Chapter 37
CHAPTER 37
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 23
I thought about Brian Sloane incessantly, pacing endless laps around my coffee table. Did he truly have no knowledge of his sister’s whereabouts? It seemed improbable. As unlikely as his supposed lack of familiarity with my mother’s estate. How could siblings run a law practice together without knowing anything about each other’s cases?
I must have legal options if Sloane couldn’t—or wouldn’t—share the details of my mother’s financial holdings. I’d investigate that issue next week, but this evening my mind overflowed with thoughts of Annie Connolly. Where did she go? Or hadn’t she gone anywhere? Perhaps she was still in town, residing in a shallow grave? I recalled the fear in Sloane’s eyes, which quickly morphed into another pair of eyes squinting into my high-intensity light beam. If Matt was actually Ray Connolly, it made sense he was hiding out in another empty home nearby. He could be close to his lover and keep an eye on the Pine Hill house. Monitoring police activity or observing anyone else snooping around the property. My heart thudded heavily. He’d probably seen me trespassing.
I pondered Sloane’s reference to “the others” who’d inquired about his sister. If Matt was Ray Connolly, he’d be seeking the whereabouts of his wife—or pretend to be. I was pretty sure of who else had sought out the lawyer. I whipped my cell phone from a pocket and scrolled through the contact list, pressing Jeffrey’s name.
When he answered, he didn’t bother with a proper greeting. “What have you got?” he asked. I felt like a fellow reporter updating him on a lead.
“Did you go to the offices of Sloane and Sloane looking for Annie?” I asked.
“Yeah, more than a month ago. Turned up nothing. How did your meeting with the esteemed Brian Sloane go?”
I ignored the question, preferring to hit him with one of my own: “Why didn’t you tell me you’d gone there? That you’d met Annie’s brother?”
“I didn’t want to bias you.”
“Bias me? What does that mean?”
“I wanted you to go in fresh, with no preconceived notions about the man or their practice. Were you able to record the encounter on your phone?”
An unwelcome tightness radiated from throat to chest. “You’re not sharing everything with me, Jeffrey, are you?”
Silence greeted me for a few beats. Eventually, he said, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Not only did I walk into that law firm blind, you never even told me Annie’s real name, or shared the fact that it was also her practice. Why would you withhold that information?”
“I just told you why.”
“I know what you told me, I’m just not convinced it’s the truth.”
“Okay,” he paused. “What can I say to convince you?”
“I’m not sure you can. I’ll call you back later.” I clicked off, anger roiling in my chest. Jeffrey was underestimating me, like Tim always had. If he’d already been rebuffed at the law office, was he hoping I’d have better luck? Probably. News reporters had to be flexible if they were going to get the story, right? If following all leads didn’t get results, perhaps reexamining the situation from a different angle might be successful. He’d seen opportunity in my predicament. Maybe he’d even created an issue where there was none, to spur me into action. After all, Tim had always maintained my mother died with very little money. It could be true.
But what if it wasn’t?
* * *
It was nearly midnight when the insistent pounding on my front door made me startle on the sofa, where I’d fallen asleep. Instantly awake, I stared at the built-in clock at the upper right corner of my television screen, above a high-speed car chase splayed across the TV’s other 32 inches. Recalling Mary’s mystery man who preferred unannounced visits after dark, I dropped to the floor, snatching the cell phone off my coffee table and pressing the telephone icon on the display screen.
“Caroline?” called a familiar voice, just as my pointer finger hovered over the nine, to be followed by two ones. “Are you there? We need to talk.”
Jeffrey.
I clutched the phone as I stood and made my way to the front door but didn’t open it. “What are you doing here at this time of night?” I demanded through the wooden barrier, my voice gruff.
“I tried calling you, ten times. Why didn’t you answer me?”
I’d turned my phone silencer on after his fourth attempt. “I wasn’t in the mood to talk.”
“Are you going to leave me standing out here all night? That’s what I’ll do. I’m not leaving.”
I almost smiled at his strategy. Hadn’t I planned the same action when I’d stood on his doorstep?
“What is so urgent that you must talk to me in the middle of the night?” I asked, opening my door but keeping the chain in place so he could only see a thin slice of me.
“You’re pissed at me, and you have every right to be.”
“Go on,” I said, not moving.
