by Edie Claire
Leigh's stomach got heavier. It was just like her cousin to want a commitment before the explanation. And if the seriousness of Cara's tone was any indication, the "favor" sounded loaded. "Do what?" she asked hesitantly.
"Matt has a swimming class tomorrow—I mean, later this morning—at the high school. Afterwards, some of the other moms and toddlers have arranged to eat lunch together up in Wexford. Gil knows I'll be gone a long time."
Leigh could see where the request was going. She could also see that it was a fool's errand, to say the least. But saying no to relatives in need had never been her forte.
"I want you to follow Gil. See where he goes, who he talks to. I can't do it myself; he'll be looking for me. But he won't be looking for you—I'll convince him everything's okay when I get home. Then you can find out what's really going on."
Leigh exhaled uncomfortably. "Are you sure you two can't just talk this out?"
Cara shook her head. "I told you—I tried that. He lied to me." She paused, and her lower lip quivered slightly. "I don't want to think it might be—" The calm, detached demeanor she had been fighting to keep finally crumbled, and her eyes teared up with a vengeance. "It can't be another woman, Leigh. It just can't. You've got to find out for me. Anything else, I can deal with. Anything."
Leigh reached out an arm and squeezed the other woman by the shoulders, her protective instincts coming on strong. It was as though she were ten again, and Leroy Budnick had just bent the wheel of Cara's brand-new bicycle because she wouldn't let him pop wheelies with it. Leroy Budnick had regretted that move, she remembered with a smirk. Nobody made her little cousin cry.
"It's not another woman," she said soothingly. "It's not. Gil loves you, and he's just trying to protect you from something. I'm sure of it."
She was sure of it, she thought determinedly. And she was going to prove it.
Chapter 2
Try as she might to rationalize her actions, when Leigh found herself drumming her fingers on the dashboard of her Cavalier later that morning, parked at an odd angle off the mouth of a side road near Cara's farm, she couldn't help feeling a little ridiculous. In the movies, stake-outs always managed to occur near convenient alleys, where one could be suitably inconspicuous. She just looked like some moron who had pulled off to fix her make-up and gotten stuck in the mud.
She wasn't certain, for that matter, that she wasn't stuck in the mud. It had rained for days, and the wet ground that had stiffened overnight was probably thawing as she sat. Trying to convince herself that she could not actually feel the car sinking, she mulled over her options.
She couldn't move anywhere else—there was no other place where she could keep an eye on the end of Cara's driveway without being plainly visible to Gil at some point on his way out. All but the last of the oaks had lost their leaves, leaving precious little coverage for a bright white car on a rainy day. As it was, if he turned toward her on Snow Creek Road she'd have to backpedal fast to look like she'd just come up on the intersection, and even then he could still notice her. He'd seen her car before, after all, and if he was the least bit suspicious…
She sighed. It was a risk she had to take. She would have liked to borrow another car, but Warren's neon-blue beetle and her father's wreck of a station wagon were even more conspicuous, and her mother and aunts were off trekking through India to fulfill their lifelong mutual fantasy of seeing the Taj Mahal. Leigh still had a hard time imagining her mother in a boat on the Ganges, but Lydie and Bess had somehow managed to talk her into it, minus the optional excursion to Katmandu, of course. Canoes Frances drew the line at.
A shiny Lexus suddenly sidled up beside the Cavalier, and the middle-aged man inside threw Leigh a glare as he was forced to push his car's nose out onto the road in order to see around her. Looking sheepishly at her steering wheel, Leigh wondered how much longer her resolve would last. It had been twenty minutes since Cara had left with Matt—surely if Gil had clandestine plans he would have left the farm by now.
She jumped as an immense SUV rattled up and took off from beside her after barely slowing down. The soccer mom inside wasn't the least bit fazed by the oddly parked car, which, after all, was well below her line of sight. But the distraction almost cost Leigh her cover, because while she sat choking on fumes Gil's car was pulling up the farm's driveway. By the time she noticed the purple Saturn, it had already pulled out onto Snow Creek Road and was headed her way.
