Something Missing_ A Novel - Matthew Dicks [125]
“Please, Martin. Just five minutes. Okay?”
“Okay,” he managed, knowing that he had no choice. To send Sophie Pearl away at this point would be impossible. Martin turned and moved out of the doorway, making room for her to enter. Once she was inside the house, Martin motioned to the couches in the living room and began moving in that direction.
“I wish you’d stop shaking,” she said as she moved aside a pillow and sat down beside Martin. “Honestly, you’re not in any trouble.” It wasn’t her words that allowed him to begin to relax. It was her smile, followed by her hand as it reached out and gently grasped his own, that finally stilled his nerves a bit. “I came here to thank you, Martin. You saved my life. You saved my husband’s life. You’re a hero.”
Martin’s eyes filled with tears as Sophie Pearl spoke, a mixture of gratitude and guilt. Had he followed his father’s advice and reported Clive Darrow to the police, Sophie Pearl’s face would not be plastered with bruises. She would not be wearing a sling. Though he knew that his intervention had probably saved her life, Martin also knew that his initial inaction had placed her in danger in the first place. He opened his mouth to say as much but was unable to speak.
“I know that it was you who came to save us that night. I wasn’t sure until I saw you, but once I saw your leg and your head, I knew. I’m so glad that I found you.”
“But how?” Martin asked again, clinging to those words like a life preserver.
“The card,” she explained. “I found it in the backyard about a week ago. I knew that it wasn’t mine, and I knew about that evil son of a bitch parking his car in our garage. When I saw that the card was underneath the garage window, I thought I might have found my man. You.”
“But my name isn’t on the card,” Martin stammered, still not in full control of his faculties. Sophie Pearl, client of more than nine years, was sitting in his living room, and this made parts of Martin’s mind wonder if he was dreaming.
“No,” Sophie admitted. “Your name isn’t on the card, but your bar code is. And the supermarket has your information tied to the bar code. I hired a private investigator to find its owner. The police had told me that you probably wouldn’t want to be found. Even though you saved us that night, they said you were probably in some kind of trouble with the law, and that’s why you ran away like you did. ‘Fled the scene,’ one officer kept saying. But I didn’t care what kind of trouble you might be in. I just had to know. So my private investigator found someone at the grocery store who was willing to scan the card and give her the information. Then she gave your name and address to me.”
Martin was impressed. He wondered how long it would’ve taken him to think to use the bar code on the card to identify its owner. And even then, he would’ve had to find a way to convince a grocery store manager to scan the card and provide him with the information. Not an easy job. “So you found me,” Martin said, finally regaining control of his speech. As Sophie Pearl had told her story, he’d begun to relax, realizing that this woman meant him no harm.
“So the police were right, huh? You’re in some kind of trouble?”
“Not really,” Martin answered truthfully. “But I guess I could be if I’m not careful. It’s hard to explain.”
As if sensing a chink in his defenses, Sophie pounced. “Martin, I need to know something. And it’s not because I want you to get into trouble. Completely the opposite. I think you deserve a reward. A medal. You risked your life to save me, and I’ll never forget that. I’ll never forget seeing you throw yourself out of my bathroom