The man paused across the street from her house.
Sadie was sure that he was staring up at her.
She shivered and stepped out of view, the drapes flowing back into place. When her breathing calmed, she edged toward the window again and took a surreptitious peek.
Gail, a neighbor from across the street, was walking Kali, a Shih Tzu poodle. But other than the woman and her dog, the sidewalk was empty.
Sadie locked all the doors and windows, and set the security alarm.
3
After Sadie dropped Sam off at school the next morning, she drove to Sobeys for milk and laundry detergent. Walking past the bakery section, she was flagged down by Liz Crenshaw, a vivacious food demonstrator who talked a mile a minute.
“Sadie! I was just thinking about you. How are you?”
Though the petite woman was in her early fifties, she looked closer to thirty-five. Liz had three grown children and four grandchildren who all lived back east. Without her family around to spoil, she was a sucker for Sam. And Sam adored her.
“How’s your little boy doing?” Liz asked, smoothing a stray auburn curl behind one ear. “It’s Sam’s birthday soon, isn’t it?”
Sadie tucked the milk under her arm and reached for a custard pie sample. “Monday. But his party’s on Sunday. He’s excited about all the birthday gifts he’ll be getting.”
Liz passed her a plastic spoon. “What did you get him?”
“A new bike,” Sadie said between mouthfuls. “I’m not giving it to him until Monday though.”
“I’d like to get him something. From Auntie Liz. What does he want, hon? Games? Books?”
Sadie grinned. “A pet bat.”
The woman shuddered. “Ugh. That boy’s got strange taste.”
Sadie frowned at the empty sample dish in her hand, then greedily eyed the others on the stand. “Yeah, I’m trying to talk my husband into getting him a puppy as a compromise.”
“Aw, I bet Sam’ll love that.”
“Yeah, but Philip hasn’t said yes yet.”
And he probably won’t.
After two more samples, Sadie headed home. As she drove, she thought about Philip’s relationship with Sam. He barely saw his son. Whenever he did, there was always an uncomfortable strain in the air. He never said anything to Sam, unless he wanted him to pick up something off the floor, and then Philip’s voice was always so intolerant. And he never played with Sam. He was always too busy, or he didn’t want to wrinkle his shirt or get his pants dirty.
She let out a sigh. She’d give anything to see Philip on the floor beside his son, both of them playing with dinosaurs or action figures—anything.
Entering the house, she headed straight for the kitchen and put the milk jug in the fridge. In the laundry room, she started a load of darks and threw the whites into the dryer. The morning passed quickly as she lost herself in her regular routine of housework.
After a bite to eat, she sat down at the small desk in the corner of the living room. She pulled out some watercolor paper and began drafting the cover for Going Batty. By two o’clock, she had created outlines of the cover and the first four pages.
“Looking good,” she murmured.
She packed away the drawings and began straightening the pillows on the two sofas. Flicking a look around the room, she scowled at its stark white simplicity. She had wanted to decorate the spacious room with fresh flowers and colorful prints. But Philip wouldn’t have it. He liked things the way they were. Everything in its place, no frivolous touches. The only room she’d been allowed free reign was Sam’s.
The phone rang. It was her agent in Calgary.
“Hey, Jackson,” she said. “I thought you’d forgotten me.”
There was a feigned gasp on the other end. “I could never do that. You’re a Starr, remember?”
Starr Literary Agency, run by Toronto native Jackson Starr, was giving the bigwigs in New York a run for their money.
“Any word on the conference tour?” she asked.
“That’s why I’m calling. I have you booked in five cities in September, including the Crime Writers Conference in Toronto and Criminal Minds at Work in New York.”
She grinned into the phone. “How rich did you make me?”
“Five thousand, plus hotel and travel expenses.”
“Well, that made my day. Thanks.”
“Any time. I’ll deposit the check into your account this afternoon.” There was a ruffle of paper. “So when you coming to visit us?”
Sadie gaze was drawn to Philip’s office door. He was at work, but she still felt his presence, his disapproval. He didn’t like Jackson, was jealous of him.
“Sorry, Jackson. I won’t be able to get away for a bit. Maybe when I finish Sam’s book.”
“How’s it coming?”
She filled him in on her progress, then hung up.
The thought of the extra money in her private account elated her. Philip maintained control over most of their money, which he had tied up in investments. He gave her a weekly household allowance with the agreement that any money she made would be used for Sam’s basic expenses and her own. Thank God, she made a decent income. Maybe this summer they could finally go to Disneyland.
Thoughts of a family vacation, sunshine, castles and rides filled her mind and she practically danced into the laundry room. When the third load was dry, she folded Sam’s clothes and placed them in a basket, along with a pair of Philip’s socks that she’d discovered behind the laundry hamper. Gripping the basket under one arm, she trudged upstairs.
In the master bedroom, she opened the top drawer of the tallboy dresser and tried to ignore the five airplane bottles of alcohol that clinked together. Philip had made a halfhearted attempt to hide them under his long johns.
Five bottles, five drinks.
She tossed the socks in and slammed the drawer shut. Then she moved into the hallway, hesitating outside the door to Sam’s bedroom. She wasn’t sure why, but when her hand touched the brass doorknob, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. With a nervous laugh, she turned the knob and stepped inside.
A quick survey of Sam’s room told her that nothing was out of the ordinary, so she set the laundry basket on the bed, next to a Batman t-shirt that had been tossed on the pillow.
She sniffed the shirt. “Clean.”
Folding it, she placed it on top of the clothes in the basket. Then she gathered up the toy T-Rex, Raptors and Pterodactyls that were scattered on the floor and put them in the treasure chest. A few minutes later, Sam’s clothes had been put away in the dresser, with the exception of an Oilers jacket.
She moved toward the closet, the jacket in hand.
Ssss…
The sound brought her to a halt.
“Get a grip. What would Philip say if he saw you?” She laughed derisively. “He’d say you’re being a stupid fool.”
She hauled the door open.
The closet was a jumble of toys and clothes. On the floor, jammed between two stuffed animals, a red balloon left over from the Valentine’s Day parade hissed at her mockingly.
As it deflated, she echoed the sound. “Idiot.”
She hung up the jacket, tossed the balloon in the garbage and went downstairs. An hour later, she headed out to pick up Sam, the balloon long forgotten.
“It’s Friday,” she said as they left the school. “Park day.”
Sam let out a whoop, his mouth lined with orange Kool-Aid.
She frowned. “We have to wash that face before Daddy sees.”
They crossed the parking lot and followed the sidewalk to the playground. A light blanket of snow still covered the grass, but that didn’t deter the dozen or so children that played in the park.
She settled Sam on a swing and closed her fingers over his.