Key Lime Pie (8 page)

A station advertisement of what was on today’s lineup came on the TV and Sadie feared it would transition to
The
Price Is Right
again at any moment.

“I’m worried about Eric,” Sadie finally said flat out, talking quickly. “When he called me yesterday he was . . . vague about what’s been going on.” Sadie cringed; she sounded like his mother!

“He’s always like that,” Layla said, her eyes moving to the TV again. “Larry says it makes him feel heroic.”

Glancing quickly at the TV, Sadie knew she might only have seconds left before she’d have to give up center stage to a new refrigerator and Barker’s Beauties. Were there any other questions she could ask this woman, unhelpful as she was?

The opportunity was officially lost when Rod Roddy’s voice introduced the show. Sadie slumped against the back of the couch, reviewing what she’d learned.

“Megan is your daughter, right?”

“Yes.” Layla didn’t look away from the TV.

“So Eric is your ex-husband?”

“Yes.”

“And he and Larry went somewhere together?”

Layla didn’t answer at all this time, her eyes glued to the TV. Sadie was left to ponder on it herself. Where would two men who had been married to the same woman want to go together? Leaving early in the morning meant they probably hadn’t gone to the police station. What else would be important enough to go to together—and leave Layla by herself in the process? Sadie didn’t know what was wrong with the woman, but she doubted it was a good idea to leave her alone for long stretches of time.

Sadie was pondering the possibilities when she caught movement near the kitchen. She turned slightly and watched a gray cat smooth itself around the corner of the room. Sadie instantly recognized it as the cat from the picture she’d found in the Sunkist box, although it had put on some weight and no longer had the red bow. The cat looked at Sadie for a moment before jumping onto Layla’s lap. Without so much as looking at the animal, Layla immediately began stroking the cat from head to tail.

Sadie watched Layla’s hand glide over the cat’s body in a rhythmic motion. After only five minutes with this woman, Sadie could imagine Layla sitting that way, petting the cat, for hours at a time while she blankly watched TV. The cat purred loudly enough that Sadie could hear it over the audience applauding the next contestant.

After waiting for several seconds, just in case Layla realized they hadn’t finished their conversation, Sadie pulled open her purse and dug out her cell phone. She hadn’t wanted to call Eric herself for fear it would appear rather vain for her to expect him to answer her call after Layla had already tried, but she had a feeling that very little affected Layla. She’d opened her contact list in search of his number when she was startled by the ringing of the cordless phone sitting on the end table next to Layla. Layla looked at the phone but made no attempt to answer; she was too busy petting the cat and watching a tiny Filipino woman guess the price on a tube of toothpaste.

“Would you like me to answer that?” Sadie asked after the second ring.

“Sure,” Layla said.

Shaking her head slightly, Sadie hurried to the phone, pushed talk and raised it to her ear, turning her back on the TV in hopes the sound wouldn’t interfere with the call. “Hello?” she said.

“Hello, is Mr. Burton there?” an official voice asked.

Sadie wished he were. “I’m sorry, he’s not here right now. Can I, uh, take a message?”

“What about Mrs. McCallister?”

Sadie glanced at Layla. Was her last name McCallister? She’d said Larry used to be her husband. Sadie wasn’t thrilled about handing the phone over, but didn’t see that she had much choice. Perhaps listening to Layla’s end of the conversation would be helpful. “Just a minute,” Sadie said. She held the phone against her chest and turned to Layla. “They’re calling for Mrs. McCallister. Is that you?”

Layla didn’t answer, but the audience burst into applause and the little woman on the TV screen raised both hands to cover her mouth. She’d won . . . something. Sadie took a couple steps forward and picked up the remote. It was very forward of her, she knew, but the phone call sounded important. She took a breath and then pressed the mute button. Layla immediately looked to where the remote had been, then up to Sadie who was holding it.

“I was watching that!” she said, and though Sadie knew she was angry, her voice showed very little inflection.

“Are you Mrs. McCallister?” Sadie asked her again.

