Shelby clutched Carter’s hand and tears were now filling her eyes as well as her daughter’s. “You mean it’s possible Ally—”
“It’s possible,” Charlie said. “But remember, this is a theory we’re following.”
“I understand,” Shelby said, the hope in her eyes only slightly diminished.
“And we’ll have to be extremely cautious so as not to scare the kidnapper and miss an opportunity for him to lead us to Ally.”
“Of course,” Carter said. “We understand that.”
“But we will be speaking to several of the runners, their friends and roommates, asking them about one another to determine who has been behaving differently or has seemed nervous or particularly quiet lately, without letting on which ones we’re most interested in, of course. And I’ll put a tail on each of the three in hopes that they lead us to Ally.”
“I’m sorry, I should have asked sooner. Would you like some coffee?” Jillian offered, still playing the adult. We declined, but she excused herself to put it on for her parents.
Carter walked us to the door. “Do you really think one of these boys is the one? I mean, I understand how you’ve narrowed it down, but the truth is, it could be any boy out there who had the shoes and sweatshirt—or anyone who might have stolen them.”
“True,” Charlie said, “But as we told you, we operate a wee bit differently from the police. We trust our intuition, and the fact that Malcolm could not let it go and persistently returned to the park in an effort to grasp how the lad gained the distance on him, tells us that there was a good reason for his tenacity. We have to trust that.” He turned to me. “Jenny?”
“I really think we’re close, Carter. I know it’s been almost four days which feel like an eternity, and I don’t want to give you false hope, but I do believe you’ll have Ally home soon.”
He nodded, his eyes welling up with tears as his hand wove its way through his tousled dark hair over and over again. He resembled his best friend Greg now more than he had when he had looked so polished and kempt.
No sooner had we walked down the front porch steps to the street than we spotted our favorite police detective, Ben Blaine.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He was in one of his friendlier moods.
“Och, just our job, laddie, just our job,” Charlie answered.
Ben as much as growled at him.
“What is it?” Charlie asked. “Have you found the wee bairn?”
“I wish.” He turned and nodded to Jack Sawyer and Rochelle Turner who had just pulled up to the curb behind his car. “All we’ve had are a hundred useless leads which are increasing by the minute, ever since the press put it out to the public that there’s a hundred thousand dollars in reward money!”
Charlie refrained from mentioning that the reward money had been his idea. Nor did he point out that if it succeeded in attracting only one helpful lead, it was doing its job and was well worth the hassle it was causing.
“We can’t catch a break in this goddamned case. Nothing!” He grumbled to himself as if he’d forgotten he had an audience.
He looked up when Charlie asked, “You’re here to interrogate the parents again?”
“And the ex-husband. Now that we know where he is! I suppose you’ve known all along.”
All three of us responded with silence.
“When I called the house to tell them we were coming, Greg Rallings answered. Shelby Elliot’s ex-husband! What the hell! No one bothered to tell me her ex-husband is staying here! We’ve been searching the entire goddamned city looking for the man! His office told us he was in Spokane so we had their police department searching for him there. But of course they didn’t find him because he’s here! Staying in their goddamned house with them when he could very well be the kidnapper!”
“I thought you believed that Shelby Elliot is responsible.” Charlie is a braver person than I am.
Ben’s eyes narrowed as he glared into Charlie’s. “It’s still a strong possibility, Charlie. Still our best theory, other than the ex-husband. I don’t suppose you have a better idea.”
“We’ve learned quite a bit actually, narrowed it down to three lads on the track team.” Charlie briefly explained MacGregor’s discoveries and analysis. I was proud of him. He managed to contain any gloating. But then, his mind was focused where it needed to be—on finding Ally or on helping the police find Ally.
Unfortunately, despite his efforts to be helpful, he was blasted with the detective’s wrath. “That’s just one of your inane Charlie McNair theories.”
“Actually I have to give Malcolm credit for—”
“Enough, Charlie! None of this is helping! All we have are hundreds of false leads! And why the hell didn’t anyone tell me that the ex-husband is staying here!” His words slid out on a mouthful of spit, and then he turned and stormed off up the stairs to the house, knocking loudly enough for half the neighborhood to hear.
Jack shook his head and rolled his eyes as he followed his boss up the stairs while Rochelle hung back to talk to us.
Once Ben and Jack were inside, she said, “He hates being left out of the loop.”
Charlie knew that about Ben. But it wasn’t his fault he hadn’t figured out where the ex-husband was. “Never thought to mention it,” Charlie said in all honesty. “But if I’d felt there was any possibility that Greg was involved in the kidnapping, I would have told you.”
“I know.” Her sigh was heavy. She had to work with the grumpy detective.
“We could use your help with the three lads though, Rochelle.”
“What do you need, Charlie?”
“We’re spread pretty thin, and I don’t trust anyone else to do it. We need you and Jack to question their friends, roommates, teammates, regarding any changes in their personalities, behavior, that sort of thing. But we need you to make it appear as if you’re looking into everyone, not only our three suspects.”
“What about tailing them? I doubt we could get Blaine to agree to that and he’d find out if we did it.”
