All You Need to Know

by Olivia Newport

  “You make me sound like an investigator, not a paralegal.”

  “You investigated documents in the files like no one else.”

  “But those were the days of billable hours.” Gianna uncrossed and recrossed her legs.

  “It was billable hours that brought us together,” Jack said, “but you had such a thirst for the truth.”

  “I guess maybe I’m chasing a different truth these days.”

  Home. Family. A legacy. Remembrance.

  Jack knew what Gianna wanted now. Couldn’t she see it wasn’t incompatible with what he wanted?

  “I miss the days we were in sync with each other,” he said.

  She waited a beat and said, “And I’m afraid we’ll miss the days of being in sync in the future.”

  Jack leaned over and kissed his wife full on the mouth, something he hadn’t done in a long time. He lingered and heard her breath catch.

  “I don’t want to miss those days either,” he said, his voice hushed. “But I’ll be a happier husband and father if I know I can jump on opportunities that get me excited.”

  “Wow, Jack, that’s quite a speech from you.”

  “I mean it. I want to be a good husband, but I have to be me in the process.” Jack hovered over her, one hand on her waist, wondering if the gesture meant anything to her.

  Gianna’s phone rang. Jack leaned away from her, uncertain whether anything he’d said would sink in.

  “It’s Eva,” she said.

  Jack listened to Gianna’s side of the conversation.

  “Again? . . . Are you sure? . . . I’ll be right there, then.” Gianna hung up.

  “Did she forget something?”

  “Another stomachache,” Gianna said.

  Jack did his best to disguise his lack of awareness that there had been a previous stomachache.

  “I think she should stay at school this time,” Gianna said, “but I’ll go talk to her.”

  11:13 a.m.

  “So no surgery?” Nicole swung her cast-clad leg over the side of the examination table. She had insisted she could handle a simple doctor’s appointment on her own and left Ethan sitting in the waiting room.

  “We don’t gain a lot from operating on this kind of break,” the orthopedist said. “But you should plan on being in the boot for eight weeks, followed by physical therapy. Do you have an orthopedist in St. Louis?”

  “I’m sure I can find one.”

  “Just let us know where to send the records.”

  “I will.”

  “And be careful. Take it easy as much as you can.”

  Nicole wasn’t going to promise that aloud, not when there was so much to do.

  He tapped a few times on the iPad that held her electronic record, shook Nicole’s hand, and left the room.

  Nicole crutched her way out the door and to the main desk. She could see Ethan sitting in the waiting room looking at an old magazine. How did doctors feel when they were on the waiting end of the healthcare system? She folded the papers the clerk gave her and held them between her middle and ring fingers as she hobbled out to Ethan.

  “No surgery,” she said. “Next stop, county records.”

  He held the door open for her and offered to fetch the car. Nicole declined. If she gave him reason to think she couldn’t handle being up and about, he would get some silly notion in his head about going straight back to Lauren’s apartment and a bucket of ice. On a good stretch of sidewalk, she could move fairly well.

  In the car, Ethan asked, “Do you know where this place is?”

  She’d already noted the address in her phone and now rattled off driving instructions.

  A few minutes later, Ethan again held open a door while Nicole hobbled through. “What exactly are we looking for?”

  “I’ll know it when I see it.”

  “That’s a pretty wide field.”

  Nicole had two agendas. First, public records related to Quinn that might not have been online when she searched. Second—and she likely would have to make a special research request for these because of their age—records related to the Tabor, Fenton, and Pease families in the 1930s and 1940s. It was still a broad search with a wide margin for error.

  “Ted,” she said. “His name is just Ted.”

  When Quinn first disappeared, Nicole and Ethan realized neither of them knew if Ted was short for another name. She’d started with his address and backtracked through property records until she found the deed to his house showing his name as simply Ted Quinn. No nicknames, no middle initial.

  Ethan kissed her cheek. “We’ll see him again.”