He tilted his head, looking exasperated. “It’s getting kind of nippy out here, you know.”
I kept my expression neutral but said, “You’re not a very patient man, are you? You want what you want when you want it.”
He blinked, clearly having no answer.
“Look, Jeffrey, I’m not a reporter at your paper. If you require my investigative services, you should pay me. At the very least I need to know what I’m getting myself into.”
“You’re right.” He dug into his pocket and with a grin pulled out a five-dollar bill. “It’s all I’ve got.”
“A five-spot at midnight. What kind of girl do you think I am?” I grinned back, closed the door, unlatched the chain, and let him in.
He looked sheepish as he crossed the threshold. “I can’t seem to get things right between us.”
“Ain't that the truth,” I agreed. “You want to tell me what we’re apparently collaborating on?”
His features rearranged themselves into a serious expression. “I’ve looked everywhere for Annie, but I keep reaching dead ends.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “It’s not that I’m digging up good news or bad news. I’m not unearthing anything .”
I noted the worry in his eyes and the way his shoulders stooped. “You really care about this woman,” I said, my voice carrying a trace of envy. How I’d love to be loved like that.
“I do,” he said simply.
“Okay.” I turned and walked into my living room. He followed and sat on the only chair. I flopped back onto the couch. “Fill me in on anything about your search that you didn’t already tell me.”
“I think you know just about everything now.”
“Who else is looking for Annie?”
“I don’t think anyone.” His brows lowered in concentration. “Why do you ask?”
“Something Sloane said about others looking for her.” I called up the video on my phone and handed it to Jeffrey.
His eyes focused on the screen with a single-minded intensity. “He’s lying.”
“How can you tell?”
Jeffrey pointed to the phone. “He’s not making eye contact when he tells you he doesn’t know where Annie is. And look how he abruptly stands, trying to get you away from him as quickly as he can? I interview scum like this nearly every day of my life.” Jeffrey looked like he wanted to spit. “The store clerk who claims he never slipped his hand in the till, or the nice guy who declares he didn’t batter his bloodied girlfriend.”
I nodded. “What he did inadvertently confirm is that someone else is looking for her.”
“Maybe a friend or her sister?”
I stared at him. “Annie has a sister?”
He nodded. “Her name is Cynthia Saunders. I don’t know their family dynamic. I see no indication that Brian Sloane ever visits her. When I paid Cynthia a visit and explained I was a friend looking for Annie, she told me to go to hell and slammed the door in my face. Just like the brother did to you. I’ve been driving by her house each day for weeks now. I usually go in the early morning or on my way to my shift in the evening, looking for anything out of the ordinary. All I ever see is Cynthia and her husband leaving the place or coming home. Sometimes they’re together, but usually they’re alone. He leaves and returns at about the same time each day, which would indicate an off-site job, but her comings and goings are sporadic. Cynthia either works from home or doesn’t have a job.”
“Anyone else with her, like kids?”
“No.” He yawned. “I’ve tried to get my buddy in the police department to check out her house, but without cause, he won’t go near the place.”
My eyes widened. “I’m glad to hear that. Officers aren’t spies.”
“I know.” He shook his head. “But it’s been weeks since Annie took off. I’m desperate. And I think the sister’s on to me. I’m pretty sure she recognizes my Jeep. I’ve seen the curtains in her front window flutter a few times when I’ve driven by.”
“Are Annie and Cynthia close?”
Jeffrey looked toward the kitchen, his eyes unfocused. “Annie and I didn’t have that kind of relationship.”
I scrunched my nose. “What do you mean?”
He looked back at me. “We seldom talked about anyone else. The two of us were caught in a maelstrom of our own making.”
“Volatile?”
“Only in the sense that it was explosive. Like a confetti bomb detonating every time we were together.” Jeffrey looked at me, his eyes shining in the dim light cast from my end-table lamp. “You know, new love and all that.”
My face reddened. It had been such a long time since I’d felt that way about Tim. Maybe I’d never experienced such all-consuming enchantment. It was uncomfortable to think about.
I cleared my throat. “Where does Cynthia Saunders live?”
“Not far from here. Just on the other side of your neighborhood.”
“Is that so?” I sat up, a plan instantly forming in my mind. Cynthia Saunders had better ensure her door-slamming hand was primed; she was about to get another visitor.