Downstairs the next morning she found Stuart dozing in the club chair. She smiled, backed up down the hall and played with the ringtone on her phone to wake him up so he wouldn’t be embarrassed if she caught him napping. Detective Sergeant Gillespie wouldn’t be amused if he found out, she thought. I’ll never tell.
“Good morning Stuart,” she said cheerfully as she entered the lounge. “Coffee?”
He rose, still looking a little sleepy. “I’ll make it.”
“I got it.”
He stretched and yawned and plunked himself back down in his chair. She put his coffee on the table beside him as his phone beeped. “Warren’s here, I’ll let him in.”
Jennifer poured another coffee and waited for them to come back.
“Good morning Warren,” she said just as cheerfully as she had to his counterpart. “What do you take in your coffee?”
Warren wasn’t a morning person either. “Good morning, Jennifer,” he mumbled. “Cream please.”
“Any sign of Travis?” asked Stuart.
Warren shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Someone must be looking after him,” Jennifer said. “There was blood on his shoe and that rock probably smashed a few metatarsals. Maybe he used a fake health card.”
“Maybe,” he mumbled. “What’s on the agenda for today?”
“We have Emily’s visitation and service at Williams.” Jennifer looked at Warren. “Emily was eight years old. She died of cancer. Brent and Marcia will be doing the service, I’m there as back up. I don’t have to go to the cemetery unless I’m needed. I don’t think that will happen. Once the service is over I’ll come back here. First order of business for the day is a trip to the morgue.”
“Ugh,” Warren said. “I passed out my first time in the morgue and never went back.”
“It’s OK, you don’t have to go near it. I’ll take care of it,” she said sympathetically. The officers hadn’t made fun of her for crying last night. She would not tease Warren.
“After the morgue I’ll get the burial permit, meet with the custodian at the little church out of town and be back here in time for the service. If any new calls come in, I’ll change plans.”
“I can’t go in the preparation room either,” Warren said. “It creeps me out.”
“No problem. I can get someone from Williams to help me casket Greg.”
She picked up her coffee and excused herself, heading into her office. She put her cup on her desk and froze. There was a spider on the back of her chair. She slowly backed out of the office.
“Umm, Warren. Help,” she said in a strangled tone. He leapt to his feet.
“Spider.” She pointed at the gangly arachnid. As Warren made short work of the spider, Stuart lost it. He spewed coffee all over himself. He laughed until the tears came. Looking up at an indignant Jennifer and Warren, he exploded into howls again.
“You two are a piece of work,” he said as he wiped his eyes. “Spider’s and morgues. There’s one for the guys at the office. I think I’ll start keeping notes, this is the beginning a good book.”
Jennifer started to laugh and Warren joined in.
“I gotta go guys,” he said as he rose to leave. “That made my day.” Warren walked him out and Jennifer settled in to check her email.
The first message caught her eye. It was from Mr. Wisener. She felt her stomach clench.
Dear Ms. Spencer,
Are you available for dinner Sunday at 6 p.m.?
John Wisener
Marcia was off all weekend, Brent was working, she was working. Perhaps Marcia could cover for a few hours.
She responded affirmatively and hit send.
Jennifer made short work of the rest of the emails and went to check the van. “Ready Warren? Do you want to drive or should I?”
“You can. I’ll ride shotgun.” He grinned at his own joke. Jennifer smiled back. Sue had preferred to drive but Warren didn’t care; he was pretty easygoing and funny. She was starting to like her new team of officers.
It was a quiet morning; the sky was clear. Jennifer took her usual route to the hospital. A few blocks away, a pickup truck pulled up beside her at an intersection. She glanced over. The windows were black—too black to see in.
“Warren,” she said quietly. “Isn’t that illegal?”
He looked over at the truck. “It is.” She sensed him tense up.
When the light changed, the pickup dropped back a bit. Suddenly it accelerated and smashed the side of the van. Jennifer cringed at the crunch of metal on metal. She’d been watching her side mirror and had braced for impact.
Releasing the gas, she allowed the pickup to pull ahead. Warren was on his phone, his weapon ready. Jennifer didn’t even know he had a gun.
