Allison Janda - Marian Moyer 02 - Seduction, Deceit & a Slice of Apple Pie

by Allison Janda

  “Can’t tell us what?” Addison encouraged, nearly leaping across the room to take Rachel by the shoulders. She gave her a slight shake and Rachel’s head bobbed around like a rag doll’s.

  Rachel wrenched herself free of Addison’s grip with a grunt, then sighed and backed up to check the hallway again. Satisfied that still no one was coming, she turned back to us. “Look, I- I can’t. I can’t tell you.” Addison narrowed her eyes and stared at Rachel as if she’d sprouted an extra head. Rachel lowered her voice to a whisper. “I can’t trust anyone.”

  “You can trust us,” Mika said encouragingly. “We’ve been in this business a long time. Seen a lot of things.”

  Rachel just shook her head. “No,” she said quietly, looking to the floor. “I can’t. Really.”

  “A hint then?” I questioned, though still an octave too high. While everyone tensed at the tone of my voice, no one made a move to quiet me. Rather, they awaited Rachel’s response with heavily baited breath.

  Rachel looked up and stared at me sadly. I could tell she was desperate to make a confession, but she wasn’t sure if she should. I’m not sure how long we stood like that, acknowledging one another. Suddenly, her face lit up as if she’d thought of something. “You read books,” she said to Addison, who nodded. “And sometimes, books aren’t always what they seem, are they?”

  “What the hell does that mean?” James asked. He was gorgeous and intelligent, but he’d never struck me as the bookish type. I imagined, instead, that his dark oak bookshelves were probably lined with an array of manly movies, several scattered awards and a few dusty candles that his mother had sent him for decorating, but that he’d never lit. Granted I’d never even so much as seen the neighborhood he lived in, let alone his house — or perhaps an apartment? We hadn’t discussed it. I’d need to ask him.

  “You’re seriously giving us clues in riddles?” Addison asked dryly, snapping me back to the present.

  “No,” Rachel said. “No clues. I was just making conversation.”

  Janet fixed her with a glare but Rachel’s facial expression didn’t change. She wasn’t going to budge. “We don’t have time for casual conversation,” I snapped, throwing my hands in the air. I could feel my breath quicken, my voice once again growing higher and higher with each word that flew from my mouth. “None of us appreciate the games. Since when does your daughter’s life mean so little to you?” Rachel gasped and raised a hand to her cheek like she’d just been slapped. My palm quickly covered my mouth and my eyes grew wide. “Oh, Rachel. I’m so sorry. That was- I didn’t mean to- I wasn’t thinking when I said that. I know you love Riley.”

  After a brief stare down, Rachel lowered her hand but continued to look wounded. “We’re all allowed our opinions.”

  “Oh, don’t even try to make her feel bad,” Addison seethed, bristling. “You’re clearly the one that got all of us involved in this mess.” She made a circular motion with her finger. “Turn that blame right on back around, sister, and take a long hard look in your compact. In fact,” she began to dig around in her purse, which was hanging casually from its strap on a kitchen chair, “borrow mine.” She tossed the green makeup case at Rachel, who caught it just before it hit her square in the forehead.

  “Really-” I started, but Addison snapped up her hand in a “stop talking” motion. “Save it,” she whispered. “I know you mean well, but you’ve got to stop talking right now.”

  I clamped my mouth shut and looked at James, who shrugged and smiled sympathetically.

  “Did you know that Mr. Gregson recently lost his wife?” Rachel asked, fiddling with the green makeup compact. She opened the lid and examined her face in the small, dusty mirror before clasping it shut and tossing it back to Addison.

  “What?” I cried. “What the hell does that-”

  “Greg Gregson?” Addison asked, cutting me off and placing the compact back in her purse.

  “Yeah,” Rachel answered.

  “I didn’t know Grace died.”

  “A few months ago.”

  “That’s terrible. I’ll have to pay Mr. Gregson a visit.”

  “You should,” Rachel said with quiet determination. “I’m sure he’d like that.”

