He leaned forward. “What about Alexander and Perry? I have to admit I’m more than a little surprised you called me after all this time.” His voice was deep and not unpleasant. Very serious.
“I know that when you left them to start your own firm, Charles opted to stay with Alexander and Perry because of their reputation.”
“I completely understood. I was just getting started. The other agency had better connections and resources, but what most investigators don’t often admit is that even an amateur with a computer can find almost anyone if he knows where to look.”
“Almost anyone but the woman who has my grandson. They might have the best reputation, but that firm still has nothing but dead ends.” She reached for a file folder on the glass-topped coffee table and handed it over. “This is everything they’ve come up with.”
She watched him carefully scan the contents. He could have made a fortune playing poker for high stakes, his expression giving away nothing until he came to an eight-by-ten photo at the back of the file.
He studied it carefully, then extended it toward her.
“Who is this?”
“That’s Caroline Graham.”
He stared at the black-and-white head shot again.
“This isn’t the same woman in the picture that Rick gave me. I’ve never seen this photo.”
Anna swallowed, automatically reaching for the gold and diamond heart necklace at her throat. She fingered it as she spoke.
“I didn’t know that Rick had ever given anyone a photograph of Caroline. I certainly don’t have one, and there’s no other photo in the file.”
“He came by my place the morning of the accident on his way back to the desert and showed me a stack of photos he’d taken of Caroline and his son. Even gave me one of them. He came by that day to ask me to be his best man.”
Anna felt a swift blush of anger stain her cheeks. Jake Montgomery reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, flipped it open. He slipped out a small photo and handed it to her.
Anna looked down at the poorly cropped picture with frayed edges. She hadn’t seen it since the day Rick had showed a stack of similar photos to her and Charles—the day that he had announced he was getting married, that he had a son.
The same day he told them that it didn’t matter what they said, that his mind was made up. At first she’d been in shock and had done little more than glance at the young woman in the photo as Rick and Charles argued fiercely.
She’d tried to be the voice of reason and to convince Rick that he needn’t ruin his life marrying beneath him. He said he’d known that they would react this way, that they wouldn’t approve of his choice, but he didn’t care. He’d told them of his month-long fling in the desert with the waitress, of how he hadn’t even seen her in well over a year, but when he looked her up again, he discovered she’d given birth to his child while he was in Japan.
Charles doubted the child was Rick’s, certain Rick had been trapped. That’s what she had thought, too, until Rick showed her the photos of the baby. There was no doubt the boy was his. She had photos in Rick’s baby book that were nearly identical. The image of that bright-eyed boy had melted her heart.
But the mother, Caroline, was another matter. She looked tacky and coarse, barely twenty-three, if not younger.
Even now it made Anna heartsick to think it was altogether possible that Rick had never even known the girl’s real name.
She handed the tattered photograph back to Jake.
He pocketed it without looking at it again, then pointed to the eight-by-ten lying on top of the open file on the table.
“Obviously that’s not the same woman,” he reiterated.
“No. I can see that it’s not.”
He flipped through pages of information, some compiled since he worked for the firm. Caroline Graham’s Social Security and driver’s license numbers were listed along with proof that she was born in Albuquerque. The photograph was copied from her high school yearbook. She was in a foster home until she ran away a few months before her eighteenth birthday.
She had surfaced not long afterward in Borrego Springs and took a job as a waitress. She was eighteen by then and Child Services had no interest in dragging her back to New Mexico. She stayed in Borrego and met Rick almost five years later.
Jake picked up the larger photo. “When you saw this, did you have any idea that this wasn’t the same woman he proposed to? That this wasn’t the same woman as the one in the photos with his son?”
“I saw the stack of pictures Rick had taken only once and very quickly. He left behind the one of him holding the baby. She wasn’t in it. I . . . I told him I didn’t want one of the girl, so he kept all the rest. If he had them when you saw him on his way out of town, then they were all destroyed in the accident.”
She sighed. Fingered the jeweled heart again. “When Charles died two years ago, I swore to him I’d keep searching, but for a while, I hadn’t the heart to go on. I’ve contacted Alexander and Perry a few times, but they’ve put the case on the back burner, I’m sure. Jake, I’ll be honest. I’m not getting any younger. I want to see my grandson. I promised Charles I’d go on searching.”
“Why call me now?”
“Because they have no personal stake in this. You knew Rick. You were his friend. You tried to help us once. Will you take the case again or not?”
He hesitated so long she was afraid he’d turn her down.
“Look, Jake. My husband told me that a couple of years after Rick’s death, you paid Charles back some money that Rick had loaned you. We hadn’t even known about it, and if you’d never paid the debt, no one would be the wiser. You’re an honest man, Jake Montgomery. A man of your word. That’s why I want you to take this case again. For Rick’s sake. For his son’s. But most of all, for an old woman with a broken heart and a promise to keep.”
She thought she saw him blanch and knew she’d struck the right chord. “I don’t need someone who will give me false promises and take my money.”
She could tell that he was uncomfortable whenever he looked at the photo she had thought was Caroline Graham.
Finally he met her gaze. “Why did she run?”
