Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

T he kids were chatty on the way back, talking about their fun day at the farm and asking when we could go back to see my aunt and uncle. I told them I didn't know, but we'd talk to Daddy and figure out a weekend to make it happen.

I dropped Ashley and Mikey off at school first, but as we pulled up to the carpool drop-off lane, I realized we'd put their backpacks in the back. When it came time for them to get out, I ran around to the back and opened the hatch, while Mikey and Ashley climbed onto the sidewalk.

The woman in the car behind me leaned out her window and shouted. "Oh, come on!"

Ashley rounded the back of the car, her face red with embarrassment.

"Where did you get that cool box, Aunt Rose?" Mikey asked as he ran his hand over the carving.

"It's the box she and Neely Kate dug up," Ashley said, rolling her eyes.

I hadn't told her so, but she must have inferred it.

Mikey's face radiated with excitement. "Maybe it has a secret compartment like in the treasure book my teacher is reading. Maybe there's buried treasure inside!"

"Secret compartments and buried treasures aren't real," Ashley said with an exaggerated sigh as she grabbed her backpack. In her haste to make her escape, the wooden box fell out, landed on its side on the pavement, and shattered into multiple pieces.

She looked up at me in horror. "I'm sorry, Aunt Rose! I'm sorry!"

"It's okay," I assured her and bent down to pick up the pieces. Thankfully, the engagement ring was buried under several pieces of wood and hadn't rolled away. The necklace was there too. I picked up the envelopes and jewelry and tucked them into my oversized cardigan pocket.

The car behind me lay on the horn. "Ignore them," I said as Ashley and Mikey helped pick up the pieces. I grabbed a loose plastic Walmart bag that I kept in the back in case of accidents and held it out. "Let's put all the pieces in the bag, and I'll sort through it all later."

"What's this?" Mikey asked, holding up a very yellowed Ziploc bag that contained two yellow plastic squares.

It took me a second to realize what they were. "I think those are floppy disks."

Mikey scrunched his nose. "Floppy what ?"

"Floppy disks. They used to go into computers." I wanted to ask where they had come from, but the obvious answer was staring me in the face.

He shook them. "They don't seem very floppy. How do you fit them in a computer?"

"Computers used to be a lot different," I said, taking the bag from him and setting it in the back of the trunk. "Those weren't in the box before." Had Neely Kate put them in there? But that seemed unlikely.

"I told you!" Mikey shouted excitedly. "It had a secret compartment!"

Was he right? As I considered it, I realized the inside of the box was a lot shallower than the outside. There was enough room to have at least an inch-thick hidden space at the bottom. How had we not figured that out before? "You're right, Mikey," I said. "I think it did have one."

"But not anymore," Ashley mumbled under her breath.

A boy who looked to be about Ashley's age lingered on the sidewalk near us. "Way to hold up the line, Ash-ley," he said with a sneer. "But then your daddy doesn't follow rules, so why would you ?"

Oliver.

Ashley looked like she was about to burst into tears.

I had never yelled at a child who wasn't my own in my entire life, but I was close to doing just that.

The horn honked again, and I picked up the bag and stood, turning to face the woman. "We're doin' the best we can!"

Ashley tugged on my shirt sleeve. "That's Oliver's mom."

I glanced down at her. "The woman honking her horn?"

"Yeah."

I scowled. "That figures. She's just as rude as her son."

Mikey picked up more pieces and put them in the bag. "Can I go now, Aunt Rose?"

"Of course," I said, giving the woman a dirty look before I hugged them, wrapping an arm around each of them. "You two run off to class. I'll get the rest."

"Can I keep the floppy dishes?" Mikey asked as he picked them up out of the back and started waving them.

"That's floppy disks , and no." I took them from him. "I need to give those to Uncle Joe."

"Dad," he said quietly. "Ashley says we can call him Dad."

I blinked at him in surprise. "Joe would be thrilled for you to call him Dad, but only if you want to."

"I do."

I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Mikey. Have a good day."

Beaming, he said, "You too, Mom." Then he spun around and ran toward the entrance.

