Lib Novel Page 139
The idea is oddly satisfying.
As the minutes turn into an hour, the frustration on Eve’s face is growing. Whatever she is searching for, she hasn’t found it.
She reaches into her pocket and takes out another burner phone, similar to the one she broke in the alleyway. The shape and color look to be the same from where I’m standing. As she dials a number and presses the phone to her ear, I listen in.
Her voice is not quiet, but she’s very abrupt and to the point, making it hard for me to follow the conversation.
“No proof. There’s nothing I can find here to link him to this woman. We may have been chasing a dead end all this time.”
She pauses for a while as the person on the other end says something. Then, she shakes her head. “It could be that this was just an accident. Maybe he doesn’t suspect anything. I can’t find anything that connects the two of them. We could be wrong. She could have been here as a retiree.”
A few seconds later, Eve nods and ends the call. After looking around once more, she starts walking toward the front of the house. I immediately duck around the corner into the bushes outside.
I hear the front door open and then slam shut. Peering around the edge of the house, I wait till Eve has retreated into the forest. Once I’m sure she’s not coming back, I head inside Rita’s cottage.
The lights are off now, and I don’t make a huge show of turning on every light in the place like Eve did. Instead, I feel my way to the study, where I turn on a small desk lamp.
It looks worse from here. The entire room is in disarray.
Unable to help myself, I start picking up some of the items that Eve tossed on the floor during her search. What was it that she was looking for? Maybe the parchment slips Alex and I found the night of Rita’s murder? When she was on the phone, it sounded like Eve was trying to connect Rita and someone else: a male. Could it be that she was trying to link Rita to her attacker? Does Eve know who the killer is?
Somebody out there knows something. I wish I could simply go up to them and demand answers.
I let out a deep breath. I should get going. I don’t know how long those men out there will be unconscious. The last thing I need right now is to get caught.
I’m about to leave when I see a small cactus plant tucked in the middle of the books on the small shelf over the desk. My feet freeze to the ground as I stare at it, a wave of grief washing over me.
That plant was the first gift I ever gave Rita. Elsa had encouraged me to bring her a housewarming present, and not knowing what she might like, I had picked up the cactus at the florist. It’s a very small plant, and I had expected her to stick it someplace and forget about it. I never knew she’d kept it all this time. It’s in plain view, and every time she sat at her desk, she would have seen it.
Slowly, I approach it and pick it up. Even cactus plants need some level of attention, and Rita was clearly taking care of this one. It’s healthy, and the soil has a slight hint of moisture to it. On the bottom of the pot, I feel something slick. I look, and there’s a small piece of tape under there. On it is written, in permanent marker, “Gift from Sophia.”
My eyes burn with emotion. All this time!
I’m about to put the plant back when I see something sticking out from behind the books. It’s a tiny, black notebook. I’ve seen it plenty of times; Rita always carried it with her, and on occasion, I would see her scribbling in it when I dropped by. She always put it away instantly when she saw me.
I pluck it out from behind the books and open it. Rita’s writing always was rather neat.
The page I’ve opened to is a random entry of what is clearly a diary.
“Sophia brought me extra bread rolls today. She’s a sweet girl. Buster is her biggest fan, even if he doesn’t show it.”
I smile sadly and flip through the journal.
There’s an entry on every page, but the dates show she didn’t write one daily.
Near the front of the book, I read, “I gave more than half my life to Elmer, and he was willing to turn his back on me when we were both old and ready to retire, simply because he found his fated mate?”
The pen pressed deep into the paper with each stroke, and I can almost see Rita’s scowl as she wrote these words. I never knew Elmer had found his fated mate. Rita never mentioned it. Did he not die in battle, then? Did he leave Rita?
I turn the page and realize the entry continues. It’s not a short one like the others I’ve already seen.
“Did he really think I would just let him walk away? I stood by him through everything. I stood by him when he was abusive and a drunk, when he was depressed, when the whole world was against him. I was his rock. Why was it so easy for him to think he could just abandon me? He lived a lifetime with me, not with that woman.”
I feel a pang of sadness for Rita. She was in pain when she wrote this.
The next page makes me gasp.
“It’s not like I wanted to kill him, but the situation escalated. I knew he would do anything to be with her. And he had no regret about leaving me behind. As far as he was concerned, he simply found another woman to take care of him. And me? I lost everything. I lost my leg saving his life. In return, he was going to walk out on me?”