Taken aback, Anna blinked. “What do you mean?”
“What was she so afraid of? Why run from you and your husband? I would think that anyone in her position, a young, unwed mother, a waitress, would welcome and gladly accept your help. So why did she disappear?”
Anna cleared her throat and continued to looked him straight in the eye. Her Grandpapa Riley’s advice came rushing back to her.
Never let it show when you’re bluffin’, my girl. Never let ’em know it.
“I . . . I have no idea.”
“Let me look into this before I make a firm commitment and see what I can dig up. We’re fairly busy right now.”
“I thought you ran a one-man firm.”
“I did when I first started, but I have a partner now. Her name is Kat Vargas.”
“Are you telling me you’re too busy to take my money?” She didn’t know where she would turn if he didn’t agree to help.
“I’m just saying I can’t make you any promises right now.” He picked up the photograph. “May I have this? I’ll have a copy made and get it back to you. Finding out who this really is might be a start.”
“Of course. Anything.”
He straightened his jacket, got to his feet.
“I’ll call you,” he promised.
“I can’t wait long, Jake. I’m sixty-five years old, and I’m not getting any younger.”
She walked with him to the edge of the thick champagne-colored carpet, watched him move across the marble floor of the foyer to the door where she bid him good-bye.
Afterward, Anna walked out onto the balcony. Her hands closed around the iron railing. She took long, deep breaths to calm herself, the way her personal yoga instructor had taught her.
She closed her eyes and replayed the entire interview. No mat
ter how many times she went over it, she found it impossible to shake the feeling that Jake Montgomery had been holding something back.
Jake walked into the office, jerked off his tie, and hung it over the doorknob.
Kat was at her own desk working through a list of documents on the computer. She raised her hand to let him know she was aware of his entrance, but didn’t speak.
He went into his bedroom across the hall and tossed the photo on the unmade bed shoved up against one wall. A pile of books made a less-than-adequate bedside table big enough for a dusty clock radio. There was a lamp on the floor, a thirteen-inch television on a low stack of boxes on the opposite wall.
All temporary arrangements that had become permanent.
Jake opened a cardboard file box and rooted through it until he found one marked C. Graham. The mattress sagged as he sat down on the foot of the bed.
When he had first started hunting for her, he expected Caroline to turn up again as soon as she registered a car, opened a credit account or applied for a new driver’s license. Even if she had changed her name, experience told him that she would most likely choose the same birth date or place of birth, the same first name—something that would eventually show up in a search.
He’d tracked down a few missing persons through data entered on warranty cards sent into manufacturers, but there was nothing current on Caroline Graham anywhere.
Kat suddenly appeared in the doorway. She never walked, she bounced, and so did her straight shoulder-length hair.
“So, how’d the meeting go with Ms. Saunders?”
“I told her I’d think about it.”
“Stalling.”
“Yep.”
“Does she suspect anything?”
“No. How could she?”
“You could have slipped up. I’ve never seen you this way before.”
Jake stood up. The file slid off his lap, the pages fanned out across the floor. “What way?”
“Discombobulated.” She glanced down at the spilled file. “Maybe in love? You know that’s always dangerous.”
“Watch it, Vargas.”
“So, what next?”
“I want you to check on something. Call her high school in Albuquerque. Have them send a copy of Caroline Graham’s photograph from the yearbook.”
“One picture of her isn’t enough anymore?”
The photo Anna had just given him was lying facedown on the bed. He picked it up and handed it to Kat. She stared at it a second, then looked up.
“Who’s this?”
“That’s Caroline Graham. At least that’s a photo that Alexander and Perry came up with after I left. Everything else they’ve found was pretty much what I already knew, same driver’s license numbers, Social, Albuquerque record of birth, high school.”
She had a keen enough eye to remember the face of the girl in the photo in his wallet and knew that the young woman in the eight-by-ten wasn’t the same one. His photo had come directly from Rick. It had to be of the real Caroline.
“Not the right Caroline Graham, evidently. So what’s up?”
“I’ve got to go over to TC Motor Sports and pick up their books. While I do that, will you scan this photo and have the original sent back to Anna Saunders? And then see what you can find on a Carly Nolan.” He spelled the name for her. “Check Social Security, birth and death certificates in New Mexico. Check the DMV in New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, California. If you can’t find anything, widen the search.”
“If she’s not Caroline Graham, then who is Carly Nolan?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
22
EVERYONE IN TWILIGHT COVE WAS READY FOR SUMMER, BUT the sun wasn’t cooperating. Typical of California coastal towns in May and June, the sky remained overcast until noon, plunging spring temperatures and moods.
Carly had been in a funk since she’d left for work that morning, and even when the sun finally burned through the low cloud cover, her mood didn’t lighten.
“Hey, cheer up.” Joe handed her an order of soup and date nut bread. “The sun’s out.”
“I’ll try.” Easier said than done. She had been trying to convince herself that Jake’s two-week absence from Twilight wasn’t the reason she was feeling so glum.
For all she knew he could have decided not to lease the rental house after all, but she didn’t have the nerve to ask Tracy or Glenn.
