She pointed at a golf ball-shaped notepad on his desk, one she’d given him the previous year on his birthday along with a bunch of other golf-related things, like green socks with miniature tees on them and new covers for his clubs. “Go on then. Don’t just stand there. Write their names down.”
“You can’t come to my office demanding I get you information.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not the FBI. How do you suggest I go about this ... finding out about these two?”
“You have connections, don’t you? Use them.”
“What is it you’re wanting to know?”
“Anything and everything about who they are and their backgrounds. I’d also like to have them followed. I’d like to know where they go, what they do, and who they talk to.”
“I can’t just put cops on these two because you suspect something you can’t prove.” He crossed his arms in front of him. “I had a long talk with MacDougal today. I know what you’re doing, and it needs to stop.”
“Spare me a second lecture about letting the police do their job. Lane Marshall was murdered right under our noses, Joseph.”
“I’m well aware. It doesn’t give you the right to get involved in police business.”
“I haven’t stood in their way. If anything, I’ve helped them. I was the one who found the gun buried in the Marshall’s back yard. Not the police. Me. And I did the right thing by handing it over.”
“Yes, I know all of this already. Believe me. I’ve been filled in.”
“All I’m asking you for is one small favor.”
“You’re asking for two. You’re asking for information, and you’re asking for them to be followed. I’m sorry, Mom. It’s not going to happen. You need to stop asking questions, stay out of it, and go on about your life. This case will be solved. MacDougal is excellent at what he does, and you know it. He doesn’t need you getting in his way.”
Undeterred and unwilling to take no for an answer, Maisie crossed one leg over the other and smiled. “I’ll wait.”
“What do you mean, you’ll wait?”
“I’ll sit here until you change your mind.”
Joseph walked to the window, staring down at the busy street below. “The city is unsettled over the fact the Marshall girl is still out there somewhere. The news just keeps running it and running it, over and over. People were out in droves looking for her today, passing out flyers, knocking on doors, and they’re all on our asses to make something happen so they can rest easy again.”
“I get it. You’re under a lot of pressure. I have no doubt everyone is doing all they can.”
“I don’t know what scares me more,” he said. “That we find Zoey Marshall alive, but she’s suffered and been abused in some terrible way, or we find her and she’s dead.”
“There’s still a third option, son. You could find her before any of those things happen and save her life.”
“It’s been over twenty-four hours. You know how it works. Each passing hour lessens the chances of her ever being found.”
“Listen to me, son. She’s a living, breathing woman, not a statistic. So don’t treat her like one. It isn’t fair to her, it isn’t fair to yourself, and those kinds of negative vibes won’t help you find her.”
He faced her, sighed. “Tell me more about Zoey’s classmates.”
“Linda overheard an argument Lane Marshall had with Brennan Allen. I asked what the argument was about, and they both went silent. Linda went out of her way to put a stop to the conversation and make sure Brennan wouldn’t say anything.”
The phone on the desk buzzed. He looked at the time. “It’s after hours, and the calls have been coming in non-stop all day today. I don’t have it in me to answer more of them until I get some rest. I’m through talking to people today. I shouldn’t even be at the office right now.”
“If the circumstances were different, I’d agree. Given the fact you have a dead kid on your hands and his wife was kidnapped, you better take it.”
He sighed, then lifted the phone to his ear. “This is Joe.”
For the next minute, he listened, pausing only a few times to give an occasional “uh-huh” response. The longer the conversation lasted, the more somber he became. Whatever he was being told, it wasn’t good. When he placed the phone back on the receiver a couple minutes later, he hunched over his desk, eyes glazed over.
“Joseph, what is it?”
“The roommate you saw today, Linda Perry. How long ago did you see her?”
Maisie glanced at the clock on the wall. “An hour ago, maybe. Why?”
“She was supposed to be meeting up with friends tonight. She didn’t show.”
“When I left her, Brennan was still there with her. He’d said something to her about her not being ready to go. I assumed wherever she was going, it was with him, so wouldn’t he have been with her?”
“He was the one who called police. He said after you left, she wanted to hop into the shower. She told him to go on without her and she’d meet him in an hour. When she didn’t arrive, he went back to her dorm room with a couple of their friends. Her keys were there along with her purse and her cell phone, but she was gone, and there’s smeared blood on the bathroom floor.”
CHAPTER 20
After a quick trip back to the dorm where she’d previously spoken to Linda and Brennan, Brennan was nowhere to be found. One of the students said he was at the police station. If he was being detained and questioned, her own questions would have to wait.
Exhausted by the day’s events and in dire need of a Bloody Mary, Maisie headed for home. A few days earlier, her life had been a lot easier, a lot simpler, and yet it was too simple at times, the kind of simplicity she avoided. She craved noise, excitement, adventure—anything to keep her heart ticking. It hadn’t always been this way, but after Lee died, the house became so still and so quiet, she could hear every crack, every shift in the foundation. The lack of noise was chilling, like creeping, impending death lurking around every corner. She went to extreme measures to escape it, filling the empty void with television, music, men—anything to make the house seem lively again—anything to make her feel like she wasn’t alone.
