by Lori Ryan
She looked at him and ignored the question as to her identity. “She left me a voicemail the other day. A few, actually. But she didn’t answer when I tried to call her back.” She tried to hide her feelings. He could see it in the hard set of her face. But the anguish in her eyes and the way her voice cracked belied her cool veneer.
He took out his pad and jotted down a note. “Can you tell me what day she left that message?”
He moved to sit beside her on the couch and held his pen ready to write as much as she’d give him. As many details as he could get from her. If Alice was trying to reach this woman, maybe she was connected to what had happened in some way.
“She left me a few messages over the weekend. Two on Friday and one on Sunday.”
“Did she say what she was calling about?”
She shook her head no. “She just asked me to call her.”
“Was that unusual? You said you hadn’t seen her in a year. Did you speak frequently?”
Snow White pressed her lips together and shook her head. She was an intriguing combination of stone walls and helpless dismay, of steely nerves and vulnerability.
“No, it wasn’t unusual. It was that time of year.”
“I don’t know what that means, Ms.—” He needed to get her name before she left, and he would prefer not to have to pull the I need to see identification line.
She relented. “Walker. Ashley Walker.”
“Ashley Walker. What do you mean, that time of year?”
“You know that Alice was a social worker?” She paused while he nodded. “Well, social workers seem to think about their kids on big anniversaries, whether they realize they’re doing it or not. At least, Alice always did. For me, it was the anniversary of my adoption by the Walkers. Alice tended to call then, just to check in.”
“And it’s close to your, uh, anniversary?”
She nodded her head. “Yes, it was last week.”
She didn’t offer any other information, but she did have questions of her own.
“Do you have any leads? Anything to go on?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that question, Ms. Walker.” As much as I want to. He had no idea what her draw was. Why he wanted to tell her everything they knew. Hell, he wanted to unload and let her know all of his frustrations with the case. To let her know he was struggling to handle his feelings, to balance the need to remain professional with the need to bring the scumbag who had taken his friend from him to justice.
“So that’s a no?”
“It’s an I can’t answer the question,” he said, giving her his most apologetic smile. The one that oozed charm and usually had women falling at his feet. She didn’t fall. She narrowed her eyes at him with a look that told him she had opinions about cops and they weren’t good.
He convinced her to give him her contact information for follow up, should he need it, but her demeanor remained cool.
“Is there anyone you’d like me to call for you, Ms. Walker? Do you need help getting home?” He was an idiot. He was asking because he wanted to know if she had a husband or boyfriend. Where the hell had that come from?
She shook her head.
Doug came out of the kitchen and stood quietly, waiting for Garret to signal they were finished. He stood and offered Ashley Walker his business card.
“Please contact me if you think of anything else,” he said, giving her the standard line as he walked her out of the squirrel’s apartment with Doug at his back. Her eyes fell to the door opposite them and she swallowed visibly. He watched her beat back tears, then kept his eyes on her as she walked away from him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, head high.
*
Ashley hadn’t been able to drive home from Alice’s apartment building. She drove around the corner before pulling over and breaking down. Then she’d called Cora and tried to explain through choked sobs where she was. After ten minutes, she’d gotten it out, and Cora and Nathan had driven the hour and a half to pick her up and drive her car home for her.
What she was feeling was a combination of grief, guilt for not answering Alice’s calls, and horror at the fact that Alice had been so brutally murdered. But most of all, she was beginning to feel rage. Rage and anger that someone could take the life of a woman who was so good to so many people. Without Alice’s unconditional love and support, Ashley would be dead. She was sure of it. She would have killed herself if Alice hadn’t gotten her out of the situation she was in years before. Whether it was by burying herself in pills or a bottle, or achieved more directly, it would have happened. Alice had given her the chance at a life of love and security. A chance to be safe. It was something Ashley had known she’d never be able to repay.
But Alice never asked for anything in return. It was simply what she did. And standing by the gravesite two days later, watching as mourner after mourner walked up and placed a rose on her casket, Ashley knew Alice would be smiling down on them all. She would smile to see so many of her former kids here. Because Ashley had no doubt that’s what many of the people in attendance were. When you came from that world, you could spot its inhabitants, even after you’d gotten out. There were people ranging in age from their teens to their late sixties. The older ones would be coworkers. But many of the younger people were the kids. Alice’s kids.
Ashley looked around at the group and saw people from all walks of life. Artists, rebels, nerds, and jocks. People who clearly hadn’t fully escaped the life Alice had hoped they would. And those who looked like they’d somehow found their way. Some held small babies in their arms, and Ashley could imagine Alice’s response to them. She’d reach for all of them, to rub their tiny heads or run the back of a finger down a soft cheek.
This was Alice’s legacy, Ashley thought. This was what she’d worked for. They were here for her.
She felt him watching her long before she saw him. Garret Hensley, with his dark hair cut short and tight, clean-shaven face, and dark gray eyes. He looked like he needed about three days of sleep, and she wondered if he had anything to go on in Alice’s murder investigation. Probably not, she thought. If he was here, looking so haggard and worn, then he was looking for a thread to pull. He was hoping for a break.
