“Ryan filmed Courtney?”
“Yes, as I said, she was in several of his films.”
“What sort of films has he made?”
“He’s done several documentaries, all very good. Excellent, in fact.” Petersen’s head bobbed up and down. “He’s done one on comparative religions, one on the problems of housing wild animals in zoos. Oh, and the one he did on the Underground Railroad was really quite remarkable. The boy really has a lot of promise.”
“Would it be possible for me to view his work?”
“Sure thing. We entered two of his films in a contest for student filmmakers, and I asked him to make several copies at the time, in case we had to submit to the next level of judges. I think he has a very good chance to win, or at the very least to place high nationally.”
“He’s that good?”
“The best I’ve ever had.” Petersen turned his back and went to a file cabinet. A moment later he turned back, two flat DVD cases in his hand. “Here are the two I mentioned. Take them home, take a look. Bring them back whenever you’re finished.”
“Mr. Petersen, to the best of your knowledge, was there any one place that Ryan liked especially to film? Someplace that was really special to him for some reason?”
The teacher thought the question over, then shook his head. “Not that I know of. He’s never mentioned anything like that. Of course, if there was, he may have filmed it, but I can’t think of anyplace he’s gone back to more than once to shoot, say, in different lightings or different times of the year.”
She handed him a card. “If you think of anything, would you give me a call?”
“Sure thing.”
“I’ll get these back to you as soon as I can,” she told him.
“No rush. At least, until Ryan comes back, there’s no rush, so take your time.”
“Thanks.”
She deposited the DVDs into her bag while she and Father Burch walked back to the front of the building.
“You wanted to speak with Misty Bauer,” he reminded her when they rounded the corner near the office. “Let me get her for you.”
“Could I maybe meet with her outside, in that little courtyard where you and I sat?” Mallory asked. “Maybe she’ll be more relaxed outside the school building.”
“Sure thing. I’ll send her out.” Father Burch went into the office, and Mallory returned to the bench in the garden. Something had her blood humming—she didn’t know how else to describe the feeling she had when something felt right. Somehow, before the day was over, she’d learn something important that she didn’t already know. She could sense it.
She was wondering what that something could be when she looked up to see Misty walking toward her.
“Did you find out something about my sister?” Misty asked. “Do you know where she is?”
“No, but I think you do.”
“That’s crazy. If I knew where she’s hiding, why wouldn’t I tell you?”
“Because Courtney has made you promise not to tell anyone. And you haven’t. Not even your mother,” Mallory said softly. “You and Courtney both know that someone very, very bad is looking for her. And we both know who that very bad person is, don’t we, Misty?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The blood drained from Misty’s face. She turned back toward the school.
“Misty, this isn’t a game. I know you promised your sister, but she’s in terrible danger. The person who is looking for her wants to kill her, you know that, right?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Misty repeated, and kept walking.
“Misty, I have to find Courtney before someone else does. I can help her. You can help me do that.”
The girl slowed for a moment before resuming her pace.
Mallory caught up with her and held out her hand.
“Misty. Put this in your wallet or wherever you keep important things.”
Misty looked down at the paper in Mallory’s hand.
“It’s my business card,” Mallory said. “Don’t throw this one away. Trust me. You’re going to need it.”
Misty folded the card in half and closed her fingers around it. She went back into the school, and the door closed behind her.
“Well, that went well,” Mallory muttered.
She found Father Burch waiting just outside the office and thanked him.
“Let me know if there’s anyone else you want to speak with or if there’s anything else I can do to help,” he said as he walked her to the front steps. “And don’t forget, you need to—”
“—call Susanna, yes, I’ll do that.” Mallory smiled. And she would. Later. Right now, she was on her way home to watch the DVDs Ryan had made. Hopefully, one or both would tell her something that she needed to know.
Mallory watched the DVD on religions twice before deciding there was nothing there. While interesting and well done, there was no scene where the camera lingered over any particular place, no one building or setting that recurred. She removed the disk from the DVD player and slipped the second one in. As soon as the film began, she got goose bumps, and her ears began to hum again.
The opening shot was of a neatly tended farm, the camera panning across the field and over the pastures where goats and sheep grazed together. The scene was filmed from someplace high—the second floor of a barn, maybe. The credits were written across the screen, but she barely saw them.
The narrative began, the voice-over telling the story of how people who’d lived in and around Conroy in the nineteenth century had helped runaway slaves escape north to Canada and remote parts of New England. There were a remarkable number of Underground Railroad stops in the area. She’d never have guessed there’d been so many.
She watched the DVD in its entirety, then replayed it several times over. The answer was there in her hands; she knew it. By late afternoon, she had a list of places that had appeared on the screen. She rewrote the list in order of the number of times each had appeared.
When she finished compiling her list, she reached for the phone, excited to share her news with Charlie. Disappointed when she had to leave voice mail, she disconnected—then true to her word—dialed Susanna’s number.
