“How so?”
“Haunted? I don’t know. That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It kind of does.”
“Well, anyway.” She picked up a naked cupcake on a cooling rack and peeled off the crimped orange wrapper. “She drowned. In the pool, which Joel subsequently filled in.”
“And it was a suicide?”
Danette nodded. “She’d taken a bunch of pills, there was a note, she apparently had a long history of problems.”
At the mention of the note, I thought about Elise Hazlett.
Who’s the mystery now?
I pointed at the cupcakes. Danette nodded, so I helped myself to one. “When did Nadine come into the picture?”
“Oh, much later. A year and a half ago maybe. At first I thought—good, someone can bring some life into that house.” She shrugged. “I haven’t seen her in a few weeks. She used to sit outside every morning with her coffee on the terrace. We’d chat a little when I was out there gardening. Then one day, she wasn’t there, and I haven’t seen her since. It was shortly after school started, I remember that.”
“What about her kids,” I said, “Aiden and Katie?”
Danette finished off her cupcake and chewed in silence for a few beats. “I assume they’re with her, wherever she is. Katie goes to the same school as my sons.”
“And she hasn’t been in class?”
“No.” Something dark passed through her expression. “Wait, do you think something, I don’t know, bad happened over there?”
“I don’t know. But when you say ‘wherever she is,’ where do you think that is?”
“I figured, maybe she left him. And went to stay with a relative or something.”
“Did Joel say something to that effect?”
“I haven’t spoken to him in a year, probably.”
“Did Nadine say anything that indicated to you she was planning on leaving him?”
“No, we talked about the weather, mostly. The summer, gardening, whatever. I have a lot of veggies growing—my crops, I call them. But Nadine had a real touch for cultivating flowers. I guess she had a rose that won a Home and Garden Show competition once. I know she volunteers at the florist that their church runs. But she just seemed, I don’t know, unhappy. Pained. Deeply serious. I honestly don’t think I ever heard the woman laugh. And the way she’d act around Joel? So quiet, always a step behind him, head down.”
“What about his kids. They get along with the new family?”
Danette thought for a second before answering. “I barely ever see or hear Nadine’s kids. They definitely don’t hang out with the twins. And the twins, well, I don’t know, it’s no wonder they’re weird, after what happened.” She made a face. “Eh, that’s not fair. They’re just kids. I don’t mean they’re destined to be outcasts of society or anything. But Preston’s like a used-car salesman, he’ll talk to anyone, about anything—he once cornered my husband for forty-five minutes about the new riding lawnmower we got.”
I laughed. “How much could a fifteen-year-old have to say about a riding lawnmower?”
“Right? That’s what I thought, but it turns out, plenty. Pete—my husband—he came in after that and was like, I swear, nobody has even so much as looked at that poor kid recently.”
“What about the other one?”
“Porter. Yeah, he’s the opposite. So quiet, and always scribbling in a notebook. I tried talking to him a few times and he always just runs away.”
“Do you happen to have a phone number for Nadine?”
Danette shook her head, then paused. “Well, actually, we have a school directory for the Science Academy. Let me check.”
She opened a series of drawers of the desk built into her kitchen cabinets and brandished a small booklet. “Here. Creedle … no, it would be under Brant, I suppose.” Her brow furrowed. “Oh. Well, that doesn’t help much.”
She showed me the page in the school directory. Next to Katie’s name, it listed Joel’s and Nadine’s names, but only one email address and phone number—his.
CHAPTER 20
I left after asking Danette if she could try to find out anything about Katie Brant at her son’s school. There was already a lot of information swirling around this family: Sharon Coombs’s claim that Aiden transferred to a boarding school in Michigan and Danette’s detail that all three of the Brants were conspicuously absent from the house in Ottawa Hills. Add to that Aiden hiding out on Rebecca’s properties and we had one strange situation.
Danette told me that the Creedle twins would probably be home from school within the hour. I left for a while, wandered around the famous Franklin Park Mall, and called Shelby. “You’ll never guess who I met today.”
“Who?”
“Constance CAN.”
“What? Where—how?”
I let myself smile at her excitement. “I’m back in Toledo for my case. It overlapped with her a bit.”
“What was she like? This is so freaking cool.”
“She was very helpful. And I can see why she’s taking the state of Ohio by storm—she’s a compelling speaker.”
“Did you get her autograph?”
I laughed. “No, I did not think to do that. But I have her phone number, which might be cooler than an autograph.”
“You got her number?”
“Not like got got,” I said. “I’m pretty sure she’s straight, isn’t she?”
“I hope not! She has a husband but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Well, if I talk to her again, I’ll ask her.”
“And for an autograph.”
“You got it.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
Teens were beginning to swarm into the mall, which probably meant that school was out. “Sure.”
“So Miriam was over last night and we were watching a movie.”
“Okay.”
“And she put her head on my shoulder. And fell asleep.”
“Aw, Shel, that’s adorable.”
“Well, I don’t know, that’s what I wanted to ask you. Do you think she was just, like, tired? Or were we, you know, snuggling?”
