Chapter 12 - Connection Made

The district attorney’s office was not spared destruction as the reality of turmoil reared its ugly head there, too. All employees, files and office equipment were directed to relocate at the local library with several challenges being faced and somewhat conquered.

Willow’s work was located in a historic part of town with several old buildings in the area. The district attorney’s office she worked in was once a department store in the 1970s – a thriving department store she recalled visiting often with her mother when she was a little girl. The memories came rushing back to her, recalling better days of the small bedroom town, sneaking away on the elevator, which greatly angered her mother. She smiled within as she thought back to her fear of the mighty escalator.

Whether it was the speed of mechanical stairs disappearing into the abyss or the wild stories of children being injured when untied shoelaces were eaten by the monstrous beast, her mother had an idea. Willow would take the elevator while her mother traveled the escalator, meeting up immediately after on the next level. Problem solved.

Now this once department store building had been renovated with cubicle dividers, private attorney offices, massive rolling wall files and everything needed to operate a district attorney’s office. Total transformation.

Willow had taken a few days off to focus on finding a place, making appointments with property managers and walking through their options with Steve.

The contents of her personal cubicle had already been moved to the library, noticing her files and personal belongings were damaged from water sprinklers, triggered by the quake. It wasn’t the end of the world.

The legal secretaries were set up at long rows of tables with their casework files boxed accordingly. It was close quarters at the library; the gossip was less transparent due to the lack up cubicle walls, making focus a bit more of a challenge. I believe it was at that moment her new motto had become, One Sweet Day at a Time.

The earthquake brought not only greed to landlords and the property managers, but crooks trying to make a buck were scamming homeowners who lost everything.

As with many natural disasters, when homes are destroyed and in need of construction repair, scheming contractors working without a license literally came out of the woodwork. This earthquake was no different.

Willow was all too familiar with the crafty games that are played, and it was just then one of the lead investigators approached her for a favor.

“Hey Willow. I heard your home was red-tagged in the earthquake.”

She sat at a long table with co-workers practically sitting on her lap, knowing there was no way this would be a private conversation.

“Yeah. We loved that new place. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

The tall handsome investigator with jet black hair folded his hands, placing them directly in front of him, hanging his arms downward. He seemed hesitant to ask the next question.

“Is there any chance you could provide me with the homeowner’s contact information? We wanted to run a sting inside the house, posing one of the investigators as the homeowner in need of construction repair quotes.”

Willow processed the requested favor at hand in her mind, realizing the team of detectives had a plan and they were ready to pounce.

“Sure. I’ll email you their contact information this afternoon. We still need to get the rest of our stuff out before they renovate or whatever they are planning to do with that beautiful old home.”

As Willow talked with him, she could feel the tension and the quiet grow louder. From the corner of her eye, she saw a couple of the thorns in her side, standing nearby, intently listening and whispering.

Thorn number one was the arrogant new boss, Todd, and thorn number two was his biggest brown noser, Abby. It was actually comical watching Abby in action, hyper active, demanding to be the center of attention, inventing the new term “three-faced” if there were such a thing.

Willow just pretended not to notice their juvenile shenanigans as she wasn’t about to give them an ounce of satisfaction. They didn’t exist as far as she was concerned. Not in a toxic sort of way, but in a healthy smart as a fox sort of way.

“I really appreciate it…and I am sorry to hear about your home.”

“It’s no problem. Something better is around the corner.”

She gathered her files and thoughts, focusing back on her incredibly large pile of work, knowing two sneaky rats were off talking nonsense in order to stir up the pot. One of these days, probably sooner than she realized, Willow would be free from the office politics and toxic environment.

A couple weeks after the quake, Steve and Willow found a place they could afford, which was in a less desirable area, but it would have to do. While they were both grateful to have a roof over their heads after the tragedy struck, they realized adult children are not meant to move back in with their mothers.

They were excited to relocate to their own place yet dreaded the physical mechanics related to the joyous process of moving. The big day had arrived. After going through the red tape, being granted permission from the city inspector to retrieve their personal belongings, Steve carefully drove the twenty foot U-Haul down the familiar and long gravel driveway.

