by Lyla Payne
I force myself to look down at my phone, and then smile with relief at the sight of a text from Beau, deciding to read it while I wait.
You busy tonight? I mean, I don’t want to brag but the rumor around town is that your boyfriend is pretty hot.
My heart thuds, even though we’ve been dating for months at this point, and part of me wants to drop this whole Ellen thing and go attack Beau right now.
Is that so? Don’t tell the mayor. He might be jealous.
You’re a terrible woman and I love you.
Masochist.
Try me.
I snicker, then hear a door close and know Will’s coming back.
Come over for dinner.
I text Beau yes to dinner but switch the venue to our place, and then spend a couple of seconds fanning my face, wondering how red it is or if it will be noticeable to Will. My ex-boyfriend gives me the side-eye as he sits down and opens a thin manila folder atop the spotless desk. It wasn’t even this tidy when Travis was the town’s detective.
“Well, you said you already talked to the parents and the boyfriend, right?” Will asks.
“The mom. Dad moved away, but it doesn’t sound as though he’d have much to add.”
“The officers and the feds also interviewed a bunch of people she went to school with, along with some pervs in the area who are usual suspects, but they all turned up clean.” He wrinkles his nose. “For this, anyway.”
“Gross.”
“Yeah, and I’m about to have a daughter.” He sits up, running a finger along one of the pages. “They did talk to a girl named Autumn Wasserman a couple of times because witnesses claimed the two of them were as thick as thieves, but she insisted they barely knew each other.”
“Sounds like she didn’t want to talk to the cops. She could know something. A secret maybe only a best friend would keep, even after you disappeared.” I tap a finger on the desk, thinking. “Autumn Wasserman. Does she live around here?”
“Yep. Driftwood.” He heaves another sigh, as though I’m climbing right on the end of his patience. “If you go see Lindsay, there’s a decent chance you’ll run into this girl. Unless she’s changed jobs in the past year.”
I grin and peck Will on the cheek, the familiar smell of him wrapping old comfort around me as surely as the comforter stitched by my grams. “You’re a peach.”
“Only for you, Gracie. You know that.”
“I appreciate it.”
I leave the station, my step lighter at the lead even if I won’t be able to go until later this afternoon. It’s Saturday, which means the library closes early, so maybe Amelia will want to drive down with me and have a chat with this Autumn woman.
The library is more crowded than usual, with people dragging their kids in and a couple of different book clubs meeting within a few minutes of me unlocking the doors. It’s typical for a weekend and nice to have work and patrons to focus on for a change, and the hours tick by quickly. Mr. Freedman never comes in on the weekends, and Amelia and I barely have a chance to talk between answering questions and cleaning up after people so we won’t have to stay the rest of the afternoon doing it.
The doors lock at three, but it takes another twenty minutes to finish checking people out and to shoo them off into the sixty-five degree afternoon. It’s a beautiful, sunny day, and I can’t help but think people should have been spending it outdoors instead of in the library, which is an odd thing for me to think considering that, if left to my own devices, I would choose books over nature any day.
“Do you want to drive up to Driftwood with me to talk to one of Ellen’s friends?” I ask Amelia after we lock the front door and start down the library steps. “Or is it nap time?”
She makes a face at my teasing tone. “You know, there was a time when I would have been chiding you for taking naps. At least I have an excuse.”
“Are you saying that you’re not only eating for two but sleeping for two now? Weak.” I shake my head.
“I cannot wait until you get pregnant, Grace. You are going to eat so many of your words.”
“I love my words. They’re brilliant and delicious.”
Millie shakes her head, casting a look my direction that reminds me of Will’s expression this morning. As if I’m dancing dangerously close to the edge of how much cheekiness my friends can take. I like to know where the line is so I can get as close as possible.
“It would be awesome if you kept me company, but if you’re tired, I understand.” I nudge her with my shoulder. “I’ll even bring you back dinner. Beau’s coming over, too.”
“I’ll come. I could use the fresh air more than the nap. But I’m driving.”
“Sure, whatever you say.” We fall into step as I follow her down the block, spotting her car just a few spaces away. “Do you want to invite Brick to dinner?”
“I would, but he’s away on business. Georgetown asked him to give a series of guest lectures.”
“Wow, impressive.” It is, but I don’t say what else I’m thinking—that it surprises me that Brick Drayton would do something that smacks even slightly of giving back. I always pegged him as more of a pull yourself up by your own goddamn bootstraps and keep your mitts off mine type guy.
Amelia brings out the best in Brick, but people don’t change overnight. I’m starting to like the guy, despite my initial impression. Probably because I feel a certain kinship with sometimes-assholes.
“When does he get back?”
“I don’t know, a few days.” She unlocks the car and climbs behind the wheel, starting up the engine while I scramble in and buckle up. The look she casts my direction grabs my heart with nerves.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just… He said while he’s there he’s going to meet with some people regarding the case against the Middletons. And Lucy.”
The sound of Beau’s ex-girlfriend’s name rings in my ears, and it takes a moment to control my reaction enough to form words. I knew the Draytons were looking into her kidnapping again, so this shouldn’t come as a surprise.
