by Camy Tang
“Sure. I’ll share it on my public cloud drive and email you the link.”
He nodded. “I’ll also request the report of the explosion from the Arizona police. Maybe there’s something to link the two explosions.”
“Thanks, Detective.”
He smiled and cupped her cheek in his weathered hand. “I’m just glad you’re all right.” He then reached out to clasp Clay’s shoulder. “Both of you.”
Clay seemed a bit embarrassed by the gesture, but bemused, as well. What had it been like to grow up with a stepfather like Martin? Had their relationship always been this bad?
The detective’s cell phone rang. “Sorry, I have to take this.” He rose and left the room.
“Could you play the video again?” Clay asked. “What was that candy he was eating?”
So he’d noticed that, too. She played the video and stopped it on a good shot of the bag.
“That’s lemon peel,” Clay said.
“Did Fiona buy Chinese candies in Chicago, too?”
“There were a couple stores in the city that sold the kinds she liked.”
“I know that store.” Joslyn nodded to the bag. “It’s in Los Angeles. Fiona always brought candy to class. Her favorite was—”
“—Li hing mui.” A smile hovered around Clay’s mouth. “I thought it was okay but it wasn’t my favorite.”
Joslyn made a face. “I didn’t like it at all.” It had been a combination of salty and extremely sour with an unusual spice mixed in that didn’t appeal to her.
“Does the store have a website?”
Joslyn went online. Kandie’s was a small family-run store near Chinatown.
Something about that was wrong. Joslyn pulled up a map of Los Angeles and figured out why. “I always assumed Kandie’s was near Fiona’s home, but that’s nowhere near the place she rented.” She pointed to the location on the map where Fiona’s home had been, which was miles away, with heavy traffic areas in between.
Clay suddenly frowned fiercely. “That store is less than a block away from Martin’s office building.”
Surprised, Joslyn was silent a moment, trying to make that fact compute. “Are you sure?”
“It’s right here.” Clay pointed on the map.
“I know she was close with her father, but I didn’t know she visited him at his office that often. She opened a new bag of candy every day. When she talked to me about meeting up with him, it was usually for dinner about once a month. Maybe she stocked up.”
“Is the store even open in the evenings?” Clay asked.
Joslyn checked and found that the store closed at five. “We usually had class until five or six. Sometimes later if there was a lab.”
“So Joslyn was visiting Martin during the day?”
“And she never mentioned it to me.” That was unusual. Fiona had always seemed so open about her life. It hadn’t seemed as though she was keeping secrets. But then again, she’d been sad and stressed the last few months before she left Los Angeles. She’d told Joslyn it was school, but what if it was something else, something she’d been hiding? Like her visits to her father during the day.
“Maybe that was just her favorite store for Chinese candy,” Clay said. “She had one favorite store that was clear across Chicago, and she’d go once a month.”
“No, she told me her favorite store was Garth’s, which is in San Bernadino. Sometimes she’d show up with candy from there, but usually it was from Kandie’s. I always assumed Kandie’s was closer to her home and more convenient for her.”
“So this store, near Martin’s office, was convenient for her? No. I can’t believe she’d be involved in anything with Martin.”
“It may have been something perfectly legitimate.” Except that Fiona had kept the visits from Joslyn for some reason. That made it seem less likely that they were aboveboard.
“If those men are connected to Martin,” Clay said, pointing to the picture of Met on the laptop screen, “and they rigged your house with explosives, that means they rigged Fiona’s house, too. Martin tried to kill her.”
Joslyn’s heart blipped. “How could Martin try to kill his own daughter?”
“What other explanation is there?”
“We don’t know for certain these men are connected to Martin. Just because of the candy...” But she couldn’t think of any other reason Fiona would be in that section of Los Angeles other than to see Martin.
“We’ve been assuming the bomb at Fiona’s house was meant to kill her,” Clay said. “But maybe it was meant to prevent anyone else from finding her. Martin saw her just before she disappeared, but the house wasn’t rigged until a day or two later, because her neighbor was able to get Fiona’s dog out of her house without any problems.”
“I see what you’re saying. If Martin wanted to kill Fiona, he’d have rigged the house sooner.”
“If that bomb in Phoenix wasn’t meant for Fiona, that means the two guys after us only want to prevent us from finding her.”
“So maybe Martin is trying to protect her. Maybe he knows where she is.”
“Or maybe he’s looking for her and trying to prevent anyone else from finding her,” Clay said darkly.
“Do you really think he’d try to harm her?”
“No,” he said slowly, “but I can believe that he needs her for something. The man is selfish to the core. Sometimes I was amazed he spared any emotion for Fiona at all.”
Joslyn was saddened by the bitterness in his tone and what Martin must have done to him to make him so angry. She’d had such a good relationship with her own father, and she hadn’t appreciated it until it was too late.
Grief closed her throat, and she had to take a few deep breaths before she could speak again. “If we don’t know why Fiona disappeared, I don’t know where to start looking for her.”
“I thought you were going to look into what she was doing in Phoenix before she disappeared.”
