Mind Bender

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Mind Bender Page 8

by Linsey Lanier


  King shook his head. “We always include the details in our notices. We don’t send them until the family has made all the necessary decisions. The purpose of the announcement is for friends and family to pay their respects. Who was this young man?”

  “You tell us.” Miranda took back her phone and scrolled to the photo of the mystery man in black. “Mr. Flint identified this man as the person who stopped by his office.”

  King blinked as he stared at the photo. “I’ve never seen this man before.”

  A woman in a black skirt and jacket whisked past the office door.

  “Emily,” King called to her.

  “Yes, Vernon?”

  “Have we hired this person recently?”

  She stepped inside the office and took the phone from his hand. Deep furrows formed on her brow. “No. I’ve never seen that man before,” she said, echoing King’s words.

  “You didn’t send him over to The Reporter with a death notice on Monday?”

  “This past Monday? No. I’d remember that. I’m sorry. There must me some mistake.”

  No mistake at all.

  With a satisfied smile, Miranda got to her feet, took back her phone, and extended a hand to the startled woman, then to King. “Thank you very much for your help.”

  King rose, looking bewildered. “Is—is that all you needed?”

  Parker’s smile matched Miranda’s. “It was exactly what we needed.”

  “I believe him, Parker,” Miranda said as they climbed back into the car outside. “King never saw that guy before.”

  Parker’s face went hard. “Which means the man in the black leather jacket acted entirely on his own.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Parker decided it was well past time for lunch. His second-in-command needed to be fed.

  He found a Mexican spot back on Main Street, and while Miranda texted Holloway, he ordered chicken enchiladas for her and flautas for himself.

  The enchiladas were topped with a flavorful authentic green sauce and Jack cheese that was heavenly. And the plate of jalapeños Parker had insisted on for her was as hot as the other place, making the dish perfect, in her opinion. Miranda alternately stuffed bites of enchilada and peppers into her mouth while she checked her phone.

  When she was half done, she wiped her mouth and tossed the phone on the table with a grunt. “Holloway’s not exactly trying to get into my good graces.”

  “He hasn’t responded?” Parker picked up her phone and glanced at the text she’d sent.

  “No. And he didn’t check in like I told him to. I never should have let him go off on his own.” She reached for a chip and chomped down on it with a crunch.

  “Yes, you should. Sometimes you need to let an investigator have their head. To make their own mistakes and come to realizations on their own.”

  “Or not.”

  He was talking about her again.

  “Curt may turn up something valuable.”

  “Maybe. But he’s missing the news. The guy who dragged Audrey out of that bank yesterday was here in Georgetown on Monday.”

  Parker took a sip of water. “And he impersonated a funeral home employee to put a false death notice in the paper.”

  “Yeah, add that to the charges this guy is racking up. But why?”

  “Intimidation, perhaps.”

  “Maybe it was all his plan. Maybe he wanted Audrey to go to Atlanta and she said no at first. So he puts the notice in the paper to show her he means business. It worked. He got her to go with him and do the dirty work at the bank.”

  “It’s a scenario that fits.”

  One that made Audrey more of a victim. Miranda still wasn’t sure about that. She wondered if Audrey’s parents had seen the death notice. Surely they would have contacted the newspaper or the funeral home. But Flint and King didn’t know anything about that.

  She picked up her phone again. Still no text. C’mon Holloway.

  “I noticed you speaking to Wendy last night.”

  Parker had a way of noticing everything. Plus, he was trying to distract her from the phone.

  Miranda swallowed a pepper without even a wince. “Yeah, she’s really growing up.”

  “Yes, she is,” he said wistfully. “Did she give you any insight on Mackenzie’s state of mind?”

  Parker had insight into her mind. He knew how worried she was about her daughter.

  She stabbed at her enchilada. “Sort of. I think Mackenzie might be thinking about this time of year. It was a year ago, you know.”

  Parker’s back stiffened. “Yes. I was wondering if that might be an issue.”

  She didn’t need to explain. He’d been there.

  Parker never would forget rushing off to Lake Placid only to find his wife unconscious, shot, and nearly fatally wounded by a mad killer. Because of that madman her daughter had nearly lost the use of her limb. He’d never forget the long hours he’d spent praying for their recovery. Begging with every fiber of his being that Miranda would come back to him. It had been a horrendous experience for all of them.

  His heart went out to the young girl. “You should talk to her.”

  Miranda stared at her plate. “About the October thing? I wouldn’t know what to say.”

  “You of all people would know exactly what to say to her. You went through that ordeal together.”

  He was right. “Yeah, maybe I will.”

  As she used her fork to drag a bite of enchilada around in the sauce, Miranda’s mind went back to Gen’s visit to the penthouse last night.

  Cautiously she ventured onto the topic. “What time did Gen leave last night?”

  “Late. She had a lot to say.”

  Miranda could imagine. “So you knew.”

  Parker’s dark brow rose. “Knew?”

  “About Gen and Holloway. That they were dating.” She said it as calmly as if she were asking for the time.

  Parker peered at her, seeing straight through her. “Yes, I did.”

