Chapter Four
Colby Agency Safe House
Leah stood on the small balcony, enjoying the pleasant view and the morning air. She could stand here for hours. Maybe that would help her mind relax and stop spinning.
Isla still hadn’t called, and Leah had left her another voicemail.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. She and Isla hadn’t been out of contact for this long since their friendship began three years ago.
Isla was in the final weeks of her first year of medical school and working part-time at the Northwestern Memorial ER.
Leah had just gotten the job at the library.
Her first two years in Chicago, she’d been thankful for her job as a barista at a corner coffee shop near her very modest studio.
Another one of Isla’s friends had frequented that same library for the workshops.
Often, that friend would drag Isla along with her and the two would go for a drink or dinner afterward.
On one of those occasions, Isla had invited Leah to join the two of them.
She and Isla had become close friends very quickly.
The instant Isla found out where Leah lived, she insisted on having her move in with her.
It was true that the other neighborhood wasn’t the best, but Leah hadn’t minded.
She was spending all her time at work or at school, so she never really had time to notice.
Still, the prospect of moving into Isla’s much nicer apartment in such a great neighborhood had been an offer too good to turn down.
From that point forward, they shared everything.
Isla wouldn’t just vanish without saying anything unless something was very wrong.
She certainly wouldn’t have anything to do with whatever happened to Raymond. Isla was going to be a doctor. She was in her final year of med school, for God’s sake. Why would she throw it all away at this stage, when she was so near the finish line?
The concept made no sense at all.
Leah exhaled a big breath and did what she had to do. She couldn’t put off any longer going downstairs and facing whatever music fate planned to play for her today. Somehow she would get through it.
She checked her phone once more in the hope that she’d somehow missed the alert indicating Isla had sent a text message or left a voicemail.
Nothing from her friend. Nothing from anyone, not even Detective Lambert—the latter actually being a relief.
Leah exhaled a big breath and tucked her phone into the back pocket of her jeans.
Thankfully, there were extra charging bases and cords here, so she was able to plug up her phone last night without the added trouble of stopping for a new accessory.
This safe house came with everything, apparently.
She closed the French doors and walked through the bedroom. The bed had been so comfortable, and still she’d hardly slept. How could she, with all the questions and worries whirling in her head? How had her life become this series of out-of-control elements so quickly?
She glanced at herself in the mirror as she passed the dresser.
An elastic she’d forgotten about had been hiding in the bottom of her purse, so it was a ponytail day.
She’d tucked her plain white T-shirt into her jeans and donned her favorite sneakers.
After all that had happened, she decided casual was the theme until this was done.
Worrying about fashion or makeup or any of those usual everyday issues was out the window.
This was way bigger than all those petty concerns.
Her fingers slipped along the sleek railing as she descended the stairs.
Such a beautiful old house. She would love to own a brownstone or greystone one of these days—a pipe dream, of course.
Her father would say the architecture was befitting an English lit professor.
A smile tugged at her lips for a moment before the memory of that devastating loss intruded.
She would get through this, and she would make her father proud. Coming this far had been much too hard to allow anything to get in her way now.
Funny, she mused, if she’d just kept her head down and focused on work and her education, she wouldn’t be in this predicament. Evidently, her ability to choose relationship material—or even date material—was seriously lacking.
But then, she hadn’t actually done the choosing, had she? She’d allowed her friends to talk her into this one.
Still, it was her decision, ultimately. There was no one to blame except herself.
Isla would never have suggested Raymond Douglas if she’d suspected for a moment he was involved with bad people.
She hadn’t seen him in ages herself. Perhaps he had changed since she’d known him before.
Maybe the trouble that had found him in that restaurant kitchen was part of the reason he was now divorced.
People changed, and sometimes not for the better.
When she was at the bottom of the stairs, the smell of freshly brewed coffee drew her to the kitchen. But it was the basket of muffins and scones on the island that had her mouth really watering.
“Good morning.” Owen lifted his mug of coffee in a salute. “I hope you slept well.”
