Chapter Six – When Duty Calls

by countthestars17

The wooden table was old and scarred, its once polished surface having long lost its luster. Sadie didn’t notice the divots and nicks in the wood, however – her mind was preoccupied with the small slip of paper lying on top of the table. It was nearly as worn as the wood, due to an accidental trip through the washer and Sadie’s worrying fingers.

Even now, she couldn’t stop fiddling with it, turning it over and over in her hands, her brow furrowed in concentration. With a disgusted snort, she tossed it down on the table and put her hands firmly in her lap.

“This is stupid, Griff,” she spoke aloud. “I’ve had his number for over three weeks now. I’m not going to call him.”

As if listening to her every word, Griff cocked his head.

“I mean, three weeks? That’s ridiculous! How would you even explain that gap? ‘Oh, sorry about not calling you for nearly a month, I was busy trying not to care’?”

Smiley a drooly, doggy smile, Griff wagged his tail encouragingly.

“Besides, he had that self-assured, pretty boy look about him – like he expects women to just fall down at his feet! Bet he doesn’t have to do more than crook his finger and beautiful women come running. I hate guys like that.”

With a sigh, Sadie knelt down and began rubbing Griffin’s ears just the way he liked it. “Who am I kidding? If I can’t tell you the truth, Griff, who can I tell? I know it’s been years since Alex, but I’m just not ready.”

Despite his above-average canine intelligence, Griff was unable to come up with a solution to Sadie’s distress. Whining, he licked her face.

Sadie smiled. “Thanks, pal. You know you’re the only man I need in my life. The two-legged variety come with too many complications for my taste. Speaking of taste, what do you say we have some lunch, huh?

With a joyous bark, Griff followed Sadie into the kitchen. When she pulled a head of lettuce and other assorted vegetables from the fridge, however, he gave a defeated sigh and went to lie down in the living room.

“No need for that attitude!” Sadie called after him. “Vegetables are good for you, dog!” Unsurprisingly, Griff didn’t answer, so Sadie set to the task of chopping lettuce alone.

Despite her resolve to forget about the number — and the man who had given it to her — she couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering back to the little white card lying prone on the kitchen table. It turned out to be a very stupid idea when the flashing blade sliced into her finger.

“Ouch!” she yelped, running to the sink and sticking the injured digit under a soothing stream of cool water. “It’s a sign from the universe,” she muttered under breath. “Calling him will only lead to pain and misery.”

The sting was just beginning to subside when the phone rang. With a sigh – was she ever going to get to sit down and enjoy a tasty lunch? – Sadie glanced at the caller ID, suppressed a groan, and picked up the phone.

“Hi, Mom.”

Sadie’s mother was a well-meaning, but generally overbearing sort of person. She was also more than capable of holding up not only her end of the conversation, but Sadie’s as well.

“Well, no, I was just making a salad… yes, some of the produce is organic, but the dressing is a local product… no, I didn’t know that particular brand was a proven carcinogen… no… well, Mom, you can’t believe everything you hear on the news… yes, I’m sure that story is true, I saw it on the news here, too… a serial killer? I only heard about one woman… no… no… yes… Griffin is the best security anyone could have; I’m perfectly safe with him around… yes… no… Mom, my work is here, my house is here, I can’t just pack up and come home… yes, I promise to lock all the doors… in fact, I’m checking right now… yes, yes, all locked… I’ll be safe, love you too.”

Sadie hung up the phone and rubbed her temple where a headache was beginning to bud. Even a twenty minute phone call, which was relatively short for her mother, was enough to make her head pound.

“You lie to your mother often?”

Sadie jumped and whirled around at the unexpected voice.

“Claire! You scared the shit out of me!”

Claire looked up from where she was kneeling down, scratching Griff behind the ears and grinned. “Checked all the locks, did you? You do know that that thing on your back door, that’s a lock too?”

Sadie took a few steps toward Claire in the living area, not wanting to face the now wilted salad waiting for her in the kitchen. “Yes, smart ass, I was aware of the lock situation on the back door. Creepy of you, by the way, to take advantage of my unlocked doors and waltz right in.”

Grinning, Claire stood up. “You should really listen to your mother. You’re gonna break her heart, lying to her like that!”

“You’ve never met my mother,” Sadie retorted. “She would incite the Pope to lie! I can’t be blamed for my actions.”

“Uh huh. And what do you say when she asks if you’re seeing anyone?”

Warning bells started going off in Sadie’s head. She had to tread very, very carefully. “I see people all the time.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “We’re going to play that game, are we? I mean, seeing people romantically.” She put extra emphasis on the word and fluttered her eyelashes at Sadie.

