so much to do today.”

  “Like what?” Pete asked as she took his plate to the table. “What can we help you with?” He poured salsa on his blintzes; for not having eaten them before, he was a pretty quick study.

  “I need to decide how to handle those guests who haven’t RSVP’d yet, double-check the favors to make sure I have enough, and get the backyard set up for dinner.” She flipped the blintzes and continued through her list. “I also need to call everyone involved in the wedding to make sure we’re on the same page, and then I need to clear out some space for you in the bathroom and pre-pack for—”

  “Pre-pack?” Pete cut in, looking up at her, pausing with his fork partway to his mouth.

  Shawn cleared his throat. “It’s what obsessive-compulsive people do a few days before they go anywhere,” he said authoritatively. “They put everything they’re going to take into their suitcases to make sure it fits, then take out most of it since they still have to use it again before they actually pack. Neurotic, but you’ll get used to it. My mom’s president of the association of pre-packers.”