“Susanna, hi, it’s Mallory Russo,” she said when the call was answered.
“Oh, Mallory. How are you?” Susanna seemed pleased to hear from her. “What’s going on? Any leads yet?”
“I have a few ideas. I’ll stop in the office tomorrow or the next day and go over it with you, if you’re going to be in.”
“I’ll be here all week. Just give me a call when you’re on your way. I’m sure I’ll be here. I have no plans to travel until Friday.”
“Oh? You’re taking a trip?”
“What?”
“You said you wouldn’t be traveling until Friday, so I assumed you meant that you were going somewhere then.”
“Oh. No real trip. Just weekend stuff. You know.”
“Sure.”
“So, will you be bringing me a bill for your time?”
“Not until I get my license,” Mallory told her. Remembering she hadn’t checked the mail when she’d arrived home earlier, she went to the front of the house and walked outside.
“Are you sure that’s necessary?” Susanna was asking.
“It’s the law.” Mallory peeked inside the mailbox, spotting several envelopes and a magazine or two.
“Well, you are keeping track of your hours, your mileage, that sort of thing, aren’t you?”
“Pretty much.” She lifted the lid and brought the stack inside.
“How much longer do you think before you have your license?”
“Maybe another week or so. There shouldn’t be a problem with it. I had some excellent references.”
“I’m sure you did. Well, give me a call and let me know when you’ll be coming in. Even if I can’t pay you yet, I’d like to see your preliminary reports.”
“That might be a problem.” Mallory placed the
mail on the coffee table. “My house was broken into last night and my laptop was stolen. All my notes were on the laptop.”
“Good Lord, are you all right? You weren’t home at the time, were you?” Susanna sounded genuinely alarmed.
“No. Actually, I came in right as the person or persons were leaving, I guess. I took a good crack to the back of my head, but I don’t think there’s any permanent damage.”
“Was this a random attack? I mean, you don’t suppose this has anything to do with this investigation, do you?”
“No, no, I’m sure.” She wasn’t, but she didn’t want to discuss that with Robert Magellan’s right hand. If she couldn’t even defend herself or her home, what the hell kind of private investigator was she?
She began to flip through the mail, then stopped at the white envelope bearing an official-looking seal as the return address. She slit the back of the envelope open with a fingernail and slid out the contents.
Her permit to carry a concealed weapon.
She concluded her conversation with Susanna, then hung up. Gleefully, she went upstairs and into her bedroom closet. From inside a box on the shelf, hidden behind her sweaters, she retrieved a small handgun and its holster.
“Come to Mama,” she crooned.
She fastened the holster around her waist and tucked the gun into the small of her back, then patted it.
“Welcome back.” She grinned as she stood before the mirror and turned so she could see the reflection of the small bulge beneath her waistband. “Mama’s missed you.”
She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed that weight, that slight pressure at the back of her waist. Wearing it felt like fitting in that last piece of a puzzle, and she was unexpectedly grateful to have it there. She couldn’t help but wonder: If she’d had the gun strapped on last night, would she still have been attacked? Would her home have been robbed?
Probably, she admitted. For one thing, she’d never seen it coming, and so wouldn’t have had time to reach for it before she was knocked out. For another, as much as she genuinely loved guns, as much as she liked target shooting, she knew that once you pulled the gun, you had to be prepared to use it. As a cop, she’d fired warning shots at suspects before, but she’d never shot another human being. Way different from shooting at an inanimate target, she knew.
Maybe just as well. If she’d had the gun last night, she might have shot someone. While she didn’t like the fact that she’d been a victim, that someone had come into her house and helped himself to her things and made her feel vulnerable for the first time in a very long time, she didn’t relish the thought of possibly ruining someone’s life for the sake of saving a laptop.
Leaving the gun in its holster, she went back downstairs and replayed Ryan’s DVD one more time.
TWENTY
You look happy.” Robert came into Susanna’s office and dropped a few envelopes on her desk. “Today’s bills,” he told her.
She stacked the bills into a neat pile and placed them on the right side of her desk.
“I am happy,” she replied, giving him a huge bright smile as proof.
“Want to share the joy?” He sat on the edge of her desk.
“Actually, you will be sharing.”
“I’m not following you.”
“Remember the bet we made about Mallory Russo?”
“Mallory Rus…the PI?”
“Yes. I’m impressed. You remembered her name.”
“What was the bet?”
“The bet was that she’d add her hours on from last week to this week’s, and in essence, pad the bill.”
“What makes you think she won’t?”
“Because she isn’t billing this week.”
“She take the week off?”
“No. She isn’t billing until she gets her license. Which is the concept that started that conversation about her billing or not billing.”
“So you’re saying you think you’re going to win the bet.”
“I’m definitely winning this one. All I have to do is decide what to pack.”
