Key Lime Pie (12 page)

Moments later, Sadie rounded the front of the house. She paused long enough to finish the last sentence on the statement form and had signed her name to the bottom when a prickling sensation began climbing up her spine. She lifted her head to look around and was immediately captured by a pair of bright blue eyes.

Eric was watching her from several feet away while he talked to one of the other officers. His hair was pulled back and there was mud on his shoes, but that was all she noticed before the prickling sensation turned into a full-on tingle and, despite her internal protestations to the contrary, she remembered what had drawn her to him in the first place.

Sadie did everything she could to avoid talking to Eric at Layla’s house, which wasn’t hard to do since Mathews had him cornered, firing questions at him at lightning speed. When Eric’s voice started to rise, Mathews shut him down and left a couple officers on the scene while ordering the rest of them back to the station—along with Eric, Layla, and Sadie. At least Sadie got to drive in her own car, Layla automatically tagging along. Eric rode over with Mathews even though his rental car was still parked in the carport. She assumed Mathews had insisted on it.

Sadie drove slowly, giving herself a tour of Homestead on the way and hoping that Eric would already be in Mathews’s office when she got to the station. Layla didn’t seem to notice. By the time they arrived, Eric was nowhere to be seen and Sadie got to work on the inventory form. Layla sat next to Sadie on one of the blue plastic chairs, content to silently watch the comings and goings of the officers. The woman piqued Sadie’s curiosity a great deal, but she kept pushing it away. To get the answers she wanted, she’d have to ask questions, and she was against that at the moment. She just wanted to do what she had to do and get the heck out of Florida as quickly as possible. And yet she could feel the pull of the man in the other room, urging her to stay with his silent desire that she do so.

She put all her focus into the paperwork she’d been given, but couldn’t help glancing at Mathews’s office each time raised voices escaped the edges of the door. She wondered what she would say when it was her turn to talk to Eric.

While part of her felt taken advantage of, another part of her wanted his arms around her as he whispered an explanation that would make everything all better. She assumed the hug-and-apology option was inspired by the part of her that didn’t want to be wrong about Eric; she had to admit she liked the idea that he would trust her. She bounced back and forth between both fantasies until she was completely confused. What
did
she want?

It was vastly unsettling not to know her own mind, and she hated the idea of facing Eric when she was so unsure of her feelings. If she were open to the idea of attempting to repair whatever it was between them, it wouldn’t happen here. Not under this kind of pressure, and not with how she felt toward him right now. And then she felt guilty for focusing on her internal conflict when there were bigger issues taking place around her—a dead girl with Megan’s bracelet. Better to step out of this tension-filled situation than expect to get a good outcome here and now.

“I want to go home,” Layla said, causing Sadie to look at the woman sitting next to her. She was so quiet it was easy to forget she was there at all. She seemed agitated and tapped her foot against the tile. “Tia made barbeque chicken for sandwiches and pasta salad for lunch.” Sadie waited for her to say something about
Wheel of Fortune,
but she didn’t seem to remember.

“I’m sure they’ll let us go soon,” Sadie assured her. After she said it, Sadie realized she’d used
us,
joining her plans to Layla’s. She shook her head and went back to the inventory form. There was no
us.
Not with Layla, not with Eric. Sadie needed to remember she was not a part of this.

She bent over her clipboard, intent on finishing the list of items she’d seen in the box that she now wished she’d have left in the trunk of her rental car. No one would have known the box was even in Florida if she hadn’t taken it into the house. Which brought up a whole new passel of questions. Who would have known the box was there? And who would have known its contents? Layla had barely glanced at it. What had been in the box that was important enough to be destroyed?

She reviewed her list, trying to identify anything that seemed to stand out. As before, however, nothing seemed particularly interesting and she was again reminded that the contents of the box seemed to be dregs—leftovers. She wished she’d paid more attention to the papers in the binders, and to the photos and receipts in the tea tin, but she’d merely glanced at them, not realizing she’d be the last person to ever see them in their original form. She included the details she remembered—one of the receipts was to a Texaco station, another was the yellow carbon of a credit card sale to . . . somewhere. She knew from prior experience that it was often the small details that made all the difference. Whoever burned all those details likely knew the same thing.

“Layla.”

Sadie looked up and saw that while she’d been lost in her ponderings, a man had approached them. He was in his forties, Sadie guessed. What was left of his red hair was short and faded. He was wearing a lavender button-up shirt and slacks with crisp pleats down the front that screamed dry-cleaned—men who ironed their own pants never did the creases right. Sadie wondered if he was a police detective.

Layla’s expression didn’t change, making it impossible for Sadie to determine if Layla knew him. After a moment, Layla looked away and crossed her arms. “It’s past lunchtime,” she said again, and although her tone stayed the same, Sadie picked up on new tension.

“Yes, it is past lunchtime,” the man said with a sympathetic nod. He looked around the room at the officers milling around. “Have they said when you can go home?”

“No,” Layla said. “But I’m hungry.”

The man nodded again. He was worried about her; Sadie could read it in the lines of his face, which made her think he wasn’t with the police department after all—they didn’t let their emotions show so easily.

He held out his hand to Sadie. “You must be Eric’s friend, Sandy.”

“Sadie,” she replied, appreciating his firm grip while wondering who he was and what Eric had told him about her.

“Sadie, that’s right. Sorry.”

“No problem,” Sadie assured him. “I’ve been called worse.”

He smiled. “I’m Larry.”

“Oh,” Sadie said, almost as an exclamation. He looked surprised at her reaction, and she hurried to explain. “Layla mentioned you.”