Layla was thrown off for a moment, leading Sadie to repeat the question. “Are you Mrs. McCallister?”

“I think so,” Layla said, causing Sadie even more confusion. She
thought
her name was Mrs. McCallister? She wasn’t sure?

“Then, I guess this is for you.”

Layla paused for a moment, but then took the phone. “Hello . . . yes . . . okay . . . I don’t know . . . yes . . . okay.” She hung up and stood slowly, seeming to be more worried about displacing the cat than the content of the phone call. Once she was on her feet, she met Sadie’s eyes. “The police want me to come to the station.” Her eyes flitted to the TV.

“It’s a rerun,” Sadie said, trying to preempt any ideas Layla might have of finishing the show before following the police’s instructions. Layla hesitated, and Sadie pressed the power button. She didn’t know what to make of the other woman, and wouldn’t have been surprised if Layla had insisted on staying. Luckily, she didn’t.

“Did they say why they wanted you to come down?” Sadie asked, glad that she had Layla’s full attention now—though that wasn’t saying much.

“They said it was important,” Layla said.

Sadie’s heart started racing. Eric had said the police would know today whether or not the body was Megan’s. This could be
that
answer. And Layla was the one who would hear the news first?

“Do you need a ride?” Sadie asked on impulse, suddenly worried about the other woman’s ability to hear tragic news—if in fact the news was tragic—not to mention Layla’s ability to drive. Her behavior was so strange already; if the police told her the remains they had found were her daughter’s, how would she react? Besides that, the rental car was the only vehicle Sadie had seen and she didn’t imagine Layla was authorized to drive it.

Layla took one more glance at the blank TV then let out a regretful sigh. “Okay,” she said in that same even tone. “But
Wheel of Fortune
starts at noon.”

Layla gave Sadie perfect instructions on how to find the police station, which was only a few blocks away. By the time they arrived, Sadie had drawn up the hypothesis that Homestead, Florida, wasn’t all that different than Garrison, Colorado. The towns seemed to be similar in size and endowed with equal quaintness. The cobblestone streets and businesses of the downtown area were clean and well-maintained, reflecting a historical feel. Palm trees dotted the city, just as cottonwoods and birch trees grew throughout Garrison. Old-fashioned lampposts and park benches encouraged people to stop and smell the roses—or hibiscus, as the case may be.

As soon as they pulled up to the police station, a blocky building the same color as Layla’s house, Layla let herself out. Sadie scrambled to shut off the car and follow the other woman inside despite the lack of invitation. Sadie didn’t think Layla would object and, quite honestly, didn’t know what else to do. She considered texting Eric, but what would she say? Finding the right words to explain why she’d come to Florida was much harder than she’d anticipated. Of course, it would have been much easier if he’d have answered the door like he was
supposed
to.

“Can I help you?” a Latin woman at the front counter asked, cutting off Sadie’s thoughts.

Layla didn’t answer the question. Instead, she looked around the room. From the attention she gave them, one would think the white walls, utilitarian desks, and terra-cotta tile made for fascinating décor. Sadie gave Layla a few seconds to speak before leaning in and answering for her.

“This is Layla McCallister,” Sadie said. “I’m not sure who called her, but someone from the station asked her to come in. Perhaps something regarding her daughter, Megan Burton.” Sadie cast a sideways glance at Layla to see if she reacted, but she was looking out the front door of the police station. Sadie couldn’t see whether she was surprised to hear Megan’s name or not.

The woman at the desk nodded and put the phone to her ear as she punched a button and lowered her chin so that Sadie couldn’t hear what she said. A moment later, she hung up the phone and directed Sadie and Layla to a row of plastic chairs on the left side of the room. They hadn’t reached them before a large black man stepped out of an office farther down the hall. He seemed to recognize Layla and came toward them.

“Mrs. McCallister,” he said, inclining his head, which was so bald and shiny it reflected the fluorescent lighting. He put out his hand, and Layla took it, though Sadie felt sure she gave a limp-noodle handshake at best. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” Layla said in her flat tone. She seemed annoyed to be here.