“I did, a little, but I really can’t find anything,” Joslyn said. “When she went to Phoenix, she was doing her best to stay off the grid. Her name was misspelled on her house rental agreement, and I thought it must have been some type of clerical error. But then I started looking into other things. She deliberately misspelled her name on her job application, her utilities, even the museum membership. It’s not illegal, but it makes it harder for a skip tracer to find her.”
“So if she was already trying to hide her identity when she went to Arizona,” Clay said, “then there was something in Los Angeles that she was trying to get away from.”
“That’s what I’m thinking, too. I’ll do some internet digging into what she was doing in LA.”
“We should talk to her old roommates.”
“I talked to them about a week ago on the phone. I know them a little from when Fiona was in school. But we only chatted briefly, because once I heard from them that Fiona had moved to Arizona, then I knew how to target my search.”
“People are usually willing to tell you more than they intended to if you’re face-to-face.” He suddenly reached out to grab her hand. She hadn’t even realized she was rubbing her scar.
“Don’t rub it,” he said.
“I didn’t know I was,” she mumbled. Even when she wanted to, she couldn’t escape that reminder from Tomas. Or rather, from his gold ring.
“I know,” he said. There was a brief silence, then he seemed to remember he was holding her hand, and released it. “When can I get out of here?”
“That’s up to the doctor.”
He stretched his neck. “I feel okay.”
“The last thing I want is for you to mysteriously collapse while we’re out looking for Fiona, just because we took you out of the hospital too early.”
She’d been teasing, but the look he gave her w
as sober. “Fiona’s out there. I can’t rest easy until I know she’s okay.”
He was right. He had even more reason to be worried about Fiona than she did. “Let me go get a nurse. They did say they were going to cast your arm later today.”
She got up and went into the hallway. There was a uniformed officer sitting outside the room, which was a surprise to her since it had been Shaun O’Neill doing guard duty earlier, but Detective Carter must have put the officer in his place. The man nodded to her as she passed.
She headed to the nurse’s station ...and froze.
Several yards ahead of her, waiting for the elevator, stood a man in a rumpled jacket that was too large for him. He didn’t stand out from the people milling around him except for his dark curly hair and his unshaven face, which gave him a scruffy appearance.
He happened to turn in her direction.
His eyes fell on her, uninterested, as if he didn’t recognize her. Then just the faintest hint of a smile appeared. The elevator door opened and he turned and walked nonchalantly inside.
It was Met.
NINE
It felt good for Clay to be doing something. Being stuck in the hospital, unable to search for Fiona, had driven him crazy with worry.
He stood outside the house where Fiona had rented a room, a seventies-style house in a Los Angeles suburb. While Joslyn rang the doorbell, his eyes roved around the quiet neighborhood. It was hard for him to remember he was in LA because this was a cozier area than any he’d lived in for the few years during his childhood when he’d been here with his mother, Martin and Fiona. They’d been in a more upscale part of the city since Martin’s business had started booming around that time and appearances were everything.
But despite the deceptively sleepy street, he kept careful watch of every car, every pedestrian. He’d been incredibly frustrated yesterday when Joslyn had told him about seeing Met at the hospital. Just when she might have needed protection, he’d been holed up in a bed like an invalid.
The hospital hadn’t been all bad. He’d stayed overnight for observation, but Joslyn had been in his room the entire time, whether sitting by his bed and talking to him, or off in the corner on her computer. Liam O’Neill and his brother Shaun had also visited, as well as a bandaged-up Elisabeth who’d said she looked worse than she felt. Clay had found out that Liam, Shaun and one of their other brothers, Brady, all trained at a local mixed martial arts gym in Sonoma, so they’d talked MMA for a while.
Surprisingly, he’d found himself opening up about how he wanted to go professional in MMA but couldn’t because of a knee injury from his mob henchman days. He hadn’t gotten good rehab and it was still weak and filled with scar tissue, and Liam had mentioned that he knew a good physical therapist in Sonoma who could help him with that.
It made him want to stay here.
Joslyn and her friends made him feel wanted. It was different from the friendships he had in Illinois. There was a level of genuine concern, a deeper sense of inner peace, in each of these people. He thought it had to do with what Liam had said before he left.
“I’ll be praying for you.”
The words came naturally to him, effortlessly, as if he had a close, comfortable relationship with God. Which made Clay uncomfortable because he didn’t have a great relationship with the Almighty, himself.
Other Christians he’d met had seemed judgmental, especially when they found out he’d been in prison, or if they heard him cussing. It was in the tightness of their smiles and the way they seemed to hold themselves apart from him. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with them if that was how they treated others.
But Joslyn and her friends weren’t like that. Even when he’d accidentally dropped some bad words, they hadn’t flinched. They seemed to like him for who he was. They made him feel as if he was someone they wanted to get to know better.
They’d also arranged for new clothes for him, and a new car for him and Joslyn, borrowing it from a friend of Shaun’s wife’s sister, or something like that. It would make it harder for anyone to connect it with them.
