Page 117 of Another Girl Lost

I hesitated. They were the last people I wanted to deal with now. I opened the doors. “Detectives.”

He’d removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves past his elbows. Dark hair sprinkled over his forearms down to an old black wristwatch. Margo’s cheeks were slightly flushed, but otherwise she looked cool and calm.

“Scarlett, did we catch you at a bad time?” he asked.

He used my first name intentionally to mimic a nonexistent connection between us, I knew. “I was working. What do you need?”

“Can we come in? It’s hot as hell out here.”

I stepped aside. Tension rippled as they walked past. It felt like a deliberate invasion. They were sending a message that they were in charge. They wanted me off guard.

“You bailed Tiffany Patterson out of jail today,” Dawson said.

I glanced at Margo, who studied my place with keen interest. “I did. I gave her a meal here, let her nap while I washed her clothes, and then dropped her off at her car.”

“Where was the car?” Dawson asked.

“It was parked off of Shore Drive on Nineteenth Bay Street near a small brick house. What’s this about?”

“When did you become her emergency contact?” Margo asked.

“I didn’t realize I was until she called.”

“When did she reappear in your life?” Dawson asked.

“Six months ago. She was sleeping in the doorway across the street. Like my number, my address is on my website.”

“Why did she come looking for you?” Margo asked.

“I don’t think she had anyone else.”

“If I didn’t have anyone, I’m not sure I’d seek help from someone who almost sold me out,” Dawson said.

“It was a surprise to me,” I said.

“How many times has she shown up here?” he asked.

“Three or four times. I’ve tried to get her into a rehab program, but she doesn’t trust them. Where did you find her car?”

“Close to where you left her,” Dawson said. “Did she tell you where she was going?”

I stilled. What did he want? “I’m not in the mood for guessing games.”

“You’re going to have to play along a little longer,” Margo said.

“How did Tanner spot Tiffany? What was it about her that attracted him?” Dawson asked.

The past rolled closer to me, like storm-ripe waves. “He wanted the waitress who had hair as red as fire.”

“And when did he tell you he’d taken Sandra Taylor?” he asked.

“I never heard Sandra’s name until you brought it up several days ago.”

“But you knew there was another girl in the house.” He flipped through notes. “You called herthe Other Girlwhen you were interviewed ten years ago and when we spoke.”

I glanced quickly at Margo, but her face remained stoic. “I’d heardDellamention there’d been another girl.”

“But Della was never found,” he pressed.

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