  Something passed then between the two women. I caught a near undetectable nod from Addison and narrowed my eyes. She was reading between the lines. I was still catching up. I turned to the rest of our group to see if they’d noticed anything. They all appeared to be just as confused as I was by Rachel’s elusiveness. I decided to try a different angle to play catch up. “Does my brother know how much you’re really worth?” I asked, trying hard to keep my voice as level as possible.

  Rachel’s mouth twitched slightly. I could feel her sizing me up, wondering where my line of questions would lead. “He was going to. Now, I hope he never will.” With that, she turned and scurried away, head down, shoulders hunched.

  Once she was out of earshot, I turned from Addison to the others, and back to Addison, confused. I decided to ask the one question that was clearly on all of our minds. “What was it that you got out of her that the rest of us didn’t?”

  “I think we’ll have to ask Gregson,” Addison answered with a smile.

  I wanted to be the one to talk to Gregson and there would be no arguing with me. The only problem was, when I went to knock on his door, a strange woman answered. “Is…Greg…here?” I stammered, struggling to look past her. Gregson was quite old; perhaps he’d hired a housekeeper.

  The woman shook her head no, but continued to stare at me. She was a handful of years older than my mother, with deep crow’s feet around her dark brown eyes. Her hair fell in a long silver braid down her back and she squinted at me, her forehead wrinkling with recognition. “I’ve seen you someplace,” she murmured.

  “I’m not from around here,” I said, stepping backwards down the stairs.

  “No, not here,” she agreed. “But somewhere. You famous or anything?”

  Most people recognized my headshot from papers and local magazines that ran insider stories on Food Porn. I wasn’t about to tell her that I ran the underground provocative magazine. She struck me as the conservative type. I’d probably give her a heart attack. “Nope,” I assured her, sliding my hands deep into my coat pockets and hurrying away.

  Once back at the house, I spoke to Frank, who informed me that Gregson had moved into a retirement home up in Green Bay not long after his wife, Grace, had passed. He didn’t have a phone number. While it was easily tracked down by Mika and James, I decided that speaking to Gregson in person was the smarter way to go. Addison insisted on going with me but I waved her off. She was the only one, other than myself, of my motley crew that my family knew. One of us needed to stay put and keep everyone calm. James quickly offered to go in her stead and I found myself agreeing to his company. I wasn’t sure if I was grateful that he’d offered, specifically, or if I was simply in need of a warm body by my side as I uncovered answers I wasn’t totally sure I wanted.

  John and my parents awoke a short time later. They entered the kitchen, Rachel trying desperately to disappear behind them and avoiding all eye contact. Together, we all went into the garage for the latest on the search efforts. By now, of course, I was nearly positive that Riley wasn’t missing amongst the snow drifts. I still wasn’t sure where she was, but I was pretty sure she hadn’t been killed and tossed by the wayside, nor had she been kidnapped and then left outside to freeze. Still, I couldn’t say anything and risk blowing what little cover my friends and I had. The search efforts needed to continue as we drew closer to solving Rachel’s riddle.

  As the nine of us stepped into the heated garage, I noticed a person I didn’t recognize setting up a row of pizza boxes which had just been delivered, free of charge, by the local mom and pop shop. That was the great thing about small towns. People always pitched in the tiniest things, often making all the difference to those at the eye of the storm.

  “How sweet,” my mother exclaimed, hurrying o
ver to heap plate after plate with hot food, as only a mother can do.

  “Thank goodness,” my father muttered, alluding to my mother’s poor cooking skills. He winked at me, even as my brother lightly punched him on the shoulder and scowled. My brother hated when my parents ripped on one another. When we were younger and so many of our friends had parents going through divorce, my brother was convinced that our parents were one nag away from calling it quits. He’d never quite grown out of his fear, either, despite the fact that Ma and Pop had recently celebrated 31 blissful years at a cabin in Okoboji. I hadn’t pressed them for details, but that didn’t stop my dad from trying to inform me of their trysts in the woods, the movie theater, the restaurant bathroom, etcetera.

