by Lyn Cote
“We’re sorry.” Molly, petite and dark-haired like their mother, didn’t sound sorry at all and studied Connie intensely.
“Maybe I should go after all.” Connie reached for her purse.
“No, my sister and her husband just dropped in to say hi, right?” Rand glared at his sister.
“No,” Molly said with a grin. “We’ve already eaten but we’ll sit down with you two. We could use some iced tea if you have it, Rand, and you can introduce us.”
Rand continued to glare at Molly, his mouth taut. I’ve told you not to keep interfering in my life. I’m content with my life the way it is. “This is Connie Oberlin.” He controlled his tone of voice so Connie wouldn’t be insulted. This isn’t her fault. “She’s a lawyer in town,” he continued, who was consulting me about a case.” He emphasized the last three words. “If she’s changed her mind and wants to go home—”
“I’m Molly and my husband’s Larry and our little girl is Alexa.” His sister captured Connie’s hand and shook it. “We live near here and I’ve been home alone all day without adult conversation. Grown-up talk is just what I need.” She waved her hand at Rand. “Go ahead and make those omelets.”
Rand sucked in air. I’m going to get you for this, Molly.
“Don’t bother arguing with her, Rand,” Larry said, jiggling the little girl in his arms. “Not when Molly’s eight months along. It can be hazardous to a man’s health.”
Rand gave his sister one last smoldering look and turned to the stove. He cracked and plopped three more eggs into the mixing bowl and began to whisk them.
Molly crossed to his fridge and opened it. “I’ll get the drinks,” she offered.
Rand tightened control over his reactions, submerging them. Molly could and would pick up on any little clue about how much he’d wanted Connie to stay, and then make a big deal out of it.
“It appears that Rand has iced tea or orange juice,” Molly said, as she bent over to look into his sparsely filled fridge. “Or I can make coffee.”
“I’ve had enough coffee today, thanks.” Connie stood, still looking disconcerted.
“Don’t mind my family,” Rand muttered to her. “You’ve met Chuck so that should have prepared you for Molly.”
Connie took it as a joke, fortunately. She smiled.
Within minutes, the five of them were clustered around the picnic table on the rear deck that overlooked the lush green forest preserve on the west edge of town. Where he’d found Troy Nielsen’s pickup a week ago.
“This is a lovely setting.” Connie looked over her shoulder at the forest.
“Yeah, I’m lucky,” Rand conceded. “Bought this fifteen years ago before property values jumped up.”
“So what’s the case Rand and you are working on?” Molly asked. She was sitting across from Connie and Rand, who sat side by side.
“A friend of mine disappeared near here last week.” Connie still looked dazed at being here, sitting beside him.
“Oh, I read about that. Terrible.” Molly openly scrutinized Connie. “He must be a really close friend for you to come to Rand’s place,” she probed further.
“We all grew up together,” Connie admitted. “Troy, his wife and her family.”
“Where’s your family?” Molly asked.
“My parents are gone. I was an only child and I don’t have much family left. Just a few distant cousins.”
“Rand and I are lucky,” Molly said. “We still have our parents and two more sisters and two more brothers.”
“A large family.” Connie sounded awed.
Molly fixed Rand with a look. “Mom and Dad are expecting you Sunday.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Yes, making one of your limited appearances. For once, please stay longer than a half hour.”
Rand made no reply. He sipped his orange juice.
Molly kept up a flow of conversation.
Rand ate his omelet, listening and thinking. A disturbing idea had come to him. Had he dug deep enough for a motive to explain Connie landing on his doorstep tonight? Was a call from Nielsen’s wife her true motive?
Finally, Molly took her daughter from Larry, who’d volunteered to help Rand wash up.
Rand stood to retreat inside. “Connie, tell Mrs. Nielsen—Annie—that I’ll drop by tomorrow.”
“You will?” She eyed him with suspicion.
Rand met her gaze. Because I want to see if I can get a hint from her why you care so much about another woman’s husband that you invaded my home to pursue this case. Were you having an affair with Troy and feel incredibly guilty now?
