Waiting for Butterflies Read online

  Sam had walked the property a few times with Maggie, the first time to appease her as she tried to infect him with her desire to renovate the abandoned house. She’d gushed when she talked about turning the house into a B&B. Sam listened but offered little response. As Maggie neared the end of her long list of plans, her enthusiasm waned, and Sam almost felt guilty. It was a good dream, but it wasn’t a practical dream. They didn’t have the money or the time it would take to revive the old house, and Sam didn’t have the desire. The second time he was on the property was a few months later when Maggie packed a lunch and the family picnicked on the back porch. The girls played in the yard while Sam and Maggie relaxed under a shade tree. And the last time was nearly a year ago. Maggie asked Sam to fix the broken lock box that held the key to the house. Her final ploy to convert him, he suspected. Soon after, Maggie’s dream of turning the Hitching house into a B&B transformed into a dream of selling it to someone else who would, and she sought the dream with renewed vigor each time a buyer showed interest in the property, which wasn’t often.

  He got out of the car and faced the old house, its peeling paint, its sagging shutters, the last place that saw Maggie alive. He walked up the sidewalk, up the porch steps. He stood with his back to the front door, peering across the road, past the fields, and into the distant hills. If Olivia was right, if Maggie did come back, this is where she’d be. Sam sat on the top step and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. Sorrow tightened around his throat.

  “Mags.” Her name sounded comfortable in the air around him. “I miss you so much.” He lowered his head as he allowed his emotions to surface. He pushed past the grief of missing her, the anger of losing her in such a senseless way, and focused instead on the love he shared with his wife. “I don’t know what to do without you. I need to know what you want me to do.”

  Sam studied the sign in the yard. “What about Blake Real Estate? How would you feel if I turned it over to Laura? And what do I do about the girls? I’m trying, but I’m not doing a very good job helping them through this. Olivia copes by escaping reality, and Rachel escapes by keeping herself distant.” He lowered his head. “I don’t know how I’m going to get myself through this.”

  Sam tried to imagine a time beyond this tragedy, a morning when he would wake up to sunshine streaming through the window, and his first action would be to breathe in the morning air rather than roll over to feel the empty place beside him. He wondered how it would be if the first thought on his mind were, What am I going to do today? Not, How am I going to get through the day? He doubted the possibility of a new normal.

  “And what about my job?” Sam shook his head as he prepared for his confession. “I did something really stupid, Mags. Really stupid.” His fists were clenched, and a vein bulged at his temple. He fought his imagination as he visualized scenarios of everything that could have gone wrong because he left the girls alone. “I feel like I’m two separate people—a father, and a detective—and without you, the two don’t mix,” Sam confessed. “But what choice do I have?”

  He twisted the wedding ring on his finger. “I need you to tell me what to do.”

  He waited quietly for the burden to rise from his chest, but it didn’t. This was the place life had led him to, and he was going to have to find the way out on his own. Resigned to accept there were no easy answers, Sam stood and walked to the front door. He tried the door knob, even though he knew it was locked. He pressed his forehead against the glass and peered into the foyer. He spotted the staircase Maggie loved and followed the steps to the landing at the top. He had never been upstairs. Maggie had tried to lure him up, to show him the possibilities, but he’d held back, pretending to be oblivious to her disappointment and how she tried to gloss over it. A sharp pain flicked through him. He shaded his eyes and counted doors, five maybe six bedrooms. Then he focused on the main floor, which he had toured with Maggie the first time she’d brought him to the Hitching house. He could see the formal living room on the right, and the entrance to the dining room beyond. His attention shifted to the hallway that ran along the left side of the staircase, straining to see into the galley kitchen that spanned the back of the house, but the dim light made it difficult. The house had potential, Sam admitted with a pang of guilt. He couldn’t recall admitting that to Maggie, though. Every time she mentioned the Hitching house, he felt he had to maintain his guard, or risk giving her false hope.