  Ethan should know better than to make promises that were not within his power to keep. Even if Quinn was safe in St. Louis right now, which was far from certain, maybe he was never coming back to Hidden Falls. Maybe whatever made him leave was so huge that anything could happen now.

  Nicole read instructions posted in large letters, sat down at a carrel with a computer terminal, and began the process of making requests for copies of documents. First she tried several searches to determine whether she could narrow down what might be in the system.

  Ethan stood behind her, watching her click through various screens. “You look like you know what you’re doing.”

  “Every county’s system is different,” she murmured, “but the same information should be available in some form.”

  Deeds, liens, mortgages, marriage certificates, tax bills, bankruptcies, birth and death certificates, divorce decrees, probate records.

  Probate.

  “Did you ever hear Quinn say anything about an inheritance?” Nicole asked.

  “Who would he inherit from?” Ethan rubbed her shoulders.

  The kiss yesterday started with a neck rub. Nicole hadn’t made up her mind whether she wanted to repeat that experience.

  Well, she knew she did want to repeat it, but it might not be the smart thing to do.

  “I don’t know,” Nicole said. “Nobody, I guess.” Probate was a much more logical lead for the Tabors, Fentons, and Peases, though. Nicole filled in the form with the broadest request possible for these three families. As she suspected, the fine print at the end of the form explained that documents dating that far back might not be digitized and would take a few days for staff to locate. Nevertheless, Nicole supplied her e-mail address for notification, asked for electronic versions, and submitted the form with a credit card for the fees.

  Nicole moved her feet and knocked her broken ankle against a chair leg. Gritting her teeth, she waited for the pain to pass. She wasn’t going to let Ethan see her wince.

  “Is that your phone buzzing?” he asked.

  When the wave of pain subsided, she felt the vibration in her pocket and answered the phone.

  “Hey, Terry.” Finally someone from the newspaper was responding to all the messages Nicole had left.

  “Sorry not to call you sooner,” Terry said. “It’s been crazy here.”

  “Big story?”

  “More like big shake-up, so I’m out of here.”

  Nicole reached up to still Ethan’s hand on her neck. “You’re quitting?”

  “The department has been reorganized. They offered me an insulting reduction in responsibility and pay, so I told them where they could put it.”

  Terry had been at the St. Louis newspaper for twelve years. Nicole tried to picture the city desk without her, but the image wouldn’t form.

  “What does Reggie have to say?” Nicole would call her editor as soon as she got off the phone.

  “I suspect they’ve instructed our fearless leader not to talk to me. And maybe not you.”

  “What?”

  Nicole tried to think whether she had Reggie’s home phone number in her contact list—or whether he even had a landline anymore.

  “Heads are rolling, Nicole. I wouldn’t take anything for granted.”

  “You can’t think Reggie has anything to do with this,” Nicole said.

  “I don’t even know wh
at this is,” Terry said. “I only know I’m not sticking around. I just wanted to give you a heads-up that you might want to keep your options open, too.”

  “I don’t have any options open.”

  “Then you might want to create some.”

  12:34 p.m.

  Dani Roose wiped polish into the bottom shelf of the repaired rack in Waterfall Books and Gifts. It looked good to her—probably better than it had before the break-in. It was overdue for the sanding and staining she’d given it.

  The whole shop looked to be in good shape, even if the shelves had slightly fewer items for sale than usual. It wouldn’t take Sylvia long to fill up the space, and after the store’s five-day closure, the whole town would be curious and make a point to stop in. For Sylvia’s sake, Dani hoped at least a few of the looky-loos would spend some money. Lizzie Stanford had lobbied for a special name for the sale that would herald the shop’s reopening: Break-in Bash, Steal of a Sale, Pitch It Pickings. Something like that. Dani figured Lizzie was working too hard if she thought Sylvia would spend advertising money on such silliness. Curiosity would do the job of getting people back into the store.

