Cold Water Creek by Steven LaBree

Author:Steven LaBree [LaBree, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery; paranormal; murder; police; detective; love; ghost; spirit; surpernatural; secrets; lies; high school; kids; new adult;
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2022-10-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

A big surprise was the divorce was amicable and went smoothly. I think back and understand that it was more likely because Jenna got her way. I didn’t fight anything. I didn’t have any fight left in me. Jenna ended up with the house, my Jeep, and whatever else my life was when we were together. The fact was I just wanted out and to move on with my life. I did, and Lacy was the first glimmer of hope I had seen in a while.

The beach was a bust, and I wasn’t about to hang around while Jenna was there. I got home and tossed my keys on the counter. As I charged my phone, I noticed I had missed a call from my mother. I had hit the silence button inadvertently and didn’t feel the vibration in my pocket. Her voicemail wasn’t clear, and she sounded tired or confused. She stammered, or should I say mumbled something. Then her voice faded, and she hung the phone. I didn’t understand why she called, but there was a concern. I dialed her up.

“Sorry I missed your call, Mom. What’s up?”

“Did I call you?” she said. “I don’t think I did. Did I?”

I remembered her forgetfulness. “Uh. No. I meant to say sorry that I hadn’t called you earlier. Anyhow, since I have you, I was thinking about taking you shopping. You know, for your birthday.”

“I would love that, Carter.”

“Lunch also?”

“Sounds good.”

It seemed it had always been the two of us against the world. Dad had passed over twenty-five years back, and I felt this was a big deal for Mom, and it was only us, except for Uncle Derek and Amy.

“I’ll pick you up in the morning,” I said.

“I’ll be ready at nine if that’s okay with you,” she said.

“Sure. We’ll get breakfast.”

I hadn’t felt well all week, and the weekend appeared as if it wouldn’t be any different. I thought it was too much time at the gym and too little time sleeping because of the dreams that kept haunting me. A cup of strong coffee could help, I thought, and would help clear my head.

I crossed the living room and headed toward the kitchen when a knock at the door drew my attention. I was not expecting anyone. Someone had to get past Buddy, our security guard, to enter the elevators. I don’t know if that is a real name, and he is a retired NYPD cop, so he may like to keep it on the down-low. A real bulldog. Nobody got around Buddy.

Then I realized it was Saturday, which meant Rosalinda, the cleaning lady. Still, I reached for my Glock, which I kept by the door, and looked through the peephole.

She stood in the doorway with a look on her face somewhere between impatient and annoyed. I deactivated the house alarm, flipped the locks, and let her in.

“Buenos dias, Señor Caine,” she said.

“Good morning, Rosa. Come on in.”

“Gracias, Señor Caine. You got nobody here?”

“No. We’re alone.”

“Hokay, dokay,” she said and toddled into my condo.

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