James Lock it Down

1. Auflage 2014
ISBN: 978-1-4835-4600-1
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 300 Seiten

Cady Colette has learned to structure her days in the ordered stacks of the smallest library in Upstate New York. Living in the heart of the serene Finger Lakes, she has downshifted more each year since the disappearance of her husband six years ago-without a trace. Just as her life is regaining a hard-won equilibrium, and she starts to open up to Eric and a bit of romance, tragedy strikes her small-town American life again. Can she handle another unsolved mystery? Will it leave her locked permanently in the void of the unknown? Will Blue, the investigator who never found her husband, have more answers this time? Will their efforts to team up end in a cold case again?

Autoren/Hrsg.

James, Susan

Leseproben

Chapter 1 The last birthday party Cady Colette had attended was her own, six years ago. That day had dissolved into terror when her husband mysteriously disappeared. Why did I agree to do this? Cady thought as Sara set her birthday cake down in front of her. Cady regretted agreeing to let her friends throw her a party for her thirty-second birthday. But she also felt gratitude for having these people in her life who cared so deeply for her—something she couldn’t have imagined half a decade ago. Cady lived her life, now, in quiet. In small groups. One on one. Eric had lit the candles and there were people everywhere. The people, the food, the love—all of it mixed together in the park as the high summer sun edged toward the horizon. “Happy birthday to you,” they all trailed off in clumsy harmony. Cady’s big brown eyes sparkled in the light of the colored flames of the candles. Blue, red, green. Her cheeks were rosy from the heat. She sat at the end of the picnic table and made a wish—the same wish she’d wished for the last five birthdays. Her two best friends, Sara and Rosalind, and Eric, the man she’d recently started dating, a picnic table full of friendly eyes—everyone’s eager face on. They were all waiting for her to blow out her candles. Her performance skills were rusty and she wanted them all to look away. “What did you wish for?” Eric asked. He placed the matches on the picnic table and beamed his warm, kissable smile at her. “Now if I told you . . .” Cady blinked hard, gathered focus, and let a smile form as she lifted a tiny creamy white rose with her finger and swooped it into her mouth. Rusty, but her people brought the oil can. “Hey, no fair. You said the roses were mine.” Natalie laughed from the bench next to her. “All but the first one, Teenager,” Cady said, nudging her shoulder against Natalie’s. “You can have the first piece. Your mom has got that knife and she means to do business.” “First piece goes to the birthday girl,” Sara said from behind Cady. “Here, let me cut. Natalie, grab those plates and pass.” “But of course,” Natalie put on her public voice to her mom. Then she turned to her boyfriend as she stood up. “Chris, get up and help.” Rosalind knelt next to Cady. The petticoats of her period costume fluffed around her. “Thanks for doing this,” she whispered into Cady’s ear. “I know it’s hard but it’s good. And no matter what happens tonight, you remember this party was good. Okay?” Cady tilted her head and kissed Rosalind on the cheek. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.” “I’ll be back before the fireworks,” Rosalind said. “I just have to go introduce the keynote speaker.” She stood up. “I confess, though, that I’d rather be wearing the little sundress you’ve got on than all these layers. I know. I say it every year. If I were as young as you and Sara, I could stand this heat better and maybe this high collar wouldn’t choke me half to death.” “You do.” Cady laughed. “Say it every year. And I swear you’re younger than all of us.” “Now that you’re back to celebrating birthdays, we’ll have to do something big for my fiftieth. Thirty-two really does seem like just yesterday.” “Hurry back,” Cady said. “I promise not to have any fun without you.” “I’ll tell Sara you are forbidden to crack a smile until I return.” Rosalind gave Cady’s hand a squeeze and made a quiet escape to resume her duties as organizer of the yearly festival commemorating the first convention on women’s rights, held in the 19th century on the very block where they had set up their picnic. Sara had arranged for the Harbor House Cone and Grill to cater the little party inside of the big party. The trick was to get there early to stake out one of the ten picnic tables at People’s Park. Sara laid blankets on the grass next to the table to further delineate their party from the larger festival. Cady’s friends filtered in and out of the picnic site all evening. The Harbor House had provided dinner for the guests and they were feeling gluttonous even before they cut the cake. The Harbor House cooked simple picnic fare better than anyone in the Finger Lakes. Pulled BBQ pork on seeded buns, homemade baked beans with crispy bacon chunks all through, corn on the cob, roasted with the shucks on, salt potatoes