“It’s the whole block,” she called to Sylvia.
Dani picked up the pieces of the lock, along with her toolbox, and carried everything to the front of the store.
Sylvia had kept the front shades down ever since Jack Parker and Liam Elliott descended on her two days ago, but now she pulled the cord to raise them and allow daylight through the display window.
“They’ll probably have the power back on in a couple of minutes,” Sylvia said.
“As soon as I get this lock back in, we’ll be finished, anyway.” Dani took a metal file from her toolbox, discerned the protrusion with one finger, and began filing it off.
Sylvia locked the shade into the up position and released the cord. On its arc down, her hand caught the edge of a display shelf in the window, part of Lizzie’s arrangement, and a mirror with only a slight scratch in the frame now tumbled to the wood floor.
Dani and Sylvia both jumped back from the shards.
“Wouldn’t you know it,” Sylvia said, “just when we thought everything was under control.”
“It’ll be fine.” Dani reached under the counter where she knew she would find a small broom and dustpan because she had put them there only two hours ago. She began to sweep up the glass.
“Thank you,” Sylvia said.
Dani glanced up. Sylvia sounded exhausted—and why shouldn’t she? Quinn gone. Her shop wrecked. One person after another asking something of her all week. Constant phone calls. Even a temporary power loss would aggravate most people with a lot less on their plates than Sylvia.
“You’ll be glad when things are back to normal,” Dani said. Getting the shop open was the first step.
“What’s normal?” Sylvia asked.
“Good question.”
“Having Quinn back would help a lot.” Sylvia’s voice wavered for a fraction of a second. “Everyone’s nerves would settle down if we just had a few answers about him.”
Even for Sylvia, Dani wasn’t going to be the one to reveal that she had tracked Quinn to St. Louis. Dani wanted a peaceful hike this afternoon, not an interrogation from her cousin the deputy about how she came to have the information that Quinn was spending money in St. Louis.
“Quinn will come back,” Dani said. “When he’s ready, he’ll tell you all you need to know.”
“Need being the key word,” Sylvia said.
“He’s okay.” Dani dumped the broken glass into the trash can Sylvia held in place for her.
“I know you think that,” Sylvia said. “At this point, it’s hard to know what to believe.”
Dani turned back to the lock and ran a finger over the smooth edge she’d created.
The lights came back on.
“See, I told you.” Dani blinked at the sudden brightness. “I’ll just pop this back in.”
“Thanks again for all your help.”
Dani walked to the back of the store while Sylvia rearranged the items in the window.
The lock worked now. Dani had one more stop before she could find a trail. She loaded her tools behind the seat in her Jeep and drove over to Liam’s office. As she went around the corner at the top of the stairs, she wondered if Jack Parker had come up with anything on the address he’d shown Sylvia. In the end, it wouldn’t matter if he found anything, because Dani’s efforts had been fruitful—at least partially. As soon as she told Liam what she knew, he would tell Sylvia, and Dani wouldn’t have to be in the middle of any of it.
She was surprised to find the door to Liam’s office locked and the lights obviously off. He was notorious for leaving the lights on even when he went home for the night. She silently congratulated him for turning them off just for an errand or an appointment.
Dani pulled out her cell phone and selected Liam’s number. After four rings, his voice came on with a cheery encouragement to leave a message.
As a matter of principle, Dani didn’t leave voice messages. It was enough aggravation to have to listen to them in order to earn a living.
She found somebody’s business card in her vest pocket and jotted a note.
Have news. Will come by tonight. —D
Dani slid the card under the door.
2:07 p.m.
She knew his name, and she knew his parents’ names. Lauren made steady progress down her list. Three phone updates assured her Benita was doing well with hers, too. But simmering below every check mark, every note, every star was determination that this time she wasn’t going to withdraw into a shell for someone else’s amusement. When the simmering crossed into boiling, Lauren couldn’t leave the task on the back burner for another hour.
The outdated phone book in her office at the church yielded an address. Lauren estimated a twenty-seven minute walk, less if she burst into powerwalk mode as soon as she hit the curve where Main Street bent into Tabor Avenue and the shops gave way to wide, stately homes west of town. She didn’t care if she arrived a sweaty mess. Marching out there, telling Nevin Morgan to leave her alone unless he wanted to hear from the sheriff, and marching back to her apartment could be accomplished in an hour. Lauren wasn’t interested in conversation. She only wanted closure. If her legs went rubbery when it was all over, so be it. One way or another she was going to be through with this.
Lauren didn’t intend to be rude. Just firm, unwavering.
As she paced down the sidewalk, she formed her sentences.
I’m not seventeen anymore. I know it’s okay to stand up for myself, and I’ll do it.
I have every right to expect to live my life without harassment, and I’m here to ask you to respect that right.
If you choose to persist, I will take action. Maybe Jack Parker’s professional services would come in handy after all.
Consider this a cease and desist order. If I have to ask again, it will be in writing from my attorney.
Yes. Jack would love an excuse to bury somebody in legalese. How much could it cost to get an attorney to write a couple of threatening letters?
