The Girl Next Door (Emma Griffin FBI Mystery Book 4)

by A J Rivers

  It's too early for them to be closed. I sit and wait for half an hour before pulling out of the lot and driving over to Pearl's Diner. It's good to see several people filling the tables. I worried her business would suffer after the scare, but it looks like the people of Sherwood are trickling back. Pearl gives me a weary smile when she sees me come in. She finishes wiping off a table and walks over.

  "Hey, there, Emma," she says, her voice softer and less animated than it has always been. "Dinner alone tonight?"

  "No, actually. I just wanted to ask you a couple of things," I say.

  She looks at me strangely.

  "I thought the investigation was over," she frowns.

  "Oh, it is," I assure her. "This is just for me."

  She nods. "What can I help you with?"

  "I've been thinking about Nicole, the girl who died after… what happened the other day."

  I want to say it as gently as I can, but there's no careful way to approach it. Pearl nods again. She looks at her hands resting on the counter I'm standing beside and pulls at her towel.

  "That poor girl. So sweet. She was doing so well in college and had all these plans," she says.

  "You knew her well?" I ask.

  "I know everyone in this town, honey. But there was definitely something special about Nikki. She had her whole life ahead of her. She would have done so much."

  "I'm so sorry," I say.

  "I just don't understand it. Jacqueline told me they say she died of her allergy, but I never have hazelnuts around here. I don't like them, and they're not something anyone has asked for. So, how did she end up with enough to kill her?" Pearl asks.

  "They're sure she didn't have an allergy to anything else?" I ask.

  "Yes. They had a terrible time when she was younger, trying to figure out all her sensitivities. She has seasonal allergies and topical allergies as well. But nothing that's going to be that serious. I remember Jackie telling me years ago, they tested just about every food you can think of. The only one that causes problems for her was hazelnuts," Pearl explains.

  "But you can develop allergies to things you weren't allergic to before," I say.

  "It's possible. But there's nothing here she hasn't eaten dozens of times before. She always orders the same thing."

  "Biscuits and gravy," I say, nodding.

  "Yes. And that's the same recipe my great-grandmother passed down. It hasn't changed."

  "Can you do one more thing for me?"

  "What's that?"

  "Will you show me the kitchen?" I ask.

  "The kitchen?" Pearl asks.

  "Yes. I just want to see it."

  She gives a slight shrug and leads me through the restaurant and into the kitchen.

  "It's clean," she says. "I always keep it clean. Inspector has been here three times since that day, and it's always spotless."

  "Oh, I know," I tell her. "That wasn't what I wanted to check."

  "Then, what were you looking for?" she asks.

  "I wanted to see if there was a way someone could get in here without going through the main restaurant."

  "There's the back door," Pearl says, gesturing behind the grill to an open storage space and the narrow white door at the far end.

  "Do you mind if I look?"

  "Go right ahead," she says. "It's just a door. Leads out to the alley. Nothing but a few parking spots for staff and the dumpsters out there."

  We walk through the kitchen, and the fast-moving cooks look up with tight smiles. I go to the door and peer out. At first, I only notice a pile of wooden pallets waiting to be picked up by the produce delivery company and the large dumpster to the side. Then a flash of light catches my eye, and I step further out into the gravel alley. I make my way around the dumpster, and there it is. A green sports car. I point at it and glance back over at Pearl.

  "Who does that belong to?" I ask.

  "That silly little green thing?" she asks. "That's my grandson's. You know Kevin."

  He must have heard his grandmother talking about him because a second later I see the tall redhead step out the door and into the November sunlight.

  "Hey, Emma," he says.

  Kevin is one of those people from Sherwood who I still have locked in a different era in my mind. To me, he's the senior baseball player half the girls in my freshman class had a crush on, then the college player who came home with a broken leg from sliding too hard into a base. In that one day, his entire future shifted. Visions of a career in professional baseball became veterinary school, and now he has a practice doing house calls for pets throughout the town.

  "Kevin, I didn't even notice you in there. Does the diner have a furry mascot now who needs tending?" I ask.

  He laughs and rubs his wet hands on his white apron.

  "No. I'm just here helping Granny out," he says. "I just got here a few minutes ago."

  "The diner is getting so busy, and I've been short staffed. Seems a lot of young people these days don't have much interest in sticking around town after high school, so I end up without people to do the dishwashing and short-order cooking. Some of my staff have been with me since before you were born, but I always have a slot or two empty," she says.

  "Which means I get to step in," Kevin says, wrapping his arm around her. The tiny woman looks swamped next to her youngest grandson. "In between birthing puppies and splinting sprained tails, I'm here doing dishes and flipping pancakes."

  "A man of multiple talents," I smile, then point at the car. "Have you had that car for a while?"

  "A few months," he says. "I'm hitting the midlife crisis a little early, so I have the time to pay it off."

  We head back into the kitchen, and I start toward the front of the restaurant but notice another small door. It's tucked into the corner off to the side of the dishwashing station.