As Willow guided the awkwardly long truck back, their old neighbors, Sherri and Jim, were out front, carrying Persian throw rugs back inside.

“Hey kids!”

Being called kids at forty-five years old planted a grin and sense of momentary juvenile bliss in Willow’s mind.

“Hey. How did your home hold up after the quake?”

Steve and Willow walked over, being invited inside their mini mansion to evaluate their damage.

“Not so well. We lost all of heirloom china, antiques; curio cabinets...Come on in.”

After they stepped inside there were two adults approximately the same age as Steve and Willow, diligently working away. The man was focused at sanding the beautiful hardwood floor near the front door when Sherri introduced him.

“Willow and Steve, this is our son, Casey. His wife is here, too, helping me in the kitchen.”

Their son quickly stood up, held out his hand and greeted them, swiftly returning back to his detailed work at hand.

“Casey is a craftsman like his father. The floors are gouged and scratched from the cabinets and frames slamming to the floor and he’s trying his best to repair the damage.”

Willow was having those flashbacks again. This time, she reflected back on her school days. The days of private Catholic school, where she wore a blue and gold jumper with long white over the knee cable socks and buckle shoes that made her feet bleed, especially after an hour spent playing dodge ball.

Her daydream was distracted by Sherri calling them into the kitchen.

“We are replacing the glass on the kitchen cabinets as the plates and bowls shook with such force that the glass on the cabinets broke. We hate to see you kids have to move.”

Willow forced a brave smile and tried to remain positive.

“Yeah. We were pretty happy here but I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

Steve and Willow rented the U-Haul for only 48 hours and there was a lot of packing, wrapping and moving to be done. Just then, from their neighbor’s front window, they noticed some of Louie’s friends pull up in their long bed truck, ready to help them move.

Steve and Willow indicated they needed to get to work, hugged their neighbors, wishing them well, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time.

The move went well and by the end of the weekend they were settled in to their new place.

It was Sunday night and as usual, Willow had the Sunday night blues. She dreaded going back to the pit of hell, filling the evening with her favorite movies and her guilty pleasure…nachos. Steve encouraged her as he always did, hoping there was something better for Willow on the other side of the door.

The next day at work, Willow tackled her assigned in-custody reports and spotted a police report that grabbed her attention.

Pine Street?

Willow proceeded to read the burglary report, noticing the address was next door to their old home. She read the incident report and then the victims’ names – Jim and Sherri Kilpatrick.

Of course!

The reason she experienced the flashbacks and the strong feeling she knew Jim and Sherri from a previous life, instantly came rushing back. At one time, many years ago, they were her childhood neighbors’. Their children Casey was in her class at good ‘ole St. Johns and his little sister, Marci, went to the same school, too.

She sat back in her office chair, taking a moment, thinking back to just the other day when she was re-introduced to Casey. It had been over thirty years since they had seen each other. Time has a cruel way of taking our innocence and changing our appearance to the point of being unrecognizable to even our childhood friends.

Willow’s phone was sounding off with a text alert. It was sweet Penny.

Have you taken your afternoon break?

Not yet.

Penny appeared at Willow’s desk, which was always refreshing when you work in a battlefield. Allies become utter rays of sunshine.

With a skip in their steps, anticipating a few moments of freedom, they shared their day and plans for the weekend. Just then Willow received a rather disturbing text from Steve. The startled look on her face didn’t escape Penny – not much did.

Steve’s text read…

Do you know anyone that drives a red Dodge Ram?

Willow thought for a moment and then apologized to Penny for interrupting her train of thought.

“I’m sorry. I need to call Steve and find out what’s going on.”

“It’s okay. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

They continued to walk to their favorite frozen yogurt shop as Penny went inside while Willow dealt with the latest dilemma. Penny motioned, offering to get Willow’s usual, tart lemon with strawberry toppings, when Willow nodded with a thumbs up.

“I am not familiar with a red Dodge Ram. Maybe it’s one of Louie’s friends.”

There was a long pause.

“I hope so, because this red suv keeps driving past our house, driving real slow when he gets to our house.”

She tried her best not to overthink the situation. Maybe there was a logical explanation.

Maybe dinosaurs still roamed the earth, too.