I sat on a wooden bench outside of a store called Zumiez, where many of the teens were trying on skater shoes. “Presumably she was tired, if she fell asleep. But if she put her head on your shoulder first, I think that definitely counts as snuggling.”
“But what if she was just sitting beside me and fell asleep because I’m the most boring girl ever, and her head just happened to end up on my shoulder?”
“You’re far from boring.”
“That doesn’t answer my question!”
“Okay, I think there’s pretty much zero chance of her falling asleep and accidentally ending up with her head on your shoulder. Did you talk to her after?”
“No, I didn’t want to wake her up, so I just sat there. And then eventually I fell asleep too and when I woke up it was morning and she had left for class.”
“And texting no longer exists or anything.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“A little.”
“Well, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!”
“Just talk to her. I definitely think she was sending you a message. I’ve been telling you she’s into you for like a year, Shelby.”
She made an agonized moan.
“No, this is the good part! Young queer love, Shel, it’s everything.”
“Okay. Maybe I’ll text her later.”
“Let me know how it goes.”
“Why are you back in Toledo? You were just here, I thought.”
“Such is the life of a detective,” I said.
Back at the crazy-looking house, I rang the doorbell for a second time that day. Nobody cared, but I heard a teenage boy’s machine-gun laughter and an outraged giggle, followed by footsteps clomping across the brick driveway. “Give it back, omigah!” the girl trilled.
The pair of them burst through the covered path between the garage a
nd the house and froze when they saw me. The girl was pale and freckled, leaves caught in her long red hair. The boy was Preston, the one who looked like a jerk in his school picture, and he was holding hostage an iPad in a rhinestone case, arms above his head.
“Hi there, is Aiden at home?”
“Aiden still lives here?” the girl squeaked.
Preston Creedle sniffed loudly. He had a prominent widow’s peak and a grown man’s jaw despite the layer of baby fat he still sported. “No, he’s not here.”
“How about Nadine?”
The redhead had a lot of feelings about my questions. “Who’s Nadine?”
“My dad’s new wife, settle down,” Preston told her before looking back at me. He still held the iPad aloft, his arms beginning to quiver. “She isn’t here either.”
“Katie?” I tried.
“This is my house.” Preston lowered the iPad and the girl snatched it away. “What do you want with them?”
“Maybe they won something,” the redhead offered.
That wasn’t the worst idea. “Well, Aiden applied for a, a scholarship. At Zumiez,” I said, recalling the name of the mall store I had sat in front of. “Half-Pipe with a Purpose? It’s to highlight skaters who make a difference in the community.”
Preston snorted, but his friend looked starstruck. “Do you, like, work for Zumiez the brand?”
“Yes.” This was getting out of hand. “But I really need to speak to Aiden. It’s just that he hasn’t returned any calls about this so the company asked me to come check it out.”
“What kind of scholarship? Like, for skating?” the girl said.
“There’s no such thing as a skating scholarship,” Preston said, but I could see the wheels beginning to turn. “But what does he win?”
“Oh,” I said, “he hasn’t won anything yet. But I do need to speak with him. Do you know when he’ll be home?”
“He’s in Michigan,” Preston said, “at some camping school. They don’t even have phone service there so that’s probably why he didn’t call back.”
“A camping school in Michigan?”
The kid nodded, not offering any explanation as to what the hell that meant.
“And his mother and sister? Are they at the camping school too?”
“I guess. But, like, I’m his stepbrother. So if he can’t accept it, maybe I can? Do you want to make a video of me skating or something? I have a sick board that I’ve barely even used yet.”
Now the front door opened and the other kid, Porter, poked his head through. He was skinny and bespectacled and he looked deeply suspicious. I could tell that he had been listening from inside the house. “I’m calling Dad.”
“Whatever, rat fink,” Preston said.
The redhead dissolved into giggles again. “Rat fink, omigod, Preston, you’re soooo funny.”
Porter slammed the door and went back into the house.
Preston said, “So should I show you my tricks?”
“Sorry, kiddo,” I said, “I’m just the messenger.”
* * *
The florist shop, Bloom, seemed a bit like a trap designed to ensnare college girls with a certain Pinterest aesthetic, one of mason jar lights and tangly wildflowers and succulents in vintage planters. The location near the University of Toledo campus said that too. But you didn’t have to look too closely before the church angle became apparent—psalms in the price-tag artwork, a whole collection of unironic gifty knickknacks sporting #BLESSED. There was music playing, a mildly catchy acoustic rock band singing about hope. And if you made it all the way to the back of the store without noticing, they cleared it up with a lightly colored but gigantic mural on the back cinder block wall that said,
The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.
—SONG OF SOLOMON 2:12
I was one of two customers in the shop. I wandered among the succulents and listened to the music, thinking about Keir Metcalf and my client and their youth-band “disagreement.” The only employee—or maybe volunteer, like Nadine—was young and blond with small, close-set brown eyes heavily lined with blue. She walked up to me and said, “What brings you in today?”