The soft glow of the television flickered through the living room curtains as she pulled into her garage, welcoming her home, but it was the unexpected guest sitting under an illuminated light on her front porch that startled her. She parked the car in the garage and walked over. “Stuart, this is a nice surprise. Is everything okay?”
He nodded. “Everything’s fine, Maisie.”
Of all the opportunities he’d had to visit her in the past, she was curious why he’d finally chosen tonight. “Would you like to come in?”
He nodded, then followed her into the house.
“What brings you to my front door tonight?” she asked.
“I just wanted to check and see how you’re doing.”
She raised a brow. “Really? Because you haven’t dropped by to see how I’m doing before. Not since right after Lee’s death anyway.”
“I have.”
“Maybe at the beginning, but not lately.”
He changed the subject. “I’m concerned about how wrapped up you are in the Marshall business.”
“Thank you, but I don’t need your concern. I’m fine. No need to worry.”
She’d hoped her smooth tone and confident manner would calm him, but one glance in his direction and she could see she hadn’t. His back was against the wall, arms folded. He looked tight and wound up.
“I have to say,” Maisie said. “I’m surprised to see you here. With the exception of all the fuss that’s occurred this week, you don’t come around my place often. I’ve hardly seen you since Lee died.”
He looked at the ground. “I thought it was best if I stayed away.”
“Why?”
“Things are different now.”
“What things?”
“You’ve changed since he passed. And just so you know
, I’m not judging you or telling you how to live. It’s just an observation.”
An observation?
Not telling her how to live her life?
Bullshit.
His opinion of her showed on his face.
“Go ahead and say it, Stuart. You disapprove of my lifestyle. It’s not what women are supposed to be like at my age, is it? I’m supposed to behave, sit in my chair all day with a cup of tea, knitting like my sister, until my house is filled to the brim with sweaters and scarves and mittens.”
“Now, Maisie. I just said I wasn’t—”
“Oh, I know what you said, and I don’t believe a single word of it. You do judge me, and I should have expected it. Every time I’ve stopped at your house to give you something I’ve baked just for you, you treat me like I’m a delivery girl, like we aren’t even friends anymore, like you’ve forgotten about the kind of friends we used to be.”
He glanced at the sofa. “Can I sit down? Can we sit down? Together?”
Maisie led the way, plopping down on the couch in a huff, arms crossed in front of her. This was it. Finally. He was coming clean, admitting all this time he’d secretly had a beef with her, disapproved of her lifestyle. He probably sat at his own window like she sat at hers each morning, watching men file in and out of her house like an accordion. It didn’t matter what he thought, or what any of her neighbors thought. It was her life, and it was certainly none of his business or anyone else’s.
Instead of sitting on the opposite end of the couch, he sat next to her, so close she leaned to the side to create space between them.
“Look, Maisie, I should have told you this from the start.”
“Told me what?”
“Lee came to me before he died. He asked me to check in on you after he was gone, keep an eye on things, to be there for you if you ever needed anything.”
“I don’t need anything, thank you.”
“Oh, don’t start this again.”
“I didn’t start anything,” she said. “You did.”
“You’re getting all huffy with me, and I’m telling you, there’s no need. I didn’t come over here to piss you off. I know you’re going to live the way you want to live.”
“Lee passed away three years ago, Stuart. Why tell me now? Why tell me at all?”
“I didn’t say anything before because he asked me not to mention it. He knew if I did, you’d go out of your way to show me you were fine on your own.”
“Whatever he asked you to do, you haven’t done it.”
“I’ve kept a closer eye on you than you think. Too close sometimes.”
“Is this your way of telling me you’ve been spying on me?”
“It’s not spying. It’s me honoring Lee’s final request without intruding on your life. Anyway, with everything that’s happened this week, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I decided I’d feel better if I just came over and told you the truth. I have seen a few things I probably shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry.”
She wondered what things he was referring to, but she didn’t ask. “You were a good friend to Lee, Stuart. And even though you’ve been standoffish since he passed, I always assumed there was a good reason for it.”
“Even so, I should have been a better friend to you. You deserve better, a lot better, and I’d like to make up for it now if I can.”
She patted him on the leg, then stood. “Well, of course you can. You’re always welcome here. Truth be told, today has been a longer day than most, and I don’t know about you, but I need to unwind. How about a drink?”
“I’d love one. It’s just, I don’t seem to have the stomach for it anymore.”
“Coffee then?”
He nodded.
Headlights beamed into Maisie’s front window. She didn’t bother looking outside. She knew who was parked in her driveway. Daniel. Horrible timing as usual.
“Is it Daniel?” Stuart asked.
“How do you—”
He smiled. “I just know. Surprised he’s still around.”
She smacked Stuart on the shoulder. “Very funny.”