She threw the Cavalier into reverse and was gratified to find herself back on pavement with only a minimum of wheel spinning and mud splattering. But when she looked forward again, the Saturn was gone. Had he seen her as he passed? He certainly could have, but she chose to assume otherwise. The car must have been going pretty fast—and he probably had something important on his mind.
After a few seconds' pause she pulled out on the road after him, doing a quick mental run-through of her plan. Unfortunately, what had seemed perfectly logical after her third cup of predawn coffee seemed considerably weaker now that her stomach was rumbling for lunch. The car-trailing business, she had come to realize, was not as simple as it looked on TV. Sure, she could try and stay a discreet distance behind him, but since he knew the Cavalier, she'd have to keep a few cars between them. And if traffic thinned, she'd have to drop way back, where she would stand a good chance of losing him.
Even if she could determine where he was going, there was no guarantee that his travels had anything to do with the secret he was keeping from Cara. And if she got caught, she would once again be at the mercy of his macho chest-beating routine. Not that she could blame him—she'd certainly be ticked if she found a purple Saturn trailing her around on a Saturday—but that wasn't the issue. Her mission was to help her cousin get some peace of mind, and she was going to give it a try, come what may.
The first intersections went well. A steady stream of traffic met them at Perry Highway, and she was able to stay behind him easily as they cruised south. Her heart leapt in her chest a little each time they approached a cross street. Was he going to someone's house? A business? Foodland?
She breathed a sigh of relief as they cruised passed the turnoff to the latter, since following someone else around on a grocery run would be even more humiliating than getting her Cavalier stuck in the mud. But Gil's trek down the well-worn suburban corridor continued unabated all the way into Perrysville, where the four-lane road abruptly narrowed to two. Too late, Leigh realized that she'd come out of the last intersection directly behind the Saturn. She slowed down as much as she could, then ended up with a lucky break—a minivan trying to turn onto the road in front of her. She stopped and waved it ahead, regaining her cover.
As Gil trolled on down into West View she followed more cautiously, and as he passed the bulk of the business district her brow furrowed. Where on earth could he be going? He'd already passed two turnoffs to Interstate 279, which was the quickest way to get anywhere near Pittsburgh proper. Besides residences, there wasn't much else south of them that couldn't have been reached easier by going another way.
It wasn't until she caught the back of the Saturn turning onto Ridgeview Avenue that Leigh began to get it. He was going to a residence. But not that of a paramour. Only the densest man would step out on the same street his mother-in-law lived on.
Leigh turned onto Ridgeview and slowed down to a crawl, careful not to get within sight of Gil's rear-view mirror. Having grown up on the street was a definite advantage, she thought with a smile. She stopped just before the road took a sharp bend and parked alongside the curb. The Cavalier would be out of sight from her Aunt Lydie's house, and she could approach on foot. It was perfect.
She watched from the corner with satisfaction as Gil, two thirds of a block away and none the wiser, sprinted up his mother-in-law's front steps, turned a key in the door, and disappeared inside. Leigh was hurrying down the sidewalk after him when she was accosted by a rusty, aged voice.
"Leigh Koslow? That you, girl?"
She looked up a
t the familiar sight of one Dorothy Snodgrass, who despite the dismal weather was settled comfortably on her porch swing, swathed in cheap blankets and sipping tea from a Steelers' coffee mug. Knowing Dorothy, an unusually resourceful widow in her seventies, the tea was probably spiked.
Leigh smiled. "Mrs. Snodgrass! Yes, it's me. But you shouldn't be out on a day like today. It's miserable out here."
The older woman smiled broadly, revealing dentures that had seen more tea than the Boston harbor. "Well, now, Missy, seems like I'm the one with the blankets."
Leigh noted, without looking down, that she had indeed forgotten to put her jacket on. Thrill of the chase and all that. "Touché," she acknowledged. "How have you been?"
