Why was he thinking about Anna now? After all this time? He’d jumped right back into dating after she’d broken off their engagement.
“Get back on the horse before you forget how to ride,” his friends had advised.
So he’d dated. A lot. But none of the women, no matter how pretty or sweet or capable, was Anna Carson.
“You can’t replace cream with water,” his boss, Police Chief Max Zirinsky, had said.
“If you’re suggesting I was the one who threw out the cream, the cream being Anna, you’re wrong. She’s the one who broke up with me,” Flint had told him. “And don’t give me that look. It wasn’t my fault.”
Max had just shaken his head. “Someday you’ll figure it out. I hope.”
Max. Flint had a meeting with him first thing in the morning. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep—not knowing what was waiting for him tomorrow morning at the office. There’d been a rumor going around at work that the chief was going to be making some changes. And just before Flint had left work today, Max had called him into his office.
He and Max had always been close. Not that they didn’t disagree at times. Nor did Flint ever forget who was boss.
But when he’d followed Max into his office, Flint had been surprised that the chief had gone behind his desk and immediately begun to busy himself with some papers.
Max didn’t look up. Nor did his voice convey any warmth, as if he’d been expecting an argument out of Flint.
“I’d like you at a meeting tomorrow morning. Seven a.m.” Max continued sorting the paperwork on his desk.
“Seven a.m.?” Flint asked in surprise.
“Is that a problem?” Max finally looked up.
“No,” Flint said quickly, wondering what he’d done that had put Max on edge. “Can’t you tell me what this is about?”
“Seven a.m.,” Max repeated. “We’ll discuss it then.”
Flint had wisely left without another word. He knew Max well enough not to argue. At least not all the time. Flint had learned to pick his battles.
Was he looking at a battle in the morning? He had a bad feeling he was. He stared out at the sea, surprised again that his thoughts drifted back to Anna. What was it about tonight? Whatever it was, he’d play hell getting a decent sleep this night.
10:30 p.m.
LORNA SINKE opened a can of cat food and set it on the counter. As soon as she did, the cat jumped up and began eating with enthusiasm. A cat eating on the kitchen counter. Her mother must be rolling over in her grave, Lorna thought with a smile. There’d never been pets in this house. Not while Lorna’s parents had been alive, and they’d both lived to their eighties.
“Pets are filthy and messy,” her mother used to say. “Who needs them?”
Lorna needed them. She’d spent her whole life in this house with its spotless, lifeless furnishings. It had taken some time after her parents had died, but she’d finally gotten rid of the smell of pine cleaner.
She looked around the kitchen, pleased. The first thing she’d done was strip the curtains from all the windows and discard them. Then she’d painted over the flowered wallpaper. The furniture had had to go, as well. Her father’s recliner. Her mother’s rocker. She hadn’t been able to bear looking at them, thinking she could see her parents’ impressions in them, if not their ghosts come back to haunt her.
Lorna opened several more cans of cat food for the other cats and set them on the floor. How odd that her neighbors and some old family friends would think she was lonely in this big old house without her parents.
All those years spent taking care of the two of them. When other women were getting married, having children, making homes for themselves, Lorna Sinke had been nursing her aging parents. The good daughter.
And to think that her sister was shocked that their parents had left Lorna the house. Hadn’t she earned it? Her younger sister had gotten out as quickly as she could, purposely getting pregnant to escape, Lorna had always suspected.
Well, it was her house now, she thought as she made herself some toast, standing at the kitchen window to butter it and smear a thick layer of jam on it. Her mother would have thought so much jam wasteful. Lorna could feel her mother’s disapproval as she ate the toast and stared out into the darkness. She realized that she’d been waiting all those years for her life to begin. Too bad it had taken the deaths of her parents. Not that Lorna hadn’t felt a huge weight lifted from her shoulders when they were finally gone.
She shuddered, remembering finding the two of them at the foot of the basement stairs. Her mother must have gone down to the basement for something, fallen and cried out. It would be just like her father to go down there instead of calling 911.
Two nasty falls. Both fatal. It hadn’t surprised Lorna, given her father’s condition. Couldn’t remember anything, even what had happened just moments before. And her mother, always nagging him to do one thing or another.
Lorna had warned them both about those basement steps, but neither of them had ever listened to anything she had had to say.
She tried not to think about it. Her parents were both in a better place. She liked to imagine her father floating on a cloud, at peace at last. Her mother was no doubt making hell more hellish.
Getting out her mother’s cookbook, Lorna went to work making her famous sugar cookies. Her mother and father had loved them. She’d made the cookies the night before their fatal falls, putting in her secret ingredient, just like she did tonight.
When the cookies were finished baking, she put them in an airtight container and set them by the front door so she wouldn’t forget to take them to work, then she checked her watch.
Time to get to bed. As aide to the city council for years, she had the run of city hall and she loved it. Hers was the real power in Courage Bay. Without her, the city would come to a screeching halt.
She turned out the kitchen light. Tomorrow she could wear her new blue dress, the one the saleslady said brought out the blue in her eyes. She wondered if her favorite councilman would notice.
There was just one fly in the ointment, as her mother used to say. Councilwoman Gwendolyn Clark.
Lorna glanced at the container of cookies by the door. But she planned to take care of that problem tomorrow. Her life was finally going the way it always should have gone, and she wasn’t about to let anything—or anybody—mess it up.
10:37 p.m.
KENNY COULDN’T SIT STILL. He paced the trailer feeling as if his skin itched from the inside out. There was only one way to scratch it, but the pills were all gone.
He tried to concentrate on tomorrow. Lottery day, and he was going to be the big winner. All he had to do was to hold it together until then. He knew he’d never be able to sleep tonight. He was too excited at the prospect of being rich.
He picked up the photograph of his sister as he passed the corner table, looking into her face. “It’s all going to work out, Patty. Thanks to you.”
It was pretty amusing when he thought about it. Even from her grave, his big sis was looking out for him. And to think just days ago he didn’t know what he was going to do. He didn’t have money to pay his rent, the creditors had been calling every day—that was, until the phone company had disconnected the phone—and there was no one to turn to for help with Patty gone. It had looked as if he’d be out in the street.
And then his luck had changed when he met Lee Harper at that bar near city hall. What a wack job that guy was. Talk about hanging from a slim