“Hold it steady,” he said.
Her skin prickled even as her heart pounded. She waited until the pickup was ahead of them, then without a word to Warren, accelerated to the left side of the road and veered into the back of the truck. She hit the sweet spot. The truck spun out. Warren jumped out of the van, yelling at the driver to get out. Jennifer backed up slowly and blocked the truck with her vehicle. Her knuckles ached. She glanced down and realized she had a death grip on the steering wheel. Slowly she released her fingers.
“Get down!” yelled Warren. Jennifer slouched and leaned toward the passenger seat. Sirens wailed in the distance.
A few minutes later Warren came to the van. “You can get up now. We got him.”
“Travis?”
“No, just a young guy. I have to get you out of here pronto.”
“I need to finish the transfer.” Jennifer exhibited more calm than she felt.
“Can’t. You have to get back to the funeral home.”
She didn’t respond. He looked at her. He was all business.
“Now, Jennifer.”
Noting her stricken face, he softened. “The guys will take care of the van. Can you get someone else to do the transfer?”
“Guess I have no choice.” She was on the verge of tears. She just wanted to do her job.
“No,” said Warren firmly. “No choice at all. He could have killed us. Where did you learn to drive like that anyway?” he asked as he walked her to a waiting squad car. Warren opened the door and climbed into the back seat beside her.
“I’m a frustrated rally driver. I wanted to be a rally driver before I could drive. I’m not a fan of action movies but do love the driving scenes. I never miss an episode of Canada’s Worst Driver either.”
“Neither do I,” Warren said. “I’ve learned a few things from that show.” He leaned back in the seat, his breathing starting to slow as the squad car returned them to the funeral home.
Once they were back, Jennifer asked Warren not to mention anything in front of Peter or Elaine.
“I have some calls to make,” she said. “I’m sure Williams can manage without me at Emily’s funeral, but I have to do the funeral tomorrow.”
She called Marcia and told her what happened.
“Are you OK? Good grief Jennifer, is this ever going to end?”
“I’m sorry Marcia. I should be there with you and Brent.”
“We have enough staff. I’ll send Jeff to do the transfer and get the burial permit. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“I need to be able to do my job,” Jennifer said quietly so Warren couldn’t hear. He was on his phone in the lounge. “I’ve let you guys down long enough because of Travis.”
“It’s not your fault. You mustn’t feel that way Jen. I’ll tell the team you’re busy, they don’t need to know yet.”
“More importantly, you have a sad and difficult day ahead of you, Marcia. Put this out of your mind and concentrate on what you need to do to stay emotionally and physically healthy.”
“I will. I’m sorry, Jen. This has to end at some point.”
“We’ll talk later. I want to hear all about the condo and your first night.”
Marcia chuckled. “Slept like a baby. Bye.”
After Warren finished his call he came to the door of her office. “May I come in?”
“Of course. You’re welcome to roam anywhere, including my office. She smiled wickedly. “And the prep room.” He raised an eyebrow and shook his head no.
Warren closed the door and sat down. “Preliminary information is that this kid was hired to make it look like an accident. It was a brand-new truck. They are tracking the dealer information now. He was probably given it as payment. Kid’s pretty scared. He lost his cheeky attitude when he was told what charges he’ll be facing.”
“How are we going to do Greg’s funeral tomorrow? It isn’t an option. I have to be there for that family.”
Warren nodded. “I’ll work on it. I’ll see what the boss has to say. He’ll be calling shortly.”
“I didn’t ask, I’m sorry. Were you hurt when the truck slammed into us?”
“No, bumped my funny bone, but that’s it. Too busy thinking of my next move.”
Her email chimed. It was from Mr. Wisener. She called it up.
I’ll send a car at 5:30 Sunday.
JW
“There is one more thing ...” She told Warren about her upcoming meeting with Mr. Wisener.
He whistled. “You do get around,” he said. “What’s that all about?”
“You understand the need for discretion?”
Warren nodded.
She told him about Aaron’s death and finding Winter. He listened intently.
“This is a team matter,” he said. “Can’t just let you go off in a limo.”
Jennifer folded her arms and glared at him.
