Chapter Five
After deciding not to walk to Kage’s apartment from the nightclub just yet, Rochelle drove them to Justina’s workplace. Care to Remember wasn’t exactly a veiled name for a memory-care facility that specialized in dementia “residents,” as the website had called them.
The outside of the building had been made to look homey, with a wraparound porch and rocking chairs that had been painted white. Ferns still hung despite the last couple of cold snaps. There was a small parking lot to the left of the cobalt-blue-sided two-story with white shutters.
Inside, the aesthetic was colder. White tile floors could best be described as hospital-ready.
White walls were a stark contrast to the warmth of the exterior.
A bar-height counter greeted them a few steps inside, creating a barrier.
A line of fold-up wooden chairs against the wall beside the door made for an uncomfortable waiting area, lending a dentist-office look to the place.
This seemed like where Rochelle would go to get a filling rather than a home where she would want to visit a loved one who may or may not remember her on a given day.
Looks can be deceiving.
“How can I help you today?” asked a young brunette from behind the counter. She was barely tall enough to see from the other side.
Camden stepped forward first and produced a badge. “My name is Camden Remington, and I’m with the US Marshals Service. My colleague here is Detective Rochelle Paddock with Austin PD.”
The brunette’s smile faded. On closer inspection, the lines bracketing her mouth made her look like she was in her late twenties or early thirties. Bags were underneath her eyes, making it appear as though she hadn’t slept well in recent nights. Her name badge read Ally.
Ally leaned forward with a concerned look on her face. “Is this about Justina?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Camden said as Ally’s gaze looked them over, likely assessing whether they could be trusted. Her suspicion might also have to do with her wondering if she was a suspect. Had she done something wrong? Because a flash of guilt crossed her features.
“Have they…? Have you…? Is she…?”
“No, ma’am,” Camden answered. “That’s why we’re here today. We’d like to talk to you about Ms. Worth.”
Ally’s gaze widened. “I’m not sure I can help, but I’ll do my best.”
“How would you describe your relationship with Ms. Worth?” Camden began with the standard line of questioning.
“I knew her from this place,” Ally responded.
“Did the two of you ever talk on a personal level?” he continued.
“Not really,” Ally said. “I mean, no one really ever talked to Justina. She kept to herself mostly.”
“No lunchroom discussions?” he asked.
“I know she cared for her elderly father, who passed away recently,” Ally informed them. “Justina brought her lunch from home. Usually, it was a sandwich and chips. She sat alone in the lunchroom where the staff eats and didn’t talk much.”
“Would you consider her to be unfriendly?” Camden asked as Rochelle studied Ally, searching for signs of deception. It was a job requirement and a hazard at the same time. It made trusting people difficult when you were always waiting, watching for the lie out of habit.
“Not really,” Ally said after careful consideration.
Her gaze drifted up and to the right, which was common when someone tried to recall information.
She twisted her fingers together and shifted her weight, which was most likely a sign of nerves.
People often became nervous when being interviewed by the law, but that didn’t mean they were lying.
“I’d say she was just the quiet type. You know?
Someone who didn’t fit in with most of the others. ”
“How so?” Camden cocked his head to one side. His calm, engaging expression was disarming. He would have made a great detective with the way he made others relax when speaking to them.
“Well, the way she dressed, for one,” Ally explained.
“Her clothes were old-fashioned, homemade looking, and like she was a pilgrim on her way to church.” Ally fidgeted a little more.
Was she embarrassed at the description, or that she was one of the people who’d judged Justina harshly for her clothing?
Maybe even made fun of her behind her back?
“Is it safe to assume no one attempted to be friends with Ms. Worth at work?” Camden asked.
“She was…” Ally made eyes at Camden. “You know…stiff.”
If Justina had been the quiet type who hadn’t gotten out much or had below-average social skills, she might have been an easier target for the perp.
“Justina was a Goody Two-shoes,” Ally added as though that explained everything and gave those around her a free pass to dismiss her.
She put her hands flat on the counter now.
“Surprised the heck out of me and everyone else to find out she went to a bar.” She snorted.
“Can you even imagine someone like her just walking up to the bar?” The smile wiped from her face when she got a good look at Camden’s response—stoic, a hint of disdain flashing across his features.
Rochelle wanted to correct the woman and say that, technically, it was a nightclub.
However, the point being made was that going out to a place where alcohol was served hadn’t been Justina’s normal behavior.
The way Ally talked about Justina reminded Rochelle of being back in high school and being told not to sit at the cheerleaders table on her first day at a new school.
She’d resisted for the first quarter of the year and had been bullied the rest of her freshman year after refusing to move.
The strange part had been the cheerleaders weren’t the ones who’d done the bullying.
They’d snubbed her by refusing to acknowledge her presence.
Humiliating? Yes. Other students had decided to bully her for taking a stance, which had made high school even more hellish.
As a result, Rochelle couldn’t stand snobs or bullies to this day.
At least Ally caught on fast. She stood up straight, smoothed her hands across the countertop as though wiping off dust, and said, “But we’re all broken up about the fact she’s missing.”
Camden gave a slight nod, and his gaze intensified. “Where were you on the night of Justina’s disappearance?”
Ally brought a hand up to cover a gasp. “What? Why?”
She wasn’t good at lying. Good to know.
“Just answer the question, ma’am,” Camden said in a voice that could charm even the most skeptical person. It was almost as though he’d flipped a switch, except he’d done it so expertly, Ally didn’t pick up on it. Instead, she smiled and twirled a strand of hair around her index finger.
“I was home with my feet up on the coffee table, watching a show on Netflix,” she admitted, blinking her eyes a little more rapidly. Either fear or attraction caused her eyelashes to flutter—most likely a decent amount of both.