His stomach soured at this final thought. “Tell Mrs. Nielsen I like to keep in touch with people in my cases.” He walked inside, his brother-in-law following him.
Molly leaned closer to Connie. “This is a first. I don’t think Rand’s ever before mixed his business with his personal—”
“I’m afraid,” Connie rushed to admit, “I forced the issue by dropping by.”
“I know. Chuck told us that, too.” Molly chuckled. “That’s never happened before, either.”
“I stepped over the line,” Connie said, her voice stiff. “I shouldn’t have.”
“Don’t say that,” Molly crooned. “Rand really needs someone to step over the line and often.”
Later that evening, Connie perched beside Annie on the over-stuffed sofa in Annie’s living room. She wished she had more to tell her. She’d done the best she could, but… Sharing a supper with O’Neill had satisfied her in one way and left her groping for explanations in another. Why did I stay?
Connie pushed away the memory of sitting beside him, letting his sister’s conversation flow gently over them. I shouldn’t have stayed. I shouldn’t have gone there in the first place.
“I’m sorry I bothered you,” Annie apologized, looking down into her own lap.
Connie ached at her friend’s somber tone. It reminded her that this wasn’t about her. Annie was Troy’s wife. She was the one who was truly suffering. My feelings don’t matter. “I’m sorry,” Connie apologized in turn, “I don’t have much news to give you.”
“I shouldn’t have called you like that.” Annie closed her eyes and rested her head back on the comfy sofa. “I just fell apart all of a sudden. And I don’t know what I thought you could do.”
“I did what I could. I talked to the detective on the case.” Again, Connie pictured O’Neill at his front door. His black hair swept back from his face, his gray eyes burning into her. Why had he let her in?
“He said he’ll come tomorrow to bring you up to speed on what he’s been doing.” For a moment, Connie almost told Annie what he’d revealed to her about losing his wife.
Though she knew this would paint O’Neill in a sympathetic light to Annie, Connie found she couldn’t reveal this intimate fact to anyone, not even Annie. I’m sure he didn’t mean to tell me. Men don’t like to reveal themselves like that. Connie worried her lower lip.
So why did he tell me? Connie forced this disconcerting thought away. Lord, help me focus on Annie’s crisis. There has to be something I haven’t thought of that I can do to help find Troy. Where is he? Is he still alive?
Tears slipping down her face, Annie sat in suffering silence beside her. Waves of Annie’s grief and Connie’s own anxieties cascaded through her. “Annie,” Connie interrupted through the sadness, “Detective O’Neill did a credit card and airline check to see if anyone had been using Troy’s cards. Someone might have stolen them from him—”
“He thinks Troy’s left me. But Troy wouldn’t,” Annie insisted in a tired, tear-drenched voice. “He just wouldn’t. There wasn’t any reason. This just doesn’t make sense. I’m so afraid for him, Connie.”
Connie had no reply. Silently, she went over the events of last Friday night, trying to pick up some lead, something to find Troy.
Finally, she settled on one fact. Troy had disappeared in Taperville, not Chicago. No one had seen Troy after he’d left work from U
ncle Lou’s job site. Could Troy’s disappearance have something to do with Uncle Lou? She turned the idea over and over in her mind. What could Uncle Lou have to do with Troy not coming home?
It was a terrible thought, but it was all she could come up with.
Much later that evening, Rand pounded on an apartment door. It was time to “thank” his brother for sending him Connie Oberlin and for letting Molly know he had.
Chuck opened it. He was shirtless, wearing only cutoffs. He had the nerve to grin broadly. “Hey, bro, come on in.”
Rand stepped inside and ran his eyes over the cluttered apartment.
“Okay, okay, welcome to my pigsty. No lectures. I’ve been studying every possible moment for the past few months for the detective exam.”
“You gave Connie Oberlin my home address.” Rand faced his brother. “You know you’re not supposed to do that.”
Chuck flopped down into an armchair that was topped by several rumpled T-shirts. “I like her and I think she’s just right for you.”
