The younger detective quickly scoped the yard, checking the perimeter of the house, while Jay followed her to the porch.
“Did you move it?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not an inch.”
“Good.”
He slipped on a pair of latex gloves, crouched down near the box and cautiously lifted the lid. Releasing a hissed breath, he gave her a fleeting look. Then he eased the box into a clear plastic bag and sealed it.
“Take this to the lab,” he said to Patterson when the man returned. “I’ll stay with Ms. O’Connell until her husband arrives.”
Patterson drove away, tires squealing.
“What was in the box?” she asked, her stomach quivering.
“Sadie, I think we should wait—”
“Just tell me, Jay. It’s better than letting my imagination run wild. What was it?”
“A child’s toe.”
Sadie’s knees buckled and she collapsed against the house.
Jay rushed to her side. “Jesus, I’m so sorry,” he said, helping her inside. “I’ll call Victim Services for you.”
“No!” She grabbed his arm. “I need to be alone.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized what she had said. “I don’t mean you have to go. I just don’t want to be surrounded by strangers. I need to think. I need to call Philip. I need… oh God!”
She sagged into a chair at the kitchen table and rocked back and forth, trying not to think of the box. Or Sam’s toe. Or the monster who took him. She hugged her arms across her chest.
Sammmm!
“Where do you keep your tea cups?” Jay asked firmly.
A flurry of thoughts bombarded her mind. What will he cut off next? Another toe? Another finger? Something else?
“Sadie?” Jay touched her arm.
She choked back a sob. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“Tea cups?”
“In the china cabinet,” she said, watching him.
Jay found the kettle, filled it and plugged it in. When the water boiled, he looked at her and she pointed to a cupboard where she kept the teapot and tea. A few minutes later, he poured two cups of the strong brew, laced them with lots of cream and sugar, and hefted his bulk into a chair.
“I’m not very good at knowing what to do in situations like this,” he apologized.
“The tea is good,” she said. “Thanks for the distraction.”
“My mother always used to say that the world’s troubles could be solved by a pot of tea,” he mumbled. “It’s the only thing I can think of doing when things go bad.”
She studied his tired, wrinkled face. “And things are really bad, aren’t they?”
“We don’t know if it’s Sam’s toe,” he said quietly. “I’ll have it analyzed right away.”
She blinked rapidly, holding back the tears. “He said he’d send Sam back in pieces. First his finger, now his toe.” She moaned and cradled her head in her hands.
“I wish I could do something, Sadie.”
She heard the helplessness in his voice. She felt the same way.
“Thank you, Jay.”
“I’m sorry that you’re being taunted like this,” he said. “And I’m so sorry he’s hurt your son.”
She nodded mutely.
“I want you to know we’re doing everything…” His voice drifted away. “Hell, I know there’s nothing I can say that’ll make you feel any better.” Frustrated, he ran a hand through his thin gray hair. “I’d give anything for a break on this case.”
She felt a surge of pity for Jay. His face was lined with worry and years of hopeless cases. “Thank you.”
“I’ve spent too many years on the job,” he confessed. “It doesn’t get any easier.”
“There must be something you get out of it, something rewarding.”
He smiled grimly. “Catching the bastards.”
Good, she thought. That’s what she wanted too.
“You must travel a lot,” she said offhandedly.
“Not much. I have a little… problem.”
Her brow lifted. “What kind of problem?”
“I, uh…” His mouth curled wryly. “I don’t like flying.”
“Long waits and crowded airports,” she guessed. “Or nine-eleven.”
“None of the above. I’m afraid of flying.” He stood slowly and wandered toward the doorway to the living room. “I’m going to call your husband.”
For a few moments—only a few though—he had taken her mind off the horrible reality that her son had been brutally dismembered. She sensed that Jay Lucas was not used to showing his own vulnerability. Then she thought of hers—Sam. He was her number one weakness.
However, she had one more. And it was calling her name.
“Jay,” she said, standing on shaky legs. “I need to lie down for a bit.”
“I’ll clean up,” he offered. “Oh, and Philip is on his way.”
She excused herself and headed down the hall.
Her conscience argued, “Don’t do it!” But she was beyond listening. All she could think of was the box with Sam’s toe. She needed something to numb her pain, make her forget. And there was one thing that was guaranteed to do just that.
In Philip’s office, she grabbed a set of keys from the top desk drawer. Then she unlocked the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet—the one Philip had always told her was for business.
Business? Yeah, right!
She’d discovered the bottles a month ago when she was searching for an empty file folder. Philip had left the drawer unlocked. When she confronted him, he told her that the six bottles of ridiculously expensive Screaming Eagle Cabernet had been given to him by one of his wealthy clients after a successful corporate merger.
She had never touched the bottles—until today.
The wine called to her. Sadie… drink me… I’ll help you forget.
Seduced by its persuasive promise, she climbed the stairs, a corkscrew in one hand and a bottle in the other. As soon as she reached her bedroom, she uncorked the red wine and sniffed it. The aroma was intense and sulfurous—like a mix of earth, concentrated fruit and something murky that simmered beneath the surface.
She scrunched her face, wondering if there was any other alcohol in the house. But short of drinking the vanilla extract that her parents had bought in Mexico, this was the best she had.
“Suck it up, Princess.”
She didn’t even bother with a glass. Sipping directly from the bottle, she hardly tasted it at first. The wine slid down her throat, leaving a fiery trail behind. When her taste buds finally registered, she was shocked by the almost undrinkable quality of the wine.
“Must be an acquired taste,” she mumbled.
She tossed back the wine, forcing her throat to swallow. As she welcomed the warm infusion of alcohol into her body, a few drops spilled from the corner of her mouth and onto the cream-colored carpet. They resembled spatters of blood.
“What are you doing, Sadie?” she whispered.
The wine found its way to her mouth again.
Forgetting.
Half a bottle later, she was more than a little drunk. Hiding the Cabernet behind her nightstand, she staggered into the bathroom where a bottle of sleeping pills waited. She shook some into her palm. It was tempting to take them all, slip into a deep and permanent sleep, but she took one and put the rest back.
Then she flopped face-first onto the bed and passed out.
The days passed uneventfully.
While Jay worked overtime on Sam’s case, the fraud investigation into Philip and Morris resulted in both men being hauled down to the police station for questioning. When Sadie went to meet Philip, he was in a state of panic.
“Thank God you’re here,” he said, gripping her hand.
She yanked it away. “I’m not sure why you want me here.”
“Well, you are still my wife.”
“Not for long. Once the divorce papers are finalized—” She broke off. “You filed them, didn’t you?”