“I’ll take care of that.” Thank goodness he had a lot of willing ex-students who loved being put on the job even if it was infrequently.
“Okay, email me over the information and I’ll get on it.” She sighed and looked toward the door through which her boss had just passed. “He’s afraid he’s going to be forced to bring in the FBI. If we don’t have a break in the next twenty-four hours, he will. We’re so close to the Canadian border, it’s possible that the baby was taken not just out of state but out of the country. Although we are patrolling the border closely.”
When I felt MacGregor’s hand pressing against my back, I looked up to see two familiar cars driving toward us. Just as the press pulled over to the curb, we said good-bye to Rochelle and headed to our respective homes. I was not in the mood to answer or deflect their questions. Mainly I was afraid that if forced to do so, I might give something away that would tip off the perpetrator as to just how close we were to closing in on him.
* * *
She sat alone at a remote table, staring at her newspaper. Her eyes weren’t moving. They had that glazed look that indicated just how deep in thought she was. Definitely pretending to read. To keep the wolves at bay? Or the annoying detective she’d met at a party?
I stood to the side of the doorway observing her and the men who had noticed her lovely amber hair and high cheekbones. Or was it her trim figure and shapely legs that extended beneath her skirt. More likely. There were at least three admirers, but none attempted to approach her. Her dedicated downward focus on the black print seemed to be doing its job.
As I closed in on her table, I felt as if I were walking into a private alcove in a very public café. “We meet again.”
Her brow furrowed. “Do we?”
“George and Judy Green’s party on Friday?” I was trying not to feel insulted. But Friday was only three days ago. Of course, I had been dressed up that evening with a hint of makeup. Today I was dr
essed in comfort clothes, including my fisherman’s knit sweater. No makeup.
“Oh, of course.” Then came the look of annoyance and the unspoken words, “Why are you talking to me?” Words I knew well . . . from my daughter before she’d had her morning cup of coffee.
I pulled back a chair and sat down, then asked, “May I?”
My presumptuousness was met with excuses. “Actually, I’m waiting for someone.”
Being relatively good at detecting lies, I said, “No, you aren’t.” More blunt than usual here.
“Excuse me?”
After pulling my PI card out of my purse, I set it down and wriggled out of my sweater. “Let’s not waste time here, Marsha. I’m a private investigator hired by your ex-husband and his wife.” I placed my card in front of her, but she was too busy staring at me to notice.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“We believe someone is trying to kill them.” I told her about the airport parking lot incidents, the windshield and tire incidents, and the more recent car keying and the attempt to run down Judy.
“Oh, my God!” The fear in her eyes and the energy that drained from her face and body confirmed that it was an honest reaction. “Why? Why would someone—?”
“We don’t know. Once we know that, we should be able to figure out who. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you some questions.”
She nodded and turned her palm up in a gesture of consent. “Why me?”
I honestly wasn’t sure. But I answered, “I’m hoping you can shed some light on some aspects of this.”
“Okay.” I interpreted her deep sigh as a willingness to help me. Or maybe she realized that if she didn’t, she would become a suspect if she weren’t already one.
I took a breath and got out of the way so a wiser part of me could ask the questions. The first one surprised me as much as it did Marsha. “Why didn’t you and George have children?”
“George always said he was too selfish. He didn’t want to share me. Now look at me. I’m alone. Her sigh was filled with remorse. “But then so is Val, at least for the most part. Mike’s always so busy working. She really wanted a baby too, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.”
“Mike didn’t want children either?”
“Oh, they tried, but apparently they couldn’t get pregnant. Val tried to convince him to adopt a baby, but Mike’s ego . . . you know. He only wanted one of his own.”
Wasn’t I just talking to a woman who wanted to adopt a baby and had to convince her husband to go along with it? I hoped Sally West had more luck convincing her husband, the coach, that adoption was a good alternative. And there was still hope for Marsha. She could meet a man who did want children.
“Despite their blatant animosity for each other, those two are a lot more alike than they realize.”
“How so?”
“Neither of them liked us working.”
Her words interrupted my drifting thoughts. “No?”
“No, Mike discouraged Val from getting a job. And George was adamant that I quit mine.”
“Why on earth?” Geez, Jenny, let your true feelings show, why don’t you?
“I’m a secretary-receptionist. Outside of working in an all-female office with only female clients, he’d have worried.” She laughed. “Now look at me! I’m a receptionist for twenty-five flirtatious divorce attorneys!”
“How would he feel about that?”
She leaned back and considered the question for a moment. “He’d go ballistic.” Her amused expression became more somber and she said, “I should never have listened to him. I should have kept working.”
This time I kept my agreement silent and to myself.
“Are you seeing anyone?” I asked.
“Yes, actually. I’ve been out on a few dates.”
She was moving on. That was good.
“But it’s not the same, you know? Once you’ve been in a really close relationship—” She swallowed hard and I suspected she was holding back tears. She looked up from her hands that seemed more comfortable clutching each other than being apart. “We were really close, George and I, or so I thought.”