“There’s a case against Lucy?” My mouth feels dry and the question, meant to lighten the mood, accomplishes the opposite.
“Don’t be obtuse, Grace. You know they’re still working on finding out what happened to her.” My cousin pulls smoothly onto the main road that will lead us north to Driftwood in just fifteen minutes.
“They should. What happened to her is terrible.”
“But how do you feel about the fact that they could find her, maybe alive? With Beau and everything?”
I sigh, blowing hair out of my face and cracking the window to make it easier to breathe. “Look, things are good between Beau and me, but no one can know how they’re going to be tomorrow, whether Lucy turns up alive or not. It could be something else entirely that spells the end for us, or maybe we really are strong enough to withstand anything. You never really know, right?”
“That’s super philosophical. And mature.” She tosses a raised eyebrow my direction. “Have you been possessed?”
I roll my eyes. “I think if Mama Lottie didn’t possess me we should be in the clear.”
Amelia falls silent, and I think about what she’s asking. A conversation Leo and I had a few weeks ago on a run—the one about relationships and the way people can never guess how they’ll hold up in the next phase until they get there, and that it’s okay to be worried or scared that it’s not strong enough—is like salve to my frazzled nerve endings.
“We both know the chances of Lucy being found alive are almost nonexistent,” I continue softly. “And no matter how they find her, it’s going to have an impact on Beau. He cared about her. He blames himself for her running off and getting herself into the situation. Frankly, I think he probably needs the opportunity for closure, no matter how he gets it, and we’ll be the better for it.”
She presses her lips together. “Aliens, then? Bodysnatching?”
I whack her shoulder. “Oh, shut up. How is Peter
supposed to grow up if her friends keep insisting she eat imaginary food and fly around fighting pirates?”
“But you do play with pirates,” my cousin points out.
It’s my turn to shake my head, but when Amelia catches a case of the giggles, it’s impossible for me to hold back my own no matter how hard I try. Maybe it’s not so bad, taking my time to grow up. A few inches at a time seems to work better than trying to force a leap on wobbly footing.
We make it to Driftwood without any trouble. It’s a little after three-thirty, which is well before the dinner rush, and without a happy hour on Saturdays, the restaurant on the docks is all but empty. We spot Lindsay Boone tending bar and Amelia goes right over, sliding onto a stool, even though I would have preferred to wave but keep my distance.
The fact that she makes no secret of her dislike for me is discomfiting. I can’t wait until the part of maturity where I don’t care what other people think kicks in, because that will be super useful. Until then, I do my best to smile in the face of her scowl.
“What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a sweet tea,” Amelia requests, “and a basket of chips and salsa.”
“I’ll take a 7UP.” Both Lindsay and Millie do double-takes at my order, and my face feels hot. “My stomach’s a little rumbly, that’s all.”
It’s the truth. It hasn’t settled since that damned text message came through.
The more I think about it, the stranger the wording feels. The I don’t want you to end up like her almost feels like genuine hand-wringing worry about what my nosiness is going to force and not a threat at all. Could it be that whoever sent it is trying to protect me? Could what happened to Ellen have been an accident, one the texter feels responsible for and doesn’t want to end up repeating?
Impossible to say, but if they’re involved in Ellen’s death at all, I need to be careful. Murder, or even accidental deaths, tend to be the sort of thing that people would rather keep buried. Pun intended.
Lindsay sets the 7UP in front of me, and I pull myself out of my own head, deciding the best way to put all of this behind me is to keep my head down and solve the mystery.
“Does a girl named Autumn wait tables here?” I ask, half expecting her to say she’s never heard of her. Lindsay started working here not long ago, right after she was released from prison, and waitresses aren’t exactly known for keeping the same job for years on end.
“Sure. She’s working tonight. Should be here any minute.” Lindsay’s blue eyes turn suspicious. “Why do you ask?”
“I just need to talk to her about something.”
Leo’s sister rolls her eyes at my vague response but doesn’t push. She turns to the dishwasher and starts pulling out racks of steaming bar glasses. Amelia digs into her chips and salsa, perusing the menu for options as far as our takeout dinner, and it’s not long before a couple of waitresses wander in to clock in for the nightshift.
The first two women to come through the door are too old to be friends of Ellen’s, I think, especially if they met at school. The third is a pretty girl with red curls escaping a bun and lips painted with thick, maroon lipstick. I notice Lindsay looking.
“That her?” I ask.
She nods, now putting dirty glasses back into the empty dishwasher racks.
I hop off my stool, leaving my cousin to her chips. “Pick out something for dinner. Maybe fajitas? Beau and I like to share the combo kind with beef and chicken.”
“How adorable,” my cousin replies dryly. “Maybe I’ll get shrimp and we can make it a threesome.”
“That’s gross.”
“You two are weird,” Lindsay comments, not bothering to hide the fact that she was eavesdropping on our conversation.
