“Oh yes,” he says immediately. “More than anything.” He’s echoing my thoughts. “Someone who’ll touch me…where it matters.” The words should sound sleazy, but they don’t. “Someone who’ll know me. Who’ll hold me on days like this.”
“Oh, Sam,” I murmur. I’m not sure what else to say.
“Good night, Arielle,” he says softly, and ends the call.
Chapter 14
Interrogation
Arielle Nygard
When I wake up the next morning, I’m groggy and restless. I slept fitfully after Sam’s call, and it’s a relief when I finally get up and start my day. I go about my morning in preparation for heading to check on Munchkin when the phone rings, and I jump.
I sigh when I see that it’s Tim. It’s been ten days since he asked me out on a date. I’ve avoided the topic completely, and he’s respected my silence on it, so I’m surprised when he invites me out for coffee later that morning.
“It’s not a date,” he quickly assures me over the phone. “I heard you, and I understand. I’d rather be friends than lose you from my life altogether. I thought we could go to Austin’s favorite park. You need to do something besides work and sleep.”
Austin does love the park – he will sit on the swings for hours – and it would be a nice change of pace. I do have to feed Munchkin, but I don’t spend time there in the morning. And I definitely don’t have anything else planned. “Okay,” I tell Tim, “we’re in.”
Tim comes over to watch Austin while I go to feed Munchkin and give him his daily thyroid medication. Then I meet Tim and Austin at the park. The day is sunny and warm, the scent of summer on a breeze that sets my lightweight skirt billowing. I take a beat to breathe it in before I leave the parking lot.
I spot Austin on the swings. In a pair of navy shorts and a blue-and-white striped t-shirt, he looks like a little sailor. His mop of tawny hair frames his young face and I see Steve in my son’s features. It’s in his eyes, the tilt of his mouth, the way his nose turns up at the tip. Austin likes to swing side-to-side, his sneakered feet planted wide on the ground to control the motion. He enjoys the steady, repetitive movement.
As I walk around the edge of the playground to Tim, who’s snagged a table near the swings, I can see Austin stimming. It’s a gesture that a lot of people on the autism spectrum make, although the action varies from person to person. Austin lightly rubs the thumb and index finger of his right hand to show when he’s content, excited, or overwhelmed. Right now, he’s swaying on his swing, his eyes closed, stimming slowly, telling me in his own way that he’s a very happy boy. It makes my heart swell to see him like this.
Tim stands up when I approach the table. He gives me a quick peck on the cheek, just like he always does, and hands me a cup of coffee once we’re seated. ‘How did it go with the cat?’ he asks.
“Oh, fine.” I take a sip of coffee and grimace. “No sugar?” He hands me a little packet and I empty it into the cup. I give it a quick stir with my finger since Tim doesn’t produce a spoon of any sort. I wipe my hand on a napkin, replace the lid and take another sip. “Ah, much better.”
“So, everything was fine this morning?” Tim says.
“Yes, Munchkin is fine. He ate his breakfast, took his medication, and I suspect he’s snoring up a storm right now.” I keep my replies carefully neutral.
“Is there ever anyone else around when you go over?”
“Not that I’ve seen.” I shoot him a questioning glance. “What’s with the third degree?”
Tim gets defensive. “It’s not the third degree. I’m just looking out for you. And the whole situation sounds a bit suspect to me.”
Now it’s my turn to get defensive. “How so?” I demand.
“Well, let’s see. Some guy hires you over the phone, gives you the keys to his mansion and tells you to feed his cat. It’s the start of a horror story, not gainful employment.” I glower at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to undermine your judgment. But I just want to know that you’re being safe. What do you really know about his guy anyway?”
I sigh. I suppose he has a point. It is a very unconventional way to land a job. “Okay,” I relent, “what do you want to know?”
“Let’s start with the guy’s name.” Tim takes out a small notebook and a pen. He starts writing as soon as I begin to speak.
“Samuel Foster.”
“And what do you know about him?”
“I know he lives in a mansion, alone. I know he loves his cat. He travels for business quite often. He has good taste in coffee. There’s an account with Riverside Veterinary Clinic for Munchkin. The receptionist and the vet were both very nice and Munchkin was comfortable with them.”
“Why were you hired over the phone? How come you never had to meet him in person?”
“It was a very last-minute thing. His manager told me that Sam was going out of town on business that night and there wasn’t time for a formal interview.”
“His manager? Do you know his name?”