Ashley turned toward Oliver, who was standing with a group of boys, and put her hands on her hips. "Turns out, my dad is actually the sheriff of Fenton County, and if you don't be nice, he'll come and arrest you."

"He's not your dad," he scoffed.

"He is now ," Ashley said in a bossy tone. "Maybe I'll have him come visit our class tomorrow, and I'll show him who's been calling me names."

Oliver suddenly looked uncertain.

I knew I should correct her, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Maybe I'd send Joe in for a visit myself.

Oliver's mom lay on her horn for several seconds, and instead of flipping her off like I wanted to, I gave her a pleasant wave, wiggling my fingers and giving her a mocking smile.

She pulled around my car, flipping me off herself as she drove away.

"Have a nice day!" I called after her. It was difficult to sound cheerful while grinding my teeth.

I finished picking up the rest of the pieces of the box and tossed them into the back of the Suburban, then pulled out of the school parking lot. I felt guilty about holding up the carpool line, but it couldn't be helped. Once I was on the street and headed to the daycare, I called Joe with my handsfree feature.

"Hey, Rose," he said when he answered, but his voice sounded strained. "Are you back in town?"

"I just dropped Ash and Mikey off at school. Oh, by the way, they want to call us Mom and Dad now, and Ashley just told Oliver that her new dad is the sheriff, and if he's not nicer, she'll have you come to school tomorrow and arrest him."

He was silent for a moment, then said, "That's a lot to unpack. When did this come about?"

"She told him off just a couple of minutes ago."

"I mean the calling us Mom and Dad?"

"Ashley asked me yesterday afternoon. She said it felt weird calling us Aunt Rose and Uncle Joe. I told her that we'd never replace her parents and that lots of kids have two moms and/or two dads."

"She really wants to call us Mom and Dad?"

"I about fell over when she asked. Then Mikey asked this morning if he could too. I told him yes, of course."

"Mom and Dad," he said in awe.

"But that's not why I called," I said. "Long story, but Neely Kate had brought the box to Aunt Bessie and Uncle Albert's and put it in the back of my car this morning. It fell out when we were getting the backpacks out of the trunk in the carpool lane, and the box broke into pieces."

"Oh no. I'm sorry."

"That's still not why I'm calling," I said, turning down the street toward the church. "There was an old, yellowed plastic bag with two floppy disks inside."

"Huh," he said. "I never saw any floppy disks in the box."

"Neither did I, but I think the box had a false bottom. After Mikey suggested it had a secret compartment, I realized the inside was shallower than the outside."

"Shit."

I turned into the church parking lot. "I know."

"Shit," Hope said cheerfully behind me.

"Shit," Daisy repeated, which sounded strange in her tiny princess voice.

Liam made a sound that was a pretty close approximation of the word.

"Did our children just say what I think they did?" Joe asked.

"Yep, and Daisy too. I'll let you explain it to Jed and Neely Kate."

"Shi—I mean crap."

"Cwappy doodles," Hope said with a grin.

I laughed.

"I really do have to go," Joe said reluctantly, "but I want to know about these floppy disks. Was there any writing on them?"

"Not that I remember. They're currently in the back of the car."

"Where are you now?"

"I'm dropping the three younger kids off at daycare, then I'm heading to the office."

"Okay, bring the disks in with you to the office. I was at the courthouse for the arraignment, but…" He hesitated, then said, "Can you take me off speaker?"

"Yeah," I said, starting to get worried. "I'm parking in a space right now. Give me a second." I parked the car and got the phone sorted, then held it up to my ear. "What's goin' on?"

"There isn't gonna be an arraignment today," he said solemnly.

"What?" I practically screeched. "Is the prosecutor dropping the charges?"

"No, Derby Sloan and his buddy were found hanging in their cells this morning."

"What?" I croaked out. "They—" I glanced back at the kids. got out of the car, and shut the door. "They hung themselves? Both of them? "

"That's the way it appears." But I could tell he wasn't buying it.

"Then what happened?"

"The video in their section of county lockup suddenly and conveniently went on the fritz," he said in disgust. "So God only knows."

