“Is that one of your shades of gray?”
“It was a favor for a favor, that’s all.”
Slushy snow piled along the sides of the road the color of charcoal. Gritty sand covered black pavement, scraped smooth by the plows overnight.
“And threatening to bring Cutter to Dovie’s party?”
Her chin went up a notch. “Insurance.”
“Blackmail.”
“I never would have gone through with it, you know. It was all a bluff.”
“How am I supposed to believe that?”
She shrugged. “Because I’m telling you it’s the truth.”
“And you never lie.”
“There’s a difference.”
“How so?”
“It’s another of those shades of gray. I might lie once in a while, but when I say I’m telling the truth, I’m telling the truth.” She adjusted the heater vent, turning it away from her flushed face.
I arched an eyebrow. “Once in a while?”
She cracked a smile. “Hardly ever.”
I merged onto the highway. “Right.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Preston said, “Why did you bring me along today? Why are you still even talking to me?”
“I figured I’d swap you one big story for another. You forget everything you know about Cutter, and I’ll give you the exclusive on Sarah Loehman’s disappearance.”
“You already promised me the exclusive.”
“No, I agreed to let you in on the story.”
“So much for black-and-white.”
I smiled. “You must be rubbing off on me.”
“I’m not reading that as a compliment.”
“How intuitive of you.”
“You know, just for the record, I was feeling really bad about asking your father for a favor.”
“Blackmailing him?”
“Whatever. I tried to contact him a few times, call it all off, but he’s been avoiding me.”
He’d been avoiding everyone but Sabrina McCutchan. And though I liked to think they were solely discussing Cutter’s best interests, I had my doubts. My father didn’t go to L’Espalier without having something else in mind.
“Why would you do that?” I asked. “It’s the story of a lifetime.”
She frowned and fussed with the fringe on her scarf. “I don’t know, really. It just didn’t feel right. Not after I got to know you.”
I looked her way—she seemed serious.
I thought about how I’d suspected she might be my sister—and my father’s reaction to the subject. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Did you know that for a while I suspected you might be my sister? With all your questions about siblings, and your strange reaction that day Leo asked if we were related. I see now why, but at the time you had me worried.”
She wasn’t laughing with me. “Would it have been so bad?”
I stole a look and noted the hurt in her eyes. It took only a second for me to remember that Preston had no family left. I tried to lighten the mood. “We’re all too nutty for the likes of you.”
“Yeah, ’cause I’m the pillar of sanity.”
“There’s a saying: ‘In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.’ ”
Her eyebrows dipped. “Are you calling me a one-eyed man?”
“I think so.”
“Again, not feeling the compliment.” But she smiled and said, “Now tell me what we’re doing.”
I filled her in on the reading I’d had with Scott Loehman, the little yellow house, and my plan to get more information.
“Even I realize how stupid this is,” she said.
“And you complain about my compliments?”
Traffic was surprisingly light as I headed into the city. “Do you have a better idea?”
“Yeah. How about you leave this to the professionals?”
“Excuse me, but we are the professionals. You’re an investigative reporter and I’m …”
“What?”
“A locater.”
She laughed her tinkly laugh. “I’m really much better at human interest pieces, and I don’t think a locater will be much good if this guy comes after us. Unless you’re a fast relocater.” She chuckled at her own joke.
“We’re not going to do anything stupid. We’re just surveilling, that’s all. Gathering information.”
“Is surveilling a word?”
“Not sure but it sounds good, doesn’t it?”
She nodded. “Speaking of surveillance, what’s happening with the guy from the bar?”
Joseph. “Not much.”
“Does Em know about the prenup yet?”
“No.” And when she did—she was going to flip. I should probably think about getting a sleeper sofa, because I had a feeling she’d be camped out at my house for a good long while.
“Well, I hope she dumps his ass.”
I couldn’t help but laugh and say, “You and me both.”
“And how about Leo? Have you reached him yet? I’ve been calling, but he’s still not answering.”
“I haven’t had any luck either. I thought maybe we could swing by his house on our way home. It’s on the way.”
“And Lea? Any news?”
“Let’s check.” I grabbed my cell phone, dialed Sam.
“Sam Donahue.”
“It’s Lucy,” I said.
“Hey.” I heard his chair creak and could imagine him leaning back in it. “Sean’s not in.”
My heart double-clutched. “I—I know.” I snapped to. “Did you find anything on Lea Epperson?”
“Actually, yeah. I was going to call you later this afternoon, after I heard back from a few sources.”
Hope buoyed. “What did you find?”
“Her birth certificate. Leo was listed as her father. And her marriage certificate. She was married in the sixties. Her new last name is Czo. C-Z-O. Currently she and her husband are living on a sailboat in the Bahamas. They could be sailing in the open waters, or docked on one of the many islands and cays down there. At this point it’s a needle in a haystack. I’ve got some feelers out to try to get an exact location. If that fails, you might have to schedule a trip down there if your client is willing to pay for it.”
“I’ll pay for it myself if I have to.” For Leo’s sake. “Thanks, Sam. That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. By the way, have you talked to Rosalinda yet?”