She looked at the crowd as people began to work their way back to their cars and wondered if the person who took Alice’s life was here. A shudder tore through her and she felt her father’s arm around her. She tilted her head and let it fall to his shoulder. She’d been one of Alice’s luckiest kids. Not everyone landed in a family like the Walkers. Most didn’t. Her father squeezed her shoulders and she looked up at him.
“Ready to go home, kiddo?”
Her nose burned and her eyes filled once again with tears at the question. All of Frank Walker’s children were his “kiddos”, no matter their age. And she’d never been as happy for that as she was today. She wasn’t alone, and that felt really good. Her mother came up alongside them as they turned toward the two cars the family had piled into for the ride here. Her siblings already waited by them. They’d all come, even though Alice hadn’t been a part of their lives, for the most part.
“Ashley!”
She didn’t need to turn around to know who was calling her. Her father’s arm tightened protectively, but she reassured him as she watched Detective Hensley walk toward her. His pace was brisk, like he thought she might turn and run any minute, and he wanted to be sure she didn’t get away.
“I’ll meet you over by the cars, Mom and Dad. That’s the detective working on Alice’s case. I want to see if he has any updates.”
Her mother and father exchanged a glance but Ashley squeezed her mother’s hand. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be just a minute.”
They turned and left just as the detective caught up to her. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and tipped her head back to look up at him. The man wasn’t overly tall, but compared to her short frame, his five-foot-ten height caused her to look up. He was sturdily built and looked like he could take on a tank and c
ome out the winner.
“Ashley, I’m glad I caught you.” He looked past her to where her parents and siblings were waiting, and his eyes held an unasked question. Ashley waved at them before turning back to Garret.
“My family,” she said, the words reminding her that Alice had given her that. The greatest gift imaginable. One she’d grown up thinking she would never have. That had been all Alice’s doing.
He nodded. “I just wanted to see if you remembered anything else. Anything that might help.”
“Then, you have nothing so far?” she asked.
“Nothing solid yet. A witness said they saw a small car parked in the lot that isn’t normally there. Could be something. Could be nothing. And small car isn’t going to get us anywhere. We’re still waiting on a few other things, but so far, there’s not much to go on.”
She nodded and looked past the detective to where his partner waited for him. Dave, she thought. Or Doug, maybe? She wasn’t sure. Now Garret Hensley, she remembered. And that bothered her. A lot. She shouldn’t be so focused on this man. He should be nothing more than the detective investigating Alice’s case to her. And yet, she found herself looking into his eyes and thinking they looked kinder than she’d expected for a battered cop. And she wondered what had left the scar that cut a thin, white line through his upper lip. She wondered a whole lot of things she had no business wondering.
“I should go,” she said suddenly. “I need to go.”
He nodded, but his eyes assessed her and she felt uncomfortable in her skin. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to. Not as an adult. Not as Ashley Walker. As Ashley O’Rourke, she’d felt it often. But never as Ashley Walker. She felt as though he suspected her of something, though she couldn’t say why.
“Just let me know,” he said, “if you think of anything.”
She nodded as she backed away, aware of his eyes on her. Aware of an intensity in his gaze that made her uneasy. Did he look at everyone like that, or just her? Ashley turned and walked into the embrace of her siblings and parents and had to fight the urge to turn back to see if Garret was still watching her. She needn’t have worried, of course. As soon as they were piled into the back of her parents’ car, Cora turned to her.
“Who is that man and why is he still watching you?”
Leave it to Cora to ask.
4
Ashley took a deep breath and sat back as Cora drove them toward Pies and Pints a week after the funeral. She needed this. A night out with friends. She hadn’t felt like herself since she’d found out about Alice and she hated that. She wanted to feel normal again. On the other hand, she felt guilty for wanting to feel normal when Alice wouldn’t feel anything ever again.
Ugh. She shook off the feelings and slid her flip-flops off her feet, drawing one foot up under her. Today should be a happy day.
“So,” Cora began, chewing on her bottom lip. A sure sign she had a confession to make.
Ashley raised her brows and looked at Cora. “Soooo?” she said, drawing out the single syllable and making it a question.
“Soooo,” Cora said again, drawing it out herself this time.
“Alright, chickadee, cut to the chase. What are you hiding?”
Cora attempted an affronted tone. “What? Nothing.” She actually had the nerve to go for a why would you think I was up to anything? That’s pure silliness look and Ashley just stared back blandly at her. Cora was utterly unable to lie. She simply didn’t have the lying gene in her DNA.
“Oh, fine. I just think it’s time for you to tell everyone about your books. You just made the USA Today bestseller list, for heaven’s sake. Why are you hiding something like that?”
“Cora?”
“Yes?”
“You already told them, didn’t you?”
“Well, it’s not my fault.”
Ashley grinned, unable to find it in her to be upset. “How is it not your fault?”
“Because it’s your fault, really. I mean, who keeps it a secret that they’re publishing a book? No, not a book. Many books. Many highly successful and now USA Today winning books.”
“It’s not winning,” Ashley said, shaking her head. “It’s bestselling.”