"You think someone else is responsible?" I asked in shock.

"I have no proof, but yeah, I think this was staged."

I leaned my back against the car. "Are we still in danger?"

"If the person whom I suspect is behind it truly did it, then no."

"Wait," I said, realizing what he was suggesting. "You think Dermot arranged this?"

"I think Derby Sloan and his buddy knew too many things they could have used in a plea bargain."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. I was still in a state of shock.

"I'm still supervising the investigation here at lock-up, but let me know when you get to the office so I can come see you."

"Okay," I said, struggling to wrap my head around what Joe had told me. "I'm about to head into the daycare now."

We hung up, and I opened the back door and unbuckled the kids. Once we were outside, I realized their bags were in the back too. I made the girls stay with me, holding hands, while I dug out their backpacks and Liam's diaper bag from the back. It took another ten minutes to get everyone settled in their classrooms.

I was pretty frazzled by the time I pulled up in front of the office. I sent Joe a quick text to let him know I had arrived. One peek through the window at the trashed interior sent me hurrying to the coffee shop a few doors down, in equal parts procrastination and the need for a caffeine boost. I considered locking myself in the office straightaway, but if Joe was right, Dermot wouldn't hurt me.

Was Dermot responsible? I was still trying to make it fit the man I knew, but then again, he was a crime lord. It made sense that he'd played a role in this mess.

The coffee shop was pretty busy for a Monday morning, so I had to wait several minutes before I could place my order.

"No crazy coffee order for Neely Kate today?" one of the baristas asked after I ordered my latte.

"Not today," I said as I paid for my order. "But I'm sure she'll want something tomorrow."

After my order was ready, I headed to the office and let myself inside, stopping in the doorway to take in the carnage. The place had been totally destroyed.

The desks were overturned. Papers were everywhere. Chairs had been flung around like toys. The table we used to meet with clients had been flipped over. The person or persons who had done this had not only been looking for something but had been pissed when they hadn't found it.

This was going to take forever to clean up.

My phone rang, and Dermot's name was on the screen. My heartbeat spiked. I shut the door behind me, wondering if I should answer. If Dermot was responsible for those men's murders, I needed to distance myself from him ASAP. But I didn't know that he was, and he'd always had my best interests in mind.

"Dermot."

"Tell me you're still out of town."

I stopped in my tracks. "Why?"

"I found out the name of that next-door neighbor you've been looking for."

It took me a second to figure out what he was talking about. "You mean the neighbor with the box?"

"One and the same. The guy's name was Clive Maxwell. He lived there for about a year and a half before he was arrested for manslaughter. He got out of prison a couple of years ago."

"Manslaughter? Who did he murder?"

"His daughter."

It took me a moment to recover from my shock. "Sarah?"

He hesitated. "You know her name?"

"An old neighbor called me Sunday afternoon. They were both teenagers at the time. She told me she thought Sarah buried the box, and I guess her boyfriend's name was Jason. The initials in the notes fit. She didn't know any last names, though. She told me she heard Sarah died years back, but she didn't know the details."

"Her father beat her to death," he said in disgust. "His younger daughter saw the whole thing and was a witness in her father's trial. The idiot turned down a plea bargain and thought he could convince his daughter to lie for him. Turned out, she was all too eager to put her daddy away for life."

"She saw it?" I asked in horror.

"Yep, and it wasn't pretty. I gathered hitting them wasn't an uncommon occurrence, but he was trying to get something out of her. The younger sister?—"

"Luna," I said. "I heard her name was Luna."

"Luna said she wasn't sure what her father wanted, but her sister knew and refused to tell him, only saying she'd buried the box somewhere he'd never find it. She told him he had taken something important away from her, so she did the same to him."

"She was talking about her boyfriend," I said, my voice barely a whisper. The contents of the box had been sad before, but this was tragic.

"Yeah. Ol' Clive was beside himself with rage and beat the shit out of her. He even used a kitchen chair. When his rage ran out, he tried to get her to tell him where she'd buried it, but she was unconscious at that point. She died a few weeks later."