Amelia makes a goofy face at me, which I return before sliding over to head off Autumn before she disappears into the kitchen. The clock on the wall says it’s five till four, which I’m guessing means she’s got a few minutes before she’s going to be late.
“Hi,” I say when she tries to move around me, probably assuming I’m a lost customer. “Are you Autumn?”
Her dark eyes lift to mine, appraising me now that she realizes I’m here with a purpose. They’re almost black, with pinpoints of light that make me sure this is a woman who trusts no one without cause. “Yeah, that’s me. Who’s asking?”
“I’m Graciela Harper. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about Ellen Hargrove?”
Autumn starts shaking her head no before I even finish asking. “Nope. I told the police everything I knew a year ago, and I haven’t heard a peep since. Why should I go through it all with you?”
“Listen… Shit.” I can’t tell this woman that Ellen’s dead, not right before she starts a shift. Not if they were, as I’m guessing, best friends. “I’m…I’m a private investigator. We’re trying to find her. I know you must be worried about her, too, so anything you could tell me. The longer she’s gone, the colder the trail.”
Her gaze narrows on my face, and I can almost sense her weighing every word. Measuring it for truth. “Who hired you? I know her mother doesn’t have the money.”
“Trent,” I lie through my teeth, hoping the two of them aren’t in touch.
Red splotches pop out on her face. “That’s nice of him. He could have done it sooner, though.”
“He said you and Autumn were friends?” I lie again.
The conflict in her expression makes it clear that she’s wondering whether to continue the story she told the police or to come clean in the face of this new development. In the end, she believes me, and something tells me it’s Trent’s involvement that wins her over.
“Yes, we were friends. Close, most of the time, even when she found a new group to explore for a while.” Autumn sidesteps me and flops into a booth, as if her legs just gave out. “I’m probably the only person in the world who knew she was pregnant.”
That makes my own knees go a little wobbly, and I sit across from her. In the bar, Amelia and Lindsay are chatting like old friends. Apparently all that was needed to break the ice there was for me to remove my clunky, unwanted presence.
“She was pregnant?” I repeat, trying to add that fact to the other tidbits I’ve amassed about Ellen. “Was it Trent’s?”
That part, at least, would fit. It explained why she wanted to talk to him but not why she’d never made it.
“She said it was, but honestly, it’s hard to say for sure. I think maybe she just wanted it to be Trent’s.”
“Was she going to tell him?”
“She told me she was going to, but obviously she never did, if Trent didn’t tell you. I know she was afraid of her parents finding out. They were pretty strict, and her mom was… She could be mean, especially when she started reading her Bible day and night.”
“Did you know she was leaving?”
Autumn nods. “She wasn’t sure what she was going to do as far as keeping the baby. Her plan was to talk to Trent and then decide, but either way she said she couldn’t stay home once she started showing.”
“She didn’t want an abortion,” I clarify, just to be sure. If she was far enough along to show, at her age and with a first pregnancy, it was most likely too late for that, anyway.
“No. She was thinking about options, like adoption and stuff, if Trent didn’t want it. She just wanted some time to think.”
“Where was she planning to go?”
“Charleston, maybe? They’ve got some decent shelters for women and children, places that are supposed to be safe. We researched it and everything.” Autumn bites her lower lip.
She looks and sounds so much like a scared kid that my heart breaks for both of them, dealing with the fallout of their decisions long before they were ready.
Happens to the best of us, I suppose.
“I thought she would have called me by now,” she whispers as tears gather in her dark eyes. “If she was okay, I know she would have called me.”
I swallow, avoiding her gaze in cas
e she’s perceptive enough to read the confirmation in them. “What do you think might have happened to her?”
“I don’t know, I really don’t. But if someone hurt her, I hope they burn in hell.”
Chapter Nine
Amelia asks me a couple of times on the way back to Heron Creek what I found out, but gives up after I tell her it’s too exhausting to think about going over everything twice and it’s time that I filled Beau in. I’m not planning to tell either of them about the anonymous text message. Not yet. Things with the investigation are moving pretty quickly, and even Ellen hasn’t been around pushing me harder. That seems to indicate that she’s pleased with my direction and pace. Maybe I can wrap this whole thing up before anything comes of it.
When did you become such a Pollyanna? one of my devils whispers into my ear. You know better. Easy is not how your life goes.
His friend flops down on my left shoulder. Besides, remember what happened to Pollyanna? All of her gladness talk broke her back.
Her gladness talk didn’t break her back, I think back at them, frowning into the bathroom mirror. The people around her who insisted on clinging to their bad mojo was what did it.
Which maybe makes my devils’ point rather than refutes it. I can be as positive as I want, but if someone wants me to stop investigating Ellen’s disappearance, my attitude is not going to convince them to let it go.
I shove the thought to the back of my mind, choosing to believe everything will be fine.
“Grace, are you coming?” Millie calls from downstairs. “Beau’s car just pulled up and the food’s getting cold!”
“Coming!” I holler back. I only wanted to freshen up a bit after working all day. It’s been a while since my poor boyfriend has seen me after any real effort on my part to look or smell good for him.