“Which one, if you don’t mind my asking,” he continued, unfazed. The man was good. Rochelle would give him that. He had a way of lowering someone’s guard without them being the wiser.
Good to know. She could see herself falling under his spell with the way his deep timbre washed over her, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake.
“Which what?” Ally asked, momentarily distracted. Fake?
Was she covering for something? Someone?
“The Netflix show,” Camden confirmed.
“Do you want to know what I think is possible?” Rochelle asked. She’d been quiet up to this point, but it was time to play a little game of good cop, bad cop.
Ally blinked at her.
“Maybe you and a few coworkers saw Justina at the club on the night she disappeared,” Rochelle began.
Ally’s hand-wringing picked up pace. “You thought it was so funny that a ‘good girl’ like her would be out having a drink at a bar, so you or one of your friends approached her. Maybe even asked her to join you.” This scenario might be unlikely, but it was possible.
“Maybe someone thought it would be cute to slip something inside her drink for ‘funzies.’” She made air quotes around the last word.
“Then one of the guys decides to walk her out to the parking lot once the drug kicks in.”
“Hold on there.” Ally was shaking her head, but a flash of guilt crossed her features. “I’ve always been a good employee here, and I don’t hang out with coworkers outside of work.”
“She’s stumbling at this point, but you guys think it’s funny, don’t you,” Rochelle continued, unfazed by the protest. It was half-hearted at best. Plus, Rochelle noted that Ally didn’t deny being at the club.
Ally squinted as though she couldn’t stand to see images of what happened next.
“Playing a practical joke on a puritan like Justina Worth for kicks and grins sure would be a lot of fun to some people, wouldn’t it?” Rochelle asked.
“I’m a good person,” Ally argued.
Again, she didn’t deny it. Instead, she was trying to deflect from the subject.
“And then what happened?” Rochelle continued.
“Did someone take the joke too far? Give Justina Worth too much? So much so she became sloppy?” Rochelle paused.
She remembered Justina looking up at the camera moments before she’d left the club with a smile on her face.
A big smile. “And then she became a liability, right? Too many people saw you together inside the club, so you had one of the guys in your group escort her out to the parking lot.”
Ally shook her head emphatically. “I would never do anything like that to another human being.”
“Like what?” Rochelle persisted.
Ally was beginning to crack.
And then, she said, “I want to speak to a lawyer.”
“As long as you didn’t do anything wrong, there’s no need for legal counsel,” Camden soothed, figuring this was a good time for the “good cop,” aka him, to show up. He put a hand up to calm Ally before turning to Rochelle, who’d acted brilliantly in her role as “bad cop.”
“I, uh, just don’t like where any of this is going,” Ally managed to say as her gaze darted toward the exit behind them. Looking for an escape? “I’m not a bad person.”
“No one said you are,” he responded in the calmest voice he could find.
At best, Ally had made fun of her coworker behind her back and possibly to her face.
At worst, she was involved in the kidnapping of Justina Worth.
Neither scenario made her likely to be nominated for sainthood.
However, only one scenario made her a criminal.
“We’re just looking for information so we can find Justina alive. ”
“Okay, sure,” Ally conceded. “I want to cooperate, but I don’t know anything.”
“Is your boss in today?” Rochelle cut in. Those words sent Ally’s blood pressure soaring, judging by the way her pupils dilated and how she started blinking rapidly. Again, her gaze cut to the door behind them.
“Yes,” she said, her voice cracking. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll run back to Mr. Marples’s office and ask him to come out.”
It was the best way to get permission to speak to the other employees and possibly use an office for privacy.
Ally disappeared.
“What is your impression?” Rochelle whispered.
“A lot of folks are nervous talking to the law,” he conceded.
“I’d like proof she lied about being home and watching TV.
We need to check into her background to see if she has any priors.
” Some people wore masks. They came across as upstanding citizens at first blush.
Then, Camden checked into their background as related to a case and could be knocked on his backside with what he found.
It reminded him that lying came easy to some.
Not for him. He could be honest to a fault.
It wasn’t always a gift. In fact, it had made his life more difficult on more than one occasion, especially when it had come to his love life.
He couldn’t lie and tell someone he loved them when he didn’t.
He couldn’t lie and tell someone they had a future if they didn’t.
And he couldn’t lie and tell someone he could ever see himself settling down.
He’d been burned early on in a relationship and had no intention of touching that hot stove again. Honesty had kept him single for thirty-five years.
But he’d never met anyone like Rochelle before. She was honest, intelligent, and beautiful from the inside out. She made him want to go out for coffee and ask questions. What was her background? Was she single? What made her tick? Favorite food? Cocktail? Way to spend a quiet afternoon?
Was his opinion changing about long-term relationships? Or was Rochelle special?
Camden feared the latter. Feared it because there was no way either would cross a professional line.
Dating at work wasn’t just frowned upon.
It could ruin his relationship with Austin PD, a department he’d worked closely with on more than one occasion.
He needed to keep allies in all departments, not make enemies.
Too many of the women he’d dated in the past had walked away hating him for him to risk it happening with Rochelle.
Could they become friends? Go out for an occasional drink? Catch a movie together?
It never hurt to ask.
“I agree with your assessment,” Rochelle said, breaking into his reverie. “She’s embarrassed about her actions or hiding something.”
“Some people never outgrow a high-school mentality of social cliques and bullying,” he conceded.
“Shame,” she said.
The real shame was just how much Camden wanted to get to know the detective, and realizing he would never get the chance. He was married to his work. Soon, he would be taking his turn at the hospital and the paint-horse ranch his grandparents had built from the ground up.
Making time for friendships wasn’t a priority to him right now.
Then again, maybe this was the exact right time to find someone to lean on. Could it be Rochelle?