Chapter 63
Change was in the air at the Cumberland Creek scrapbooking crop. DeeAnn was going back to work on Monday. Sheila was quitting her dream job. Paige, Randy, and Earl were one big happy family. And Vera was thinking of starting a side business selling her chocolate.
Besides all that, Annie was giving up the only job she’d ever really wanted. She was ready, but she didn’t know what came next. “I’m going to call it a night, friends.”
“So early?” Sheila said.
Annie nodded. She was tired. And worried. The murder cases still hadn’t been solved even though most of the community was already acting as if it were. Jorge had attacked her and that branded him as a violent man. A violent, foreign man. So it was easy for people to assume that he’d killed the Martelino sisters.
Annie wasn’t so sure.
“I’ll walk with you,” Cookie said. “I’m tired, too.”
They said their good-byes, grabbed their bags and headed out.
As they walked down the street, Annie sensed Cookie had something to say. Pockets of light came from the streetlights, followed by stretches of dark.
“I feel like we’re not alone.” Cookie stopped walking to look around.
“I don’t see anybody,” Annie said. “Are you okay?”
“I wish you’d stop asking me that. I’m fine. My memories are coming back so fast now that sometimes it gives me a headache.” Cookie grinned. “It turns out my doctor isn’t really a doctor. At least not in the way we thought.”
“What?”
“I can’t tell everybody this. Just you, Annie. You’re my best friend. And you know how to keep a secret. I know you can be trusted.”
“What is it?” Annie asked.
“The man you know as my doctor is a doctor, but he’s also my colleague. It turns out that I’m a kind of operative.” Cookie smiled like the Cheshire cat. “Imagine that.”
Annie was floored at first, but as she sifted through some memories, it started to make sense. “What kind of operative?”
“I can’t tell you that. What I can tell you is that it’s not CIA or FBI. It’s a special force, of a sort.”
“Does this mean you’ll leave us?” Annie said.
“Once I’m designated as completely healthy, I have no idea where they’ll send me. But there will be ways we can keep in touch. I promise.”
That settled Annie’s stomach. A bit. “What were you doing here? Who were you investigating?”
“I can’t go into specifics, but we were here because of the New Mountain Order and the way they were abusing the crystals on the mountain.” Cookie smiled again. “The mission was a success,” she added.
“Well, that’s good to know,” Annie said, stopping at the corner of Cookie’s street, which is where she usually turned off when they walked together. “I’ll miss you, Cookie.” She hugged her.
“I’m not going anywhere just yet,” Cookie said. “I’ve got a long way to go. I’m still in my little house, thanks to the folks from my agency who have been paying for the place. I’ll be there for some time.” She paused. “Good night, Annie.”
“Good night.” Annie watched Cookie walk away for a few seconds before turning up the street to head home. Cookie, an operative? She must be an important one if her agency was paying the bills and working with her on her memories. But, as Cookie had said, the Martelino sisters and the ritual had shaken something up in her memories. For the first time in months, Annie felt a glimmer of hope for Cookie.
It was a chilly autumn night, and Annie thought she smelled rain. The wind was kicking up, scattering leaves across the sidewalk. She pulled her scarf in tighter. The weather forecasters were calling for the first snow of the year tomorrow. She believed it.
Suddenly, a person was standing in front of her on the sidewalk. A woman. Annie couldn’t see her face, but for a moment it looked like Vera.
Startled, Annie stepped back, outside of the light and into the shadows. “Vera?” she said quietly.
The woman’s hand went up and Annie realized that a gun was pointed toward her. A shot sounded and she hit the sidewalk hard as pain ripped through her body. Was she shot? Had she been shot?
“Cumberland Creek Police. Stand down,” Annie heard a voice yell. “Drop the gun.”
“Drop the gun. Stand down,” the voice said again before Annie drifted away.
Annie came to in the ambulance. “Have I been shot?” she asked the paramedic hovering over her.
“No, ma’am. You’ve had a bit of a shock and you have quite a bump on your head.”
