Chapter 16
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Ravenswood, Illinois
The convenience store where Lizzy Pace had worked after the fire and before she died sat on the corner of Main and Elm as if it had been waiting for Drake to find it.
Faded yellow paint peeled from aluminum siding after decades of Illinois winters.
Hand-lettered signs advertised cigarettes and lottery tickets in windows streaked with grime.
An old-fashioned bell above the door chimed when he stepped inside. The sound echoed off shelves packed with quick pickup items like energy drinks and beef jerky. The store stank of burnt coffee and industrial cleaning solution.
The store’s owner, Ahmad Patel, looked up from his newspaper. He was older than Drake had expected. Maybe seventy. Gray hair, thick glasses, and a cardigan that had seen better decades. Deep lines creased his face around tired eyes.
“Help you?” Patel asked.
Drake approached. The counter’s scratched laminate showed decades of use, and the cash register looked older than Patel.
“Yeah, I’d like a cold bottle of water,” Drake said in a friendly tone on his way to the cooler to choose one before he walked back to the register.
He placed the bottle on the counter and offered a five-dollar bill to pay for it. Patel gave him the change and Drake took a long swig.
“Wondered if you might remember someone who worked here a while ago. Young woman named Lisa Peterson.”
Patel’s expression shifted. Recognition mixed with caution. He set down his newspaper but didn’t fold it.
“Why are you asking about Lisa after all these years? Who wants to know?”
Drake pulled out his wallet and showed his Texas private investigator’s license. “My name is Alonzo Drake. I’m working for Lisa’s children.”
“Her kids?” Patel raised eyebrows as he continued to study the license. “They’d be grown up now.”
“They’re doing well.” This was the tricky part, in Drake’s experience. Patel wouldn’t be helpful unless he felt secure. “Trying to understand what happened to their mother and piece together their early childhood. They have very few memories from before the foster system.”
Patel studied the license a bit more carefully, then looked at Drake’s face. “Which one hired you?”
“I can’t say. Client confidentiality. But they deserve to know the truth about their mother,” Drake said persuasively. “I’m sure you agree.”
Patel was quiet for a long moment until, finally, his shoulders relaxed. “Lisa was a good person. She didn’t deserve what happened to her.”
Drake nodded. “What exactly did happen to her?”
“You don’t know?”
“I know she died in a traffic accident.”
“Terrible thing. She was hit by a bus. But there was more to it than that.” He paused to fold his newspaper. The pages crackled in the silence. “If those kids are looking for answers, I guess they have a right to know.”
“I’d appreciate anything you can tell me. I’ll be sure to pass it along,” Drake said.
“She was a good worker. Reliable. Always on time. Nice girl, too.” Patel’s voice grew warmer. “But you could see she was scared. Always worried and looking over her shoulder.”
“Why?” Drake asked, but Patel didn’t seem to hear.
“Those poor kids.” Patel shook his head. White whiskers moved against weathered brown skin. “She was young, but she loved those kids like every child should be loved. Worked double shifts to support them. Never complained. Never once.”
Drake pulled out a small notebook. He started to write. It was a technique he’d picked up from Flint. People who wanted to help were reassured when they felt that their information mattered enough to write down.
“Was she sick? The cancer?”
“Getting weaker, yes. Lost a lot of weight those last few weeks. Her hands shook sometimes when she was counting change.” Patel’s voice grew quiet. “I think the illness, or maybe her anxiety about it, was affecting her mind. Making her confused.”
“You said she was always looking over her shoulder. Did you ever see anyone watching the store? Following her?”
“Just general anxiety, I think.” Patel shook his head as he considered the question while his fingers drummed against the counter.
“Lisa was one of those people who fall through the cracks, you know? She was alone in the world except for those kids. She loved them like crazy, and she worried about them constantly. She knew how ill-equipped she was to be their mother.”
Drake wrote that down. “Tell me about the day she died. What happened exactly?”
Patel’s face darkened as if the memory troubled him greatly.
“I saw it happen. Right out there.” He pointed toward the window. “She was walking. The bus came around the corner and she stepped right into the street. I always believed she was preoccupied and simply made a mistake.”
“Were you here in the store?”
“Working the register. Heard the brakes screaming, then the impact.” Patel nodded slowly. “Terrible sound. You never forget something like that.”
“What else do you remember?”
“Poor Tom Wilson. The bus driver. He was devastated. Kept saying she just darted right out in front of him. Like she didn’t see the bus at all. He smashed the brakes, and the bus made a terrible noise, but he didn’t have time to stop before hitting her. The whole town felt terrible for him.”
“Would he talk to me about the accident?”
“I don’t know. He quit the same day. Left town within a week. Couldn’t handle it.” Patel removed his glasses and cleaned them slowly. “Never came back.”
Drake made notes. “What about after Lisa died? Was there a funeral service?”
Patel’s face grew more somber as he shook his head again. “No family to claim the body. She couldn’t afford a funeral on what I paid her. I wished I could have helped out, but back then, I was getting the store off the ground. There was no money around here, either.”
“Where was she buried?” Drake asked.
Patel replied, “In the pauper’s section at Hillcrest Cemetery. Just a number on a metal marker. I’ve never tried to find it, but there might be a record somewhere.”
“What happened to the children after Lisa died?”
“The daycare called me first. Lisa had me listed as her emergency contact.” Patel’s voice grew quiet.
“When I got there, the kids were in the office. The little girl, she was almost three at the time, I think. She was crying. The boys were five or six, maybe. They kept asking when Mama was coming back.”
“How long before social services took them?”
“Maybe two hours.” Patel’s voice grew quiet. “The whole thing was gut wrenching. Those poor children had no idea what was happening.”
“Do you remember which agency? The social worker’s name?”
“County Department of Children and Family Services. The woman seemed nice enough. Said the kids would be placed with good families.”
“Did you ever see them again?”
Patel shook his head. “I asked once if I could send them Christmas cards. They said it wasn’t allowed. Clean break was better for everyone with young kids like that, they said.”
“You said Lisa seemed overly anxious in the days before her accident.” Drake leaned forward. “Was she worried about the kids?
Or was she frightened about something else?”