“Good morning.” Leah picked up a scone and bit into it. Warm, fruity—orange and cranberry—and so, so good. She chewed, moaned. “Did you bake these?” She licked her lips. “If you did, I might just have to keep you forever.”
He chuckled. Shook his head.
It was at that exact moment she realized how her comment sounded. “I mean, they’re just so good.” She took another bite to prevent having to say more and putting her foot further into her mouth.
“I laugh,” he explained, “because the idea that I baked anything other than ready-made pizza is funnier than you know. I’m great with simple stuff, but not so much with real baking—or cooking, for that matter. I had the basket delivered by a favorite bakery of mine.”
She relaxed, grateful that he wasn’t completely perfect. “This scone is to die for.”
He smiled. “I’m glad. I wasn’t sure if you were a protein-only breakfast person. Or maybe all egg whites and guacamole toast or something like that.”
Leah was the one laughing now. “Hardly. That would be Isla. She is the clean eater. I just eat what I like, even if it isn’t good for me.”
The mention of her friend’s name turned the delicious bite of scone to sand in her mouth.
“I take it she hasn’t contacted you.”
Leah shook her head. “I’m really worried at this point. This is not like her at all.”
“Have you met her family? Do they live in the area?”
“Arlington Heights. And yes, I’ve been to dinner with her mother many times. Her father was never in the picture. She does have a brother, but he lives in New York. I could call him to see if he’s heard from her. He’s much older than Isla, so they aren’t really close.”
Owen considered the information, then suggested, “I think a cold call to the mother would be the most helpful route.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Leah abandoned the remainder of her scone to make herself a cup of coffee.
She added a little cream and savored the smooth taste.
Then she returned to the island and finished off the scone.
When she’d devoured the last crumb, she realized he was watching her.
She swallowed, grabbed her cup with both hands and took a sip.
“Before we get going this morning,” he said, “I wanted to explain that your participation in the investigation is optional—entirely up to you. If you’d like, you can stay here. Catch up on your reading or just relax. It’s not necessary for you to be involved in the legwork.”
She hesitated a moment before responding.
The option of just relaxing was appealing, no question, but she couldn’t do it.
She had to be part of this. This was her life.
Her friend could be in trouble. She couldn’t sit around and just wait to see what happened.
Not as long as she had a choice, anyway.
“I would prefer to be involved.” She really hoped he wasn’t going to be disappointed by her answer. She needed to do this.
His lips quirked in a small smile. “I expected as much, but I had to make the offer.”
Relief rushed through her. “Since I’m going to be working rather than relaxing, I think I need another scone for fuel.” She shot him a look. “Don’t judge.”
He gave another deep chuckle. “I had two of those large muffins myself. Fuel is a good thing. And for the record, I never judge.”
Handsome and kind too. Sigh. Why was it she’d never run into a guy like him before?
A mental eye roll followed the thought. Because she’d kept her head down and her attention on work since pulling her act together five years ago.
Prior to that, her decisions had been a little hit or miss, as far as making good ones was concerned.
In truth, she was really rusty in the dating field. Her instincts weren’t so keen.
Rather than continue to berate herself, Leah concentrated on her coffee, nibbled on that second scone.
Then she shared some additional information she’d remembered while she lay not sleeping last night.
“Isla told me that Raymond has a mother in an assisted-living facility, and she wondered sometimes if the reason he was divorced was because he spent too much time catering to her. Apparently, there was some discontent related to the mother in his marriage. We could talk to his mother, if you think it might be helpful.”
“According to the extensive background search done by the agency—I received a copy of it early this morning—his mother has advanced Alzheimer’s. She’s in a very upscale facility, and I have my doubts as to whether we would be allowed a visit, or if she would be able to help if we were.”
Well, there went that theory.
Again, Leah considered how much she appreciated having the Colby Agency on her side. She had a feeling that finding her friend, the real story about Raymond and her way out of this depended on the man watching her right now.
Morris Residence
Patton Avenue