She’d picked up the same vibe I had from Anika. There was something about Anika’s story that was missing, or maybe it had been over-exaggerated. “Good girl,” I said. “She’ll find out soon enough.”
“And if she has a problem with it,” Cristina said, opening the picture book, “then we’ll know she’s hiding something from us.”
A few minutes passed before I spotted a woman in a wheelchair, reading a newspaper and being pushed in our direction. An orderly in a green top stopped the woman just in front of our two chairs. “Just holler when you’re ready to go back, Miss B.”
Beatrice let the newspaper fall to her lap. She brought both hands to the side of her face, which lit up like it was Christmas morning.
“Give me a hug, will you?”
Cristina looked at me, then slowly moved over to the woman, who pulled her close and patted her back. My ECHO partner winced. It appeared Beatrice had hit the sensitive spot along the back of Cristina’s rib cage.
“Oh my, I don’t even know my strength,” she said. “Did I hurt you, Cindy?”
“No, I’m fine,” she said, her face a bright pink as she gingerly sat back down. “It’s Cristina, by the way.”
She clasped her hands as a look of exasperation washed over her face. “Dammit all to hell. I’m just not as sharp as I used to be. I’m so sorry, Cristina.”
A nod of her head. “No probs.”
Her sparkling blue eyes gazed across the open lounge where a few other families appeared to gather. Did she notice them, or had she drifted off to another place and time?
“Can I get you a drink, Beatrice?” I asked.
She looked at me, then glanced down as she adjusted her colorful gown. “I’m fine. But I guess you can give me a hug too, Ivy.”
I stepped out of my chair, and she hugged me around my neck. As I pulled back, she looked into my eyes, gently patting the side of my face. Her eyes stayed on me until I settled into the cushiony chair. It felt a little awkward until Cristina broke the silence.
“Did Anika say anything about us visiting?”
At first I found that an odd question, but I quickly understood her point: perhaps Anika had predicted we’d find Beatrice.
“Oh heaven’s no, that ungrateful young lady hasn’t said shit to me since just after she ran away from home.”
With neatly applied makeup and a head of hair that looked like well-polished silver, she gave off a regal vibe. But her words made me think she’d come from a far different setting.
“Is there a problem in your relationship with the family?”
A man in wheelchair whirled by. “What?” she asked as she watched him until he turned down a corridor.
I smiled. “Do you have a problem in your relationship with Anika and the family?”
She leaned forward and touched both of our knees. “Gary has the hands of a Greek God, I tell you.”
“Oh yeah?”
Her eyes grew wide while she nodded. “We might be stuck in wheelchairs, but his fingers will make you sing music.”
“Oh gross,” Cristina muttered. Beatrice turned her way. “Huh?”
I didn’t want to piss her off, so I jumped in with, “I’m glad you’ve found a companion, Beatrice.”
She blew out a breath, her cheeks expanding briefly. “And then some. There are nights when he sneaks in that I don’t get any sleep. He’s relentless, I tell you.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Cristina’s face morph into revulsion.
“You were telling us about your relationship with your niece’s family?” I quickly changed the topic.
“Right, my dear Anika. We used to be so close,” she said. “And then she just left her family without telling anyone where she was going. Pretty selfish, if you ask me.”
I took a purposeful swallow. “Don’t you think she might have been affected by the death of her brother, Trent?”
Beatrice locked eyes with me. Her lips parted for a brief second as she held her gaze.
“I don’t mean to upset you, but from what she told us, it was tough on her, on everyone.”
Pulling a worn tissue from her sleeve, Beatrice brought it to her nose as she shifted her eyes to the floor. “It was the saddest day of my life when I learned about what happened to Trent. He was an absolute joy. Honestly…” She paused, closing her eyes briefly. “That boy was the shining star of that family.”
“Can you tell us why you think that?” Cristina asked.
Beatrice sniffled and then shot a suspicious look to Cristina and then me. “While I look forward to all visitors, I have no idea who you are.”
“I’m sorry. I should have told you that Anika has hired Cristina and me to find her parents,” I said.
“Mona and Dexter. Where have they run off to now?” Her thin lips nearly disappeared as she looked away again. I was about to ask a follow-up question when she said, “They could be so good for each other, and at times, so bad. So, so bad.”
I nodded. “Have you seen them recently?”
“It’s been a couple of months. They don’t drop by as often as they used to. But that’s okay. They’re young, have their own lives. Plus, they just need to focus on their sobriety. They do that, and I can get along just fine here.”
“You’re very independent,” I said, scooting to the edge of my chair. “Anika believes something bad has happened to her parents. Did you know about her concerns?”
“We haven’t talked, but she did text me a couple of times, asking me questions. I’m sure there’s nothing to be alarmed about. Anika has always been overly dramatic.”
“Did you know they’re not answering their phones and their house has been repossessed?”
She took in a breath, her shoulders suddenly appearing heavy. “From drugs to money. They have always been searching for that boost, to help hide them from reality.”
I glanced around the area and realized it was a higher-end facility. Vases had live flowers, the furniture and flooring weren’t worn out, and generally, people seemed happy.