“I’ll ask. I’ll ask. Crikey. You are one tough little cookie.” He smiled as he said it. “I’ll let you get back to work,” he said, rising. “I’ll keep you posted.
The phone rang and Jennifer absently picked it up.
“Spencer Funeral Home, Jennifer speaking.”
“Hi Jennifer, it’s Regina. I have a couple of visitors who’d like to come and see you. Amber and Matt would like to pick up the baby’s cremated remains. May we come over now?”
“By all means.” As Jennifer hung up, she felt a sense of relief as she remembered the young couple’s ordeal. It was one of her first calls when she took over Spencer Funeral Home. In their grief, they had been adamant about not taking the baby’s cremated remains. She and Chaplain Regina had known that given time, they’d come for him. She rose and went into the selection room. A curious Warren followed, took one look at the caskets and about-faced back to his seat in the lounge.
She went to the urn shelf, found a necklace with a heart that doubled as an urn. She took it to the prep room along with the plastic box the cremated remains were in. She knew that a stillborn or young baby’s cremated remains were minuscule.
She went upstairs to her kitchen to get a small funnel, came back down and carefully poured the tiny amount into the necklace. Satisfied, she sealed it with glue and put it back in the box. She picked up the cremation certificate and box and went to the front office. They arrived a few minutes later.
“Hello Amber, hello Matt.” She was happy to see the young couple. Amber was smiling. “Come into the office, I have everything ready for you.”
Once seated, Jennifer asked Matt to sign for the cremated remains and cremation certificate. She gave him the certificate and explained it’s purpose. She then handed Amber the small velvet box. Amber looked at Jennifer, puzzled.
“Tiny baby’s cremated remains are very small. Babies bodies are up to seventy-five percent water,” explained Jennifer.
Matt spoke up. “Their bones are cartilage, right?”
Jennifer nodded as Amber opened the box. Amber gasped.
“It’s beautiful. Oh, Matt look, it’s beautiful.” Amber clasped the box to her heart then brought it down to show Matt.
Over their bent heads Regina caught Jennifer’s eye and smiled.
As Matt and Amber thanked Jennifer and stepped out into the sunshine, Jennifer touched Regina’s arm.
“Thank you for bringing them. By the way, I have a meeting with Winter’s father-in-law Sunday.”
“You found him?”
“Yes. Actually, I know him. I’ll keep you posted.”
“I’ll call later,” said Regina. She hurried to catch up to Matt and Amber.
True to her word, Chaplain Regina called a few hours later.
“Hi Jennifer. When did you say you’d be meeting with Aaron’s father?”
“Sunday evening.”
“Winter’s psychologist was quite open with me once I told him about your meeting. Winter’s health is deteriorating.”
“You mean her physical health?”
“Yes, he’s concerned about her and the baby. Her emotional health is affecting her ability to relate to people, to eat and sleep. Can you give me the details of who Aaron’s dad is and if there is a possibility he’ll be involved in Winter’s life?”
Jennifer took her time explaining how she met him, careful not to disclose too much about Aaron’s funeral. She told Regina how Mr. Wisener did not have anyone attend the visitation. She ended it with a question.
“Do you know of Mr. Wisener, what he does, Regina?”
“No.”
“He is one of the wealthiest men in the country.” She named a few of his companies.
Regina exhaled, long and hard. “Then Aaron’s father must know about Winter. I can’t imagine how he could turn his back on her.”
“We don’t know that for sure. I do know that he struggled with his grief. He was hard to read, stone-faced, had a flat affect, but I could feel his pain.”
“I’m very concerned about Winter. If this can’t be resolved, she may never fully recover. She has shown little interest in her pregnancy. She’s four months in. The workers at the shelter share our concern.”
“Does the psychologist think she’s ready to accept the news of Aaron’s death?”
“I didn’t ask. Call me as soon as you can after your meeting with Mr. Wisener. If he doesn’t want any involvement, then not telling Winter about her husband’s death would be cruel.”
“I’ll do that.”
“And I’ll pray for a good outcome,” said the Chaplain. She disconnected.
Jennifer sat back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. “So will I,” she whispered.