  As Frank filled us in on the search efforts, he slowly handed over clipboards, notes and a stack of maps to my father, who would be taking over for a few hours while Frank went home to catch some much-needed sleep. “You folks find anything that we can use?” he asked James and Mika.

  “No, sir,” Mika responded easily. After Rachel had scurried off, our group had decided to keep everyone outside of the original conversation in the dark about the curious exchange with Rachel, as well as all of our growing suspicions about Gregson’s involvement. We didn’t want to generate false hope in my parents or my brother, and we also didn’t want additional law hands in the already crowded pot. Plus, Rachel seemed uncomfortable with telling us much of anything, which made us uncomfortable enough to keep our findings quiet. As strange and frustrating as she was acting, her distrust of anyone outside our circle had seemed legitimate. On top of that, if she’d wanted my family to know everything that Addison, Janet, Mika, James and I had been made privy to, she’d have told them already.

  Rachel shifted uncomfortably behind Mika. “You alright?” John asked her, concern filling his voice. His forehead wrinkled as he gently took her by the arm, as though she might faint.

  “Fine,” she promised him with a tight smile, gently patting his hand. Janet eyed the pair, exchanged a look with Addison, and then me. One of us might need to jump in and steer the conversation towards less dangerous waters.

  “You’re sure?” Frank asked Rachel suspiciously, twitching his mustache. He looked curiously to Mika, studying him. Mika stood poker-faced. Frank turned to Addison, and then Janet, before leveling his gaze on me. I stood as still as possible, worried that the slightest twitch would alert him that we knew more than we were letting on. Poor Frank. I hated keeping him and my father in the dark. They were the two that I ran to as a little girl. As an adult and a woman, it was my turn to protect them.

  “Positive,” Rachel promised him brightly, turning her smile on full-wattage. Frank again looked from me to Rachel and then back to me. I offered him a small smile, but stopped short of a wave. He’d definitely think something was up if I waved.

  Frank gave Rachel one last glance before turning back to my father. Gripping my dad’s hand and giving him a quick, one-armed hug, he whispered, “Good luck. Call me immediately if you hear anything. I mean it.”

  “Will do,” my father responded into Frank’s shoulder. As Frank walked out of the garage, he zipped up his jacket and adjusted his wide-brimmed hat. We watched him disappear down the block and around the corner before anyone spoke again. My father looked down at the mess of documents he had just been handed and studied them closely. “Well, it looks like our house and John’s house have both been searched thoroughly, as has the two-mile radius surrounding both residences. Next steps will be to expand our search radius when the teams shift in about-” He checked his watch and rechecked Frank’s schedule that was handwritten on a clipboard. “Thirty minutes.”

  “What can we do until then?” John asked.

  “You can eat,” my mother responded, handing both him and Rachel a plate piled high with piping hot pizza.

  “Ma, we’re not-” he started, trying to shove the plate away.

  “Eat,” my father demanded of him. “I need you and Rachel both to take care of yourselves when and where you can.”

  I switched my worried gaze to my brother. He looked much older than his 30-something years in that moment. I can’t imagine being a parent who loses a child. I could barely comprehend losing a niece.

  Over the next half hour, people began coming back and checking in from their search assignments. No one seemed to have news, good or bad. They’d apologize, find their families and hug one another tightly, having been reunited in light of such terrible circumstances. Some would grab pizza. Others simply walked to their cars, promising to return after getting some much-needed sleep.

  New assignments were handed out as new individuals trickled in. These people were both well-rested and warmly bundled, prepared to take on the bitter cold temperatures, hoping to find Riley and bring her home. I found myself feeling terrible for not speaking up and stopping the search operation. After our conversation with Rachel in the kitchen, my gut was screaming in frustration. Riley wasn’t out there, we were wasting our time and the time of every townsperson showing up to offer help. Still, the cover remained necessary.

  While my parents and brother were distracted getting everyone saddled up with search assignments, Rachel stepped to my side. “What can I do?” she whispered.