  Miranda reached for her water glass. “From the beginning, it sounded like.”

  “I thought you had gone to bed.”

  She put the glass back down without taking a drink. “Her voice carried upstairs.” She wasn’t going to let him turn this around. “And you were the one who suggested the office dating policy?”

  “I simply wanted Gen to think about the ramifications of her relationship. It turned out to be too late by then.”

  Still, they hadn’t been together long. Gen must have fallen fast. “And you didn’t tell me about it?”

  “I thought managing the team would be more difficult for you if you knew.”

  “So you thought it would be difficult? For me to manage the team?”

  “Isn’t that what you keep insisting?” His handsome face somber, he shook his head. “It’s not what I meant.”

  Miranda wiped her mouth and put her napkin on the table. “I found out about Gen a couple of weeks ago. I guessed it from the way she was acting.”

  “I know.”

  Of course, he did. He knew everything. “Why didn’t you say something? Oh, right. The team.” Meaning Holloway.

  He turned to her. “You’re right, Miranda. We should have been more straightforward with each other.”

  That surprised her. Parker usually was defensive about his secrets. But she had kept what she knew from him, as well.

  Her shoulders slumped. She hadn’t wanted to fight about it. “I understand. Really. It doesn’t matter now. How are you? About Holloway, I mean.”

  “And his reaction to his ex-wife? It certainly puts me in an awkward position.”

  She got that. Was Parker his boss? His potential father-in-law? Or the father of the woman Holloway was about to dump? If Gen didn’t do it first.

  She pushed her plate away. “Do you think Gen is going to be okay?”

  “She’s an adult. She has to make her own decisions.” He sounded sad for her.

  “Sounds like she’s going to break it off.”
r />   “She might.”

  Miranda reached for Parker’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “She’s been through a lot lately.”

  “She has.” If Miranda had nightmares about that dank basement in Jasper County, Gen must be having them, too. “She’s strong. She’ll get through it.”

  “I hope so.”

  Before she could say anymore, a bell jingled and Holloway strolled through the restaurant door.

  Talk about timing.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Miranda waved him over, and Holloway plodded across the floor looking wearier and more haggard than he had that morning.

  A waitress came over and stuck a menu in his hand.

  He glanced at it and handed it back. “I’m not hungry.”

  “You have eat,” Miranda told him under her breath. After the words were out of her mouth she realized how much she sounded like Parker.

  Ignoring Parker’s smile and Holloway’s scowl, she ordered him a chimichanga. From their many lunches together when they were IITs, she knew what he liked.

  When his plate came, she gave him the evil eye until he’d downed it all.

  He finished the last bite and pushed the plate away. “There. Are you satisfied?”

  “We all are,” Parker said with a wry grin.

  Miranda could have sworn she saw Holloway’s cheeks turn pink.

  “Where have you been? You didn’t answer my texts.”

  “I couldn’t.” He picked up a glass of soda and drank to avoid her gaze. “I went to see Audrey’s parents.”

  “Audrey’s parents?” Miranda had them on her list of people to visit, but she’d wanted to hit the newspaper office first.

  “Like I told you, they live in Sun City. We always got along well. I figured they might know something about her state of mind.”

  Miranda recalled Holloway telling them about the age-restricted community with its well-heeled residents on the flight. She guessed he had a point. He’d be better able to get information out of Audrey’s mother and father than two strange investigators.

  “Okay—and how was their state of mind?”

  “I didn’t mention the obituary if that’s what you mean. Besides, I think they’d call me if Audrey was—if they thought something had happened to her.”

  “And?”

  “Her mother said they hadn’t spoken to Audrey in a few weeks.”

  What? “I thought Audrey’s best friend said she was making up with her folks. What about the shopping date with her mother next week?”

  Holloway raised his hands. “Her mother said they didn’t have a shopping date next week.”

  Somebody was playing fast and loose with the truth. “Did you get the sense she was lying? Like maybe Audrey’s parents are hiding her?”

  He scowled and shook his head. “They didn’t act like anything was wrong.”

  “So they hadn’t seen the obituary.”

  “No. They seemed perfectly normal.”

  Guess they didn’t read the local paper. Miranda revised her conclusion that Holloway was the best one to get the truth out of Audrey’s mother and father. She and Parker would swing by the community later and draw their own conclusions.

  “You didn’t tell them about the bank robbery yesterday, did you?”

  “I didn’t tell them anything. We just chitchatted. Henry took me out on the golf course to show me how his swing had improved. They didn’t seem as if anything was different from usual.”

  She tapped her fingers on the table. “Speaking of that, the owner of The Reporter ID’d the guy Audrey was with at the bank.”

  Holloway put down his glass. “He did?”

  She nodded. “Said he came in this past Monday to put the obituary in the paper. Said he was from a local funeral home.”

  “Did you check that out?”

  “We did. The funeral home director never heard of him.”

  Holloway sat back with a bewildered expression. “So it was a fake obituary. I knew she wasn’t dead.”

  Except she and the guy she was with hadn’t been seen since this morning.