“What, are you and my mother in cahoots or something? I’m not seeing anyone – romantically or otherwise.”

Claire looked at Griff as if he were in on it, too. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

“Anyway,” Sadie interrupted, desperate to get the subject far away from her love life, “What brings you unannounced into my house?”

Nodding to a bag sitting beside the back door that Sadie hadn’t noticed before, Claire answered, “Returning the muffin tin I borrowed last week.  Gotta say, I’m really not great at that whole ‘baking’ thing.” Claire grabbed the bag and started towards the kitchen. “I managed to burn all the muffins on the outside of the pan, while under cooking the ones in the middle. How is that even…” She trailed off.

“How is that even what?” Sadie asked, walking over to see what had distracted Claire.

Oh, shit.

“Dominic Young, FBI Special Agent?” Claire read from the card Sadie had stupidly left lying on the table, the muffin tin abandoned on the floor mere feet from the kitchen.

Sadie suppressed a strong urge to snatch it out of Claire’s hands. That would only increase her suspicion. She had to try for nonchalance, feign indifference. “He was at the search for that lost jogger a few weeks ago. Gave me his card… as uh… a business contact.”

“It’s awfully worn. You can barely read it.”

“Yeah, well. I accidentally ran it through the washer.” Sadie admitted. That was okay to say, right? Claire wouldn’t blow that out of proportion, would she?

“You accidentally ran it through the washer,” Claire repeated. “And then fished it out. And kept it. On your kitchen table. Instead of, I don’t know, your office?”

“I, uh…” Don’t blush, don’t blush, please don’t blush.

“Ha! You might get away with lying to your mother, but it won’t work with me; your pasty skin will always give you away! Business contact, my ass. You don’t blush for business contacts. He gave you his card for personal reasons, didn’t he?”

Sadie stalled, trying to come up with an answer. If she gave Claire an inch, she’d take a mile – and she was not in the mood to deal with Claire in full match-maker mode.

“Wait a second,” Claire exclaimed before Sadie could come up with anything. “Dominic Young – I recognize this name. Oh my God, Sadie, is he one of those cute FBI boys I saw on TV talking about that serial killer? Girl, you need to get on that!”

A change in subject. Sadie pounced. “You know, this is the second time today someone’s mentioned a serial killer. That’s pretty big news, right? I should really watch the news, get the scoop on this guy and–”

“Don’t you change the subject! I’m on to your tricks, sweetheart. Have you called him yet? Do you think he’ll even answer during the day? Well, you could leave a message, I’m sure he’d call you right back. Then again, it’s kind of hard to make out the number. Maybe you should wait ‘til later, after business hours–”

“Whoa, Claire, slow down! He gave me his three number weeks ago. I’m sure he’s moved on to another flavor of the week by now.”

The news stunned Claire only temporarily. “Three weeks, huh? So you’ve held on to his number that long? Interesting.”

Sadie did not like the way Claire said ‘interesting.’ That word could be very dangerous, coming from Claire’s mouth. Sadie could think of only one way to stop this trainwreck. It was something she should have done three weeks ago.

Plucking the card from Claire’s hands, Sadie practically ran to the kitchen and threw it in the garbage. Claire was a grown woman; there was no way she’d stoop to rifling through the trash to get it out.

At least, Sadie hoped not.

Claire got that look in her eye that meant she wasn’t giving up without a fight, and Sadie mentally prepared herself for battle. But before Claire could do whatever it was that she was going to do, the phone rang.

“I swear, if it’s my mother again…” Sadie grumbled, grabbing for it mid-ring. “Hello?”

It wasn’t her mother. But it was a perfect excuse to avoid a brawl with Claire. After asking a few questions, clarifying the details, Sadie hung up.

“Gotta jet. Got a call for a search.” She tried to keep the smugness out of her voice. She might be avoiding match-maker Claire, but missing people were never a joke.

“Well, if there was ever a convenient time to get a search call,” Claire muttered. She paused after a moment’s reflection, then asked, “Is it hard? Just dropping everything and going when you get the call?”

All traces of smugness left Sadie’s voice. “When you know the feeling of missing a loved one, and you know there’s a chance to make that feeling go away for someone – it’s worth it, Claire.”

“Well-put. Good luck, Sadie.” Claire smiled. “We’ll continue this conversation later, okay?”

“Thanks,” Sadie said, ignoring Claire’s last comment. “Hey, help yourself to a salad. Cancer-free dressing’s in the fridge.”

Whistling for Griff, Sadie scooped up the bag she kept packed for unexpected searches and headed out the door. As she shut the door behind her, she heard Claire say to no one in particular, “Cancer-free dressing? Does cancerous dressing even exist?”

 

 

Chapter Seven – Snowball’s Chance in Hell