  The tables in front offered attractive price reductions on slightly damaged items. It seemed to Dani most people wouldn’t even be able to discern the damage, so they’d think they were getting an even better deal. Sylvia had been particular about not trying to pass anything off as being in new condition if she could see it wasn’t, no matter whether anyone else could.

  Sylvia pushed her reading glasses to the top of her head and set down the sheets of orange price stickers in her hands.

  “Thanks for coming back today.” Sylvia rubbed the bridge of her nose. “The extra pair of hands really helped. We should be ready to go in the morning.”

  “I thought you’d want to be at the fair tomorrow.” Dani tossed the staining rag into her toolbox.

  “I’ll pop back and forth. Lizzie will be here.”

  “Let me just check that new lock again.” Dani didn’t like the way it was sticking. A new lock shouldn’t do that. If she had to take it back to the hardware store, she would, but she hoped it would smooth out because she wanted to get a good hike in that afternoon.

  Sylvia handed Dani the shiny keys. Dani had replaced both locks, front and rear. She saw no point in replacing only the compromised back lock when the front one was just as pitiful as the one the thief violated. While she was at it, she drilled into the antique doors and added deadbolts. It was the back deadbolt that refused to turn without a minor wrestling match.

  Dani put the key in the questionable lock and met with resistance. The same key worked effortlessly in the front lock. She went back into the store for her toolbox. She’d have to take the lock out of the door to get a good look. When she had it out, she laid the pieces on Sylvia’s desk and examined them. The mold on the bolt was off just slightly along an almost invisible seam, she decided. But it wasn’t worth the bother of taking the assembly back down the street when Dani could file off the offending protrusion and be on her way.

  The lights went out.

  “Hey, I’m still back here,” Dani called.

  “I know,” Sylvia answered. “I didn’t touch anything.”

  “Flashlight?”

  “In the bottom left desk drawer.”

  Dani felt her way around the desk and rummaged for the grooved cylinder of the light. It went on with one touch of the button, and she went to the breaker box. All the switches were properly aligned, which is what she expected. If every light in the store went out at the same time, the problem was likely the utility company’s. She stepped out the rear door of the shop and saw heads poking out doors into the alley.

  “It’s the whole block,” she called to Sylvia.

  Dani picked up the pieces of the lock, along with her toolbox, and carried everything to the front of the store.

  Sylvia had kept the front shades down ever since Jack Parker and Liam Elliott descended on her two days ago, but now she pulled the cord to raise them and allow daylight through the display window.

  “They’ll probably have the power back on in a couple of minutes,” Sylvia said.

  “As soon as I get this lock back in, we’ll be finished, anyway.” Dani took a metal file from her toolbox, discerned the protrusion with one finger, and began filing it off.

  Sylvia locked the shade into the up position and released the cord. On its arc down, her hand caught the edge of a display shelf in the window, part of Lizzie’s arrangement, and a mirror with only a slight scratch in the frame now tumbled to the wood floor.

  Dani and Sylvia both jumped back from the shards.

  “Wouldn’t you know it,” Sylvia said, “just when we thought everything was under control.”

  “It’ll be fine.” Dani reached under the counter where she knew she would find a small broom and dustpan because she had put them there only two hours ago. She began to sweep up the glass.

  “Thank you,” Sylvia said.

  Dani glanced up. Sylvia sounded exhausted—and why shouldn’t she? Quinn gone. Her shop wrecked. One person after another asking something of her all week. Constant phone calls. Even a temporary power loss would aggravate most people with a lot less on their plates than Sylvia.

  “You’ll be glad when things are back to normal,” Dani said. Getting the shop open was the first step.

  “What’s normal?” Sylvia asked.

  “Good question.”

  “Having Quinn back would help a lot.” Sylvia’s voice wavered for a fraction of a second. “Everyone’s nerves would settle down if we just had a few answers about him.”

