Chapter Thirteen
By three o’clock, Olivia pulled into the parking lot two offices away from Zoe’s studio complex. She parked her Prius partially behind a pickup truck. Wendy’s SUV was about two hundred feet away and barely visible.
She gestured to her niece. “Could you get the binoculars out of the glove box?”
In the passenger seat, Nicki opened the compartment and removed them. Instead of handing them over, she raised them to her eyes. “Nothing is happening.”
Olivia reclined her seat a few inches. “Keep watching. We’ll take turns. Watch the door, not her vehicle, in case someone picks her up.”
“Gotcha. I don’t really need these.”
“You will if we need to get a license plate or something like that.”
“Good point.”
Olivia closed her eyes. She’d barely slept the night before, but despite being exhausted, her mind whirled.
Ten minutes later, Nicki lowered the binoculars. “Stakeouts are boring.”
“I bought you coffee, or whatever that is.” Olivia gestured toward the tall, milkshake-like drink in the cupholder.
“It’s a Frappuccino.” Nicki picked it up and sucked on the straw.
“It’s a liquid candy bar.”
“It’s delicious.” Nicki slurped harder.
Olivia took a small sip of her tea, rationing her liquid consumption. She didn’t want to need a restroom if it wasn’t convenient. Her much younger niece had an iron bladder and had to have a giant container of water or other liquid in hand at every moment.
“I’ll take a turn.” Olivia held out a hand. “If Wendy is meeting someone at four o’clock, then we don’t have long to wait.”
Nicki sighed and placed the binoculars into Olivia’s palm. “Have at it.” She opened her phone and scrolled, then set it on her thigh. “Why were you doing the interview with Zoe? Did she pressure you into it?”
“No. It was my idea.”
“Why?”
“I was hoping it would help me put the incident behind me.”
“How is making your trauma public going to do that?” Nicki asked, but her voice held no criticism, only genuine concern.
“I’m not sure.” Olivia kept her eyes on the studio door. “It just feels right, like maybe I’ll be purging my shame.”
“Shame? Why would you have shame? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know that in my head, but my heart doesn’t believe it.”
“You were the victim.”
“I know it’s backward.” But shame was exactly what Olivia felt. “My therapist said it’s not unusual. Many crime victims have internalized guilt. They question what they might have done differently to prevent the crime from happening.”
“I’ve heard other people victim blame, but I’ve never heard a victim blame themselves.”
“The way people respond to trauma doesn’t always make sense,” Olivia said.
“But if I go public with the details, there’s no room for speculation.
” She’d hoped that the chatter would die down three years after her kidnapping, but the media continued to rehash the story.
Olivia didn’t want her next book project to be overshadowed by her own past. Of course, first she had to have a next book project.
She hadn’t even begun to research possible cases.
“So by doing the interview, you hope to take back control of the narrative.”
“Yes. I think that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“Cool.” Nicki took the lid off her cup and chugged the last of the whipped cream. Then she slid the cup into the console holder. “I was worried she was using you.”
“Zoe wouldn’t—” Olivia cut herself off. “I was going to say Zoe would never, but I guess I don’t know her as well as I thought I did.”
“Wendy’s leaving.” Nicki pointed across the parking lots, where Wendy was getting into her SUV.
Olivia set down the binoculars. She waited until Wendy began driving out of the lot before following her.
Wendy headed into the business district.
Nervous that she’d recognize the Prius, Olivia kept plenty of distance—and at least three vehicles—between them.
Maintaining distance and visibility was easy on the highway, but as they approached the main drag of Scarlet Falls, she had to drop back.
Wendy turned down a side street. Olivia switched on her blinker, but didn’t make the turn until she saw Wendy’s SUV disappear into a small parking lot that ran behind a strip center. Then Olivia made the turn and cruised past the lot’s entrance. “Can you see her?”
“Yep,” Nicki said. “She’s getting out of her SUV.”
Fifty feet down the street, Olivia slid into an empty space at the curb.
Nicki’s head swiveled. “She’s headed for the patio at Petie’s.”
Petie’s Bistro was a sandwich shop with a small dining room that spilled onto an expansive back patio. With the aid of awnings and portable heaters, Petie’s made outdoor dining popular even in winter. Olivia put the car in park and turned to look through the rear window. “I can’t see her.”
“She went behind that hedge.”
“We need to get closer.” Bringing her tea to look casual, Olivia stepped into the street and joined Nicki on the sidewalk.