Lauren’s speed slowed a bit when she took the final turn onto the street where the Morgans lived.
“Let your gentleness be evident to all.” Lauren exhaled. Those weren’t her words. They belonged to the apostle Paul, who clearly had never met Nevin Morgan.
But he’d met a lot of other people who wished him ill.
Okay, gentle. Gentle could still be firm. Gentle didn’t mean being a wimp. Gentle didn’t mean getting walked all over.
She wouldn’t make legal threats—yet. If he would listen, she would tell him how his calls made her feel. And if he wouldn’t, she would excuse herself—gently—and then decide what to do.
But living under a curtain of dread wasn’t an option.
Lauren could see the house now, just two doors down and across the street. A woman pushing a stroller came toward Lauren and smiled.
“What a beautiful day to be out walking.” The woman stopped and leaned over the stroller to straighten the green hat on her child’s head.
Lauren returned the smile, unsure what expression her face must have carried before the choice to be friendly. Anger? Tension? Fear?
The toddler in the stroller grinned up at her and swatted a spinning toy hanging in front of him Lauren squatted and jiggled the toy herself, sending the little boy into giggles.
“I won’t hold you up.” The woman gripped the stroller handle. “He’s going to be ready for a nap soon.”
“Have a lovely afternoon,” Lauren said, some of the tension out of her back. She was always surprised at the power of a simple beautiful moment.
“You, too.” The young mother looked both ways before crossing the street and angling toward a white house with blue trim.
The Morgan house? She couldn’t possibly be headed there. Lauren followed a few yards behind, until she was certain the woman was going up the walk to the Morgan front door.
“Wait,” Lauren called out.
The woman rotated.
“I’m looking for the Morgan house. Do you know where t
hey live?”
“Right here. I’m Becky Morgan.”
Lauren didn’t remember that Nevin had a sister. A cousin, then?
“It’s Nevin I’m looking for,” Lauren said.
“My husband?”
She was his wife? This adorable three-toothed baby was his?
Lauren licked her lips. “I’m Lauren. We were in high school together. I haven’t seen Nevin in a long time, but I thought I spotted him in town this morning.”
“You probably did. He met someone for breakfast, but the baby was fussing so I stayed home.”
“Is Nevin home now?”
Becky gestured toward the empty driveway. “No, but I just asked him to go for diapers. He should be back soon.”
“I’ll come back in a few minutes then.” Lauren stepped back. Maybe she wouldn’t return. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might not be home, or that there might be an audience for her outpouring, whatever its tone turned out to be.
“Don’t be silly,” Becky said. “Come in. I’ll put the baby down for his nap, and we’ll have some tea.”
“I don’t want to intrude.” What about his parents? Lauren thought. “Did you come to town for the banquet last weekend?”
“For the high school teacher? Not exactly. Nevin’s mother had some minor surgery scheduled, and he thought we might be some help. His father’s at the hospital now. But since we were here, Nevin went to the dinner.”
Becky Morgan unbalanced Lauren. Talk about gentleness. How in the world did she end up with someone like Nevin Morgan? Then again, Lauren would never have pegged Nevin as someone who wanted to help out because his mother had surgery.
Becky lifted the baby out of the stroller. “Here’s Nevin now.”
The beige Chevy turned into the driveway, and Nevin got out, a package of thirty diapers in his hands.
“Your friend Lauren dropped by.” When her husband drew close, Becky raised her face for his kiss.
“Lauren?” He inspected her expression.
“Lauren Nock,” she said. “We had a few classes together.”
“Oh yes, I remember. I was there the other night when Quinn went missing.”
Nevin sounded sincere. Likable. He took his son from Becky’s arms and let her unlock the house unencumbered.
“I invited Lauren in for tea,” Becky said. “I’ll get the baby settled while you two catch up.”
If Lauren had any thought to back out of the confrontation, Nevin’s wife was making it hard. Lauren was relieved when Becky took the baby down the hall so she could focus.
“How are you, Lauren?” His hand, the palm upturned, invited her to sit down.
“Thank you, but I’m not going to stay long. I have no desire to be rude or to upset your wife, but I’d like you to stop making those calls.”
“Calls?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Let me back up, then. I know it was you who made those calls to me all during our senior year.”
He winced. “I was pretty obnoxious in those days. I’m sorry for the way I behaved.”
If he was so sorry, then why was he doing it again? If this was some kind of show because his wife would walk back into the room at any moment, Lauren would push back—gently, of course.
“I’m getting calls again. They’re just like before. I saw you at the banquet with all your old buddies.”
“So you tracked me down because you think it’s me?”
Lauren wasn’t sure of anything at the moment.
“Please stop,” she said.
“It’s not me,” he said.
“You can’t blow in here from Oklahoma and pretend everything’s different.”
“Oklahoma? We live in Minneapolis.”
“Do you have a cell phone?”
“Of course.”
“May I see it, please?” She trembled, but she put out her hand.
Nevin laid his phone in her palm. Lauren dialed her own phone number, and when her phone rang, she looked at the number it displayed.