They’d only said goodbye when the doctor and a nurse came in to cast his splinted arm, now that the swelling had gone down. The doctor had set it, then left the nurse to wrap the coated strips over it in a plaster cast. He’d go in for a fiberglass cast in a week. Liam and Elisabeth had driven partway down to Los Angeles alongside them in separate cars to make sure there wasn’t anyone following them, before turning back to head to Sonoma when it was obvious they weren’t being tailed. It had been an extra precaution that Clay had appreciated.
The door to the house opened, and a young African-American woman peered out at the two of them. Then she smiled at Joslyn. “Hey, Joslyn! Did you find Fiona?”
“Hi, Anna. No, unfortunately.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Anna looked again at Clay, and her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute, are you Clay?”
“Fiona’s brother, yeah.”
“Oh, my gosh, you really do look exactly like her. I mean, I saw some photos of you, but they were from a few years ago. Come on in, both of you.”
The house was inviting despite its age. It had had a fresh coat of paint recently, although the hardwood floors were full of nicks and scratches collected over the years. The living room was small and low-ceilinged, but neatly furnished with reupholstered chairs and a faded floral couch. There were various things scattered around, including a football, a softball bat, a basket of knitting, and a stack of books on a table.
“Sorry for the mess,” Anna said. “It’s Chuck’s turn to clean the living room but he’s been in the middle of finals this week.”
“How many people live here?” Clay asked.
“There’s four of us,” Anna said. “We each have a bedroom, and we share the cooking and cleaning chores. It makes it more affordable for us to live in this area.”
“I’ll bet.” He’d never had to pay rent while living in LA, but he remembered the price of apartments in Chicago, which was much higher than the cheap cost of living in southern Illinois, where he was now.
“Want some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.” Without waiting for an answer, Anna sailed out of the living room.
Clay eased himself into a large oak chair, while Joslyn sat next to him in a dainty antique-y looking thing with spindly legs.
“Here you go.” Anna came in with a tray with three mugs of coffee, as well as spoons, creamer, and sugar. “Chuck says I’m a terrible hostess, so be sure to tell him what I did for you, okay?” She winked at Joslyn. “Are you done with your master’s yet?”
“I’m taking my last semester up in Sonoma,” Joslyn said. “How about you?”
They chatted for a few minutes about themselves. Anna was interested in Clay since Fiona mentioned him, but not much about him, to her roommates. He was also grateful when some of Anna’s questions were too probing and Joslyn smoothly interjected with comments that distracted the other woman’s train of thought.
Finally Anna said, “So you didn’t find Fiona in Arizona? I’m not sure what else we can tell you. She was pretty tight-lipped about why she was moving there. Do you think she’s in trouble?”
“We really don’t know,” Joslyn said. “You didn’t notice her buying anything special before she moved out?”
“No. You know Fiona—she’s all computers and candy. I don’t know how she can eat so much sugar and not gain an ounce.” Anna sighed.
At that moment, there was a key in the front door, then a young Asian woman appeared. She spotted Joslyn and grinned. “Hey, Joslyn! I didn’t get to see you when you came by last time.” She put down her backpack and gave Joslyn a hug.
“Mariella! I’d heard you’d moved in here. How are you doing?”
She rolled her eyes. “I just keep telling myself, I’m almost done, and everything will st
op being so crazy once I graduate.” Her eye fell on Clay. “Are you Clay? You look so much like Fiona.”
“I get that a lot.” He shook her hand.
“I’m Mariella. I was in the same master’s degree program as Joslyn and Fiona. Does this mean you didn’t find Fiona? We’ve been worried.”
“We’re hoping to find out more about why she left LA,” Joslyn said. “We think it might have to do with why she disappeared.”
“I wasn’t living here when Fiona was, but Anna would know,” Mariella said.
“We were all shocked when she said she was going,” Anna said. “She left within a week of telling us, although she’d paid up her rent through the quarter.”
“Did she do anything weird?” Joslyn asked.
“Aside from packing so quickly? Nope,” Anna said.
“Oh, but...” Mariella said, “we have a box of hers that I found a few months ago in the attic. She accidentally left it behind, and since we didn’t know how to get in touch with her...”
“Oh, that’s right,” Anna said. “I’d forgotten about that. Did you want to take the box with you?”
“Definitely,” Joslyn said.
“Is it heavy?” Clay asked.
“I’m not sure,” Mariella said. “I didn’t lift it. I just shoved it to one side after I realized it was Fiona’s.”
“I’ll go up to get it.” He rose to his feet.
Unlike the large attics of Victorian houses, this attic was barely a crawl space. It was a bit awkward with one arm in a cast, but Clay made his way across rafters draped in dust until he found a bunch of boxes against the side. Mariella had scrawled “Fiona” across the box she’d found, so it was easy for him to see it and drag it out of the attic. He lowered it to Mariella’s and Joslyn’s waiting hands, then dropped down from the access hole, which was in Chuck’s closet.
Mariella and Joslyn both coughed at the dust kicked up into the air from the box. “Chuck probably won’t even notice the dust,” Mariella said, glancing around at Chuck’s messy room with distaste. “Still, I’ll offer to help him clean later.”