“So you’re aware of their money issues?”
“Not at a detailed level, but over the years, it has come to my attention. I offered to help, even gave them a couple thousand dollars to make a house payment one month. They said they’d pay me back with interest by Christmas, but I never saw the money. And true to form, they never brought it up.” She shook her head. “My sister tried raising Mona the right way, but I guess she messed up somewhere along the way.”
“She’s got addiction issues,” Cristina blurted. “That’s got very little to do with how anyone raised her, unless she was being served wine and weed for dinner when she was six years old.”
Beatrice jerked her neck back. “We all do the best we can.”
“Sorry.” Cristina rubbed her hands on her jeans. “Didn’t mean to offend your family.”
Beatrice released a breath, then tapped her on the knee. “It’s all right, dear. Raising kids isn’t easy. Just make sure you use birth control until you know you’re with the right guy.”
“Yes ma’am.” Cristina shifted her eyes to me.
We’d veered off topic again. “Can you think of any place where Mona and Dexter might be staying…if they didn’t want to be found?”
A slow nod. “You think they owe someone money and they’re on the run?”
“We don’t have any evidence of foul play, so the thought has crossed our minds.”
She tapped a finger to her chin. I noticed the ring on her forefinger, sapphire and emeralds sparkling from the chandelier overhead.
“Do you have a cabin by a lake or any other type of vacation home they could be staying at?”
“Oh, I think you’ve got the wrong impression,” she said, admiring her ring. “I have enough to pay for my stay here and a little left over to live a good life. But I’m not dripping in money like a few of the wenches staying here. They’re the A-listers. I’m a B-team player. But what’s more money going to do for me? Once you die,
all the money in the world doesn’t take you to a better place.”
Cristina and I both cracked smiles. “That’s for sure,” I said.
“I have a bracelet that looks similar to this ring.” She turned the ring back and forth, creating more sparkles. “Left it in a lockbox so Anika could have it one day, since I don’t have any daughters.”
I could feel Cristina’s eyes on me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Beatrice that somehow Anika had gotten her hands on the key, hidden it away from everyone else, and now claimed the bracelet as her own. Then again, she had offered to sell it so she could pay us to find her parents.
I pulled out a card and handed it to Beatrice. “If you can think of any place where Mona and Dexter might be—”
“Or maybe if you recall anyone that might want to harm them,” Cristina interjected, “give us a call.”
“Yes, please give us a call.”
I lifted out of the chair and turned to walk away. Beatrice reached out and grabbed my wrist. “Ivy, do you think they’ve been harmed? I don’t know if I could take that.”
“I’m hopeful that we’ll find them relaxing at a spa or on the beach. But let us know if they reach out to you.”
She shook my wrist and peered up at me. “I’ll do that.” She paused, opening her lips as if she had something additional to say.
Staring into her blue eyes, I had this sudden feeling of déjà vu, whether it was her shaking my wrist or just the way she looked at me. Something about the situation or Beatrice herself had rattled a memory that I couldn’t quite reach.
“Will you and your friend come back to visit me?” she finally asked. “I enjoy interacting with younger people. It makes me feel young again.”
I could see Cristina shaking her head, out of sight from Beatrice.
“I’m sure this won’t be the last time we talk to you, Beatrice,” I said. “Take care, and make sure you watch yourself around Gary.”
She winked, and I could hear her laughing until we walked out the door.
18
I could feel the vibration of the Civic’s purring engine through the floorboard as we sat in the parking lot of the assisted care facility. I was thumbing my way through a series of new emails, the only disruption being the windshield wipers that squawked every few seconds.
“Looks like we might have another client,” I said, glancing up to see Cristina’s gaze riveted to her phone, her lips moving ever so slightly. Did she have Asperger’s? I’d read stories about people with Asperger’s Syndrome, where they unknowingly moved their lips when reading, or even after speaking out loud. Seemed farfetched, given Cristina’s boisterous personality, but anything was possible.
No response.
I watched two birds battling on a tree branch. “Yeah, a single dad wants us to do some digging on his fourteen-year-old son’s new set of friends. He’s worried about him getting involved with a bunch of druggies. The kid is dressing differently, showing violent tendencies, the whole works. It seemed to all change when the mother died about three months ago.”
She wasn’t listening to me. I turned to see her lips still moving. “Are you back to reading your book?”
“I’m just waiting for you to finish whatever you’re doing so we can discuss the next steps after surviving that conversation with Anika’s great aunt.”
“I was discussing new ECHO business, but I hear you. Was it that tough on you in there?”
She held up her phone. “I guess that’s another reason I’m reading. It’s my way of calming down.”
I nodded. “Do you read a lot?”
“I go through periods of time when I do.” She turned to gaze out the window. A car had just pulled under the portico; a man and woman were escorting an older man inside.
“Hearing Anika’s story, and Beatrice’s addendum to that story, are you missing your mom a little?”
“Hell no. Just thinking, that’s all.”
With thick, gray clouds still blanketing the low sky, I could see Cristina’s reflection in the window. She seemed melancholy, but she wasn’t one to open up…about anything.