When she got back to the counter, Joe waved her over to the kitchen. She made certain the handful of customers didn’t need anything before she ducked into the next room.
“What’s up, Joe?”
“I’m worried about you, chica. You don’t seem like yourself.”
“I’m all right.”
He leaned back against the big dishwashing tub and crossed his beefy arms. “I’m Christopher’s official grandpa now. If something’s wrong, you can tell me. I don’t gossip.”
“I know, Joe.” Holding tight to her feelings was something she’d done all her life. She didn’t know how to open up, even if she’d wanted to.
“Really, I’m okay. By the way, Chris is still talking about the nopales you took to school for the kids to taste. They couldn’t believe it was really cooked cactus.”
“I had to come up with something. He was expecting a bullfighter.”
“At least you set the kids straight on that one, even though it meant death to a town legend.”
“Selma thought it would be good for business if people believed a retired matador was whipping up their dinners. I let it go all these years, but I couldn’t lie to Christopher’s whole class. They sort of forgot I wasn’t anything special when I unwrapped that prickly pear cactus I’d cooked up and then let them taste it.”
“You are special, Joe, to Chris and me. Don’t you forget it.” Moved by his generosity, Carly tentatively put her hand on his shoulder. Exchanging affectionate gestures didn’t come easy if you hadn’t grown up with them.
Just then Selma walked in and she planted her fists on her hips. “What’s going on around here? Isn’t anyone interested in making money today?”
Joe winked at Carly then walked over and slipped his arm around Selma’s shoulders.
“She’s just jealous.” He pulled Selma closer, lowered his voice and thickened his accent. “How about coming over to my place after work? We’ll share a nice bottle of wine. I’ll cook my special chicken mole. Candlelight dinner and pay-per-view. What do you say, mi amor?”
Selma lifted his arm off her shoulder, let it drop. “I’m not your amor. My long-standing rule is never date the cook. It’s one hell of a way to ruin a good business.” She glanced at her watch and reminded Carly, “You’d better leave if you’re going to get over to Avila Beach before Chris’ game ends.”
Carly whipped off her denim apron and headed for the door. “Thanks, Selma. See you tomorrow. Bye, Joe. And thanks again.”
Jake was counting the miles on the way up the coast, calculating the hours until he would finally be back in Twilight. It was Wednesday, and he was just wondering how late Carly would be working at the diner when he glanced into the rearview mirror and noticed a nondescript, gray sedan two cars back in his same lane.
He’d first spotted the Buick in Thousand Oaks on Highway 101 when he’d turned off the 405. The driver had maintained the same distance between them, changed lanes shortly after he did, essentially dogged his tail the whole way.
Nearing an off-ramp, he exited the freeway and headed for Paseo Nuevo Mall on State Street between Canon Perdido and Ortega streets. Another quick check in the mirror told him all he needed to know. The Buick had exited, too, and was still on him, hanging back, pulling behind a red Honda. The driver was a single, white male in a sport coat. His features were hidden behind wide sunglasses, but Jake recognized the shape of his head and shoulders.
Jake circled the parking lot and finally pulled into a parking stall near Nordstrom and got out of the car. He walked straight for the entrance and didn’t look back. As s
oon as he was inside the door, he pocketed his sunglasses and made a quick right into the men’s shirt section, zigzagged around a few display tables, and then doubled back toward the door.
He paused, picked up a cotton sweater, put it down, and then walked over to a table full of men’s cargo shorts. He carried a khaki pair toward the dressing rooms and stepped inside.
On the quick count of five he walked back out, cut left and came up behind the heavyset man he’d seen at the wheel of the Buick.
“Jesus, Godes, you’ve gotten sloppy since I left A and P. Seems like you could have done a better job of not getting spotted.”
The other P.I. slowly shook his head and turned around. “Hell, Jake. I tried to tell J.A. you wouldn’t be an easy mark.”
“Why the tail? What are you after?” Jake hadn’t seen Sam Godes since his last day at Alexander and Perry. They’d been hired in the very same month and year, but obviously, Godes was still there. The minute Jake recognized him, he knew that his former employers had put a man on his tail—and he knew why. Still, he wanted confirmation.
Godes shifted, rubbed his hand over his jaw, and looked up at Jake. “Come on, Montgomery. I can’t tell you that.”
“You owe me big time, Sam. I took over all your cases for three weeks when your kid was in the hospital and you’d run out of sick days. I told you then that payback was hell. The least you can do is tell me what gives.”
Sam Godes sighed and shook his head. “The Saunders woman called in and talked to J.A. himself. Said she thought you were on to something, that you may have a lead on the Graham woman and her grandkid. She wanted you tailed. I told the boss I thought it was a big waste of time, but he wanted to keep her happy, so here I am. Why don’t you just tell me what’s up, and I’ll tell them case closed.”
“I’m headed up the coast to visit a long-lost aunt.”
“Give me a break, Montgomery.”
“How ’bout you give me one. Turn around and head back to L.A. and tell them you lost me.”
“Yeah, I really want to tell them you gave me the slip.”
“What’s it gonna take, Sam? You gotta give me a break on this one. You still owe me for those three weeks. I need time.”
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