"And good for you."
"Aren't you having any?"
"I've been nibbling while I cooked. Bad habit. I'm used to eating alone."
"These might be the best eggs I've ever had."
"You're very complimentary after sex."
He grinned. "If you'd served me this before sex, I would have said the same thing. I guess you learned how to cook in the last decade."
"I actually learned how to cook from my mom, but I didn't have much chance to do it in foster care. When I ended up on my own, I got very creative putting cheap ingredients together. Moving here, with Mary's vegetable garden just outside the door, I had an incredible bounty at my fingertips. I still like a good steak now and then, or a beautiful piece of fish, but vegetables are a mainstay. Do you cook for yourself?"
"Not like this, but I don't starve."
"I remember your mom telling me that she wanted to make sure all her kids, even her boys, could put on a good meal."
"Her boys were kind of hopeless in that department. Dylan and I were too busy to cook, and Ian was more interested in putting chemicals together in science experiments than learning how to make spaghetti. Actually, Kate wasn't very good, either. Or Annie. Come to think of it, Mia is probably the only one who puts on a good meal. We all love to eat, though." He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "I'm hoping Kate will get back to us on Molly, but she's at a bachelorette weekend in Napa with all my female relatives, so that might not happen until she gets back."
"That sounds fun."
"Do you think George is going to give you a hard time for having me over?"
"I'm not sure—maybe. He is protective of me, although he would also like to see me have a life outside of work. I'm not sure he knows what to make of you." She paused. "I didn't even think about there being damage on the van. I should have."
"We'll take a look when we go outside. I think we should take my car to the city. It's a little less obtrusive than your van."
"But then you'll have to drive me all the way back here. Let's take both cars. We can park the van by your place, but that way I can come back on my own."
He frowned. "That didn't work so well last night."
"I can take a different way home, avoid that part of the coastal route."
"Let's see how the day goes. I kind of liked your bed."
"I kind of liked you in my bed," she repeated. "But you do have to go back to work at some point, don't you?"
"Seven o'clock tomorrow morning," he said, not sounding happy about it. "Anyway, are you ready to go to church?"
"I guess. I have to say I haven't been to a church since I was thirteen years old."
"Well, I don't think the Church of the Sky is going to be like any church you've ever been to before."
* * *
The Church of the Sky was located in an old Victorian house that sat between a large apartment complex and a laundromat. As Cassidy stepped through the front door and into what had once been a living room, she was greeted by an older woman with Native American features, gray hair, and thick black glasses. There were people milling around the room behind her, and she could see a buffet table with coffee and cookies in the next room.
"Welcome," the woman said. "I'm Jolynn. Is this your first time here?"
"Yes. I'm Cassidy, and this is Hunter."
"We're happy to have you here. This morning's service will be in the backyard. It's such a lovely day. We try to be under the sky whenever possible."
"That sounds good. We're actually not just here for the service. We're looking for someone who used to volunteer here quite a few years ago. Her first name was Lily. She had a granddaughter named Molly. I don't suppose you remember them?"
"Oh, my." Jolynn thought for a moment and then shook her head. "I don't recall anyone by those names, but I've only been coming here for about six years. Was it before that?"
"Yes, it was about fourteen years ago."
"Well, there are a few people at the service who have been attending for that long. Perhaps one of them can help you. Can I ask why you're looking for these people?"
"Molly and I were in foster care together. She actually disappeared one day, and I've been worried about her ever since. I recently discovered that her grandmother lived in this neighborhood and came to church here, and while I know Lily passed away some time ago, I thought someone might remember her granddaughter, Molly. I know it's a long shot, but I really cared about Molly."
"Why did you wait so long to look for her?"
"I had to grow up, I guess. And something happened recently to the house where we lived. There was a fire. It brought up the past again, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about Molly since then."
"Fire can be cleansing. It provides the opportunity for rebirth." Jolynn paused. "Your necklace—where did you get it?"
"From a store on Union Street. It's beautiful, isn't it? It reminds me of Molly. She had one just like it."
"It's lovely. Please help yourself to some coffee and food. The service will be starting shortly." Jolynn moved away to greet two other arrivals.
"What do you think?" she asked Hunter. "Did you see the way she looked at my necklace?"
"I did."
"I know she said she didn't know the names, but I'm starting to get a good feeling about this place."
"Should we check out the backyard?" he asked. "Looks like everyone is heading that way."
She nodded, but before they could move, the front door opened, and a woman came rushing in. She had long, black hair pulled back in a braid, and her dark eyes were a bit harried. But it was the necklace around her neck that made Cassidy gasp.
The woman came to an abrupt stop when she saw them, and as her gaze met Cassidy's, her eyes widened.
"Molly?" Cassidy asked in amazement.
The woman's jaw dropped, but she didn't speak. She abruptly turned and ran out the door.
"That was her," she said to Hunter. "That was Molly."
"We can't let her get away," Hunter said, jogging toward the front door.
It took her a moment to get her body to move. Both Hunter and Molly were halfway down the street when she got out the door. She had to catch up. She had to talk to Molly. This might be her only chance to prove she existed.