The strip center held a used bookstore, a vintage clothing boutique, a Scoops homemade ice cream shop, and Petie’s. Of course, Nicki made a beeline for the ice cream shop. Scoops had a take-out window that always had a line. Today, a dozen people waited.
“You can’t be hungry,” Olivia said.
“You don’t have to be hungry to eat ice cream.” Nicki got into the queue. “Besides, the line is good cover. I mean, even if she sees us, we’re here for ice cream. Just a coincidence that she’s here too.”
Olivia had to admit she was right. From the line, they had a clear view of Petie’s patio. Wendy sat alone at a table, drinking from a mug, her eyes scanning the parking lot. She was clearly waiting for someone.
The line shuffled forward. The staff at Scoops were pros, and Olivia and Nicki faced the clerk over the counter in less than five minutes.
Nicki ordered three scoops of chocolate ice cream with multiple toppings.
Olivia passed. They stood partially behind a shrub.
Nicki ate her ice cream. Olivia sipped her tea as they watched Wendy’s table.
Wendy stood as a blond woman approached her. They shook hands and sat down. The blond woman set a tote bag on the patio next to her chair. The waitress approached and took her order.
After the waitress left, Wendy slid a folder from her own crossbody bag and handed it to the blonde. She opened it and flipped through the pages briefly. Looking up, she nodded, then slipped the folder into her tote bag.
“Do you know who that is?” Olivia whispered in Nicki’s ear.
“Nope.”
Facing away from Wendy, Olivia lifted her phone, angled it, and smiled, pretending to take a selfie of her and Nicki while actually snapping pics of Wendy and her tablemate over her shoulder.
“We’re going to find out.” The waitress brought the blond woman an iced beverage and a sandwich.
A few minutes later, Wendy drained her cup, rose, and left the table.
The blonde seemed content to finish her lunch alone.
“I’d like to know what Wendy gave her,” Nicki said.
“Me too.” Olivia held her cup out to Nicki. “Hold my tea.”
“What are you doing?” Nicki took the cup.
“Just wait here.” Olivia didn’t recognize the second woman.
So the woman likely wouldn’t know her either.
She circled the area and walked to Petie’s patio, past the Please Seat Yourself sign, and chose the seat behind the blonde.
Putting her back to her, she set her own bag at her feet, close to the blonde’s.
When the waitress came, she ordered a black coffee and said she was waiting for someone.
A phone rang behind her. The blonde answered the call.
Olivia lifted her own phone in front of her and checked out the blonde in the screen’s reflection.
The blonde was focused on her call. Lunchtime had passed, and the patio had mostly emptied out.
The waitress wasn’t looking. Olivia reached down, slid her hand into the blonde’s tote, and transferred the folder to her messenger bag.
Then she pretended to get a call, snatched up her phone, tossed a ten-dollar bill onto the table, and hurried away with her phone pressed to her ear.
She kept her back to the blonde as she walked away. Circling around the patio, she texted Nicki. Meet me at the Car.
With a confident and brisk stride, she left Petie’s and made her way to the Prius. Nicki was already waiting, Olivia’s tea in her hand. They slid into the car.
Nicki fastened her seat belt. “The way you stole that was pretty slick.”
Olivia tossed her bag into Nicki’s lap. “I’m not proud. I’m desperate.”
While Olivia drove away from the curb, Nicki opened the folder. “This is weird. It’s about a murder.”
“A murder?”
“Yes. The murder of Evan Brown.” Nicki flipped pages. “He disappeared thirty years ago from Summerton, New York. His remains were found last year when his car was pulled from a lake. The case is unsolved.” She lowered the folder. “Maybe this is another case Zoe was researching.”
“Could be. Dylan said she was there in May for a few days.” Olivia checked her rearview mirror, but no one was behind them. She exhaled and headed for home. “But why would Wendy be giving her case file to that blond woman?”
Nicki set the folder on her lap and pulled out her phone. “Let’s see if we can find out who she is.”
“Reverse image search?” Olivia asked.
“Yep.” Nicki scrolled, tapped, shook her head, and scrolled some more. “Aha! Found her!”
“Who is she?” Olivia glanced at Nicki.
“Well, this is super sus.” Nicki stabbed at her screen with a forefinger. “The bitch’s name is Melissa MacGuiness.”
“Who?”
“You’ve never heard of her?”
“No. Is she famous?” Olivia accelerated as they left town.
“She’s the host of In Our Backyard. It’s a true crime podcast.”
“Is she one of Zoe’s competitors?”