  He pushed away the shame and glanced at his watch. It was nearly time to pick up Olivia. He gave the doorknob one more twist then turned to go. He paused at the bottom step of the porch and looked at the house one final time.

  “Bye, Mags,” he whispered.

  “Rachel!” Sam’s voice echoed as he marched through the house. He opened the door to the basement and called her name into the darkness. When no answer came, he returned to her bedroom to search for a note, then to the kitchen. Surely she wouldn’t leave without telling him where she was going. He checked his cell phone once more for a text he knew didn’t exist. “Rachel!” he yelled again, releasing anger more than expecting an answer at this point. Olivia’s voice mimicked Sam’s throughout the house as she called for her sister.

  He punched numbers into his cell phone and reached Rachel’s voice mail. “Rachel, call me as soon as you get this.” He hung up and typed a text with the same message. He dialed another number.

  “Kristen, this is Sam Blake. Is Rachel with you?”

  “No. . . ?” Kristen answered with a question in her voice.

  “Do you have any idea where she might be? I just got home and she’s not here, and she’s not answering her cell phone.”

  “I don’t know, Mr. Blake. I haven’t talked to Rachel in weeks.”

  Sam recalled his conversation with Rachel that morning. She didn’t indicate that she and Kristen weren’t talking at all.

  “Kristen, is everything okay?”

  “Well, yeah, I guess so. It’s just that we kind of had a fight, about school stuff, and I know Rachel’s going through a lot right now, but I kind of got mad at her. And we haven’t really talked.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Kristen, but can you think of anyone who might know where she is?”

  “There’s this one girl. Maybe Rachel’s with her. They’ve been hanging out at school. Her name’s Cricket.”

  “Yeah, Rachel mentioned her. Do you know how to get a hold of her?”

  “No. I don’t know her really.”

  “Do you know her last name, where she lives, anything?”

  “No, I’m really sorry. I never knew her till I saw Rachel eating lunch with her, but maybe that’s where she is. I’m sorry I’m not much help. Mr. Blake, is everything okay?”

  “Um, yeah, sure. Thanks, Kristen.” Sam hung up and went to Rachel’s room. He pushed a key to wake up her laptop. Maybe she made plans with Cricket while they were messaging. He didn’t see anything. Her backpack rested against her desk. He pulled out notebooks and binders and flipped through pages, searching for anything about Cricket that Rachel may have written down, her last name, address, cell number, anything. The only items of interest were an algebra paper with red ink all over it and an ‘F’ at the top, and a scoring guide with a zero and a note in a teacher’s writing: Rachel, please see me for an extension on the science project. Sam made a mental note to talk to Rachel about her schoolwork—again. He understood the last several weeks had been difficult, nearly impossible, but this was unacceptable.

  He continued his search. The bulletin board above her desk? The top of her dresser? Her nightstand? Nothing. Sam pulled out his cell phone and dialed again. Voicemail. “Rachel, if I don’t hear from you in the next five minutes, the next time you walk out of this house will be for your high school graduation.”

  He hung up and ran a mental scan of conversations they had. Did Rachel mention anything about Cricket he may have missed? Was there something in the direct messaging he read, but didn’t understand? Nothing came to him.

&n
bsp; Suddenly the unsettling feeling Sam fought all morning fashioned into an arrow and pierced his brain. He cursed and left Rachel’s room. When he reached the front door, he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. As he punched Wade’s number into his cell, he inspected the lock, the door frame, the area around the porch. He tried to steady his hand as he waited for Wade to answer.

  “Hey, L-T, what’s—”

  “Rachel’s not here. I picked up Olivia from church, and when we got home, Rachel was gone. No note, no text, nothing. And she’s not answering her phone.” Sam couldn’t control the panic in his voice.

  “Hey, calm down, Lieutenant. She’s probably with a friend. Did you call around?”

  “Of course I did.” Sam clenched his jaw.

  “Well, Rachel’s getting to that age, wanting her independence and all. Try not to over react—”

  “I’m not overreacting!” His anger at Wade was unwarranted, but it grew from fear. “Last night when I got home, a black BMW was parked in front of my house. What if—” Sam didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to.

