Pumpkin Roll (20 page)

Pete nodded, but Sadie could tell he didn’t believe her. Not really. After another minute, Pete’s phone rang. He seemed grateful for the interruption and gave Sadie a quick smile before answering the phone. “This is Detective Cunningham,” he said as he stood up from the couch and headed down the hall toward his bedroom.

Sadie returned to the kitchen to finish cleaning up and thought about the interrupted phone call she’d had with Gabrielle. With the police involved and morale so low for Pete, she wasn’t sure talking to Gabrielle was the right direction. Sadie hadn’t said anything to Gabrielle about Mrs. Wapple’s hat or the face in the window that looked like it could have been her, but it seemed now as though she should have. The police might get in touch with Gabrielle, adding a whole new dynamic to the conversation they didn’t get to finish. Sadie stressed about it for another minute and then decided to take things with Gabrielle as they happened.

Sadie needed to distract herself with something, and she was in serious need of some comfort food, which made her think of the cinnamon twists her mother-in-law would make for special occasions. It was a recipe adapted from cinnamon rolls, but with a twist . . . literally. Rather than buns, the twists looked like little bow ties about the size of a cookie. They had all the same spices and texture as cinnamon rolls, but were dipped in icing instead of coated with it. She imagined the boys would love them, and so while Pete continued his phone call, she mixed the dough, covered it, and put it on top of the fridge where it was warm so that the dough would rise.

By the time Sadie finished cleaning up the new mess, it was 3:15 and nearly time to pick up Kalan from school. She headed down the hallway to ask Pete if he wanted her to go to the school, but she slowed down when she heard him on the phone. The door wasn’t closed all the way. He’d been on this call for over half an hour unless he’d made or received other calls as well.

“Yeah, I’ve called everyone I know who they might contact directly. . . . I don’t think the Boston PD has looked at my file yet, but it has me worried,” Pete said.

Sadie furrowed her brow while Pete paused to listen to whoever was on the other end of the line. Who was he talking to?

“Believe me,” Pete said. “Bringing this up is the last thing I want to do. . . . Right. . . . I just wanted everyone to hear my version of this situation before they started asking questions. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know if they contact you. I want to be ready if they . . . I know. . . . You’d think Michaels wouldn’t still be haunting me fifteen years later. . . . I know. . . . I was also going to . . .”

Sadie turned and was halfway down the hall before she realized she’d chosen not to eavesdrop. But she hadn’t turned away soon enough. Michaels? Haunting? And who was Pete talking to? Obviously Michaels was someone from Pete’s past and something the police would find if they looked at his file. Michaels was also something Sadie knew nothing about. Fifteen years ago Pete was married to Pat and working in Fort Collins, or had he still been in New Mexico then?

“Don’t do this,” she whispered to herself as she found herself in the kitchen again. “Don’t start inventing things from pieces of information you can’t understand.” Was this why he hadn’t wanted to call the police before this afternoon? But how bad could this Michaels thing be if Pete were still a police detective?

She dished herself up some beans—there was no better distraction than food—and nearly groaned out loud at the perfect blend of spicy sweetness. Heather’s beans were much better than her own recipe. She heard Pete’s footsteps approach a few minutes later and turned to face him, gathering up her newly awakened concerns and shoving them into a closet. She trusted him. She would just ask him about it and get it over with. But when she opened her mouth, that’s not what came out. “It’s about time to pick Kalan up from school,” she said.

“Do you want to go or should I?” He didn’t look particularly guarded, just tired. But then again, he didn’t know Sadie had overheard anything.

“I can go,” Sadie said, eager to get out of the house for a minute. She grabbed the keys to the minivan and headed out the back door, deep in thought. She made her way to the school, driving carefully due to the snow that was still falling, though it was lighter than it had been earlier. While waiting in line behind all the other parents waiting to pick up their children, she called Shawn, but it went to his voice mail. She left a message about the kitchen incident and the police involvement, ending with a caution that she didn’t know if they were going to stay in the house or not tonight and asking him to call when he could. She’d been thinking about the information he’d found out about Mrs. Wapple’s former landlord. Maybe it
would
be worthwhile to talk to him. Sadie assured Shawn in the message that everything was fine, told him not to worry, and then ended the call.

When he called back, maybe she’d ask if he could look into Pete’s history fifteen years ago. If there had been a public mention of this Michaels person, Shawn would find it. Or he’d ask Jane to find it. The idea made her uncomfortable, however, as though she’d be opening a can of worms she might never get the lid back onto. This was Pete’s secret, and she didn’t want to involve anyone else in figuring it out. The next question, however, was if she wanted to figure it out herself.

Kalan came out of the front doors of the school, and Sadie waved when he spotted her, gratified by the way his face lit up with recognition. He looked like a turtle, with his big backpack perched on his back while he leaned forward in order to keep his balance as he ran. He pulled open the sliding door of the minivan and as soon as it was closed, he began chattering about his day. He was excited for the upcoming Halloween Carnival next Wednesday—they’d sent home flyers today. Sadie listened, nodding and asking questions as necessary. He was going to be a ninja for Halloween, and Sadie exclaimed what a perfect ninja he would be because he was really fast. He liked that.

When Sadie and Kalan returned home, it was obvious Pete had made the choice to pretend to be in a far better mood than he actually was. He went through Kalan’s backpack, looking over his work from school, and when the younger boys woke up and wanted to make a snowman, Pete acted as though there was nothing he would rather do.