"Oh dear lord," I said, feeling lightheaded. "You said her father got out of prison a couple of years ago? Do you think he's the one looking for the box?"

"I'd bet money on it."

"How in the world did he find out about it?"

"Your employee?—"

"Jeremiah."

"Jeremiah," he corrected, "knew him through mutual friends. He mentioned they were working on a property on Olive Street, and it was a pretty extensive excavation. Clive told the group that he used to live on that street. Then he figured out that he'd lived next door to the house your crew was working on. He told Jeremiah that his daughter had buried something important to him and asked him to let him know if y'all came across a wooden box."

"He knew she'd buried the wooden box?"

"It was the girls' mother's box. He'd kept it in his room, and the daughter—Sarah—had taken it."

"And put her things inside it."

"Appears so. I talked to a friend of Jeremiah's and he said Jerimiah planned to tell Clive that he'd found the box, but he was gonna make him pay to get it back. Based on what Austin said, Maxwell's muscle killed Jeremiah before he could tell him where to find it."

"The package."

"The package," he affirmed. "But damned if I know what it is."

"Floppy disks."

"What?"

"Long story short, but the box broke this morning, and an old Ziploc bag with two floppy disks fell out. They're in my purse now."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at my office."

"Does anyone else know you're back in town?"

I realized I hadn't told Dermot I'd gone to my aunt and uncle's house, but he likely knew from Jed. "No. I dropped the kids off at school and daycare and then came to work. I'm about to start trying to clean up this massive mess."

"Are Jed and Neely Kate with you?"

"No, they had a doctor's appointment."

"You're there alone? I don't like it. I don't have anyone available to go watch you. Can Joe spare a deputy?"

"I don't know. Joe's dealing with his own situation right now." I paused. "He's supposed to be at the arraignment for Sloan Derby and his right-hand man, but instead he's investigating their deaths."

He was silent for a moment. " Excuse me? "

"They were found dead in their cells this morning."

"What the fuck happened to them?" he demanded.

He sure didn't sound like he'd been responsible for their deaths. "I don't know," I fibbed. "Joe's lookin' into it now."

"Now I really don't like you bein' alone," he grunted. "Lock yourself inside the office, and call someone you know in the sheriff's department."

"I will." I stuffed down my fear as I hung up, spun around, and locked the door. How had Clive Maxwell found out we had the box? Then again, we hadn't been quiet about it. He would have just needed to hear it from the right—or wrong—people.

I quickly called Joe, but the call went to voicemail. "I'm at the office now, but I got word that Clive Maxwell was the father of the girl who probably buried that box. And he…he was convicted of murdering his daughter because she took something of his and buried it. I've locked myself in the office, but please come over when you hear this." I paused. "I love you."

I hung up and called Randy next, but his phone when to voicemail too. "Randy, I think I'm in trouble. The father of the girl who buried that box we've been looking for was convicted of murdering his daughter. I've locked myself in my office, but Joe's investigatin' two deaths at the county jail, and I'm here alone." I paused. "If you get this, call me back. I'm hoping Joe will be over soon."

I hung up and considered calling 911, but this wasn't a true emergency. Clive Maxwell wasn't here. I was safe.

I took a deep breath to settle my nerves. I wasn't leaving this office for a while, so I might as well start cleaning.

I took a sip of my coffee, and then set my things down on the staircase leading to the roof. It was the only place that hadn't been vandalized.

If Clive Maxwell had trashed our office looking for the box, then maybe he wouldn't be back. And he hadn't broken into the farmhouse because our alarm hadn't gone off. Not to mention, he had no idea when we'd be back here. My nerves began to settle. I was perfectly safe, and I needed to focus on getting the office cleaned up.

I stood at the back of the room and took in the damage. From this angle, it looked worse than from the front. Grief hit me hard, catching me by surprise. I told myself it was just an office, and they were just things, but I'd put my heart and soul into building this place. A lot of the furniture, décor, and rugs had been thrifted, but all combined, they'd made a cozy haven that had filled my heart with joy.

