Page 128 of I'm Watching You

‘What about Nicole? Did she bring anyone in here?’

‘No. She’s barely getting used to the place herself.’

He considered what she’d said. ‘Does the property manager have to notify you when they come in?’

‘They’re supposed to. But the girls in the rental office are young and not so focused on their jobs.’

Zack’s face looked as if it had been carved from stone. ‘I’ll talk to the rental office. How many people know you legally changed your name when you turned eighteen?’

‘Since I returned to Richmond, I’ve told no one about my past except you. But I grew up in Ashland, and any one of the people there could have seen the article and recognized me.’

‘Have you had contact with anyone from the old days? Like Joel, maybe?’

‘How do you know about him?’

‘Warwick and I spoke to him the other day.’

She couldn’t be angry. He was being thorough. ‘I haven’t seen him since high school.’

‘He was worried about you.’

‘He was a good guy.’

He didn’t confirm or dispute the comment. ‘What about family?’

‘There wasn’t much family. My dad was an only child and his parents were gone by the time I was born. My mom’s parents were dead too. And her brother only saw her rarely.’ She stopped, remembering the dream she’d had last night. ‘I remember my uncle called my mom when I was about ten. Mom had lunch with him. My father was furious.’

‘Any pictures of your uncle or your parents?’

‘As a matter of fact, I found a few pictures the other night.’ She went to the closet below the stairs and pulled out the box of photos. She had to dig deep to find what she wanted. She handed Zack the grainy color photo. ‘It was taken on my parents’ back porch. That’s my mom and dad, me in the center, and my uncle on the end.’

Zack studied the picture. ‘He’s in a Navy uniform.’

‘Yes. That’s why he was away so much.’

‘What was your uncle’s name?’

‘Henry is all I remember.’

‘O’Neil?’

‘No. He and Mom were half brother and sister. They had different fathers. There was a fifteen-year age difference between them. I don’t remember his last name.’

‘Which would make him how old?’

‘Sixty-nine. Mom would have been fifty-four this year.’

As thirty loomed for her, she realized just how young her mother had been when she’d died.

He tucked the photo in his pocket. ‘Who is Claire Carmichael?’

The out-of-the-blue comment stunned her. ‘Claire? She runs a bookstore in San Francisco but also does a lot of volunteer work with battered women. She gave Nicole money so she could leave the city. Why?’

‘She was murdered on Tuesday.’

Grief washed over her. Claire and she had been good friends. They’d lost touch but she’d liked the woman immensely. ‘My God.’

‘Someone placed a call from her cell to your phone on the night she died. Tuesday night.’

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