  “You can tell me the truth,” I told her with a sigh. I turned to look at her and took in how fragile she appeared. There were obvious crow’s feet that I’d never noticed before. Her eyes were so tired that the bags beneath them could have passed for bruises. Still, I willed myself to not feel sorry for her. It was looking more and more like she was the reason behind this whole mess and I was done being jerked around. I didn’t like being taken advantage of and it seemed like Rachel had somehow morphed into the queen of manipulation.

  “I can’t,” she said shaking her head.

  “You don’t trust me?” I hissed.

  “I do!” she said quickly. “Of course I do, Marian. It’s just that- I shouldn’t run my mouth. Again.”

  I stared at her hard, but she didn’t continue.

  “It might be best for you to wait at your house,” Janet said, cutting the tension with her kind voice as she stepped towards us. “I can walk you there if you’d like, Rachel. That way, if Riley returns home, someone will be there waiting for her.”

  Rachel never broke eye contact with me. She continued to stare, unblinking, as she nodded to Janet’s suggestion. All three of us knew that Riley wouldn’t be returning home so easily.

  When the two went to relay their plan to my parents and my brother, I grabbed Addison’s arm and dragged her into the house. James and Mika were hot on our heels. Closing the door behind us, I turned to Addison. “She’s convinced that she caused Riley’s disappearance.”

  “How do we know she didn’t?” Mika asked.

  I felt my shoulders droop. “We don’t,” I admitted. “But we do have a lead thanks to Addison. Gregson.”

  “A breadcrumb trail,” Addison agreed with relish. “These are my favorite. They always lead you somewhere you don’t expect.”

  “Because you’ve solved breadcrumb trails so well in the past,” James teased her, referring to when Addison had concluded that he and Mika were my killers.

  “I don’t think that Rachel actually knows where Riley is,” I told them. “But I think she knows who took her daughter. Or at least, why her daughter was kidnapped. And Gregson will, too.”

  “Why won’t she just tell us?” Addison asked.

  “That, I’m afraid,” I responded grimly, “is what we have to find out. And I don’t think we’re going to like it.”

  James and I didn’t call ahead to schedule a visit with Mr. Gregson. I relied on hope that he’d instead recognize my name and simply agree to see us. Sure enough, when we offered our names at the nurse’s station, Mr. Gregson eagerly agreed to a meeting, despite the fact that he didn’t recognize both names. “Marian Moyer!” he exclaimed when I walked in the door. His apartment at the assisted living facility was small but functional. I
t contained a small kitchenette, a living room crammed full of Mr. Gregson’s treasures he’d collected over the years, a large wheelchair accessible bathroom and an equally large bedroom. He tottered over to me and gave me a tight, boney hug. “This must be your husband?” he asked me of James, turning and holding out his hand for a shake.

  I blushed. “No, no. He’s just a friend. This is James.”

  “Oh,” Mr. Gregson responded, sizing James up and down. “Well, that’s too bad.” James smirked at me as he shook Gregson’s hand. We followed our host into the living room. “How can I help you today?” Mr. Gregson asked. “I hope you don’t mind my saying, but I was terribly surprised to hear that you’d stopped by for a visit. Green Bay isn’t exactly a quick drive from Milwaukee.”

  “I was visiting my parents,” I told him quickly.

  “Everything is well, I hope,” Gregson said carefully as he leaned over to flip on a table lamp.

  “Not really,” I responded. “My niece is missing.”

  “Young Riley?” Gregson asked. His face looked surprised, but his voice didn’t echo the sentiment. I could tell that James had picked up on it, as well. “That’s terrible. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “We actually need your help,” I told him. “We have a few questions to ask you, if you’re up for it.”

  “I can’t imagine how I can be of help, but ask away,” he answered, bewildered.

  “Do you know Rachel Moyer?” James asked politely.

  Mr. Gregson looked taken aback, but recovered quickly. “Well, of course,” he told us. “That’s Riley’s mom.” We watched and waited, willing him to continue. “Lovely girl,” Gregson added, awkwardly. “She’s sweet. Helped get my things organized after my Grace died so that I could move up here. Nothing left for me in that town.” Gregson allowed himself to become very small and I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He’d said a few things that triggered additional questions in my brain.