Page 14 of Nine Lives

“I’ll call her.”

“So how many of the people on the list have you found?” the detective asked.

“Everyone but Jack Radebaugh, Alison Horne, and Jay Coates.”

“Oh, really. That was fast. Anyone know anything?”

“Like I said, far as I know we’re all strangers. Nothing in common except for the list.”

“Well, you do have something in common then.”

“Right. I suppose we do,” Jessica said.

“There’s a Jay Coates who’s an actor in Hollywood. He has a website.”

“Oh, you’ve been looking into it, too?”

“A little bit. I had some free time today, so I thought I’d google the names, see what came up.”

“I did leave a message for Jay Coates the actor,” Jessica said, “but haven’t heard back. It’s earlier in California so you never know. He might be at work.”

“You think it’s him?”

“Yeah, I do, but I don’t know why. It’s partly his age. So far everyone I’ve identified seems to be in their late thirties.”

“Except for Frank Hopkins.”

“Yes, except for Frank Hopkins.”

Detective Hamilton said, “What about Jack Radebaugh. No luck on him yet?”

“No luck. Did you google him, as well?”

“I did. There weren’t many. The big name was a kind of famous writer.”

“I talked with him. He didn’t get the letter in the mail, and he didn’t know anyone else who was on the list.”

“How old was he?”

“He’s seventy.”

There was a slight pause, and Jessica added, “If you think of anything else I should know about Hopkins, you’ll call me?”

“Sure. Let me get your numbers.”

After exchanging office and cell numbers they each hung up, Jessica sitting quietly for a moment, trying to dislodge whatever memory she had of the Windward Resort from her mind. It had rung a bell. A distant, distant bell.

She’d been to the southern coast of Maine at least twice in her life, but as far as she knew, she’d never been to Kennewick. She’d been to Camden for a very rainy Memorial Day weekend with Justin, her previous boyfriend. That was about three years ago. Prior to that she’d gone on a family vacation when she was thirteen years old—she remembered it because it was the first family summer vacation she’d gone on during which she wanted to be back home, hanging with friends. Her mom had rented a house in Kennebunkport that had been a disappointment. It was near a beach, but the beach was rocky, the water ice cold even in August. She remembered their driving up and down the coast to visit shops and ice cream parlors in other small towns. And she remembered that her dad had been in a particularly mean-spirited mood while they’d been there. She only really remembered that because her mother had blown up one night at dinner and said that she was sick of living with two selfish teenagers. Had they visited Kennewick on that trip? She couldn’t remember.

“Go home,” Aaron said from the doorway.

Jessica turned in a daze to him. “I will. I want to make just one more call.”

“Okay. Then I’m coming with you. I’m your escort.”

“You’re kidding me?”

“I’m not kidding. If you don’t want it to be me, then I’ll get someone else, but until I find out exactly what’s going on, I don’t want to take any chances.”

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