“What book are you reading?”
“The Fault in Our Stars, from this author named John—”
“Green. Yeah, I might not be a teenager, but I’ve heard of him. He’s kind of a big deal.”
“Yep.”
She chewed on a nail. Her mind always seemed to be churning on something. Positive, negative, who knew? But she never appeared to be absent of thought.
“So, back to our current case. We have confirmation of the Hamricks’ financial trouble.”
Cristina sat up quickly, maybe too quickly, and pressed a hand to her ribs. “Can you believe Anika’s parents? A freakin’ train wreck,” she said, her brow furrowing more with each word. “They’re to blame for their son drowning in the pool; then they milk Mona’s aunt out of two grand; and then they pretend that it never happened. What a double piece of work. I guess they are made for each other. No one else could deal with their narcissistic behavior.”
My lips turned up at the corners.
“What’s so funny?” she asked as her forehead crinkled.
“First, it’s nice to see your passion for your job come through.”
“You didn’t have the same observation?”
I held up a hand. “No, I’m right there with you. But you have this way of communicating the situation…it’s fun to watch.”
“Glad I’m so fucking entertaining,” she said, glancing outside. “What’s second?”
“Right. You used a four-syllable word: narcissistic. I’m impressed, and you should be as well.”
“Please don’t start.”
“About what?”
“The fake gloating about how smart I am, and how my future will be secured if I go back to school and get my high school diploma, and then push myself through four years of college. I can’t do it. It’s just not me. That’s way too boring for me.”
“You’re seventeen. I can see why you think that. But if you want any advice from those of us who had the same doubts, yet figured out a way to get a college degree—”
“Don’t worry. I don’t.”
I counted to three, dialing back my intensity a bit. “I’m just saying that you have a lot to offer this world, so don’t sell yourself short. That education will be your ticket to do anything you want.”
“You want me to be honest?” She turned to face me, curling a strand of hair behind her ear.
I shifted in my seat so I could face her too, tucking one leg under the other. “Go for it.”
“I like this…the focus of ECHO,” she said, splaying her hands. “I think what we’re doing serves a purpose in the world. People need help, and not just those under the age of eighteen, as we’re learning about Anika’s parents.”
“Look, Cristina—”
“I admit that I like a little excitement in my life.”
“This isn’t a roller coaster ride, where we go through two double loops and are guaranteed of being dropped off safely from where we started. Any so-called excitement that we experience is usually associated with potential danger. And I don’t think either one of us wants to be put in a life-threatening position again…ever.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Tell me you didn’t get just a little psyched when we were running from the cops and that dog?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not really. But when you hit that age of maturity where you’re responsible for others, as well as your own reputation, you begin to prioritize things a little differently,” I said.
“Now you’re cutting me down because of my age. I can’t fix that, at least not very quickly.”
I laughed, but she didn’t join in. “I’m just giving you shit, Cristina.”
“So you’re not going to bug me about school and finding a place to live? Wonderful.”
“If they had a college-level course on sarcasm, you might be able to pick up a couple of college credits,” I said, ret
urning the raised-eyebrow look.
“Ha-ha. I’m just letting you know,” she said, finally showing signs of a smile, “the day you find me working some blah-blah-blah eight-to-five office job, please shoot me. Just take me out back and put a bullet through my skull.” She put two fingers to the side of her head and pulled an imaginary trigger.
No more than right at that moment did I feel a generational gap with Cristina. She thought it was funny, while I didn’t. “Leroy Swanson,” I murmured.
“Do what?”
“Oh, something you said sparked a memory.” I turned to look out the front window, thinking about Leroy, one of my five PALs. Cristina’s shooting act had brought forth the memory of an incident that I’d long forgotten about—not even the original reason Leroy had made my top five list. Maybe the thought had wedged its way into a place in my brain and didn’t want to be found. But I found it nonetheless.
A thunderous boom rattled the car. My heart nearly split my chest open as I threw a hand to the ceiling. Cristina and I both jerked our heads to look out the back window and saw a man low to the ground holding something long in his hand. Quickly glancing in my side mirror, I couldn’t believe my eyes.
I jumped out of the car just in time to see a baseball bat connect with my back left taillight, spraying glass within a twenty-foot radius of Black Beauty. I threw up an arm to block flying shards of glass from my eyes, my pulse doing double-time.
“Gary!” I yelled out. It was Beatrice’s love interest.
At that moment, Cristina appeared on the other side of the car, pulling out her switchblade, circling behind Gary and his wheelchair.
“Hold up, Cristina.”
With sweat pouring off his bald head, Gary turned to see Cristina. He swung quickly, catching the front part of her jacket.
“Stay back,” I said to her. “And put the knife away.” I moved a step closer to Gary, my body hunched, ready to react. “Gary, what’s this all about?”
He growled like a lion, then turned and used both hands to swing the bat down like an ax, smacking the trunk with everything he had. My eyes fixated on the enormous dent for a moment.
The Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 1-3: Redemption Thriller Series 7-9 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set) Page 34