“Thanks for your opinion. Which, I might add, is completely unwanted and irrelevant. She’s involved in a case I’m in charge of. You shouldn’t have sent her to my house.” His conscience chided him: So why didn’t you keep her outside on the front step? Why did you invite her in and offer her supper?
“Yeah, I know,” Chuck said as he yawned. “But somehow I couldn’t just let her go away without any help. She kind of got to me.”
Rand made no audible reply. After pushing aside open books, paper and a paper-clip box, he sat down on the cleared space on Chuck’s sofa. She kind of got to me, too. Why did I tell her about Cara? “Don’t do that again.”
“But you’re always working 24/7—”
“That’s my business, my choice.”
“Mom worries about you, you know.”
Rand stifled a pang of guilt. “No one—least of all our mom—needs to worry about me. I’ve taken care of myself for a long time.”
“She says you’ve never gotten over Cara.”
Rand flamed inside. “Cara’s been gone for years.” Platitudes flowed over his tongue. “I’m over it. Life goes on.”
“Okay.” Chuck held up both hands in surrender. “I’ll never send a beautiful woman to your door again.”
Rand ignored his brother’s attempt at humor. “Don’t interfere in my life and never again tell Molly any of my business. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“What are you doing home on Friday night?” Rand asked, switching the focus off himself.
“Sheila’s got duty tonight.”
“You’re going to have to change your act around Sheila.” Rand recalled the scene at the deli earlier in the week, and how Chuck had behaved toward Sheila. “She doesn’t take you seriously and why should she? You’re always clowning around when you’re with her.”
“I know what I’m doing.” Chuck grinned knowingly. “Ladies like to laugh.”
That must be why I don’t date. I’m not a barrel of laughs. But he knew he didn’t want to date, didn’t want to be in the singles fray. I should be a father by now, with kids in middle school. He stopped his thoughts. What was going on in his head?
Rand turned back to the topic of Chuck and Sheila. “You’re lucky our department permits officers to date. And now that you’re a detective, you’re going to have to be especially careful. If she really isn’t interested in you—”
“Not interested in me?” Chuck squawked, outraged.
“If she really isn’t interested in you, you’ll have to drop it or get charged with sexual harassment.”
Chuck shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what Rand had just said. Chuck sat up and changed the subject. “How’s the case coming? Any hope?”
“Not much.” Rand stood, preparing to leave. “I haven’t even been able to decide whether he’s been kidnapped or if he just decided to leave his family. It’s a weird case.”
“What haven’t you followed up that you should have?” Chuck stood also, yawning widely.
Rand considered his brother’s question. It was a good one. What hadn’t he followed up on?
Uncle Lou. Troy’s uncle who owned a huge construction company. Troy had disappeared after leaving Lou’s job site. Rand had interviewed Lou and Troy’s supervisor and his fellow carpenters. Rand had gotten nada. But maybe I didn’t dig deep enough there, didn’t ask the right questions.
“Well, I wouldn’t count Connie out.” Chuck followed Rand, who was walking toward the door. “I mean, wait till the case is solved. Just get her number and call her when it’s all over. She’s got what it takes.”
She has what it takes but I don’t. Bitter gall surged up into Rand’s mouth. Over his shoulder, Rand shot a dark look at his brother, twelve years his junior. Having Chuck messing with his life disturbed his status quo. “Don’t do this again, Chuck. If you do, I’ll say something to the chief about it. No more meddling. This is a case.”
Chuck saluted. “Yes, sir.”
Rand strode out the door. He’d lost Cara well over ten years ago. How could Chuck—so young and so naive—understand?
On Saturday morning at Annie’s apartment, Connie opened the door for Rand just as she had that first night. He’d expected Annie to answer the bell. Seeing Connie so unexpectedly unleashed a wave of keen awareness of her.
“Hi, I told Annie you’d come, but I didn’t expect you to be so early.” Connie was dressed in wrinkled yellow shorts and a pale yellow top. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and her dark hair was tousled. His fingers flexed, ready to reach out and straighten her hair. He clenched his hands.