  “I’m on it. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  We? Sam realized he must have meant Shaw.

  “No, come alone, and don’t tell anyone.” Sam was mortified. How stupid was he to leave Rachel alone after the incident last night? The possible consequences of his interrogation of Crystal Starr terrified him. At the moment, until he knew what they were facing, the fewer people who knew about it, the better.

  Sam hung up. He was frantic. How could he let the investigation become more important than protecting his family? Was it so important to him that he may have sacrificed his own daughter? For what? An arrest that would be legendary in the department, remembered when promotions rolled around? His body tremored from the inside out as he paced the length of the porch. Then the door opened. Sam spun around, somehow hoping Rachel would be standing there.

  “Daddy?”

  “Livi, honey.” Sam struggled for control. “Go back inside. I’m just getting some fresh air.”

  “Can I get some fresh air, too?” Olivia reached for his hand.

  At the innocence in her voice, another wave of guilt rushed over him. He picked her up and held her close, protecting her, kissing her cheek, feeling her arms squeeze his neck. “Just for a bit.” He spoke into her hair. “Detective Wade is going to be here in a few minutes. We have to talk about work.” He held her tight a moment longer, then set her back down on the porch. “Why don’t you watch TV for a while? I’ll be in as soon as I can.”

  “Okay.”

  When Olivia closed the door, Sam watched down the street for Wade’s vehicle. Within moments, he saw it take a right at the four-way. Sam bounded down the porch steps and stood in the drive to meet him as he got out of the car.

  “Okay, Lieutenant, I’ve been thinking.” Before Wade could continue, a silver SUV pulled in and parked behind his car. The logo on the driver’s door read KFTS Channel 12 News. Instantly, a reporter Sam recognized from the evening broadcast approached him. A cameraman followed with the camera already rolling.

  “Lieutenant Sam Blake? I’m Anna Austin with KFTS news. Would you care to answer a few questions about the death of Crystal Starr? Was she involved in the Simms murder? Was the overdose accidental, or is it being investigated as a homicide? Do you have a suspect?” She shoved a microphone toward Sam.

  Sam stared at the reporter, at the microphone, at the camera. This was his stage, and he knew how to perform, how to caress his words and look into the camera with authority, as he had with previous cases that drew public attention. This was the kind of thing the department and city council would notice when promotions came around. Sam was speechless.

  “Lieutenant, we’ll only take a few minutes of your time,” the reporter persisted.

  He looked at Wade who was waiting for him to answer the reporter’s questions. Sam shook his head, an almost imperceptible movement, and Wade stepped in.

  “I’m Detective Donnie Wade.” At the introduction Anna Austin and the cameraman turned toward him.

  “I can tell you we are investigating an apparent overdose, but details will not be released at this time.”

  “Detective, can you tell us if this is connected to the Simms investigation?”

  “I have no further comment.” Wade repeated the phrase three more times before the reporter was satisfied she had all the information she was going to get.

  As the news crew backed down the driveway, Sam exhaled and lowered his shoulders. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Now, I was thinking on the way over here. I know you are worried sick, and I would be, too, sick out of my mind. But, this can’t be connected to last night. There’s a logical answer.”

  “She left, first, without asking. Rachel knows better. Second, she didn’t leave a note. Third, she’s not answering her cell phone. That’s the logic I’ve got to work with.” Sam held up his hands. “Rachel doesn’t do this. She doesn’t just leave or not answer her cell. Something is wrong.”

  “Okay.” Wade conceded. “Is there anyone you haven’t called?”

  “Yeah, a girl named Cricket, a new friend Rachel made at school. But I don’t know how to get a hold of her. I don’t even know her last name.”

  At that instant, a black car screeched to a sudden stop at the four-way. Sam and Wade jerked their heads in that direction. Instinctively, they moved behind Wade’s car, prepared to take cover. Sam’s heart rate tripled. He reached for his holster. It wasn’t there. A loud bass pounded through the open windows, but as the car drove closer, Sam realized it wasn’t the car that had been parked outside last night. It was a Mustang, and as it neared the house, it rolled to a stop. The passenger door opened, and Rachel emerged from the back seat.