"Good as ever," the woman answered succinctly. Dorothy Snodgrass had never been a complainer, which made her one of the more popular Ridgeview retirees. That and her proclivity for baking cookies had won her the admiration of more than one generation of Ridgeview children. "I've got some M&Ms inside, don't you know," she said, cocking her head enticingly. "And this tea's mighty good for a grown-up."
Definitely spiked. "Thanks, Mrs. Snodgrass," Leigh said with honest regret. "But I'm afraid I can't stop, even for your M&M cookies. I'm on a mission."
The older woman's brow furrowed, and she leaned over to peer down the street in the direction Leigh was walking. "That is Lydie's son-in-law just went in up there, isn't it?"
Mrs. Snodgrass's powers of observation came as no surprise. For the last forty years she'd been a one-woman neighborhood watch patrol, and she did a darned good job of it, too—having thwarted more than one would-be burglar and rescued several children from abuse. But though Mrs. Snodgrass knew everyone and everything that happened on the street, no one considered her a snoop. Because in addition to having a good heart, she had the good sense to know when to keep her mouth shut.
"Yes, that's Cara's husband," Leigh answered. "Nothing to worry about."
Mrs. Snodgrass smiled knowingly and lifted her wrinkled hands in the air. "Fine enough, then. You have a nice mission, young lady. And next time," she added, tapping the mug with a smirk, "leave time for the good stuff."
Leigh smiled and promised she would, wishing some of the good stuff were in her veins already. She was cold and getting colder, but had no intention of backtracking to get her coat. She'd made her bed—she'd lie in it.
As she approached her Aunt Lydie's house with chattering teeth, she made a point of noting two things in favor of her spy junket. One, the day was sufficiently dark and dismal that she would easily be able to see through the windows into any lighted rooms inside. Two, she had no fears of being spotted by her parents next door. Her father worked every Saturday morning at his veterinary practice in Avalon, and her mother—conveniently enough—was on the other side of the world.
She slunk up to the side of her aunt's house and positioned herself amidst the rhododendrons. The living room windows were fairly high above the ground, but she found that with her adult height, she could just peer over the ledge. Gil was inside all right, though why she couldn't imagine.
His tall, GQ form was in the process of rooting through Lydie's prized antique secretary, opening drawers and peering into the myriad of tiny cubbies. She frowned. What could Lydie possibly have that he would look for without either her—or Cara's—knowledge?
Leigh continued to watch as Gil make short work of the secretary and moved on to some of the other pieces of furniture. Papers seemed to interest him, and when he ran into an old stack of yellowed newspapers in the bottom drawer of a china cabinet, he pored over them intently. But whatever he was searching for, he seemed unable to find it. Stack by stack he pulled out papers and loose pictures, sifted through them, then put them neatly back in place. Finally, the living room furniture having been exhausted, he headed up the staircase.
Feeling in her pocket for her keys, Leigh slipped across the narrow stretch of side yard and up onto her parent's back porch. Warren might make fun of her ten-ton key ring (all the contents of which she would be hard-pressed to identify) but it was certainly coming in handy now. She opened the door and walked into her parent's house, careful not to switch on any lights. She reached her old bedroom at a run, knowing she'd have a good view of Cara's room as long as the blinds weren't down.
But a quick inspection of the dark room across the alley indicated that his wife's old bedroom was not on the top of Gil's search list. It was Lydie's bedroom that was lit. Leigh moved quickly to what was now her mother's sewing room, and was pleased to find she had a straight shot at Gil through her aunt's open curtains. She couldn't see the whole room, but she could see enough to know that he was concentrating on the closet.
Looking frustrated and generally awkward, Gil pushed aside dresses and rooted through a variety of organizers, opening anything that didn't look like it contained clothes. Leigh could only stare in puzzlement. What kind of papers could Gil possibly be looking for? And why would he think Lydie would keep them in her closet?
She thought about it for more than half an hour, as Gil restlessly filtered through Lydie's bureau and chest of drawers, then disappeared to search other places Leigh couldn't see. From the procession of lights, however, she could tell that he covered every room, including the attic and the basement, before finishing up in the kitchen. Back outside in the cold, she furtively wished that whatever it was he would just find the thing and get it over with, but it wasn't to be. Looking utterly exhausted, Gil finally sank into a kitchen chair and laid his head in his hands.