"It'll be like that again," I said with a heavy-hearted sigh. I just needed to get started, but it was such an overwhelming mess. I wasn't sure what to tackle first.

I decided to start with the papers. Once they were all cleaned up, I could determine what real damage had been caused.

We kept all our plans and invoices on our computers and in a cloud, but we often printed them out too. Maybe this was our sign to clean out the old paperwork.

I'd picked up several stacks and set them in a pile on the floor when a knock came from the front door. An older man with longer gray hair and a brown jacket stood there.

Was this Clive Maxwell?

I took a step back as I assessed the situation. I was standing behind a locked door, but it struck me that the front door had been locked when he'd broken in the first time. Funny how I hadn't thought of that before now. I pulled my phone from my back pocket and started to call 911, but then I realized he could be some random man who wanted to talk about landscape design. The Henryetta Police Department would be the ones responding to the call, and they'd give me grief if this turned out to be nothing.

I pointed to the sign in the front door and shouted, "Sorry! We're closed." Although now that I thought about it, the mess was a sure sign we weren't open for business.

I pulled up Joe's number and called him, but it went straight to voicemail again. "Joe. When you get this message, I need you to come to my office ASAP. I think the man who killed Jeremiah might be at the front door."

The man outside the door looked pissed when he saw the phone in my hand. He grabbed the door handle and began to shake it.

I was going to need help sooner than Joe was going to get here, so I sucked up my pride and dialed 911.

"911, what's your emergency?" the dispatcher asked.

"My name is Rose Gardner, and I'm in my landscaping office across the street from the courthouse. There's a man outside the front door who is trying to get in."

"Is he threatening you, ma'am?"

"He's shouting at me through the glass door."

"So why don't you let him in?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but then again, it was the Henryetta PD. "My office is closed."

"Then if you tell him the situation, I'm sure he'll understand and come back when you open."

"You don't understand," I said in frustration. "He's now pounding on the glass with his fist!"

The man's face was flaming red as he beat the door. The heavy thuds echoed through the room.

"This doesn't sound like an emergency. It sounds like an eager customer, and in today's economy, you should be grateful," she said with an attitude, then sighed in exhaustion. " But, if you'd like, I'll send an officer out to see what's going on."

"Yes!" I practically shouted. " Please! "

"There's no need to get snippy, ma'am," she snapped as she hung up.

Clive wasn't about to give up on his quest to get inside, and I weighed my options. I could lock myself in the bathroom until someone showed up to help me, or I could go out the back door. The problem with the second option was my office was on the corner, and if he saw me going out the back door, he could round the corner and track me down in the alley.

Staying put seemed like the best option at the moment. But to be safe, I found my purse and pulled out my pepper spray. Too bad I didn't carry around my taser anymore. Or my gun.

Still, I couldn't just wait to see if he would give up or escalate his attempts to get in. I called Randy next and got his voicemail again. Instead of leaving a message, I pulled up the number for the sheriff's office and called Joe's assistant, Patty.

"Patty, this is Rose Gardner," I said in a rush when she answered.

"I'm afraid Sheriff Simmons isn't here right now, sweetheart," she said kindly. "He's at the county jail."

"I know, but I need your help."

"Oh," she said, sounding pleased. "I'm honored."

"There's a man outside my office door on the Henryetta Square, and he's trying to get in. Joe's not answering his phone."

"Oh, honey," she said, sounding concerned. "I'm afraid I can't help you. I don't even have a gun. You need to call 911."

"I already did that," I said. "But the Henryetta dispatcher said it wasn't an emergency. Can you please send a deputy out?"

"Of course, hon," she said. "I'll get on that right away. You stay safe now." Then she hung up.

"I'm trying to," I grumbled.

The man at the door looked even more pissed.

Then I realized I was out of time as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun.

Time to go out the back door.

Crouching down, I hurried toward the back of the office, then squatted by the back door as shots rang out, followed by the sound of splintering glass.

My heart was hammering in my ears as I thought through my options again. But I didn't really have an option. I could either cower here and wait for him to come shoot me, or I could go out the back door.

I stood up and reached for the deadbolt.