I picked up an anemic jade plant in a small ceramic pot. “I was wondering if Nadine was working today?”
“Nadine?” Her name tag said KYLA|FAVORITE BLOOM: HYACINTH. “I’m so sorry, but no, Nadine isn’t in right now.”
“Do you know when she might be by?”
“She isn’t on the schedule for this week.”
“Have you seen her recently?”
She blushed. “I don’t—why are you asking me about her?”
“I know she spends time here and I’m just trying to track her down.” I regretted the word choice—too harsh.
Kyla’s expression closed off. “Maybe you should check with her husband.”
“I’m checking with you, Kyla.”
“Maybe I could help you with something else,” she said brightly, opting to end the conversation with a change of subject. “I see you’re holding one of our jade plants. Did you know that jade is also known as the friendship plant?”
I sighed. “No, I didn’t.”
“Succulents are very easy to care for, even for working moms.”
I put the plant back down on the display. “Not today, thanks.”
“We actually have a little workshop tomorrow night that’s all about succulents, if you might be interested in that?”
“Great,” I said, “I’ll take it.”
She led me up to the counter, which had one of those lazy-Susan-type iPads instead of a cash register. “Can I just get your phone number?”
“That’s okay.”
“I just need it for the transaction.”
“I’d rather not.”
Kyla tipped her head to the side. “Why?”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Put it into the system.”
“For?”
“I … for the transaction?”
I rattled off ten random digits, and she smiled with relief.
“Okay, and your email?”
I went three more rounds with her, giving my name, mailing address, and date of birth before she finally scanned my jade plant, which hovered ever closer to the grave, and said, “That’ll be twenty-three oh six.”
I handed over my debit card, annoyed. “Is it possible to get Nadine’s contact info?”
Kyla smiled and thrust a small flyer into my hand. “This workshop is going to be great. Tomorrow night, absolutely free, and you’ll leave with your very own soul-stirring planter.”
“Soul-stirring?”
“It’s so much fun. You can mingle with the gals, learn something new, I know you’ll love it.”
The flyer showed a group of ladies in matching neon shirts, all ecstatic over the succulents they held in their hands. WOMEN’S CIRCLE, it said. Please join us for coffee, conversation, and crafts! This month we’re playing in the dirt and arranging our own succulent planters. FREE EVENT! Bring a friend! All are welcome.
In the tiniest print I’d ever seen, the flyer said, Women’s Bible Study Group to follow.
* * *
I watered my bedraggled jade plant with a few cubes from the motel ice machine—a trick Shelby had taught me—and called Sharon Coombs.
“I would have to check, but I’m pretty sure it was Aiden’s stepfather who came in to officially withdrawal him from the school.”
“Did he provide the name of the new school?”
“I’m not sure I can answer that, legally. What’s behind your questions about Aiden Brant?”
“Well,” I said, “I don’t think he’s at a boarding school in Michigan. I encountered him in Rebecca’s house the other day, and I think he’s also been staying at one of the rental properties she owned.”
Sharon drew in a sharp breath.
“I’d love to talk to his mother about it, but I can’t se
em to find her, either.”
“Oh, dear.”
“So anything you can tell me about this family would be much appreciated. I just want to find Aiden and his mother, and make sure everything is all right.”
“Aiden was with us for about two years. The Creedle twins have been students at Horizons since first grade. Aiden was from the public high school, I believe. I think he transferred to us when Nadine and Joel got married. There was always tension, which I chalked up to Aiden having some adjustment difficulties to life at a private school.”
“When was the last time you spoke to Nadine Creedle?”
“I have no idea. I know I met her at one point, when Aiden first enrolled. But I’m not sure that I’ve seen her or talked to her since then. Joel is the one who handles the family affairs, I think.” Her tone got a little defensive. “And him, I’ve known for a long time.”
“Friends?”
“No, I wouldn’t say we’re friends. But we’re friendly. He’s on the PTA board of the school.”
That was a bit of a concern. If Danette Carrasco thought his kids were terrified of him, the idea that he was involved in making decisions for an entire school seemed like a problem. I said, “Do you know anything about the church he leads, the Keystone Christian Fellowship?”
“Sure.”
Sharon didn’t seem to share my worry. “Any thoughts about it?”
“Thoughts?”
“I’ve heard that it’s a little, I don’t know, insular.”
“We have a lot of Keystone students at Horizons. They’re some of our highest achievers and most community-oriented, too.” She cleared her throat. “All churches—all groups—look insular from the outside. That’s what makes it a group.”
I wasn’t sure if this was true. But Sharon Coombs actually knew people from the church, whereas I did not.
After I hung up I returned to my browser tabs of Keystone research. On their website, I clicked a flashing button that said YOU BELONG HERE!, halfway wondering if I would be sucked into a portal through the computer screen.
It’s important to us to avoid labels like conservative or liberal; instead, we try to focus on Jesus, discerning what he is doing in, and saying to, our community, and following him as faithfully as we can.
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