She watched him curiously. As the hunt had winded down, his expression had grown increasingly distraught, but she didn't get the idea he was surprised by the failure. The whole rampage had seemed more like an act of desperation—a shot in the dark. Did he even know himself what he was looking for?
After a long moment, he lifted his head and gazed idly at the pile of accumulated mail on the table that someone—undoubtedly Leigh's father—had been collecting for Lydie while she was on vacation. Gil was sifting slowly through the pile when his hands froze, his eyes locking on something in the stack. He hesitated only a moment before ripping it open.
Leigh watched anxiously, trying to see what had caught his attention, but she could tell only that he had pulled a sheet of paper from a hand-addressed, letter-sized envelope. Her heartbeat quickened as Gil's face paled and his hazel eyes widened.
He rose from the table in one furious motion, his arm swinging the letter in the air and bringing it down on the table with a vengeance. His words were muffled, but Leigh got the gist, even if she'd never heard anyone use those particular words in combination before. Whatever the letter was, it was bad.
He shoved the paper and envelope into his pocket and stormed out the kitchen toward the front door, and Leigh took off like a shot. If he was ready to leave, she would have to make it to her car in double-time in order not to be seen. And in order to keep following him.
She had made it only as far as Mrs. Snodgrass's house when he emerged, and catching a glimpse of him over her shoulder, she quickly dodged behind the generous girth of an old maple tree, breathing heavily. "Stay there, honey," Mrs. Snodgrass said quietly from her swing. "He didn't see you."
Leigh listened for the sound of the Saturn's engine starting up, but heard nothing. "Where did he go?" she asked breathlessly.
Mrs. Snodgrass rocked back and forth casually. "He's knocking over at your folks," she answered. "Of course, we both know nobody's going to answer."
Leigh started to step out from the behind the tree, but the older woman quickly waved her back. "Not yet—he's on his way back to his car now." After a moment, she continued. "All right, he's inside. You'd better start off now or you'll lose him."
Leigh opened her mouth in thanks, but Mrs. Snodgrass cut her off. "I'll expect you to come by another time and tell me all about it," she instructed with amusement, "but for now—off with you. Hurry!"
Gil's Saturn took off like a bat out of hell, and Leigh thought for sure she would l
ose him. But the traffic in West View was conveniently heavy, and as he was forced to slow down she found she could trail him at a reasonable distance. They waited through a long succession of stoplights, during which she tried to make sense of her cousin-in-law's bizarre actions. He had clearly gone to Lydie's house looking for something, but whatever it was, she didn't think it was the letter. The mail was plainly visible on the table, and he didn't seem the least bit interested in it on his first pass through the kitchen. He'd been looking for something else—something he suspected would be hidden. Perhaps the letter was another problem altogether.
The Saturn began weaving into familiar territory, and Leigh followed in surprise as she realized where he was going. They were in Avalon, approaching the Koslow Animal Clinic. First he had knocked on her parent's door, now he was here. He wanted to talk to her father. But why?
She pulled over to the side of the road, planning to let him park and go in first, but once again he surprised her. The Saturn cruised slowly past the back of the clinic as if surveying the crowded parking area, hesitated, then moved on. Leigh sighed and took off after it once more. Of course her father would be busy with clients on a Saturday morning. What did Gil expect? Surely if it was some sort of emergency…
Her thoughts were interrupted by panic as she lost her prey at a stoplight on California Avenue. When the light flashed green she pursued it as best she could, but speeding in Avalon was never a good idea. Pedestrians were out and about even in the lousiest weather, and the steep cobblestone streets could take years off a car's suspension. Figuring he'd probably headed back to I279, she took that route herself, but the Saturn was nowhere to be seen.
Defeated and confused, she drove back up to Ross Township and parked in front of her apartment building. It was time for some food—and to wait for Cara's inevitable phone call. What she would report, however, she had no idea.