Sadie bundled up and went outside with them, trying to think of how to tell Pete she’d overheard part of the phone call, but he seemed to be having such a good time that she hesitated ruining it. She stood on the covered porch, amused with their amusement for a little while but wanting to spare her hair from the snow. Five cold minutes was all she could stand. Once her nose started tingling, she was ready to go inside.

Sadie pushed her hands deeper into her pockets. “Well, you guys keep working on your leaf-grass-snowman. I’m going to make dinner and get some cocoa ready for when you come to your senses.”

Pete nodded but he was intent on proving a snowman was possible even with less than an inch of snow. She shook her head and hurried up the back steps, glad to have an excuse to go inside.

She shut the door behind her and rubbed her hands together to warm them up on her way toward the pantry. She pulled out the hot cocoa mix she’d put together a few days earlier; Heather had wanted to know how to make hot cocoa from scratch, and Sadie was more than happy to give a demonstration.

Within a few minutes, five plastic cups were waiting with just the right amount of cocoa powder in the bottom. She filled Heather’s cute little red teapot and put it on the stove; it was much more romantic boiling water on the stove than in the microwave. When the boys came in, she could turn on the burner and have hot water by the time they got their snow gear off.

Despite being busy and focusing on details, Sadie was still anxious. She tried to take comfort in the fact that they had done all the right things. The police were involved, and everything was silent across the street. There was every reason to believe this was over and done. But why was Pete worried about the Boston PD looking at his file? And was it realistic to think Mrs. Wapple would leave them alone now?

The dough for the cinnamon twists had finished its first rise, and it took only ten minutes for Sadie to roll out the dough and top it with the butter and spice mixture. She used a pizza cutter to cut the rectangle into four horizontal strips and then cut the horizontal strips into one-inch sections vertically. Before placing the strips on the cookie sheet, she twisted each one into a little bow tie. She’d halved the recipe so it fit perfectly onto one pan. It helped that she had made the recipe so many times that it was easy; the first few times she had made them, she’d wondered if they were worthy of her Little Black Recipe Book. All it had taken was practice, though, and now they seemed downright simple to do.

She covered the pan with a dish towel to let the dough rise for a few more minutes and was washing her hands when the home phone rang. Sadie looked at it on the wall with annoyance as she held up her freshly washed arms like a doctor waiting for sterile gloves. Her annoyance quickly turned to trepidation, however, when she realized it could be the police. It could also be Jared or Heather, and Sadie didn’t feel up to talking to them right now. She hated it when people were mad at her. If only Pete weren’t outside.

It rang for the second time, and Sadie hurried to answer it, all her internal arguments moot. It was simply irresponsible to ignore a ringing phone—it might be important—and she could wash her hands again when she finished.

“Hello?” Sadie said into the phone, wiping her left hand on the front of her pants before realizing what she was doing and reaching for a dish towel. The kitchen was small enough that she could reach every corner with the phone still against her ear.

Silence.

“Hello?” she said again.

A garbled voice said something—two words Sadie couldn’t understand but that caused a shiver to run across her shoulder blades. The voice was familiar.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

The voice spoke again, and this time Sadie thought it said, “Help me.”

Cinnamon Twists

4 cups flour, divided

½ cup sugar

2 teaspoons salt

1 tablespoon instant yeast

½ teaspoon cinnamon

¼ teaspoon nutmeg

1¼ cups warm milk

⅓ cup butter, melted

1 egg

Filling

½ cup brown sugar

2 tablespoons cinnamon

½ teaspoon cloves

⅓ cup butter, softened

For the dough, mix 2 cups of flour with the remaining dry ingredients. Stir to combine. Add all liquid ingredients and mix well. Add remaining flour until dough is tacky to the touch, but not sticky. Knead 6 to 8 minutes or until dough is smooth. Grease a bowl and let dough raise, covered, until double (about 40 minutes). For filling, mix together brown sugar and spices. Set aside.

Sprinkle flour on the countertop and roll out dough into a 16x12-inch rectangle. Spread with ⅓ cup soft butter. Sprinkle butter with sugar-spice topping all the way to the edges. Let dough sit for 10 minutes.

Use a pizza cutter to cut dough lengthwise into four 3x16 inch strips. Then cut every inch vertically so that you have sixteen 1x3-inch strips. Lift each strip from the counter and twist 360 degrees before placing it on a greased cookie sheet. (Twists should look like a bow tie with the spice mixture facing up at both ends.) Place twists about ¾-inch apart. Cover shaped dough and let raise until double (about 30 minutes). Bake at 350 degrees for 8 to 10 minutes or until golden brown.

Makes 4 dozen twists.

Optional Icing*

4 ounces cream cheese, softened

2 cups powdered sugar

¼ cup evaporated milk (regular milk works too)

¼ teaspoon vanilla

Mix softened cream cheese until smooth. Add powdered sugar and mix until smooth. Add evaporated milk and vanilla; mix until smooth. Add more milk or powdered sugar until icing is slightly runny.

*Pretty much any leftover frosting could also work as the icing. Simply warm frosting to room temperature and add milk until “dippable.”

Note: Breanna feels the recipe is fussy, but she’ll still eat them J.

Chapter 17