“Pack for what?” He frowned.
“Ah, so you not only don’t recall making the bet, you’ve forgotten the wager.”
“What was the wager?”
“Loser buys dinner.”
“That’s not so big a deal. We’ve bought each other dinner before.”
“In Paris.”
“Ah. Transportation provided, I’m assuming.”
“You volunteered your plane, win or lose.”
“Did I now?”
“You did. And I will hold you to that. I hate commercial flying these days. It’s a big pain in the ass.”
“I agree. Which is why I don’t do it.” He got off the desk. “And how clever of you to have stipulated that use of my plane was included, regardless of who was buying dinner.”
“You don’t recall that conversation at all, do you?”
“Not really. But I believe you when you tell me we had it.”
He went to the window and gazed out.
“It looks like there are eggs in the mockingbird nest again,” he told her.
“I know. I’m not sure what laid them, though. I think I read somewhere that sometimes some birds will take over an existing nest once the previous tenants have moved on. Maybe that’s what happened there.”
“What happens if the first bird comes back and decides she wants her nest back?”
“I don’t know.” Because it was a question she’d asked herself many times in one form or another, Susanna moved on. “Her house was broken into and she was knocked out cold.”
“Who?”
“Mallory Russo.”
“Great choice of a detective.”
“I think she was. She’s really caught up in this investigation.”
“She should be. She’s being paid to be.” Robert stood halfway to the door, his hands in his pant pockets. “Was she hurt?”
“I suspect she has a good-sized lump on her head, and she was probably seeing stars there for a time, but she seemed to be okay on the phone.”
“I think I need to see what her bills look like before I admit defeat.”
Susanna laughed. “Fine with me. I still think I’m going to win this one.”
He glanced at his watch. “I think I’ll go see what Trula has cooked up for dinner. Want to join us?”
“I’ll be down in a minute. I have one more call to make.”
“I’ll tell Trula to set an extra plate.”
He was almost through the door when she called to him, “Robert, I think this is a very good thing you’re doing.”
“What thing is that?” He turned in the doorway.
“Hiring Mallory to look for Ryan Corcoran and the Bauer girl. I was speaking with Kevin earlier. He believes in her. He thinks she’s going to find them.”
“What do you think?”
“I think if anyone finds them, it will be Mallory.”
“Is anyone else even looking for them?”
“Not the police, apparently. They’re all tied up with this sniper. Oh, there is one detective who’s been sort of working with Mallory—someone new—but other than that, she’s pretty much alone in this, I think.”
“Then you’re right. If anyone finds the kids, it’s probably going to be her.”
“Cynic.”
He shrugged.
“Anyway, I think it’s a wonderful thing you’re doing for Mary Corcoran.”
“I’m doing it for Kevin.”
“Still, it’s a great idea, you know, using your resources to help people who don’t have any. Helping people who are running out of hope.”
“Did Kevin tell you to say that?”
“No, why?”
“It just sounds like something he’d say. Actually, it was something he said.”
“Just think how good you’ll feel when those two kids are found alive and returned to their families.”
He stared at her for a moment, then left the ro
om, saying, “I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Oh, shit,” she muttered, her face flushing red as she realized what she’d said. “Of all the thoughtless, stupid things to say…”
Her phone rang and she took the call, still slightly flustered. She finished the arrangements for the meeting she was setting up between Robert and his Realtor to discuss the offer they’d received on the beach house, made some notes for him, and hung up. She had no doubt that he was going to accept the offer, even though it was lower by far than the asking price, and she wondered how he was going to feel once the house was sold. She saw it as a first step for him to accept the inevitable, and hoped in time he’d be relieved to be rid of it. As well as she knew him, she sometimes wondered these days if she knew him at all. He was becoming more withdrawn, more sarcastic, more cynical, than he’d ever been.
Sooner or later, she knew, something would have to give.
TWENTY-ONE
I’m seeing a pattern in Ryan’s film—there are a couple of places he’s shot from several angles and obviously on different days, judging from the weather and the season,” Mallory told Charlie when he returned her call early that evening. “But I don’t recognize any of them. Well, one I might recognize. The barn at one property reminds me of an old barn that is out on Josephine Road, but in the film, you only see it from the back.” The teakettle shrieked from the stove, and she walked into the kitchen to turn off the burner. “Then again, so much of the architecture around here is similar, it’s tough to know for certain.”
“But you think there’s enough repetition that maybe one of these spots could be their hiding place?”
“Right now, it’s the only possibility we have, so I think we have to take it as far as we can.”
“I agree.”
“I’d like you to take a look at the film as soon as possible. Think you can fit in a quick trip to my place?”
“Not until tomorrow at the earliest, I’m afraid. We take Jilly to Riverside first thing in the morning, and we need to pack for her tonight. My mother was afraid if she packed too early, Jilly would get upset.”
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