It wasn’t the 918 number.
“It’s not you.” She met his eyes. “I apologize.”
“I’m really sorry about high school,” he said. “I didn’t do a great job of picking friends in those days. With a few beers in me, I would do whatever they asked and think it was hilarious. Mostly I didn’t remember what I did.”
Lauren scratched the back of her neck, unsure what to think.
“I don’t even know why I agreed to sit with them the other night.” Nevin returned his phone to the holster on his hip. “I guess I should have put you on my list of people to make amends with.”
“Amends?”
“It’s one of the Twelve Steps. Make amends. I’m seven years sober, but I hurt so many people, I’ve been making amends all this time. Maybe I always will be. I’d like your forgiveness for the way I used you for my own amusement. If someone did that to my son …”
Never in a million years would Lauren have expected this.
“I take responsibility,” Nevin said. “Will you please try to forgive me, even if you can’t do it right now?”
Lauren straightened her glasses. “Please thank Becky for the offer of tea.”
“You can still have tea,” he said.
“Thank you, but I’m really very busy today. I’d better go.”
Lauren raced out of the house, down the street, and around the corner before leaning against a stop sign. She was glad she’d faced Nevin Morgan, surprises and all. Maybe now she’d finally be able to throw off the shame she felt when she was seventeen.
But if Nevin wasn’t making the calls, who was?
3:44 p.m.
They didn’t say much driving back from Birch Bend to Hidden Falls.
While Ethan drove, Nicole sat with the folder in her lap. Along with her list of names and the photo from the cemetery, it now contained copies of a few public records pertaining to Quinn, but nothing especially revealing—his property tax bills for the last five years and the deed to his house showing that he’d paid off his mortgage three years ago. She felt no closer to finding Quinn than she had three days ago.
She’d also dug up several property sales for the family names Jack had narrowed her list to, but she’d have to wait for the details to come in the official documents. Some discrepancies in lot numbers made it difficult to be certain which properties were in question, but Nicole figured they could at least drive through the neighborhoods. Her hunch was that some of the lots were either combined in a sale or split up in a sale—or both, at two different points in history. She could always go back to Jack and see what else was in his files—if she got that desperate.
Nicole felt the pressure of a Friday afternoon. The county records office would be closed for two days. Jack struck her as a workaholic, but he also had a family, so it was hard to guess what his weekends were like. Tomorrow marked a week since she arrived in Hidden Falls. If she had known that five minutes talking to Quinn before the banquet began was all she was going to get, she would have chosen her topics more carefully. She’d blathered on about some man with a birthmark when she should have been thanking Quinn for his presence in her life.
She opened the folder and pulled the photograph to the front.
“Has no one ever told you that you look like your grandfather or something?” she said.
“That man is not my grandfather.” Ethan kept his eyes on the road. “I knew my Grandpa Jordan, and my mother’s father was a fair-haired Swede. I’ve seen pictures.”
“Then somebody else. An uncle? Cousin?”
“I’ve never seen that photo before. I’m sure the resemblance is just coincidence.”
“Ethan, look at this!”
“I’m driving.”
“This is no coincidence.” Nicole closed the folder. “Lauren thinks you should just ask your parents. I told her you wouldn’t do that.”
“You were right.”
“I know. But I agree with Lauren. If we want to find out who this is, then your parents are the best bet.”
Ethan gave her a fast glance. “I think I’ll take my chances on Quinn coming home. If that picture has anything to do with what he wanted to tell me, I’ll find out soon enough.”
Six days was already too late for “soon enough” in Nicole’s opinion.
Her foot throbbed, but if she asked Ethan for some ibuprofen he would insist on taking her home for ice and a pain pill. It was hard to think straight. Nicole reached for her water bottle and dumped the last of its twenty ounces into her mouth.
“I’m usually better at my job than this,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time I came up so empty-handed.” And now perhaps she didn’t have a job to go back to. She checked her phone again, looking for an e-mail, a text message, a voice mail icon—anything from Reggie telling her what was happening at the paper.
“Quinn was in St. Louis, and he was fine,” Ethan said. “He’s going to come home.”
“You could drive me to St. Louis now,” she said. “I don’t need surgery. I just have to be careful.”
Ethan didn’t speak. Nicole watched the way he worked his lips in and out.
“Just say it, Ethan.”
“I have to go home to Columbus. I’m probably in serious hot water as it is.”
“How bad is it?” Nicole had gotten so used to having him at her side she’d forgotten Ethan had his own dilemma.
“I don’t think I’ve let any surgeries fall through the cracks, but my chief is not going to be happy with me.”
“Are you going to get kicked out of your residency?”
He didn’t answer.
“Ethan?”
“I don’t know. It’s possible. Are you losing your job?”
“It’s possible.” She looked out the passenger window at the fall countryside. “I should never have questioned how you could leave that first night without knowing what happened to Quinn. Just because I couldn’t go didn’t mean you shouldn’t have.”
“I made my own choice, Nicole, and for my own reasons.”
He reached across the console for her hand, and she gave it to him.
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