“Winning, bestselling, same thing. The point is, there might be cake.”
“Cake?” Again with the eyebrows going up. “There might be cake.”
“Okay, will be. There will be cake.”
And there was. A cake in the shape of a book. And all of Ashley’s family and friends were at Pies and Pints to celebrate. Ashley grinned as she took in their congratulations. Cora had long since given up trying to defend herself for leaking the information. She was now simply saying it was a sister’s prerogative to out an author, and she didn’t know what the fuss was about.
Ashley was okay with it. Screw it. Who cared if Haddie, her mother, and many of the women her mother went to church with had read her books. Sex scenes and all. And the sex scenes were…well, they weren’t mild. They weren’t Fifty Shades and all that, but they were steamy. There was a hint of kink here and there. But whatever. She had never been one to shy away from attention, and she didn’t filter herself in person, so why would she ever think of filtering her voice as a writer?
She did squirm a little when Haddie sniffed and said she’d read worse. Ashley didn’t want to think about Haddie reading her sex scenes or any others.
Good grief. And when her mother whispered that she might read a few of the scenes to her father, Ashley covered her ears and threatened to annul the adoption, or whatever process one would seek when their adoptive parents became too horrifyingly embarrassing. What a shame to have to undo the adoption now after all this time.
She did get a few good laughs out of the evening, though. Her brothers wanted to know who had taught her “those things” and they weren’t the least bit amused when Ashley insisted they’d have to be more specific than “those things” if they wanted answers. Emma began to recount all of the ex-boyfriends Ashley had had in high school and hypothesized about which ones might have taught her which things. Cora found all of that hysterical and couldn’t stop laughing, especially when Ashley began to nod her head yes, or shake her head no vigorously at one name or another.
She mentioned she might set up some readings at the library, making it a Couples’ Night Out kind of thing. That had gotten her father and brothers to spit beer and sputter, as her mother and sisters laughed harder. John Davies shook his head and grinned at Ashley before grabbing his wife, Katelyn, and saying something about writing their own love scenes at home.
5
Ashley looked at the squat, red-brick building and suppressed the memories that tried to flood her. She hadn’t been in this building in years. Not since the day she’d finally come to Alice and accepted help. And that was a day she didn’t want to relive for anything. But she would.
Because Alice deserved more than to be found lying dead on her floor with no one to pay for taking her life. Ashley sucked in a deep breath and pulled open the glass door with the worn letters indicating that the offices beyond were those of DFPS: Texas Department of Family and Protective Services.
She moved silently down the hall, looking for the face of the woman she’d met a few times with Alice.
Marlis. The woman’s name was Marlis, which Ashley had always found different, but sort of hypnotizing. She just hoped Marlis still worked here and that she might have some idea of what was going on with Alice’s case.
There. Red hair and a wild skirt and blouse. That’s what Ashley remembered about Marlis. Wild in every way.
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah, child?”
Ashley smiled. That was the other thing Ashley always remembered about Marlis. She was paler than a ghost, with obvious Irish roots, but her manner of speaking didn’t match those roots at all.
“Marlis? My name is—”
“Ashley Walker!” the woman exclaimed before Ashley could tell her who she was. “Of course I know who you are, child.
Of course. You one of Alice’s special’uns.”
Ashley smiled, a little taken aback.
“And that new book! Steamy and hot, that Aiden of yours.”
“What?” Ashley had to fight the urge to step back. “Alice knew I was writing?”
Marlis laughed. “Of course she did, child. Alice knew everything. She always watched over her kids, even after they’s on their way in the world.”
Maybe Alice had been calling her that weekend to congratulate her on her book release, just like Cora had said. It seemed more people had figured out her secret than Ashley realized. She smiled to herself, happy that Alice had known about her books. It seemed important somehow.
“I just wanted to see if you knew if they’d found out anything more about Alice’s murder,” Ashley said, forcing herself not to flinch at the word. “Do you have any idea what she was working on? Any ideas the police might not have looked into?”
“Taking over my job, Ashley?”
Ashley jumped and spun to face Garret Hensley. Good grief, was the man everywhere? She ignored the fact that his button-down shirt stretched across his chest and biceps in a way that made her want to unbutton it pretty damned quick. She’d have to remember that look for a future book.
Then it dawned on her. Alice had been killed two weeks ago. Why was he only coming to her office now?
“Are you serious?” She practically sputtered the question.
He tilted his head, cocking a brow at her. “Excuse me?”
“You’re just coming to interview her coworkers now? Are you kidding me? The chances that Alice’s death are related to something with her job are something like—” Wow, she sucked at math. “—well, really, really high. And you’re just now coming to talk to the people she works with?”
Garret gave her that carefully bland look she was sure he practiced at home in front of the mirror, but she doubted he was happy with the criticism. What man ever was? She squirmed. Damn it.
“Well?” she said, hands on hips and foot tapping because it was all she could think to do. When in doubt, dig a deeper hole. “Don’t you know that most police work relies on interviewing people? Over and over. You interview anyone and everyone you can because DNA and fingerprints probably aren’t going to get you a suspect for a while, if ever. You’ve got to do the leg work.”