I was surprised that she had let down her guard as much as she had. It appeared that once she had made the decision to cooperate with me, the walls had come crumbling down. She had been severely wounded. She had, after all, allowed herself to be vulnerable, and she had trusted and been betrayed.
“George seems genuinely fond of you, Marsha.”
“Yeah, well I thought so too.”
“You still love him, don’t you?”
“Yes.” As angry as she was, she still loved the man who had let her go.
“Why did you get divorced?”
“I wish I knew.”
She wasn’t the only one.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, these are kind of strange questions.”
I laughed in agreement. I wasn’t censoring myself today. But why these questions? To give me insight into the woman, her relationship with her ex-husband, and a sense of her level of hurt and anger? And desire for revenge? Possibly. But I didn’t think so. Neither did my intuition which believed in her innocence.
She surprised me with her next words. “I’m sorry I was rude to you at the party.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Actually, I do. I’ve just been through a divorce myself . . . and a betrayal. The strings are long between two people and not always easy to cut. And the wounds can be very raw and difficult to heal.” It would have taken me a lot longer if I hadn’t had the support of my family and friends. And if MacGregor hadn’t been in my life. “Being sociable, particularly in your ex-husband’s home with his new wife could not have been easy for you.”
“No, it wasn’t.” She took a sip of her coffee that looked sadly cold.
“Why did you go?”
Her laugh was cheerless. “Curiosity, I suppose.” She glanced down at the business card I had put on the table. “I’m surprised you told me who you really are and what’s going on with—with them.”
As was I, but as I said, I wasn’t censoring myself. “I suppose I told you because you’re the number one suspect.”
She was sitting upright now, no sign of that dazed state she’d been in earlier. “Me? Why?” The light went on. “Oh, of course, because I’m the angry ex-wife.” Then another light. “Why would you tell me that?”
Greg Rallings’ words echoed through my memory. He was right. It wasn’t always the ex-spouse. Not all ex-spouses sought revenge. “Because I don’t believe it’s you.”
I pulled into MacGregor’s driveway, climbed out of my car, and hurried across the street to Charlie’s. No one was there. As I made my way back across the street, I pressed in Charlie’s phone number, but by that time I could see him through the small-paned antique windows in MacGregor’s living room. Standing beside him was Matthew which meant there was a strong possibility Holly was with them. At MacGregors’s?
I ran up the stairs and shoved open the door. I could hear Holly and Josh’s voices in the kitchen and immediately understood the attraction. Josh had told them about the puppies. Despite Holly’s pig-headedness, she could not resist four precious and very rambunctious puppies. MacGregor’s grin said it all. He reached out and draped an arm across my shoulder. Matt winked at me before kissing me on the cheek.
“How did it go with the ex-wife?” Charlie asked.
“Well, I still don’t believe she’s behind this.” Apparently I was a lot better at crossing people off the list than I was at zeroing in on the culprit. I still wasn’t sure why I’d felt the need to talk to Marsha, but trusted that at some point it would become clear.
“You’re certain?”
“I am.”
“It’s not just your desire to see the best in everyone, now, is it, Jenny, luv?”
“No, Charlie, it’s not,” I answered firmly.
“If you don’t mind my saying so,
you seem very sure of yourself lately.”
He was right. I did seem more sure of myself and my intuition lately. I couldn’t help wondering if MacGregor had something to do with that. It was similar to the way his and Charlie’s Scottish accents got stronger when they hung out with other Scots. My intuition got stronger when I was around MacGregor who had an uncanny ability to sense energy. But that was only part of it. When I was married to Joe, I avoided even saying the word intuition for fear that he would discount it. Whereas now I could happily say it and claim it because MacGregor never failed to demonstrate the faith he had in mine.
MacGregor squeezed me gently and I wondered if he’d read my mind.
“I suppose you’re right, Charlie. I think my intuition is getting stronger.” Either that or I was becoming more foolish.
“Och, I’m pleased you’re trusting your intuition more, lassie, but remember never to—”
“Rule anyone out until it’s over.”
“Aye, that.”
“I know, Charlie.”
“Things are going well here.” It was MacGregor’s subtle way of telling me there was some improvement and that my icicle daughter was beginning to thaw.
“I’m pleased to see this.” Charlie nodded toward Holly and the puppies. “And I hesitate to ask this, but I do need more help with the Green case.”
“I thought you were taking that one, Charlie. And didn’t I just help you out by going to see Marsha Green?”
“Aye, you did, lassie, but since you’ve all but ruled her out, I’m back to square one. I’m still thinking it’s a member of the family. But which one, I’ve no idea. “ He had that rare bewildered look on his face. “Something’s off with that family. I just can’t figure out what.”
I sighed in reconciliation and inhaled a deep cleansing breath. “Okay, but I think we need to see all the Greens together. As soon as possible.”
“How do you propose we do that?”
My eyebrows arched as if they had a mind of their own. Apparently they did. I snatched my cell phone from my pocket and scrolled down until I found Scott Morrison’s number. After I hung up, I said, “Done. He’s inviting all of the Greens to his party Friday night. Even the twins who he managed to get out on bail.”
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