  "What's that?" I ask, pointing at it.

  "Staff entrance to the bathroom,” Pearl explains. “That way, we don’t have to go all the way out.”

  I nod. "Convenient. Well, thank you for letting me see the kitchen and for answering my questions."

  "I hope I helped," Pearl says.

  "You did," I assure her.

  "If you need anything else, come on back."

  "I will."

  I climb into my car and head back to Lionheart. The lights are on again, and through the front window, I see Pamela sitting at her desk, scrolling through something on her computer. She looks up, but before she sees me, I pull out of the parking lot, heading home.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Four years ago

  “But when?” she asked. “When can we stop sneaking around like this?”

  “Soon,” Travis told her.

  “That's what you've been saying for months. When does soon come?”

  “I don't know,” he told her. “But it'll be soon. You just need to be patient.”

  “I have been being patient. I've been waiting this entire time. Haven't said a word. Haven't questioned anything. We should be celebrating. This is exactly what we wanted from the very beginning. Isn't it?”

  He looked at Sarah for a hard second, then stepped up to her, cupping his hands around her jaw.

  “Of course it is. I just have to be careful. Don't you understand that?”

  “No, I don't. Why do you have to be careful? She's the one who left you. Nobody can look badly on you for moving on.” She tilted her head to the side and looked at him, searching his face and trying to see beyond his calm exterior. “Unless you're hoping she really does come back. Is that it? Is everything you've been saying to me about finally being together just a lie? You were never going to leave her, and now that she's left you, you still won't move ahead with me.”

  “No,” he said. “That's not it. I promise.” He leaned down and kissed her. “You're right. This is a good thing, and we should be celebrating. But you have to understand, there are still people out there who don't know the truth about what happened. They refuse to think Mia just decided to walk
away. They think they know her better than I did and are convinced she would never leave her entire life behind.”

  “I know,” Sarah said. “I've seen them on the news. I don't get it. They stand there at that podium and sob and read out these dramatic statements about how much they miss her and want her to come home. But where were they when you had to take care of her because she wouldn't stop drinking? Or the time you had to bail her out of jail? Why didn't they help when she took so many drugs, she miscarried your baby?”

  “People like to romanticize about people and things when they aren't around anymore. They spent so much time away from Mia and completely cut her out of their lives and didn't think anything of it. But now that she essentially did the same thing to them, they can't stand it. So, now they have a completely idealized version of her in their heads. They would rather think about her as being some sort of perfect angel, who was cruelly taken away from them, than admit they weren't enough for her to keep trying for. It's much easier to be the tormented family of a missing woman who constantly pleads for her return, than it is to have to admit your child or your sister or your aunt just genuinely doesn't want anything to do with you,” he explained.

  “But what does that have to do with me? With us?” Sarah asked.

  “They want to make me out to be as bad a person as they possibly can. They've been doing it from the beginning. I'm used to it. It doesn't get to me anymore. But I don't want that for you. If they were to find out about you, about us, they would be relentless. You would never be able to walk out of your home even go to work without them hounding you,” Travis said.

  “Wouldn't you protect me?” she asked.

  “Of course I would. I would do anything to protect you. That's what I'm doing right now. I can't be with you every second of the day, and I don't want to think anything's going to happen to you just because you're associated with me. You don't deserve to be dragged through the mud and made a public spectacle just because I love you.”

  “You do?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “Of course I do. Why would you even have to ask that?”

  “Because you've never said it before?”

  Travis wrapped his arms around Sarah and pulled her up closer to him. He leaned down and gave her another soft kiss.

  “Well, you're going to be hearing it all the time now. Mia has no idea the gift she gave us,” he said.

  Sarah laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Don't tell her. Maybe she'll come back just to spite you,” she said.

  Travis shook his head. “Don't you worry about that. It isn't going to happen.”

  He ducked his head down to kiss her again, but a sharp knock on his front door stopped him. Sarah looked at him with widened, frightened eyes, and he pushed her toward the back of the house.

  “Who is that?” she hissed.

  “Go into the bedroom. Shut the door,” he whispered.

  As soon as Sarah was out of the room, Travis crossed to the front door and opened it.

  “Mr. Burke,” Officer Philip said. “I hope this isn't a bad time.”

  “Not at all. Come on in,” he said, gesturing for her to enter as he stepped out of the way.

  They walked into the living room as they had done more than a dozen times before and took their customary seats. She stared at him. It's how she started all of these conversations. The length of her silence stretched a little more every time she showed up at the house. Travis stared back at her. He stayed steady. Calm.

  “Mr. Burke, we recently uncovered a few things that may indicate your wife has crossed over into Canada. Can you think of any reason why she would want to do that?” the officer asked.

  “Canada?” he frowned. He feigned thinking for a few seconds, then shook his head. "No. I have no idea why she would want to go there. I've never heard her mention wanting to travel there, and as far as I know, she doesn't have any family or friends in Canada, either."

  The officer nodded. She looked down at her notepad even though she hadn’t written anything.

