Page 15 of Whispers of Redemption

After she’d returned to PCS the day before and explained everything to Tami and Howard, they had insisted that she take a couple of days off. After a brief, half-hearted argument, she’d agreed.

She combed her damp hair to remove the tangles, then left the dark red strands to air dry as she padded into her tiny kitchen area. It was simple but efficient, with minimal counter space and just enough room for the small fridge, sink, and stove. A single window framed with blue-patterned curtains gave the space a bright, cheery air.

Cassie was famished, but filled Angel’s food and water bowls before making herself a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast with raspberry jam. While she ate, she read over her notes from her last psychology class and checked to see if there were any notifications about Angel.

“Nothing yet,” she told the little dog, who now sat patiently watching her.

Cassie put her dishes and pan to soak in the sink and threw on a pair of athletic shoes.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” she said. “Be good.” She closed the door behind her, but looked back before heading down the steps. Angel now sat on the back of her loveseat, watching her from the window behind it that overlooked the driveway. For some reason, she felt a wave of guilt at leaving her behind, but shook it off as she crossed the yard to the side door of the main house. Cassie gave a rhythmic tap before swinging the door open, not waiting to be let in.

“I’m in the house!” she called out.

She stepped inside and not long afterward heard the sound of approaching footsteps. A moment later, Rachel entered the kitchen, gardening gloves in her hand.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Rachel smiled warmly and crossed the room to embrace Cassie. Her short dark hair was threaded with strands of silver and was pulled back into a tiny, low ponytail. She wore old, faded jeans that were frayed at the seams and a well-worn T-shirt that sported a faded “for KING & COUNTRY” concert logo. “I was just about to go work on my flowers.”

Rachel stepped around the island where Cassie now sat and moved to the countertop where the always-full coffeemaker sat. Cassie was already sipping on a steaming mug of coffee that she’d just helped herself to. Rachel was a retired high school English teacher, but still maintained her habit of drinking multiple cups each morning. She refilled her favorite mug, an artistic piece of pottery painted in swirls of rich blues and soft greens. Rachel loved that it had been made by a local artist she once met, a woman who had discovered her sculpting talent later in life. “It’s a reminder that we’re never too old to learn something new,” she’d always say.

Rachel took a deep swallow, then studied Cassie’s face. “You look tired. Did the puppy keep you up all night? Or were you up late studying?”

“Studying,” Cassie said, and took another sip. “But it was a lot more than school that affected my sleep last night.”

Rachel gave Cassie a questioning look as she took a seat on the stool beside her. She leaned against the curved backrest and listened without interruption as Cassie relayed to her all the events of the day before.

“My goodness,” Rachel said when she finished. “That sounds terrifying, Cassie. I’m so glad the thief was only interested in the package and didn’t do anything to hurt you.”

“I know I should be grateful about that. But right now, I’m just so angry,” Cassie said. “You know, years ago, I couldn’t have cared less about something like this. But now...” She watched the steam swirl up from the mug cupped in her hands. “Well, I’ve worked so hard to develop my reputation as PCS’s number one employee, Rachel. It’s driving me nuts that I couldn’t stop that guy. I want to do something. I want to figure out who did this, find the painting, and make it right.”

“I can see that,” Rachel said, nodding. “But this is really a job for the police.”

Cassie made a noncommittal sound and took a final swallow of her coffee.

“So, what are you going to do with your day off?” Rachel said, then added with a teasing gleam in her eye, “Maybe you’d like to help me weed.”

Cassie grinned at her. When she’d first come to live with them, Rachel often got Cassie to open up and work through her feelings while they worked side by side among her numerous flower beds.

“As much as I would adore to help you weed, I have other plans for this unexpected day off.” Cassie hopped down from her stool and took the two empty mugs over to the large farmhouse sink to rinse them. Then she placed them inside the dishwasher.

“Like what?” Rachel asked, slipping on her gardening gloves.

Cassie faced Rachel across the island. “Like for starters, I’m going to call the police to see where they’re at on their investigation.”

“Oh, Cassie, do you really want to bother them already?” Rachel said. “It’s been less than twenty-four hours!”

“Yes!” Cassie said, pulling her cell phone out of her back pocket. “I want to keep the fire lit under their butts. Because the odds of them catching this guy will be a lot greater the faster they move.”

Rachel threw up her gloved hands in resignation. “Okay, okay. You’re an adult now. I know when to back off.” She got down from her own stool and with another quick hug, she went out the side door leaving Cassie alone in the kitchen.

Cassie sat back down at the island and dialed the number she’d put in her phone the day before from the business card Officer Garcia had given her. She bounced the heel of one foot on the footrest of her stool, impatient as she waited while the phone rang.

“Officer Riley, may I help you,” the deep voice of Wade Riley filled her ear.

“Oh!” Cassie said, confused, her foot paused in mid-bounce. “I thought I was calling Officer Garcia.”

“No, this is Officer Riley. We share this line. May I help you?”

“Yes, this is Cassie Sherwin, regarding the art theft from my van yesterday evening,” she said.

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