  Even for Sylvia, Dani wasn’t going to be the one to reveal that she had tracked Quinn to St. Louis. Dani wanted a peaceful hike this afternoon, not an interrogation from her cousin the deputy about how she came to have the information that Quinn was spending money in St. Louis.

  “Quinn will come back,” Dani said. “When he’s ready, he’ll tell you all you need to know.”

  “Need being the key word,” Sylvia said.

  “He’s okay.” Dani dumped the broken glass into the trash can Sylvia held in place for her.

  “I know you think that,” Sylvia said. “At this point, it’s hard to know what to believe.”

  Dani turned back to the lock and ran a finger over the smooth edge she’d created.

  The lights came back on.

  “See, I told you.” Dani blinked at the sudden brightness. “I’ll just pop this back in.”

  “Thanks again for all your help.”

  Dani walked to the back of the store while Sylvia rearranged the items in the window.

  The lock worked now. Dani had one more stop before she could find a trail. She loaded her tools behind the seat in her Jeep and drove over to Liam’s office. As she went around the corner at the top of the stairs, she wondered if Jack Parker had come up with anything on the address he’d shown Sylvia. In the end, it wouldn’t matter if he found anything, because Dani’s efforts had been fruitful—at least partially. As soon as she told Liam what she knew, he would tell Sylvia, and Dani wouldn’t have to be in the middle of any of it.

  She was surprised to find the door to Liam’s office locked and the lights obviously off. He was notorious for leaving the lights on even when he went home for the night. She silently congratulated him for turning them off just for an errand or an appointment.

  Dani pulled out her cell phone and selected Liam’s number. After four rings, his voice came on with a cheery encouragement to leave a message.

  As a matter of principle, Dani didn’t leave voice messages. It was enough aggravation to have to listen to them in order to earn a living.

  She found somebody’s business card in her vest pocket and jotted a note.

  Have news. Will come by tonight. —D

  Dani slid the card under the door.

  2:07 p.m.

  She knew his name, and she knew his parents’ names. Lauren made steady progress down her list. Thre
e phone updates assured her Benita was doing well with hers, too. But simmering below every check mark, every note, every star was determination that this time she wasn’t going to withdraw into a shell for someone else’s amusement. When the simmering crossed into boiling, Lauren couldn’t leave the task on the back burner for another hour.

  The outdated phone book in her office at the church yielded an address. Lauren estimated a twenty-seven minute walk, less if she burst into power-walk mode as soon as she hit the curve where Main Street bent into Tabor Avenue and the shops gave way to wide, stately homes west of town. She didn’t care if she arrived a sweaty mess. Marching out there, telling Nevin Morgan to leave her alone unless he wanted to hear from the sheriff, and marching back to her apartment could be accomplished in an hour. Lauren wasn’t interested in conversation. She only wanted closure. If her legs went rubbery when it was all over, so be it. One way or another she was going to be through with this.

  Lauren didn’t intend to be rude. Just firm, unwavering.

  As she paced down the sidewalk, she formed her sentences.

  I’m not seventeen anymore. I know it’s okay to stand up for myself, and I’ll do it.

  I have every right to expect to live my life without harassment, and I’m here to ask you to respect that right.

  If you choose to persist, I will take action. Maybe Jack Parker’s professional services would come in handy after all.

  Consider this a cease and desist order. If I have to ask again, it will be in writing from my attorney.

  Yes. Jack would love an excuse to bury somebody in legalese. How much could it cost to get an attorney to write a couple of threatening letters?

  Lauren’s speed slowed a bit when she took the final turn onto the street where the Morgans lived.

  “Let your gentleness be evident to all.” Lauren exhaled. Those weren’t her words. They belonged to the apostle Paul, who clearly had never met Nevin Morgan.

  But he’d met a lot of other people who wished him ill.

  Okay, gentle. Gentle could still be firm. Gentle didn’t mean being a wimp. Gentle didn’t mean getting walked all over.