Page 74 of I Know She Was There

“Yeah, more than a month ago. Turned up nothing. How did your meeting with the esteemed Brian Sloane go?”

I ignored the question, preferring to hit him with one of my own: “Why didn’t you tell me you’d gone there? That you’d met Annie’s brother?”

“I didn’t want to bias you.”

“Bias me? What does that mean?”

“I wanted you to go in fresh, with no preconceived notions about the man or their practice. Were you able to record the encounter on your phone?”

An unwelcome tightness radiated from throat to chest. “You’re not sharing everything with me, Jeffrey, are you?”

Silence greeted me for a few beats. Eventually, he said, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Not only did I walk into that law firm blind, you never even told me Annie’s real name, or shared the fact that it was also her practice. Why would you withhold that information?”

“I just told you why.”

“I know what you told me, I’m just not convinced it’s the truth.”

“Okay,” he paused. “What can I say to convince you?”

“I’m not sure you can. I’ll call you back later.” I clicked off, anger roiling in my chest. Jeffrey was underestimating me, like Tim always had. If he’d already been rebuffed at the law office, was he hoping I’d have better luck? Probably. News reporters had to be flexible if they were going to get the story, right? If following all leads didn’t get results, perhaps reexamining the situation from a different angle might be successful. He’d seen opportunity in my predicament. Maybe he’d even created an issue where there was none, to spur me into action. After all, Tim had always maintained my mother died with very little money. It could be true.

But what if it wasn’t?

* * *

It was nearly midnight when the insistent pounding on my front door made me startle on the sofa, where I’d fallen asleep. Instantly awake, I stared at the built-in clock at the upper right corner of my television screen, above a high-speed car chase splayed across the TV’s other 32 inches. Recalling Mary’s mystery man who preferred unannounced visits after dark, I dropped to the floor, snatching the cell phone off my coffee table and pressing the telephone icon on the display screen.

“Caroline?” called a familiar voice, just as my pointer finger hovered over the nine, to be followed by two ones. “Are you there? We need to talk.”

Jeffrey.

I clutched the phone as I stood and made my way to the front door but didn’t open it. “What are you doing here at this time of night?” I demanded through the wooden barrier, my voice gruff.

“I tried calling you, ten times. Why didn’t you answer me?”

I’d turned my phone silencer on after his fourth attempt. “I wasn’t in the mood to talk.”

“Are you going to leave me standing out here all night? That’s what I’ll do. I’m not leaving.”

I almost smiled at his strategy. Hadn’t I planned the same action when I’d stood on his doorstep?

“What is so urgent that you must talk to me in the middle of the night?” I asked, opening my door but keeping the chain in place so he could only see a thin slice of me.

“You’re pissed at me, and you have every right to be.”

“Go on,” I said, not moving.

He tilted his head, looking exasperated. “It’s getting kind of nippy out here, you know.”

I kept my expression neutral but said, “You’re not a very patient man, are you? You wantwhatyou wantwhenyou want it.”

He blinked, clearly having no answer.

“Look, Jeffrey, I’m not a reporter at your paper. If you require my investigative services, you should pay me. At the very least I need to know what I’m getting myself into.”

“You’re right.” He dug into his pocket and with a grin pulled out a five-dollar bill. “It’s all I’ve got.”

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