Free Fortune Cookie (Culinary Mystery) by Josi S. Kilpack Page B

about Wendy that Sadie would never understand.
    “Well, I guess we might as well get to work, huh?” she said to break the awkwardness that had descended. She crossed to the bedroom windows and twisted open the blinds to let in the natural light. Her breath caught in her throat as the view from the window commanded her attention. The living room window had mostly showed the buildings across the street, but this perspective was magnificent. She could see over the tops of several buildings, across the city, and out to the ocean. Even though the fog cover was still apparent, the view was relatively clear. She heard Pete come up behind her.
    “Wow,” he whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder. “That is spectacular.”
    Sadie nodded. It really was breathtaking, and for a moment she forgot why she was there and just took in the beauty of the place. Perhaps she even gained a small sense of what it was Wendy loved about this city—and what Pete loved, too. His arms came around Sadie’s waist, and she hugged them to her. They stood in silence for a few seconds before Pete kissed the side of her neck, sending a shimmer of heat down her spine and causing her to close her eyes to better focus on the feel of him so close, the smell of his cologne, the comfort of his affection. In just a few weeks, Pete would be her husband. She could scarcely believe it, and yet she wondered how she could not have known from the moment she met him that they would live out the rest of their lives together?
    The sound of a vibrating cell phone interrupted the moment, and Pete pulled away before reaching into his pocket. He gave the phone a quick look before sliding his thumb across the screen to answer it and putting it to his ear. “Pete Cunningham,” he said into the phone, then paused a moment before giving Sadie a quick smile and turning toward the doorway of the bedroom. “Yes, Detective Lopez. We made it safe and sound.” He pulled open the bedroom door and disappeared into the common area, leaving Sadie alone in Wendy’s bedroom. She turned to the window again. This is the view Wendy saw every day, Sadie thought to herself and felt a tiny glimmer of connection.
    And yet how much connection could there be to a sister who had shut Sadie out of her life completely? Sadie had always assumed that Wendy had such limitations that she couldn’t live a normal life. What if the real answer was that she simply didn’t want anything to do with her family? The idea that there could be something about them that Wendy hated wasn’t completely foreign—Sadie had thought it before—but it raised her defenses, and she felt the sentimentality pass through her as whatever connection she’d reached for faded away. She wanted to know why Wendy was the way she was, something solid and diagnosed. It was harder to justify Wendy’s actions when Sadie was presented with such a convincing defense of normalcy.
    She took a deep breath of the paint-scented air. This is where Wendy lived, yes, but she didn’t live here anymore. These things had once been hers, but now they were just stuff. She hadn’t taken her stylish apartment or nice furniture or self-portraits with her, and the things she could have had—relationships, love—had not factored into her priorities. She’d died alone, perhaps tragically. What a horrible end.
    Sadie couldn’t push away the emotion completely, but neither was she willing to let it take over. She needed to distract herself with work and headed out of the room, giving one ear to Pete’s side of the conversation while she picked up a couple of the boxes they’d brought and put them in the office. She took the other boxes and the garbage bags—they would work for the clothes—into the bedroom while determining where to start. Sadie had expected that Wendy’s apartment would be full of things easily thrown out and given away but that wasn’t the case. Did Ji really not want any of these things? He’d been here, so he knew