"Have you talked to Lilith?" I ask, rocking back onto my heels and using the back of my arm to wipe sweat away from my forehead.
"Not yet. But we're tracking her down. She only has a P.O. box. There would need to be a warrant to get more information about the registration for that box, but I don't think it's important enough to find her that anybody is actually going to go to that extent. Besides, if I don't miss my guess, that box was registered to her when she still lived in the Salt Valley house, so that would be the address on it, anyway."
"Babe?"
I hear Sam calling to me from inside the house, and I climb to my feet.
"Sam just got home. I'll give you a call later," I tell Dean.
"Yep. I'll keep you updated."
We hang up, and I head inside through the smaller back door that leads into the mudroom just outside the laundry room.
"Sam? I'm in here, honey," I call out when I get inside.
He walks through the laundry room door, and his eyes grow wide.
"You're not wearing that, are you?" he asks.
I look down at the cutoffs and tank top, both streaked with dirt that matches very well to the dirt streaks down both of my legs. I'm sure there are a couple of accent patches on my face, too.
"I mean, yes. I am currently, at the moment, wearing this," I frown.
"To the reception," he clarifies.
I kick off my shoes and nudge them across the sealed cement floor to the small pile of outdoor shoes. There are different pairs for different seasons, so I can toss a pair on no matter what time of year it is. Those off, I step into the laundry room and peel off my tank top.
"What reception?" I ask. I sag. "Did somebody else have one of those awkward video streaming weddings they think are spontaneous and cute? It isn't the idea of a streaming wedding I'm opposed to. It's a smart idea and economically responsible these days. It's the ones in which they pretend they just came up with this idea, even though everything has clearly been planned out and arranged for them."
I lean over the washing machine to turn on the water and tip detergent into it before tossing my tank top in, quickly followed by my shorts and socks.
"Who was it? Oh, no. Was it Pamela? I knew she was going too fast with that guy," I say.
"The Sherwood Community Center reception," Sam says.
I turn to face him and drop my hands to my hips. "That's tonight?"
"That's in half an hour," he says.
"I thought you said it was next week."
"I did. Last week."
"Well, shit. I just threw my good outfit in the washer," I say.
Sam looks me up and down, taking in my white bra and panty set.
"This is a pretty good look for you. But I don't think it's what they were hoping for."
I turn off the washer and head for the bathroom.
"Got it. Let me take a shower. It will be fine. I've gotten ready for things in less time," I say.
True to my word, I'm bathed, dressed, and trying to finagle hair and makeup in the car twenty minutes later. Fortunately, for the sake of time management, my days of hoping to pull off the glam makeup look went out right about the time glam Barbie did. A nice base, a few swipes, and a couple of brushes, and I'm good to go.
It's exciting heading for the reception. This has been a long time coming. After a string of horrific murders and kidnappings ended with me fighting the armed perpetrator in the hall of the old high school a few years ago, there was a lot of debate about what to do with the building. It wasn't as well outfitted and technologically advanced as the new school built on the other side of town several years ago. But it's still a solid building and surrounded by sports fields, a track, and beautiful landscapes.
Most people in Sherwood agreed it would be a shame to just get rid of the building. But we also didn't want it just sitting there to decay, a reminder of the horrible things that happened.
The final conclusion was to turn it into something good for everyone. A few community programs were being run out of schools and churches in the area, but the town committee decided it would be even better to have one place people could go. One place where they would be able to spend time with friends and family, get some exercise, participate in clubs, teams, and classes, and stay safe.
Dedicated to the memory of the victims from that string of crimes, it has finally come into being. Now after more than a year of planning and work, it's ready to open within the next couple of weeks. Heading up the childcare and afterschool program department is Bianca Hernandez, an old friend of Sam's who I met when I first came back to Sherwood. Her daughter was kidnapped in the crime spree but survived and gave us vital information that led to unraveling the mystery.
It's good to see Bianca thriving. She hasn't had the easiest go of things, but clawing her way out of addiction and fighting for her child has made her strong. I've watched how much she's put into creating the center, and I can't wait to see how it unfolds. I know it's going to be amazing for the entire community.
The school looks lit up and alive as we drive down the freshly paved road to the parking lot. I glance over toward the track looping around a soccer field to the side of the building. In the back of my mind, I can still see the shoe sitting in the middle of it. Sam's hand slipping into mine to help me out
