She heard Blake rummaging in the fridge, then the beep of the microwave. She smiled at how content she felt in this small, yellow, shotgun-style house filled with the people she loved. If she’d gotten her way about staying at the apartment, she wouldn’t be experiencing this right now. She’d be alone in her tiny space listening to the hum of souped-up cars spitting gravel in the street outside. By now she’d be in bed listening to the hum of a fan she used to drown out the arguments of the next-door neighbors at midnight. Contentment like this was found in small moments that created the foundation of security and belonging.
Blake returned holding two plates. “I cut a big piece of pie, but I can help you with that if it’s too much.”
She eyed the humongous slice. “I think it’s safe to say I’ll need help.” Levi’s kitten, Selah, was always the most interested in food of any kind, and she sprang up from Paradise’s lap to push her nose toward the plate. “Oh no you don’t.” Paradise lifted it out of the black-and-white cat’s reach.
“Shoo them off, and I’ll get the box. You’ll need your various appendages anyway.” He put his plate on the fireplace mantel out of reach of the cats and went to grab the box they’d left by the front door.
Selah meowed a complaint when Paradise put her down, but black Merlin and white Luna wandered over to the cat tree by the window. Bailey’s gray body was a streak as she sprinted in hotpursuit of a fly. Paradise smiled. Another one of those moments too inconsequential to matter, yet it did.
Blake returned carrying the enormous box and set it by her feet, then he grabbed his plate and took a bite of the shrimp. He settled beside her with his food. “Did Lily say what all was in it?”
“She didn’t. I wanted to ask her about the answering machine, but I thought it might be more fun to discover what’s in the box on my own.” Paradise had already had a couple bites of the pie and pushed the rest of it toward him before she reached down to remove the box’s lid.
She reached for the brightly colored fabric on top. “I think it’s a quilt top!” She spread it out on the floor, and Bailey made a leap for the dangling threads on the end. Paradise pushed the kitty away with her bare foot. “Oh no you don’t.”
The various shades of blue and gray interlocking rings were overlaid on a black background, and the contrast was stunning. “It’s a double wedding ring pattern. I remember Mom saying she was going to go blind if she had to finish it. But it looks complete. And it’s big enough for a king bed. I think she was making it for herself and planned to enter it in a 4-H contest.”
Blake touched one of the rings. “It’s beautiful.”
She scooped it into her arms and pressed her face into it. It still held the faint aroma of her mom’s perfume, and tears rushed to her eyes. Her mother’s face swam so clearly into her memory, and she wished she could remember the name of the citrusy, fruity scent. It would be a way to hold her close, even now.
Paradise sniffled and laid aside the quilt. “I’ll see if I can find someone to attach the backing and quilt it.”
He set his hand on her knee. “I can stitch up a cut, but I’m hopeless with a sewing machine.”
The thought of Blake bent over a sewing machine made hereven more misty-eyed. He’d do most anything for her. She dove back into the box and pulled up the black backing. “I think all the parts are here, even the batting.” Deeper into the box she found a bottle of Princess perfume by Vera Wang. “This is what she wore! I couldn’t remember the name.” She lowered her voice before she woke the boys. “Trying to remember the name of her perfume was driving me crazy.”
A memory hit her and she gasped. “When Dad surprised her he brought her a gift. It was a bottle of this perfume.” Was this the bottle Mom had held that day? Paradise swallowed hard and bent over the box again. A notebook filled with recipes was the next item out of the box, and she flipped through it, remembering her mother’s ham tetrazzini. The recipe was in here. She was going to enjoy trying the foods from her childhood.
She reached back into the box. At the very bottom was the answering machine, but the elation she’d thought she’d feel felt a lot like dismay.
She wasn’t sure she was ready to hear what it might hold.
Chapter 19
Blake plugged in the answering machine. It was a Casio PhoneMate with digital recording capability, and he’d already skimmed the booklet. “This thing must have been the bomb back then. It didn’t use a tape and had eighteen minutes of storage for messages. As long as Lily never used it, whatever was recorded on it at the time of the murders should still be on it.”
Paradise stopped his hand when he started to hit the Play button. “I’m afraid, Blake.”
“You don’t have to listen to it. I can do it and write down anything important.”
She pulled her hand back. “I’m being childish. It’s not like it’s going to be Mom screaming as she’s dying or anything.” Paradise gulped and nodded. “Go ahead.”
“If it’s too much, we’ll hit the Stop button. It may not even work.” But his intuition said it would work fine and might hold some important information. He pressed the saved messages button with one hand and clutched her fingers with the other.
“December 12, 2005, at 2:00 p.m.”Then the beep.“I’m trying to reach Becky Alden. This is William Fletcher, and I’ve been hired totrack down the child you gave up for adoption. You can reach me at this number.”He rattled off a phone number.“It’s very important you call me back.”
“The PI,” Blake said.
Paradise nodded and clutched his hand tighter. “Just a couple of months before they died.”
The machine moved on to the next saved message.“January 25, 2005, at 11:00 a.m.”A beep came, then a male voice.“Becky, it’s me. I—I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think you’re in danger. I want you to get out of town for a little while. Be careful, sweetheart. We can’t be together right now. Be patient.”
A week before the murders.Why hadn’t Becky listened and gotten out of town?
“January 25, 2005, at 6:00 p.m.”A beep sounded and the next saved message started.“It’s Sheriff Davis, Becky. I just received some terrible news. I hate to give it to you over the phone, but I can’t get home for another hour or two. You need to get out of the house. Ben is dead, and I think whoever killed him is coming after you next. Tell Granger the truth. Take Paradise and hole up somewhere. Take this seriously, please.”
“The sheriff was protecting her like Booker Lewis said,” Paradise murmured.