“Hurts,” Annie said and fell back into a cloud of fitful sleep.
“What’s going on? Where’s my wife?” Annie heard Mike’s voice as she drifted awake again. She opened her eyes. She was in a room. She turned her head. No, a hallway . . . and there was her man.
“Annie. God,” Mike said, tears in his eyes. “What happened?”
“Sir, we need you to step away for a moment,” Annie heard through the haze. “She’s going to be fine. She’s just had a nasty fall and has a bump on her head. Probably a concussion.”
“Mike?” Annie reached for his hand.
His arm extended around the doctor and his hand, strong, secure, held hers. As always.
When she next opened her eyes, Mike was sitting on the edge of her bed as if guarding her. “She’s had a bad time of it. I don’t think she can talk,” he said defensively to Bryant and Bixby.
“We’re not here to ask her questions,” Sheriff Bixby said. “We’re here to give her answers.”
“Answers?” Annie muttered.
Mike stood. “You’re awake.” He leaned in and kissed her gently.
“You’ve helped us catch a murderer,” Bryant said. “It’s the least we can do.”
“Nice shiner,” Annie managed to say to him and smiled.
“Yours is prettier,” Bryant replied.
“Answers?” Mike said impatiently.
“We let Jorge go this morning. After talking with him, we knew he was covering for somebody,” Bryant said. “He was scared. We were keeping him for his own safety.”
Annie’s head ached. Things were not making much sense to her. Kept him for his own safety?
“It was his aunt,” Sheriff Bixby said. “Irina. She killed both Martelinos and was going to kill you. Jorge suspected her. He suspects that she also killed others over the years, but we have no proof of that yet.”
“Irina?” Annie managed to say. She pictured the older woman’s face, her calm composure, the way she tended to Michelle Drummond. And then Annie also remembered how she’d called her nephew names and snapped at him. But still, kill someone?
“Why?” Mike asked. “Why? I don’t understand.”
“Turns out Emma Drummond had changed her will recently to include Irina. Emma’s fortune was to be split between Michelle and Irina. But Irina had already started making plans to get rid of Michelle. She didn’t get far. Esmeralda found out and told Marina. They confronted her,” Bryant said.
“So she got rid of them before killing Michelle. It was the only way she could get away with it,” Sheriff Bixby said.
Annie’s stomach twisted. The young women had been killed for the sake of money.
“Why the crafting tools and scrapbook pages?” Annie asked. “I don’t get it.”
Bryant shrugged. “Irina is a deeply disturbed woman. I’m surprised she’s held it together this long. We’ve asked her about it and she just said she likes to make things nice and pretty.”
Annie shivered. She remembered the woman saying those exact same words to her.
“You must have known she’d come after Annie. You were already on the street,” Mike said. His voice registered at least two octaves higher than normal.
“We thought she might come after Annie because she was afraid Annie was on to her. We didn’t know for sure. It was just a theory,” Sheriff Bixby said. “But we kept an eye on her and wouldn’t have let anything happen to Annie.”
“You set her up. Something did happen to her,” Mike said. “She has a concussion. It could have been so much worse. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Look Mike, we were very careful about this. She’s going to be fine. I’d never jeopardize Annie’s life,” Bryant said a little too emphatically.
Mike’s eye’s narrowed. “I should have beat the shit out of you years ago.”
“What? Whoa—” Sheriff Bixby moved quickly to stand between them.
“Mike—”
“I’m glad Jacob hit you, you son of a bitch,” Mike raged. “How dare you use my wife like that! I catch you around Annie again . . .”
Bryant started to leave the room then turned and looked at Annie, momentarily revealing far too much emotion with his eyes.
Annie looked away.
“Later, Bryant,” Sheriff Bixby said forcefully.
“I’m so glad you won’t have to work with him again,” Mike said. “I’m so glad this is your last story.”
Annie’s chest felt a burn of emotion. Tears stung her eyes and a wave of nausea overcame her. “I feel sick,” she said, and reached for a nearby container.