The Whistle Blower Read online

  “Do you ever work in the church nursery?” Sandra asked as she tried to wrestle Sammy into his car seat. He was almost too big for it. She groaned at the thought of upgrading. Maybe she should ref a few soccer games, if only for the few extra dollars.

  “I’m on the list, and they know I’m available if they need me, but I so hate to miss the sermon, and the young moms like to hang out in there and chitchat during the service, and I wouldn’t want to interfere with that. I remember how lonely it can be being home with the baby all week long.” She gave Sandra an encouraging smile. “But if you ever need help with any of your kiddos, I’ll be right here. I don’t get out much.”

  Sandra decided then and there that she and her kids had to take Ethel somewhere. Out to lunch, or to the beach when the weather got nice again. She slid the car seat off the table. “Thanks, Ethel, you’re the best.” She had the urge to hug the woman, but she was on the other side of the table, and Sandra didn’t want to make things awkward. She’d never hugged the woman before. Maybe she’d shoot for a Sunday hug, when everybody was already in the mood.

  “You bet.” She gave a little wave to Sammy. “You have a good rest of your day.”

  Sandra returned to her car to find Bob in the front seat. She tucked Sammy into the back and then slid behind the wheel. She put the keys in the ignition, but then she just sat there. “Now what?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  She looked at him. How could he not have a plan? He was a supernatural being. She put the car in reverse and slid out of the driveway.

  “Maybe you could go help Isabelle clean up?”

  Oh sure, volunteer her for the heavy labor. “I offered.”

  “You did?” He sounded shocked. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  She bit back a retort about his eavesdropping prowess. “She didn’t want my help. I’m wondering why she wanted us over there at all. Well, wanted me over there. I guess she didn’t know you were there. She’s obviously suspicious of Frank, yet she was willing to let us snoop around, looking for evidence against him?”

  “I don’t think she’s suspicious of him at all. I think she wanted us to find something that cleared his name. Though I can’t imagine what that would be, and we certainly didn’t find anything.”

  “Hard to find something when you don’t know what you’re looking for.”

  His head snapped toward her as if a light bulb had popped on. “I guess it’s time to find out how to become a soccer official, then.”

  She snorted. “Oh, is it?”

  Each time the idea surfaced, it sounded less terrible. But why? Why was she even considering it? It was preposterous.

  You know why you’re considering it, a tiny voice in her head said.

  Oh, I do? Why?

  Because you’re bored.

  She gasped.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing. Just had a thought.” Was she bored? Yes, she kind of was. But how was that possible? She was beyond busy and always exhausted. She had a great life and should be content with it. Yet, that annoying, critical voice had a point. She was a little bored. Not all the time. But more than once in a while. “I can’t do anything without checking with Nate.”

  “Good. Check with Nate. I’ve got to go. There’s a cross-country meet.” He vanished before she could say good-bye.

  She said it anyway, to the empty seat beside her. She had more than an hour before she had to pick up the kids from school. It was kind of pointless to go home and unpack Sammy just to pack him up again. Maybe she should go surprise Nate at his school. Just pop in and say hello. Yeah, that was a great idea! She never did that.

  The more she thought about it, the more excited she was about the idea. Seeing Sammy in the middle of his workday would surely brighten it. She went through the Dunkin’ drive through too, just in case Sammy’s sweetness wasn’t enough to warrant a surprise visit. Sure, she knew Nate loved his son, but he also really loved vanilla frosted donuts with sprinkles. She bought him two, and ate one on the way.

  Chapter 19

  Nate wasn’t in his office, but his secretary, warily eyeing the baby bucket and the Dunkin’ bag, buzzed him through the intercom. Then she granted Sandra a fake smile and said, “He’ll be here shortly,” even though she knew no such thing. Nate did not come running when his presence was requested.

  Sandra turned to go into his office.

  “You can wait out here,” the secretary said quickly.