crusted like a salt lick. Fresh green salad, without a sliver of cabbage or carrot. Ice cold lemonade from Lauralei’s grandmother’s recipe. They weren’t big enough to cater an entire festival like Convention Days, but small weddings and birthday parties were their specialty. And Lauralei was a master baker. She made Cady’s favorite, lemon cake with sweet lemon sugar frosting on top and in the middle. Lauralei dotted the cake with tiny white roses because Cady had a romance with the beautiful rose-covered frosted cakes her mom used to buy her at the grocery store for her birthdays. “I knew this cake was coming out,” Eric said. “I’m glad I made my rounds down here before it was all gone.” He grinned and accepted a slice from Chris who was dutifully serving. “Who made this food?” said Mulligan. “It’s like an ad for the perfect summer picnic.” Mulligan had become friends with Cady when he was doing some construction at her apartment. “You know the Harbor House?” said Sara. “It’s that little porch restaurant next door to the state trooper’s house on the canal.” She handed a plate of food to Eric, who took in it addition to the cake. “Yeah,” said Mulligan, “that trooper who parks his patrol car at the edge of the canal to slow boats down to a no wake?” He nodded to his wife. “I know him. He gave me a ticket once.” “I’m sure he’s given everyone around here a ticket at one time or another,” said Cady. “No. Get this,” said Mulligan, as he put his plate on the picnic table so he could illustrate with his hands. “I’m flying down the river, minding my own business, and I come up on the trooper’s house. It’s the middle of the day on like a Wednesday. I catch him out of the corner of my eye, standing at the end of his dock waving me over. He’s all geared up with his Stetson and he’s packing. He’s got this hairy eye so I say screw him, flip him off, and step on the gas even faster as I fly by his dock. I mean, what’s he gonna do, jump in and swim me down? Doesn’t that son of a bitch meet me in his troop car down at the marina. He gets on his speaker and yells out my name and says I can either come get my tickets now or I can get them and a few more at my house later. Bastard took down my hull number and looked me up in the three miles between his dock and the marina. It was so good I couldn’t even fault him. I never do make a wake going down the canal anymore. That’s how I first met him. Nicest guy to know around here.” He had the whole table laughing. “Eric, you ever met that guy?” asked Mulligan, picking up his cake. “Sam Baldwin?” said Eric. “Of course. I know all the troopers. He’s the one who trained Blue.” Cady winced at Blue’s name—the trooper who couldn’t solve the mystery of what happened to her husband. She knew he and Eric were friends and roommates because Eric had mentioned it on their first date. Hearing his name on her birthday stole away some of the easy joy she was starting to allow herself as the party progressed. She visibly shook it off in an effort to stay in the moment. “He’s cool as the lake is wet,” Eric went on, “but even I don’t want to get on his wrong side. Black ops type. He’s a lawyer now, you know. With the DA’s office. Now he’d be the one prosecuting all those tickets instead of writing them.” Eric took a huge bite of his sandwich and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. He’d started with the cake and eaten the meal backwards. “Damn this food is good,” he said. “I’ve never been to the restaurant, but if they are half as good as this pulled pork is, I might have to bet on them to win.” Cady and Sara moved with their cake to sit together on one of the blankets on the grass. “Pay Lauralei extra for this, would you?” Cady said as she leaned down on her elbow, vintage U2 playing low on the small boom box Sara had brought. Cady had swept up her shoulder-length chestnut hair in a couple of bobby pins and the effect was both elegant and casual at the same time. Cady’s high cheekbones were sun kissed from her late morning walk by Seneca Lake. “I’m paying Harbor House for this?” Sara feigned surprise. “Put it on Rosalind’s tab.” Cady crinkled her nose and giggled at herself. “Seriously, though. Thanks so much for all this. I’m not going to lie. I’m actually feeling festive.” She looked over at the people there to celebrate with her. A few of her book club kids, the kids she got attached to during the couple of years they spent with her at her library, reading and loving books. A few of their parents who had become her friends. Mulligan and his crew. Eric Peterman. He was working security for the festival but came down to patrol People’s Park as the cake was being unveiled. “You deserve it. We all do. Nice party. Good food. I’m stuffed.” Sara said. “I haven’t seen Kiery,” Cady said. “Her parents didn’t make it either. Maybe they’re still up on Fall Street.” Cady was grateful more people hadn’t shown up. “Can you believe her painting? Who would know from the book club that she’d be so brilliant with a paint brush?” Cady had started a painting group on Friday evenings for local residents. Kiery was the...