“I—uh, not yet.”
“You’re going to be sorry.” I hung up.
“Who’s Rosalinda?” Preston asked.
“Former receptionist.”
“The Santería one? They want to hire her back?”
“Not quite.”
“Is this about the curse?”
“Something like that.”
“I sense a story there.”
“You sense a story everywhere.”
“Very true.”
A while later we pulled off the highway just north of the city. At a big-box office-supplies store, I picked up a clipboard, and quickly drew up a phony petition letter, a blundering paragraph on rezoning. Maybe Marisol wasn’t the only one who used Magnum, PI tactics. But what worked, worked. And my plan had to work.
Half an hour later, we were parked across the street from Jerry White’s Portsmouth house. The wind blew, rocking my car with the gusts. Dark clouds crowded the blue out of the sky. I checked my watch—it was close to twelve-thirty. Aiden was taking longer than I thought.
Not that it mattered. Jerry White wasn’t home. His pickup was nowhere to be seen. Where did he work? Had Sean told me? Maybe I could go there, check things out.
“Surveilling isn’t much fun,” Preston said, fighting a yawn.
It was pretty close to torture. Now I knew why Marisol had been so miserable the other night.
“Maybe we should just go?” Preston asked.
“Not yet. At least not until Detective Holliday gets here.”
“Are you calling replacements for us? I can barely feel my toes.”
“Leo. Thought I’d try again.”
“I like the idea of replacements better.”
I rolled my eyes and dialed. On the fifth ring he answered. I let out a breath of relief. “Leo! It’s Lucy. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“You have news?”
“I have news.” It might not be what he expected to hear, but I had news. “Can Preston and I come by this afternoon?”
We set a time and as we waited for Aiden, I wondered how I was going to break the news to Leo.
A tabby cat prowled around the outside of the house, hunting through the bushes. It was the only movement I’d seen in the neighborhood. It was like a ghost town.
My gaze wandered to Maggie O’Meara’s house. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, raising a daughter on her own while dealing with a serious illness. How much could Shannon possibly earn working at McDonald’s? Enough to pay the rent every month? I remembered what Maggie had said about needing a job, and I suddenly had a thought.
It couldn’t hurt to try …
I opened my phone, clicked through old calls.
“Who are you calling now?” she asked, sounding hopeful.
“Not someone to take your place.”
“Just when I was starting to like you.”
I found the number I was looking for.
“John McGill,” he answered.
“It’s Lucy Valentine,” I said. “Do you remember me?”
“You’re not easy to forget, young lady.”
I smiled. “I’m calling about that job. Did you find someone yet?”
“No, are you interested?”
Preston sat straighter, stared at me.
“Not for me, but I might know of someone …” I told him all about Maggie O’Meara. “Is it possibly a job where someone could work from home?”
“It’s not what I had in mind, but you’ve cut to the heart of me, young lady. If she’s willing to give it a try, so am I.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I’ll go talk to her right now. Thank you so much.”
He laughed. “Just don’t tell anyone what a sappy old man I am.”
“I promise.”
Preston was giving me a funny look.
“What?” I asked.
“You. Are you always so …”
“I hope you’re not waiting for me to fill in that blank.”
“Nice?” she said.
“No,” I answered. “I’ll be right back, okay?” I shoved the clipboard into her hand. “If anyone comes, call my cell.”
“Can’t I come with you? Maggie’s story could be big …”
“Preston.”
“But—”
I thought about the outpouring of support Maggie would receive if a good, well-written article were published about her plight.
“I’ll ask her. She seems the private type, though, so don’t get your hopes up.”
Preston turned her hundred-watt smile on me, and I could kind of, sort of, see her charm.
“Aye, aye.”
Jumping out of my car, I hurried down the cracked sidewalks to Maggie’s house. I pulled open the screen door, knocked loudly.
“Who is it?” she yelled through the door.
“Lucy Valentine.”
Slowly, the door opened. Maggie looked cozy, wrapped in a fuzzy robe. A pink bandana covered her bald head. “Is there something wrong?” she asked, motioning me inside.
“Not at all.”
It was chilly in the house. A fire sputtered in the fireplace, and I wondered if that was the only heat source.
On the kitchen table sat stacks of bills, a calculator, and a checkbook.
“What’s that saying?” she asked me. “Robbing Peter …”
“To pay Paul?”
“Yeah. But I don’t think Peter has enough for me to steal.” She slumped into a kitchen chair.
I sat opposite her and noticed most of the bills were medical in nature. Then there were the usual utilities, credit cards, cable, and phone. PAST DUE was stamped on the top of most of them.
“We’ll get by,” she said. “We always do. What brings you by? It’s not Shannon, is it?”
“No, I—”
“Good. She’s been moping most of the week.”
“Over her breakup with Jimmy?”