  Sandra was annoyed, but she did as she was told, and plopped herself down in the small waiting area. At least this one had chairs, unlike the hard bench at her son’s school. How did she manage to end up waiting outside the principal’s office two days in a row?

  As she expected, it was a long wait, but Sammy was in a good mood, so Sandra could fiddle with her phone to pass the time. Then, just when she thought she’d have to leave to go pick up Peter and Joanna, Nate sailed through the door, and indeed, his face did light up at the sight of his family, even before he saw the donut bag. Still, Sandra thought she’d go for the gold and held it up. “Brought you a treat!”

  “You’re the best!” he cried and bent to kiss her on the cheek. “Come on into my office. You didn’t have to wait out here!” He picked up Sammy and then put his hand to the small of her back, a gesture that still gave her the shivers after all these years. As she passed, she flashed a triumphant smile at the secretary, who pretended not to see it.

  Once they were settled in his office with the door shut, Nate asked, “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “We just wanted to pop in and say hi.”

  He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

  She giggled. “Well, I did want to ask you something.”

  “Shoot. Anything for you.” He shuffled some papers around on his desk, already distracted.

  For once, she didn’t mind. It might be good if he was a little distracted for this question. She took a deep breath. “I know this sounds like it’s coming out of left field, but I’ve actually been thinking about it for a few days.”

  He nodded without looking up. He was staring at a spreadsheet.

  “I was thinking about becoming a soccer official.”

  That got his attention. His face snapped up and his lips parted a little. Then he just stared at her.

  She held up a hand. “Hear me out. I’ve learned that they are desperate for officials, and I think it would be fun—”

  “Do you even know the rules?”

  “They will teach me the rules.”

  He frowned. “I’m not so sure that’s true.”

  “Well, then, I’ll learn them myself. That’s why God made YouTube. It’s not a very complicated game.”

  “Right, but there are lots of little rules that only refs know. Do you know how far back a kid’s allowed to stand before kicking a corner kick?”

  She tried not to let it show on her face, but she was pretty sure there was no rule regarding that question. “I’m an intelligent woman, Nate. I can learn the rules to a simple sport.”

  It was his turn to hold up a hand. “Don’t get defensive. This is the first I’m hearing of this, so give me a chance to process.” He folded his hands on his desk and leveled a gaze at her. It appeared he was trying to think up arguments.

  “I just don’t get it,” he finally said. “Do you even like soccer?”

  She didn’t. Not really. She liked that Peter liked soccer. “Of course I like soccer. And it would bring in some extra money—” As soon as the words left her lips, she wished they hadn’t.

  He flinched. “We don’t need you to work, Sandra.”

  “I know that. But there’s no such thing as too much money, and I could use the exercise.” She couldn’t give two hoots about exercise, but the more he resisted, the more she wanted to make this happen.

  “How are you going to have time?”

  “I will only take games that don’t conflict with Peter’s schedule
, and I found a free babysitter.”

  His eyes grew wide. Finally, some news he liked. “Free? Who?”

  “Ethel Baxter.” She was certain he wouldn’t know who that was.

  “Oh, Ethel?” he cried. “She’s a lovely lady!”

  I stand corrected. “She sure is. And she just loves Sammy.”

  “She does? How do you know that?”

  Oops. How was she supposed to explain why she’d dropped off their son in the middle of the day so she could go all secret super sleuth at a widow’s house? “I ... I went over to a friend’s house today. Her house was broken into, and she needed some help picking up.” Not exactly a lie. Probably too close to a lie to qualify as truth, but her conscience only piped up a little.

  “Really? How lovely of you. What friend?”

  “Isabelle.”

  “Isabelle?” He scowled. “I don’t remember you mentioning an Isabelle.”

  This was getting so sticky. Best to redirect. “I really want to do this. At least try it. If it causes a lot of problems for the family, of course I’ll stop.” She knew that it wouldn’t cause any problems.

  He chewed on his lip. “I guess so.”

  Really? That was easier than she’d expected. “Thanks, Nate!”