  Sam’s knees buckled beneath him. He placed both hands on Wade’s car to brace himself as he watched Rachel say something and laugh into the passenger window. Then she turned and saw Sam and Detective Wade. For an instant, her facial expression changed. Surprise? Fear? Sam couldn’t be sure. It was too brief. Rachel pulled back her shoulders and tossed her head to the side, clearing her bangs from her face. With her jaw set, she looked at her father.

  Sam glared at his daughter as he spoke to Detective Wade. “Thanks for coming. Seems you were right. Sorry for wasting your time.”

  “No problem, Lieutenant. I’m glad she’s safe.” Wade opened his car door.

  Sam marched toward the Mustang, his pulse pounding against his skull. Rachel stepped away from the car as it took off, tires squealing, leaving a black mark on the pavement in its wake. Wade flipped on the emergency lights inside his unmarked car, backed out of the driveway, and raced after the car.

  “Oh, great. Just what I need. Cricket’s brother getting a ticket!” Disapproval was thick in Rachel’s voice as she attempted to walk past Sam.

  Sam stepped into her path and clenched his teeth. “Where have you been?” Rachel met his glare. He stared at a stranger.

  “I got bored and decided to hang out with some friends.” She sounded as nonchalant as confessing she ate a cookie before dinner.

  Rage swelled inside him. He grabbed her by the arm and escorted her to the house, shouting a stream of accusations. “You’re riding in a car with a driver I don’t know, and a kid at that. You didn’t tell me where you were going, or even that you were going, or who you were going with. You didn’t leave a note. And why didn’t you answer your cell phone? What do you think you’re doing, Rachel?”

  Rachel took a step back and looked up at him. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this, Dad? I was with Cricket and her brother. We’d been texting, and the next thing I knew she was at the door. I was bored and decided to go for a ride. And I couldn’t answer my cell—it’s dead.” She held the phone in the air, and waved it mockingly back and forth.

  Sam released her arm and faced her. “Rachel, you don’t leave this house without permission. I have to know where you are. That’s the rule. It’s always been the
rule.”

  “Well, you weren’t here for me to ask.”

  “At the very least, you could have left a note.”

  “Dad, I didn’t plan this. It just happened.” She rolled her eyes. “Geez, I just wanted to go have some fun for once. I wasn’t even gone long, like less than an hour.”

  “If I ever catch you in that car again, so help me—” He couldn’t finish. He ran his hand through his hair as if to clear his thinking. “Give me your phone. You broke the rules, and you knew what you were doing when you did. You’re grounded from your phone, and you are not to leave this house except to go to school.” Sam couldn’t believe the words as he heard them come out of his mouth. Rachel had never been grounded. Sometimes, Maggie had to practically force her to accept invitations to birthday parties or sleepovers. It wasn’t Rachel being social that bothered him; it was all the rules she broke in the process, her dismissive attitude, their conversation that morning. None of this was familiar. And neither was his daughter as he looked into her face masked in defiance. She wrapped her arms around herself and stood with her weight on one foot.

  Sam held out his hand. “Cell phone.”

  “Uh!” Rachel huffed as she slammed it into his palm. “This is so unfair!” She turned on her heel.

  “You better stop right there, young lady.”

  Rachel halted, but kept her back to Sam.

  “Don’t you ever forget who you’re talking to. Let me remind you that you’re only fourteen years old, and I am your father. You will respect the rules of this house, and you better lose the tone because it’s not working for you.”

  Rachel stood still. Sam sensed a showdown. He waited for her next move, uncertain what his counter move would be. Finally, she dropped her arms to her side and glanced over her shoulder. “Sorry.” She stood for a moment as if she had something more to say, but she remained silent. Then she raised both hands in mock surrender, went inside, and closed the door behind her.