“Nah. They’re back together, and she finally told me all about him. She’s missing that bracelet.” Maggie shook her head. “It meant a lot to her that she had something so nice. Something all her own. I’m not a materialistic sort, so I don’t completely understand, but I hate seeing her so upset.” She shrugged. “We deal with what we’re dealt. Try to make the best of it.” She smiled. “Jimmy is working extra hours at the supermarket. I think he’s trying to earn enough to get her another bracelet. He’s a keeper, that one.”
“I think so too.”
“They’re young, but the way I look at it, love doesn’t know any better. Those kinds of feelings are rare. You need to hold on to love when you can. And if it lasts, it lasts. And if it doesn’t, you deal with it.”
I thought of Sean. Was I holding? Or was I dealing? “I came for two reasons.”
“What’s that?”
“One, if you’re still interested, I think I may have a job for you.” I told her about it.
“You’re serious?”
“Absolutely.”
Caution crept into her eyes. “Why?”
“Because I want to help.”
“Why?”
I smiled. “Why not?”
“You don’t want anything in return?”
“Maybe just for you to do a good job. Mr. McGill is a good man.”
“And he’s willing to take a chance on me?”
“Yes,” I said, laughing.
“Why?”
“Are you always like this?”
“It’s just not often I get handed something for nothing.”
“It’s not for nothing. You’re willing to work hard. He needs the help. Though I have to tell you, I’ve seen his handwriting and you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
She laughed. “You’re serious? About the job?”
“Yes!”
“Thank you,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.
“You’re welcome.” I wrote down his phone number, slid it past the stack of bills.
“And, I know a reporter. She wants to write a piece on you, your story. If you’re interested.”
A blush crept up her neck. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“I’m sure the article will tug a lot of heartstrings. People will want to help.” I eyed her bills.
“I don’t think—I mean, I don’t know.”
“Just think about it, okay?”
She nodded.
I met her eyes. “The other reason I came by … I’m still looking into the disappearance of Sarah Loehman.”
“And it brings you back here?”
“Three doors down, actually. A man lives there. Jerry White? Do you know him?”
“Not really. You know how sometimes you just know to steer clear of someone? That instinct? I have it with him. I told Shannon to stay away from him too. Something’s just off. The way he looks at you kind of thing. You think he had something to do with the woman you’re looking for?”
“Jimmy bought Sarah’s bracelet at a yard sale at his house.”
“Really? I never would have thought that guy was the type to have a yard sale. Was Jimmy sure?”
“He seemed to be.” I rose. “Thanks for everything, Maggie. Thank Shannon for me too.”
“We should be the ones thanking you.”
“Not at all. I’m glad I could help.” And I knew, just knew, that if Preston didn’t write the article on Maggie, I’d be dipping into my trust fund to help her out. It didn’t seem right having all that money sitting there wit
h Maggie suffering. Helping pay those bills definitely qualified as something important.
Outside, the wind took hold of my hair, lifted it into the air. Tendrils crisscrossed my face as I made my way back to my car. My empty car.
Frantically, I scanned the area and finally spotted Preston talking to a woman outside Jerry White’s house, clipboard in hand.
As I hurried down the sidewalk, I noticed the woman carried a bag of groceries, wore no coat, no hat, no gloves. She had to be freezing in jeans, sneakers, and an oversized sweatshirt. The wind was doing a number on her platinum-blond hair, lashing it against her face. Shoulders squared, she was listening to Preston blab on about zoning issues.
“I’m sorry,” the woman was saying as I neared. “I don’t know anything about that.”
She turned and her hand shook as she tried to get the key into the lock. Her fingers were white with cold. The key ring fell out of her grasp, clinked on the stoop. She shifted her bag of groceries, bent down, but I reached out and snatched up the keys before she could.
I held them out.
The woman turned around. The first thing I noticed was her black eye. The second was that I was looking at Sarah Loehman.
25
My fist closed around the keys and drew them back to my chest. “Sarah?”
I was surprised I recognized her. Beyond the new hair color and the black eye, she’d changed. Aged. She’d lost a lot of the sparkle from her picture.
The bag of groceries slipped from her hands, fell with a thud to the ground. A bag of apples spilled out, dropping down the steps one by one. Her brown eyes widened and immediately filled with tears.
Preston gasped. “You mean—” She looked at me, and I nodded. She quickly pulled out her recorder. Her hands were shaking.
Behind me, I heard a car door slam. Aiden, at last.
“H-how?” Sarah asked me, tears streaming. She fell to her knees, bent over and sobbed.
Aiden rushed to my side, looked at me, his eyebrows drawn together in question.
I sat down on the step next to Sarah, not sure what to do. The anguish in her sobs tore at me. I reached out and rubbed her back.
“Lucy?” Aiden asked.
I shimmied out of my coat, draped it over Sarah’s shoulders. “It’s going to be okay.”
“He’ll kill me, he’ll kill me.”
“Who, Sarah?” Preston asked. “Scott?”
Sarah swiped her eyes, blinked. “No. Scott would never hurt anyone. Jerry. He’ll kill me if he finds me with you. And he’ll be here soon. For lunch. He comes home every day for lunch. You have to go. You have to. Now. Right now.”
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