The man turned to Sadie and the expression on his face was so instantly familiar that Sadie nearly startled at the unexpected reminder of Pete that flashed through her mind. This man was younger, broader, taller, and darker, but the way he held his eyes and the careful smile on his face was just like Pete. It further confirmed her suspicions that such neutral expressions were taught to police detectives throughout the country. He put out his hand, and Sadie focused on giving him a firm shake, like her father had taught her to do many years ago. Dad had told her when you gave a strong handshake, it inspired confidence and respect in the other person. Sadie hoped it was true.

“I’m Sadie Hoffmiller,” she said with a nod as they dropped hands. “I’m a friend of Eric Burton’s and was at Mrs. McCallister’s house when you called. She asked me to drive her over.” It was hard not to say more—lay out all the details—so she clamped her teeth together to prevent herself from giving in. The police in Garrison thought she was a busybody. She wanted to make a better impression on this man. She liked to think of this as a whole new start in regard to her relationship with law enforcement.

“I’m Sergeant Mathews,” the man said with a nod, then extended his arm toward the room he’d just exited and looked at Layla, his expression softening a little. “My office, if you please.”

Sadie tried to hide her surprise at being included. The other officers she’d been involved with had tried to keep her out of things. Of course, it hadn’t worked, but they had tried. Maybe they did things differently in Florida, or maybe they could see what the Colorado police couldn’t, that Sadie was an asset and not a liability to their investigation. The thought made her smile, and she walked a little taller as she followed Layla into Sergeant Mathews’s office.

Sadie and Layla sat in the leather chairs across from the desk while the detective closed the door behind them. His chair creaked when he sat down, and he immediately tapped his fingers on a closed file on his desk.

“I had hoped Mr. Burton would be here by now,” Sergeant Mathews began, his eyes on Layla after a quick glance at his watch.

“He said he’d be back by nine,” Layla answered. She sat up straight in the chair, her hands resting on her tanned knee, crossed over her other leg. She was very still and Sadie wondered if she was nervous about what was coming.

“Do you know where he went?” Sergeant Mathews asked.

“I don’t know,” Layla said in that airy voice of hers. “But he told me not to worry.”

The sergeant nodded thoughtfully, and Sadie couldn’t help but add more information so as to help him get a full picture of what was going on. “Layla’s been trying to call him, but he isn’t answering,” she said, giving the detective an intent look she hoped would alert him to her concern.

Sergeant Mathews held her eyes for a moment, and then nodded his understanding, encouraging Sadie to continue.

“You said he was coming here. Did
you
get a hold of him?”

“Yes, but we only spoke for a few seconds. He said he’d be in as soon as he could.” He paused thoughtfully. “Do you have any reason to believe he’s in some kind of trouble?”

Sadie hesitated. Did selling his trailer and wanting Megan’s box count toward adequate reason for being worried about him? She wasn’t sure that was what Sergeant Mathews was looking for.

“He said not to worry,” Layla cut in.

“That’s good,” Mathews said as though to appease Layla. Sadie wondered how well he knew Eric’s ex-wife, and she wished she could ask him some questions about her.

The sergeant pulled a notebook out of the front drawer of his desk and wrote something down. He paused, then looked up at both women. Sadie liked that he seemed to be giving her as much consideration as he was giving Layla.

“I would postpone this if I could, but I have a meeting at the courthouse in half an hour and I wanted to pass on the information as soon as possible.” He cleared his throat. “We have the first of the medical examiner’s reports,” he explained. Though there was still a great deal of neutrality in his tone, Sadie could hear an undercurrent that seemed . . . relieved. And it relieved her as well. As much as she liked being a part of things, she didn’t like to hear bad news. Which, she realized, was likely why Sergeant Mathews had let her come in the first place—because he wasn’t going to drop a bombshell. She suspected that he also wasn’t sure Layla would understand everything going on and he wanted another witness to the event. Whatever the reason, she was simply glad to be part of the in-crowd on this one and hoped she’d be able to help in some way.