  Still, he seemed relieved. He studied his empty plate for a while, fiddled with his napkin, then turned to Parker. “Sir, I’m wondering if I could have a moment to speak to Steele alone.”

  That remark had both their brows shooting to their foreheads. This couldn’t be good, she thought. Well, if Holloway wanted to have it out with her, that was fine by her.

  Miranda glanced at Parker. He gave her his up-to-you look. Right. She was in charge. But he didn’t seem to think it was a bad idea.

  “That’s fine, Detective,” he said to Holloway as if he had asked him to leave the tip.

  Miranda got to her feet. “We’ll just be outside.”

  She left Parker to handle the check while she stepped out onto the sidewalk. She strolled down a few stores to an art shop.

  She turned to him, about to let him have it. Then she saw his face was filled with pain.

  “Audrey and I used to stroll around these sidewalks together. That was one of her favorite spots.” He pointed to an antique store across the street. Then he looked up and gestured to a second-story window in a Victorian style facade harkening back to a century of Texas history. “We used to live right up there. I checked it out, thinking she might go there. But it’s been rented to a college student for over a year now.”

  He had been doing his job. She hadn’t realized how hard it was for him.

  Awkwardly he put his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know how to say this.”

  “Just spit it out.” Miranda was surprised at the gentleness in her own voice.

  “I don’t know what to do about Gen. This situation is so awkward.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “C’mon, Steele. Help me out here.”

  “You think I know what to do?”

  “You know her father better than anyone.”

  Was it Gen he was worried about or his standing with Parker?

  Now it was Miranda’s turn to shove her hands in her pockets. She walked with him a while under the striped awnings, past the quaint storefronts.

  What could she say to him? “Do you have feelings for your ex?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think so. Not until yesterday, but this whole thing is so weird.”

  Miranda pondered Holloway’s predicament. At last, she drew in a breath. “Holloway, if we find Audrey—”

  “When.”

  “Okay, when we find her. You know she’ll be going to jail. Maybe for a long time.”

  Even if the mystery man in black influenced her, it was Audrey who shot the bank clerk. And who shot at Holloway. And who tossed the spike strips onto the highway that totaled Parker’s Lambo and several police cars.

  He looked down at his feet and nodded.

  “I think you should wait to figure out your feelings until this is over.”

  He nodded and stared down the street. “Gen keeps texting me. She wants to know where we stand.”

  Uh oh.

  “I don’t want to hurt her.”

  Too late for that. But Miranda wasn’t going to tell him what she heard in Parker’s penthouse last night. “All I can say is—” How could she put it?

  “What?”

  “I’ve learned from hard experience that honesty is the best policy, as trite as that sounds. Be honest with her. Tell her you don’t know how you feel and you need time to figure things out.”

  He smirked out a laugh. “Do you know how she’s going to take that?”

  “I can imagine.” This was Gen, after all. “But it’s the better alternative.”

  “And you know that from hard experience?”

  “Yep.”

  He was silent a long while, no doubt thinking of when Miranda walked out on Parker and quit the Agency.

  At last he nodded. “Thanks, Steele.”

  “No problem. We’re going back to Austin to talk to the best friend. Want to follow us?”

  He shook
his head. “She’ll respond better to you and Mr. Parker. I wanted to stop by and see my old buddies at the recruiting center.”

  For once she didn’t want to argue with him. She hadn’t had this intimate of a conversation with him in a long time. “Okay. We can meet at the hotel when you finish up there.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Semper Fi.”

  With a half grin and a salute, he turned away and headed for his rented Jetta.

  Chapter Seventeen

  They headed south back down 130 toward Austin. The drive seemed long, and the afternoon sun was getting bright and warm. Miranda watched Parker lean forward to turn the Corolla’s A/C down. He hadn’t said much since she’d climbed into the car after her private little chat with Holloway, but he had to have known Holloway had talked to her about Gen. Miranda guessed Parker didn’t want to know what he had said.

  She didn’t blame him.

  Parker was right. Gen was a big girl. She’d have to figure things out on her own. And so would Holloway. But a parent couldn’t help feeling the pain his or her child was experiencing. She knew that only too well right now.

  After another twenty minutes, the green trees and spiky buildings making up the skyline of the “Live Music Capital of the World” came into view. It would be fun to explore this place, but that wasn’t why they were here. When they got into the city they hit traffic—a jam that almost rivaled Atlanta.

  It was after four-thirty by the time they reached their next destination. Miranda hoped that meant Audrey’s friend was home from work.

  Kenisha Trevino’s condo was an open warehouse-style loft in a historic building off Eighth Street. With Parker at her side, Miranda stepped into a classy marble entrance and took an elevator to the ninth floor. They found the number Holloway had given them at the end of the hall.

  As they approach it, Miranda heard loud dramatic music coming from the place. Orchestral music.

  “Beethoven’s Fifth,” Parker said with an inquisitive frown.

  Miranda rapped on the door and waited. No answer. The music must be too loud for the person inside to hear.

  She tried again, using her version of the policeman’s knock.

 

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