* * *
The woman was fast, Hunter thought, as he ran down the steep hill in pursuit of the attractive brunette in skinny jeans and a flowy shirt. But he was faster, bridging the gap between them to only a few feet.
Then she darted down an alleyway, and he almost bumped into a kid on a skateboard, as he made the same turn. He thought Cassidy might be behind him, but she'd been paralyzed by surprise when she'd seen the woman she'd called Molly.
He was pretty sure it was Molly, judging by her abrupt exit and her mad dash down the street. He sped up and as the alley narrowed, he saw that the woman he was chasing was about to run out of room as she came face-to-face with a high chain-link fence.
She whirled around, putting up a hand. "Don't come any closer."
He came to a halt about five feet from her. "Molly?"
"Why are you calling me that?"
"Because you're Molly Bennett."
"I'm not. I'm Kenna," she denied.
"Then why did you run when Cassidy called you Molly?" The name Kenna rang a bell in his head. Wasn't that the name of the jewelry designer, the one who'd designed the necklace that Cassidy was currently wearing?
She didn't answer his question, but her gaze changed as it moved past him.
He looked over his head and saw Cassidy running down the alleyway. She came to a breathless stop next to him.
"Molly?" she said again, in the same wonder-filled voice she'd used before. "Please tell me it's you. I've been worried about you for fourteen years. It's Cassidy. You have to remember me."
Molly's lips tightened. "I don't remember you."
"You do," Cassidy said, taking another step forward. "I don't know why you're scared of me, but I am not here to cause you any probl
ems. I'm just so thrilled that you're alive. I thought…"
"You thought what?"
"I thought you were dead. I thought the Faulkners might have killed you. I'm so glad they didn't."
Molly licked her lips, dropping her hand to her side. "You really thought they killed me?"
He let out a breath at Molly's words, happy she was dropping the pretense.
"You disappeared in the middle of the night," Cassidy said. "And it wasn't the first time I woke up and you were gone. Something was going on, but I didn't know what. They told me you were transferred to another home, but I thought something bad had happened. I went to my social worker and told her she had to find you. But when she looked into it, she said you didn't exist, that you weren't at the house, and that the Faulkners told her that I'd made you up, that you were my imaginary friend. All the other kids backed up their story. They made me think I was crazy, that we hadn't spent three weeks sharing the same room, talking at night, being each other's friend."
"I always wondered what they'd said." Molly's gaze narrowed. "Where did you get that necklace?"
"In a shop in the Marina. I picked it up yesterday; it reminded me of you, of the one you used to wear—still wear," she added.
Molly's hand went to her necklace. "My grandmother made this one. I made the one you're wearing."
"Oh, my God, you're the designer? The manager told me your name was Kenna."
"It's the name I go by now. I haven't been Molly in a very long time."
"So, what happened? Were you transferred somewhere else?"
"No. I ran away."
"You ran away? How did you survive? You were so young."
Molly hesitated, then said, "I went to the church. My grandmother used to volunteer there, and one of her friends helped me hide. They took care of me until I was eighteen."
"I'm so glad." Cassidy looked at him with a watery smile and said, "She's alive. It's a miracle."
He smiled back. "Sometimes they happen."
"It's a first for me."
"Who's he?" Molly asked, her gaze still wary.
"This is Hunter—Hunter Callaway."
Molly looked surprised once again. "Hunter Callaway? The kid you were so crazy about in high school? You got together? You've been together all this time?"
"No." Cassidy shook her head. "We've been apart almost as long as you and I have. We reconnected a few days ago when the Faulkners' house burned down."
"What? The house burned down? Are you serious?"
"Yes. It was deliberate. And there's more." Cassidy drew in a deep breath. "After the fire, Tommy's body was found in the walls of the garage. He'd been there fourteen years."
Molly's eyes widened, and she put a hand to her mouth as if she were going to be sick. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that Tommy was killed in the house and buried there. You remember Tommy, don't you? He arrived about a week before you ran away."
"Your friend from somewhere else. The skinny kid with the dark-blond hair—I remember. But I don't understand. Who killed him? And you say his body was hidden in the walls? How does that even happen?"
Cassidy gave a helpless shrug. "I don't know, but it did happen. I'm guessing the Faulkners killed Tommy, but the police are investigating. Mr. Faulkner died five months ago and Geralyn had a breakdown when she heard the news. The police were waiting to question her. She was in the hospital, in police custody, but someone helped her escape last night."
"Someone helped her escape?" Molly echoed.
He could see the wheels turning in Molly's eyes as she tried to make sense of what Cassidy was telling her. She was definitely shocked by the news, so stunned that he didn't think she was really taking it all in. He couldn't blame her; it was a lot to process.
"I don't know who helped Geralyn get out, but I think it might have been one of the boys—David or Jeremiah or Quan," Cassidy said. "I saw them last night, and they were worried about Geralyn getting arrested for Tommy's murder."
"You're all still in touch?" Molly asked in bemusement.
"No. We have not been in touch at all. I don't even like them. But David reached out after the police interviewed him yesterday. The police are trying to talk to everyone who lived in the house during that time period."