  “Sure. Do you have any idea how to become a soccer ref?”

  She shook her head. “None.”

  He gave her a patronizing smirk.

  “It can’t be that hard to figure out, Nate. I can just Google it.”

  He picked up his phone. “Let me make a call. I know the guy in charge of the local district of soccer referees.” He punched some numbers and then waited. Then he said, in his official professional voice, “Could I speak to Mike White, please?”

  Chapter 20

  Sandra greeted her two oldest children as they climbed into the van, but she was operating in rote mode. Only when some part of her consciousness noticed the sullen look on Peter’s face did she snap into the moment. “What’s wrong, honey?”

  He tried to ignore her.

  She didn’t let him. She knew how to pester someone. She’d learned it from him.

  “I’m just anxious about practice.”

  She took a moment to be proud of her son’s self-awareness and then asked, “Why are you worried about practice?”

  “I think Coach is still mad at me.” He didn’t say it outright, but she thought she heard some accusation in his tone—as if he was also saying, “You made things worse by hollering at my coach.”

  “Well, he shouldn’t be,” she said. Lame. That was the best she could do?

  “I apologized to Cameron.”

  She looked at Peter, stunned. He did? “You did?” No one had told him to do that!

  “I told him I was sorry for pushing him, but that he still shouldn’t be picking on people.”

  Sandra thought that over. “So you apologized and then implied a threat before walking away.”

  Peter actually chuckled, and Sandra had a heady moment. It was so rare that she was able to make her son laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  They rode the rest of the way home in silence, as Sandra analyzed Peter’s church situation. Wasn’t there something she could do? Maybe Bob could help. He was, after all, the local middle school sports angel. Couldn’t he intervene? If not, what good was having friends in high places?

  She’d just pulled into their driveway when her cell rang. She didn’t recognize the number, so she ignored it. “Can you get Sammy, Peter?”

  He grunted his assent, and she walked to her house with only a diaper bag and a purse, feeling light as a feather. Her eyes lingered on her porch swing as she walked by, as if willing Bob to appear. Did she miss him? She’d have to put that swing away soon. Winter was coming. A sharp breeze blew some leaves across her lawn as if Mother Nature was agreeing with her.

  Peter followed her into the house, swinging Sammy from his taut arm like a wild pendulum.

  “Easy!” she cried. “He’ll throw up!” She didn’t think this was likely, but she was grateful to her son for toting the car seat around, so she tried to soften her correction with language her fifth-grader would appreciate.

  Peter plopped the seat down on the couch, sat down beside Sammy, and began to unbuckle him. This was a bonus. Usually, he just left him on the floor, strapped in, at the mercy of Mr. T. “I’m starving,” Peter said.

  “I know you are. I’ll get some snacks out.”

  She didn’t see Peter roll his eyes, but she could hear it in his voice. “Baby carrots don’t count as a snack.”

  “Want me to make some dip?” she called out without turning around.

  “Yes, please!” Wow, she’d even gotten a please.

  Joanna scrambled up onto one of the kitchen chairs. “I love baby carrots.”

  Sandra bent to kiss her on the top of the head. “I know you do, sweetie.” She straightened up and went to the fridge, where she retrieved the bag of carrots. She opened them and put them on the table, before turning back to gather dip ingredients. Peter strapped Sammy into his high chair.

  “Thanks for being so helpful!”

  Peter looked down, his cheeks flushed, so she stopped praising him.

  Her phone rang again, and she checked to see who was calling. Was that the same number that had called five minutes ago? She thought so, but she wasn’t sure. She almost answered it, but decided not to. Then, when it stopped ringing, she checked the call history, and sure enough, it was the same number. I might not be Sherlock, but I’m capable of some smart phone sleuthing. She copied and pasted the number into a search engine, then waited impatiently for results.

  “Mom,” Peter said, making the word four syllables long, “the dip?”

  “Just a sec,” she said without looking up.