  "Alright. Well, thank you for your time," she stood and started for the door.

  "That's it?" he asked, following her. "You're not going to tell me anything else? You just come in here saying Mia is in Canada, then drop it and leave?"

  "We don't know for certain she is actually in Canada. It's just a lead we're following up on and wanted to get your insights. I don't want to share too much with you and get your hopes up. I assure you, if anything more concrete comes up, or if we have any other questions, we'll get back in touch. Until then, if you think of anything, even if you're not sure it actually has anything to do with it, or if you hear anything, call me immediately," she said.

  "I will."

  They walked toward the door and just before getting to it, Officer Phillips stopped and pivoted around to look at him. There was a slight smile on her face, but not enough to lift it fully.

  "Oh, I wanted to mention to you now, that since there's reason to believe your wife left the state, and possibly the country, the department will be calling in further assistance from the FBI."

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Now

  The parking lot for the funeral home is almost full when I pull in, just minutes after the open hours started. I scan the rows of cars, taking note of them and making as many connections between them and their owners as I recognize. My vigilance has kicked back up. My training to note everything happening around me has my instincts on full alert now. During my time in Sherwood, I tried to push those instincts down, but I'm not suppressing them anymore. As I pull into an open spot, I notice a red Miata parked diagonally from me.

  Sam catches my eye from across the room as soon as I step inside. He walks up to me and leans down to kiss my cheek.

  "Are you feeling better?" he asks.

  "I wasn't feeling bad," I tell him.

  "That's not what I meant," he says.

  "I know what you meant."

  On the other side of the room, I catch sight of Kevin. He's standing alone, nearly up against the wall. His hands grip a paper cup of coffee, and his face looks flushed.

  "What are you looking at?" Sam asks.

  "Kevin. Pearl's grandson," I whisper.

  "What about him?" he asks.

  "Does he seem to be acting strangely to you? He's just standing there alone, and he looks really upset."

  "He's at a visitation for a funeral," Sam points out. "It's expected to be upset. Especially when the person died in your grandmother's restaurant."

  "Possibly after eating something you cooked," I say.

  "What?" he asks.

  "I went to see Pearl yesterday to see if I could find out anything else."

  "I told you the investigation was over," Sam says.

  "The investigation into what made everybody sick, yes. But you still don't know who put the ipecac in the food or what caused Nicole's allergic reaction."

  "And what did you find out?" he asks.

  "Yes, Emma, what did you find out?"

  I close my eyes, and my shoulders drop as I try to control the surge of rage that rushes up inside me.

  "Pamela, this isn't the time," Sam says.

  "I think you're absolutely right, Sam," she says, coming around me so she can stand beside Sam and cut daggers into my eyes. “I definitely think this isn't the time for more of Emma's ridiculous ramblings. We are at a funeral home. You think you can put a lid on your crazy for long enough to show this woman some respect?”

  “You're right, Pamela,” I relent. “We are at a funeral home. I know why I'm here. But I'm curious. Why did you come?”

  She looks at me with an expression that expertly blends incredulity and disgust.

  “I'm here because a very young woman died, and I was there when it happened. Normal people like to show support in situations like this,” she says.

  “You keep saying you were there, but I didn't see you. Derrick told me you showed up, but why is it that I didn't see you
come in, and I also didn't see you leave?”

  “Emma,” Sam warns. “Please don't start.”

  “I'm not starting anything. I'm asking her a question. She's so wrapped up in being a part of the public mourning, but I can't figure out how she was so easily missed in the whole situation. And by the way, I noticed you have your Miata back. No more of the gold Saturn?”

  “I told you,” Pamela says. “That was a rental. My car was being worked on.”

  “For the brakes, right? Why would the brakes need to be worked on?” I ask.

  “This is ridiculous,” she says. She looks up at Sam. “Can't you do something about this? Obviously, her mind is slipping, and she is causing disruption to everyone.”

  “I'm not disrupting anything,” I hiss, trying to keep my voice low. “But I know.”

  She looks me up and down, expectation in her eyes.

  “You know what?” she asks.

  “I know you have something to do with all of this. Just wait.”

  “Are you threatening me now?” she asks.

  “I'm not threatening you,” I say.

  She crosses her arms over her chest and cocks her hip.

  “Right. Like you weren't lurking around outside my office last night? I saw you there.”

  “Where were you before that?” I fire back.

  “I was at work all evening,” she says.

  “No, you weren't. I went by there less than an hour before, and I waited. You weren't there.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about, but you can ask Derrick. He and the other agents were on showings and client meetings, so I was the one who had to hold down the fort. I ended up having to work late to catch up.”

  "You weren't there. You were when I got back from Pearl's, but you weren't when I went the first time," I tell her.

  "Pearl's? Now you are tormenting that poor old woman? Don't you think she's been through enough?" Pamela asks.

  "Who's Ruby?" I ask.

  "What?" she gasps, her face dropping slightly and her arms loosening from over her chest.

  "Alright. I think that's enough. Come on, Emma," Sam says.