“He’s harmless. It’s just ... you could do a lot better than him, and you know it.”
She wondered if there was something more behind his comment, if he was asserting himself into the equation, but she didn’t get the chance to find out. Without bothering to knock, Daniel stumbled into the house, eyes bloodshot, body slumped over. Intoxicated.
“You shouldn’t be here right now, Daniel,” Maisie said. “You weren’t invited, and I thought I made it clear you weren’t allowed to show up whenever you feel like it.”
“Since when do I need an invite?” Daniel pointed at Stuart. “Did you get an invite? Was it written out on pretty pink paper and hand-delivered with a box of cookies?”
Stuart reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone. “Seems you’ve had quite a bit to drink tonight. Let me call you a cab, Daniel.”
“Nope. Don’t need one. Truck’s parked outside, and besides, I’m staying right here tonight. Right here with my woman. So if you don’t mind, thanks for keeping her company for me, but I’m here now. Time for you to leave.”
“I’m afraid not,” Stuart said.
Under most circumstances Maisie wouldn’t have stood for a man making decisions for her, but watching Stuart grab Daniel by the arm and manhandle him out the front door, she was reminded of what it felt like to be treated like a lady again, instead of always feeling she needed to behave like a hard-nosed woman.
For the next ten minutes Maisie continually peeked outside, watching Stuart prevent Daniel from entering the house again. Not long after, a cab pulled up to the house. Stuart stood by the car to ensure Daniel didn’t try anything, and watched the cab haul Daniel off. Once the cab was out of sight, Stuart returned to the house, looked at the time, and said, “I should go, Maisie. It’s late, and I have an early morning.”
She smiled because she knew what his early morning consisted of, and he smiled back because he knew she knew too.
“See you at our usual time then?” she said.
He nodded and leaned in, planting a single kiss on her cheek. “It’s a date.”
CHAPTER 21
The next morning, Maisie didn’t hide behind the window like she usually did; she stood boldly behind it, offering Stuart a slight wave when he whizzed past. He grinned and nodded, and rounded the same corner she’d seen him round many times before. She’d already decided to bake him something sweet while he was away, certain he’d not only accept it, but that it would be received in a different manner than all the times she’d tried before.
Forty-five minutes and a dozen warm cookies later, she was in position, watching and waiting on his front porch. She felt giddy, a small twitch of nervous anxiety she hadn’t experienced since she’d dated Lee in high school. She wondered what he’d think when he rode up, saw her there, and whether or not he’d seem happy.
Would he kiss her again?
And if he did, would it be on the cheek this time?
Or what if she was wrong and the kiss had been nothing except Stuart’s way of making peace after their little spat?
Second-guessing herself and Stuart’s possible motive behind his casual kiss, she stood, deciding to leave the cookies on the front porch instead of waiting there to hand them over personally. If he got them and liked them, he could always come over and thank her on his own terms and in his own time.
Yes.
It was a much better idea.
Time to allow a man to make a move on her for once.
She glanced at the time on her cell phone, realizing she’d been there far longer than she thought. Stuart was late. And Stuart was never late. She slipped the plate of cookies onto the doormat and walked home, every few seconds pausing a moment to glance over her shoulder, expecting to see Stuart rounding the corner any moment. She reached her front porch and sat down.
Fifteen minutes passed.
No Stuart.
&n
bsp; Then thirty.
Then forty-five.
And then ... panic.
Something wasn’t right.
She could feel it.
She ran inside the house, grabbed her car keys, and drove through the neighborhood, stopping at the end of each block, looking left, looking right, almost thinking she saw him once, but then, no. It wasn’t him. It was someone else.
Nine blocks into her search she noticed a small crowd gathered in the middle of the street, cars stopped on both sides, onlookers gazing upon something she could not yet see. She pressed on the gas, racing to what turned out to be a crash between two vehicles—an SUV and a coupe. The coupe was about half of its original size, upside down, empty. The SUV had fared a lot better, with only a few huge dents on one of its sides.
Two patrol cars were off to the side, lights flashing.
An ambulance was parked in the center of the street, lights also flashing.
Maisie skidded to a stop, threw open the car door, and ran.
In the center of the chaos, between the two cars, was the one thing she didn’t want to see: Stuart’s bike.
CHAPTER 22
“Maisie, I need you to forget about everything else going on here and listen to me right now,” MacDougal said. “Can you do that? Can you listen?”
She couldn’t.
She couldn’t do anything except stare at Stuart’s mangled bike, stare at the sticky, wet blood that had seeped into the cracked asphalt like a crayon melted by the sun.
Blood.
There was a lot of it.
Enough to indicate someone had died here. But whom?
Stuart?
Someone else?
The driver of the coupe perhaps.
Yes, it had to be.
“Maisie?” MacDougal repeated. “Are you listening?”
The ambulance’s siren whined down the road while Maisie watched in stunned silence, unsure about whom was inside.
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