Larry nodded, but still looked a little bit uncomfortable. Sadie was dying to ask him questions—about Layla, about himself, about the whole used-to-be-married-but-Layla-still-lives-in-his-house thing. Never mind that despite being
limited
—that was the word Mathews had used—how was it that Layla had been married
twice?

No questions,
she told herself.
Just finish.

“I’m going to, um, talk to someone and see when Layla can go home,” Larry said, moving away from them.

Layla didn’t look at him when he tried to make eye contact, but Sadie nodded and then watched him cross the room and talk to one officer before nodding and going to another one. The second officer he approached was talking on the phone, so Larry stood to the side, waiting patiently for his turn to speak. Sadie went back to her paperwork, but looked up at Larry a time or two as she made more notations.

Larry returned after a minute and directed his comments to Sadie. “I guess they have to talk to a sergeant about Layla leaving, and he’s in with Eric.”

Sadie nodded, suddenly remembering that Layla had said Eric and Larry had been together this morning. “Sergeant Mathews,” she said, pointing toward the door. “They’ve been in there for nearly half an hour.”

Larry looked at the door with trepidation. “I went back to the house and the officers there told me to come here.” Once again, raised voices spilled out from beneath the door, and Larry shook his head. “Eric’s making everything worse, isn’t he?”

“He’s certainly not making things better,” Sadie replied, wondering what the relationship was between Eric and Larry. She couldn’t stop herself. “You and Eric were together this morning, right?”

Larry nodded. “I had to go to work, though. I’m off for lunch, but have to get back in . . .” He looked at his watch. “Twenty minutes.”

“Eric’s rental car was at the house when I arrived this morning, but he wasn’t.”

“He had my car,” Larry said, glancing at Layla again. Sadie tried to remember if she’d seen another car at the house after Eric arrived, but there had been several cars at the house. “A coworker took me to the house to pick it up.” A crease showed on his forehead as he looked around the station again. He seemed increasingly uncomfortable.

“Where do you work?” Sadie asked.

“The Speedway,” he answered.

Sadie wondered if that was a grocery store or something.

Larry glanced at the officer he’d been speaking with before. “I better go see what I need to do.”

He turned but hadn’t moved very far before Layla shouted, “Get me an orange soda!”

Larry stopped, clearly embarrassed by her outburst as every officer in the room turned to look. Sadie felt her own cheeks heat up.

When he didn’t answer, Layla continued. “Are you going to get me an orange soda or not?”

“Sure, Layla,” he said, his voice quiet, but not upset. Sadie suspected he was used to this and wondered again what was wrong with this woman.

Larry walked away and an officer directed him down a short hallway that Sadie assumed led to a vending machine. She shook her head, unimpressed that Larry was so quick to give in. Layla might be forty-something years old, but she was being a brat and her getting her way didn’t help anyone. Still, she reminded herself, none of this was her problem.

After scanning the list one last time and assuring herself it was as complete as possible, she stood and took the clipboard to the nearest officer, a tall man with wide eyes and a bright smile. It was nice to see a cop smile. “I’m finished,” she said, refusing to think about Eric or get too caught up in trying to figure out Larry or Layla. Instead of giving in to those temptations, she asked herself whether she would prefer an aisle seat or a window for the flight home.

Officer Sanchez, according to his name tag, took the clipboard. “Thank you,” he said with a slight Spanish accent. “Sergeant Mathews will be finished in a few minutes, I’m sure.” But he shot a concerned glance at the door to Mathews’s office. The voices were louder. Sadie couldn’t imagine yelling at a police officer like that and wondered why Eric would be so . . . courageous. That didn’t seem the right word. “Dumb” might be more appropriate.

“Sergeant Mathews has my contact information. Can you just have him call me?”

“Sorry,” Sanchez said. “He specifically asked that I have you stay.”

Her stomach dropped but she wasn’t the type to argue with a police officer. Well, at least not today. Technically, she didn’t think they could make her stay unless she was under arrest, but she was trying hard to stay in Mathews’s good graces.

She returned to her seat next to Layla. Larry came back with an orange soda and unscrewed the lid before handing it to Layla, who took the bottle without saying thank you. She took a rather dainty sip and began looking around the station again.

“I should have asked if you wanted something too,” Larry said to Sadie. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”

Sadie hated adding to his stress. “You’re very sweet,” she said. “But I’m fine, thanks.”

Larry nodded, but still looked rather disappointed in himself. “The officer said I could go back to work and come in when I finish up tonight. I wish I could stay and help with Layla and everything.”

“I don’t need help,” Layla said in her monotone voice. “Go away.”

Sadie was embarrassed all over again. Why, of all people, did Larry bring out this side of her? “I’m sorry,” she said before realizing she didn’t even know what she was apologizing for.

“It’s okay,” Larry said easily. “Will you tell Eric I came by and that I’ll catch him later?”

Sadie didn’t want to relay anything to Eric, but she nodded anyway. Larry could use one less thing to worry about. “Sure,” she said.

“Thanks,” Larry replied. “I’ll see you two later, then.”

“No, you won’t,” Sadie said a little too quick and a little too loud. “I mean, I’ll be leaving as soon as I’m done here.” If she said it enough times, surely it would happen.

“But you just got here this morning, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Sadie said, wondering how he knew that. Had Eric told Larry all about this woman he knew would be following him to Florida? “But I’m not staying.”

Larry pulled his eyebrows together. “If you don’t mind my asking, why did you come?”

“To bring something to Eric and assure myself he was okay,” Sadie said, trying to sound as though that had been her only goal all along. “But I’ve got to get back home now that those things are taken care of.” Sadie bit her tongue to keep from overexplaining herself.