  The search came back void, and she gave up, dropping her phone on the counter and grabbing the sour cream. She had a weird feeling in her stomach. She found herself really wishing she’d answered the phone. Who calls twice in five minutes? It must have been important. Maybe she should call the number back. But how disappointed she would be with herself to learn it was a political poll. How many times had she answered the call about the bear baiting bill? Again, she wished Bob were there. Maybe he had supernatural caller identification ability.

  She licked some stray sour cream off her finger and then stirred the dip. Then she set it down in front of her kids, two of whom dove for it as though they’d never seen food before. “Can I have some juice?” Peter asked.

  She nodded. “You know where it is.” She didn’t look at him. He was ten. He could get his own juice, which he did. He even offered Joanna some.

  Sandra bit back the praise. She checked the clock and realized they didn’t have much time to dillydally. “Wheels up in thirty.”

  Joanna groaned. “We just got home. Where do we have to go?”

  “Soccer practice. Sorry, kiddo.”

  “Do we have to watch?”

  Often they just dropped Peter off and ran errands, but this time, Sandra wanted to stay nearby, just in case. In case of what, she wasn’t sure, but her mother’s intuition was telling her not to go too far from the field. “I would like to watch today, yes.”

  Peter gave her an annoyed look, but there was just a hint of relief there too.

  Chapter 21

  Sandra and her two youngest children sat nestled in their minivan, watching Peter’s practice. Joanna was zombified by her tablet, Sammy was asleep, and Sandra was considering following his lead when her phone buzzed. This time, she was certain it was the same number, and curiosity got the best of her. She answered on the second ring. If it was a political poll, she would suffer the consequences.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello. Is this Sandra Provost?”

  “It is.”

  “Hi, Sandra. This is Mike White calling ...”

  Sandra’s entire body went cold.

  “What’s wrong, Mama?” Joanna asked from beside her.

  “I’m the preside
nt of the local SOOM district ... Ms. Provost? Are you there?”

  Sandra gulped. Her throat felt as though it had just swallowed a sandy camel. “I’m here.”

  “Great. Your husband said you were interested in becoming a soccer official?” His words began to spill out faster, as if he had more pressing matters to attend to and had to speed up this tiresome conversation. Maybe he had someone else to murder. Or maybe the man just had to go to the bathroom. “Can you attend some training tonight?”

  Tonight? She didn’t respond immediately.

  He wasn’t a patient man. “Does tonight work? If it does, we could have you on the field by Saturday.”

  “What’s wrong, Mama?” Joanna asked again.

  Sandra put a hand on her leg, trying to ease her panic, but that hand was trembling, and Joanna’s eyes grew even wider.

  Sandra was frozen with panic. Yes, she may well be talking to a murderer on the phone, but that wasn’t even on the fear radar right now. On the field by Saturday? That was nuts! This whole thing was nuts! She never should have taken this path. She should have stuck to her blessedly simple mom routine, even if it was a little redundant. She opened her mouth to tell Mr. Murdering Mike White that she had changed her mind, but “Tonight. Sure.” came out instead. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Great! Do you know where White Funeral Home is?”

  Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. Was she having a heart attack? Yes, she thought she was. She, a middle-aged soccer mom, was going to die of a heart attack in her minivan. What a cliché!

  “It’s on Kirkland Street.” His voice was gritty with impatience.

  “What time?” she managed to squeak out.

  “Seven o’clock.” He wasn’t asking if that was okay with her.

  “Great. Thank you.” She hung up the phone with a trembling hand and then stared at it as if she’d never seen it before.

  “Mama?”

  Sandra realized she was now squeezing her daughter’s knee. She forced her hand to relax, and forced herself to exhale. I can do this, she told herself silently. It’s not a big deal. I’m just going to go meet a murderer at a funeral home, which, conveniently, he seems to own. No, this was crazy. She could not do this. She looked in her rearview, hoping to see Bob in the backseat. Of course, he wasn’t there. Angels were never visible when you really needed them. “Bob?” she said aloud, and Joanna scowled at her.