"Did you tell them about me?"
"I did, but all I knew was your name, and I told them that there was apparently no record of you being at the Faulkners' house."
"Good. I'm glad. I don't want to be involved in any of this. I left that house a long time ago. I'm not that girl anymore."
Watching Molly and Cassidy talk, he couldn't help but think how similar their stories were, how the Faulkners had made them both reinvent themselves. And they were doing well now, because they'd made the choice to run. He wondered if he would have done the same thing. Probably. But he was glad he had never had to face that kind of life-or-death decision.
"What happened to you, Molly?" Cassidy asked. "Why did you have to leave?"
"I just had to get out of there, that’s all."
"That wasn't all."
"I don't want to talk about it. I need to go."
"Wait," Cassidy said, moving in front of Molly. "Don't leave. I want to talk to you."
"We don't have anything to say to each other."
"Is that why you ran?" he interjected. "You recognized Cassidy right away, didn't you? So, why take off?"
"Habit," Molly replied. "I've been running away from my past for a long time."
"You don't have to run away from me," Cassidy said. "I left the Faulkners' house two weeks after you did. I hid away, changed my last name, started over. I did exactly what you did."
"I'm glad." Molly let out a breath. "This is stupid, standing here in an alley that smells like garbage."
"We can go back to the church," Cassidy suggested. "Or we could go somewhere else and talk?"
Molly hesitated. "I would like to talk to you, but not at the church, and not here. Why don't you give me your number?" She pulled out her phone. "I'll call you."
"I'd really like to speak to you now."
"I can't. I have to get back to the church. I have a role in the service."
"All right." Cassidy gave her the number, then said, "Why don't you text me now, so I have your number as well?"
"Sure. I should have thought of that." Molly sent a short text. "There you go. We'll talk again."
"I hope it's soon. I'd like you to help me sort out what might have happened to Tommy."
"I can't help with that. Obviously, Tommy was killed after I left. I'm guessing it happened after you left, too. I'm sorry about what happened to him. He didn't deserve that. Anyway, I really do have to go."
He frowned as Molly walked by them. She wasn't running anymore, but she was moving damned fast, and there was something off about the whole encounter.
"That was not the reunion I expected," Cassidy said, giving him a troubled look. "Maybe I was expecting too much. She probably didn't think about me the way I thought about her, because I didn't disappear on her. It wasn't like I thought about the kids I left behind."
"You might have if you'd been better friends with any of them. I know you thought about Tommy."
"I did think about him, yes. We had talked about going to Santa Cruz together, so I kind of expected he'd show up there at some point. Whenever I passed a group of kids on a street corner, saw anyone who looked remotely like him, I'd stop and take another look."
"You never went any further than that?"
"I didn't," she said, guilt in her eyes. "It makes me sound like a terrible person. Here I claim to be best friends with the guy and I never looked for him."
"I'm not judging you. I wasn't in your shoes and obviously the first few years you were just trying to survive and protect yourself."
"I believed Tommy was doing the same, that staying apart kept us both safe. By the time I was old enough to stop worrying about getting dragged back to the Faulkners or some other home, it had been several yea
rs."
He put his arm around her. "I get it. And I think that if Tommy hadn't been killed, he would have come looking for you."
She gazed into his eyes. "Thank you for being so understanding, and also for running really fast so Molly couldn't get away. I do not have the right shoes on for a foot race."
"No problem. I was shocked Molly ran the way she did. She was fast, too. Luckily, she ran out of room."
"Street kids run first, ask questions later."
"Let's go back to the car. I don't think there's any point in returning to the church."
"I really wish I didn't have to wait for Molly to get back in touch, especially since I'm not sure she ever will."
"Well, you have her number, too."
"I wouldn't put it past her to toss that phone."
"I hope she doesn't, but it might not matter. The police should be able to track her down now that we know she's the designer named Kenna."
Cassidy gave him a look of alarm. "We can't tell the police about Molly. We can't blow her cover."
"Her cover? What does that mean? She has no more reason than you do to hide anymore. And we need her piece of the puzzle."
"Let's give her a day or two. I don't want to scare her off."
He didn't particularly like her suggestion, but he'd play it her way for the moment. As they walked back to his Jeep, he brought something else up that was bothering him. "Molly said she goes by Kenna now—a name that means fire."
Cassidy frowned. "I know where you're going. I don't like it."
He kept going anyway. "Molly clearly hated the Faulkners, hated that house. She had as good a reason as anyone to burn it down."
"So did I."
"But you didn't do it. We don't know if she did."
"It's more likely that she has never been back to that house. I certainly wouldn't have ever gone there again if it hadn't been for Tommy. She has a good life now. Why would she want to mess that up?"
"Hate can make you crazy. It sounds like she had good reason to hate Donald, and he died under suspicious circumstances."
"Now you're suggesting Molly ran Donald off the road?" She gave him an irritated look as he opened the door of his car for her. "Let's stop pinning every crime on the one person in my past besides you and Tommy who I actually liked. And even if she could have been motivated to start the fire or run Donald off the road, she did not try to do the same thing to me last night."
Secrets We Keep GO PL Page 17