Why are you here, Connie? Did you plan this so you would be here when I arrived? He looked with suspicion into her eyes, but to him, her eyes were one of her most attractive, most dangerous features. So he spoke to her chin. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
“I spent the night. Annie asked me to. She didn’t want to be alone.”
“Ah.” He nodded, wondering if she was being candid. “I came early to save Mrs. Nielsen worry and then after I’ve filled her in, we can all go on with Saturday chores and…errands.”
“It’s very thoughtful of you.” Connie backed up and led him up the steep staircase to Annie’s flat.
And by coming early I might catch Annie off-guard and coax some new facts from her. Sometimes he didn’t like doing his job. But part of it, a necessary part of it, was shaking information loose. And that’s why I’m here.
Annie met them at the top of the steps. “Detective O’Neill, thank you for coming.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Nielsen.”
“Call me Annie, please.
He shook the small hand she offered him; Connie hovered close beside him. “I want to give you a rundown of what I’ve done. I have been working—”
“I know you have.” Annie looked near tears again.
He held out a hand to her again.
She took it and squeezed it once. “Come in. The least I can offer you is a cup of coffee while we talk.”
Relieved to find her so composed, he followed Annie as Connie walked beside him toward the kitchen. He controlled the urge to follow Connie with his eyes.
“Connie, will you check on the boys?” Annie asked in a distracted tone. “They should be up by now. They’ll miss their Saturday cartoons.”
Connie nodded and left his side.
He trailed Annie the rest of the way into the kitchen and, at her gesture, sat down at the table. He slipped out his notebook and opened it. He formulated his first question, but Connie’s call interrupted him.
“Annie—” Connie’s raised voice came from the living room “—could the boys be downstairs at Gracie’s?”
“I suppose so.” Annie looked perplexed. “But I don’t think so. They’d have awakened me to ask for permission if they were going down.”
Connie appeared in the kitchen.
Annie turned to face her. “Did you check my bedroom?”
“They aren�
��t in either of the bedrooms.” Standing in the doorway, Connie pressed her hands to each side of the door jamb as though bracing herself.
Annie whirled around and hurried the few steps just beyond the kitchen to the bathroom door. She opened it. Then without a word, she raced down the back steps.
Connie took off after Annie.
At her heels, Rand ran to catch up to Annie. Annie was already pounding on the first floor flat’s back door when they caught up with her.
“Annie,” Rand started, “What’s—”
Her sister, Gracie, in a short white terry-cloth robe cracked open the door. She yawned. “What’s up?”
“Are Austin and Andy here?” Annie looked past her sister, straining to see.
Gracie appeared confused. “No, was I supposed to watch them this morning?”
Annie pushed past her. “Austin! Andy!”
No reply came.
The agitated mother turned and rushed past the three of them still gawking at her in the doorway. She ran out the back door. “Austin! Andy!”
But the backyard was empty.
Chapter Five
Down the quiet street of Annie’s neighborhood, Rand jogged beside Connie. She’d rushed outside in such a preoccupied rush she hadn’t taken time to change or even comb her tousled hair.
They’d left Gracie back at the two-flat, taking care of Annie, who said she had no idea where the boys would have gone. While listening to the women’s discussion of possibilities, Rand had already called the local precinct and alerted them that Andy and Austin might have run away. But Connie had insisted on looking first for them in the neighborhood in case the boys had merely strayed.
With each step, he heard her muttering under her breath: “Oh, Lord, please let them be in the park. Let this just be a case of naughty behavior. Please, Lord.”
Rand found himself thinking about Molly’s little girl. The world was such a dangerous place for little ones alone. He wished he still believed in prayer, still believed God took a personal interest in the lives of human beings. But God lived so far away. Did He care? Did He even notice Annie and her sons losing their husband and father?
At the end of the block, Connie reached a leafy green park, surrounded by an ancient wrought-iron fence, a few seconds before Rand. She ran ahead into the nearly empty park. “Austin! Andy!” She repeated their names over and over.
