Page 73 of I Know She Was There

He paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he read the screen. I wished the laptop had been angled enough for me to read it as well. He looked up at me and placed his hands on the desk. “May I see the items?”

Keeping my handbag steady, I pulled my wallet out of the center pocket, dug my license and social security cards out, and held them out to him.

Instead of taking them he merely glanced at the cards spread across my palm and nodded. “I only have your husband listed as the contact, so what I can share is relatively little, Mrs. Case, but it hardly matters at this point. All the money has been transferred out of this account.”

I felt a sickening twist in my stomach. “All the... Could you tell me where it’s gone?”

Sloane pursed his lips. “I’m afraid I’ve told you all I know. My sister handled this account and she’s not here. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment in a few moments. I suggest you ask your husband about the account.” He stood.

I stood as well. “My husband is presently indisposed. That’s why I’m here.” I tried to keep the annoyance out of my tone. This wasmymother’s account, not Tim’s. “When will your sister be in the office?”

“I don’t know.” He looked toward the door. “Annie’s on sabbatical.”

A sudden pressure squeezed my chest. “Annie?”

Sloane looked as though he were suppressing a sigh as he glanced at me. “Yes, her nickname. It’s short for Stephanie.”

“Annie Connolly,” I said. Jeffrey’s strange reaction when I’d mentioned the name of the law firm suddenly made sense. “I’ve been looking for her.”

Sloane’s gaze turned sharp. “Why is that?”

“Because she’s missing, isn’t she?”

“Listen, Mrs. Case,” he began, eyebrows lowering and voice steely, “I’ll tell you what I told the others who came here searching for her: I don’t know where she is, okay? She’s an adult, free to go where she likes, do what she chooses. She’s entitled to her privacy. And I am not my sister’s keeper. Now, if you don’t mind, I must insist you leave.”

I stood up, my mind spinning. But one thought trumped the rest. “She’s been gone for more than a month.”

“I’m fully aware of that. She informed me before she left that she’d be gone indefinitely.” He took a deep breath. “Now, if you don’t mind, my patience with you is wearing thin.”

“Fine.” I backed away and turned toward the door, Brian Sloane hot on my heels. I stepped through the doorway and paused, looking back at the lawyer. “I find your lack of curiosity about your sister’s whereabouts stunning. How do you know she’s okay?”

“That is none of your concern,” he said, closing the door in my face. I looked around the waiting room, which was empty except for the woman behind the desk. She gave me a nasty look, her face reddening.

As I walked toward my car, I could feel the receptionist’s glare on the back of my head. I hurried around the front of the Honda, looking back at the building I’d just exited. Sure enough, a pair of heavily rimmed eyeglasses stared out at me from behind the window.

I sat for a moment in my car, readjusting my cell phone and turning over my conversation with Brian Sloane in my head. Stephanie Sloane was Annie Connolly. No wonder my searches for her always came up empty. And her brother mentioned others were looking for Annie. He was clearly angry with me for asking about her. How did all this tie together?

I rubbed a finger over my upper and lower lips to remove the hastily applied lipstick I’d slicked on before stepping into the law firm, thinking it would make me look more professional. There was something else at play, but I couldn’t access what it was. Staring across the empty lot, I pictured Brian Sloane’s angry face as he told me to leave his office. There had been something in his eyes, something in addition to the anger. I glanced at my own eyes in my rearview mirror, seeing the same look harbored in their depths. Fear.

I remembered what Dr. Ellison had told me about anger. How it was an excellent cover-up for fear. Could Brian Sloane have been afraid that something might have happened to his sister? Or did he know exactly where she was? Maybe he was involved in her disappearance—if that’s what it was—or perhaps he’d realized how much danger she could be in. Did my speculations even matter? The guy would never talk to me again.

I cursed my magical ability to alienate others in record time. But then I remembered that Jeffrey had circled back to me, even apologized. For the first time in my life, it occurred to me that maybe the people who’d pulled away from me did so becausethey’dbeen the flawed ones. Why did I always assume it was me? After all, my mother had turned away because of her own fragilities. And Tim was in the wrong. He’d lied about Emmy’s accident and could very well be plotting against me. But now I was building a case against him.

Maybe I wasn’t as unlovable as I’d assumed. Perhaps I’d just had the misfortune of having unloving people thrust upon me.

CHAPTER37

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 23

Ithought about Brian Sloane incessantly, pacing endless laps around my coffee table. Did he truly have no knowledge of his sister’s whereabouts? It seemed improbable. As unlikely as his supposed lack of familiarity with my mother’s estate. How could siblings run a law practice together without knowing anything about each other’s cases?

I must have legal options if Sloane couldn’t—or wouldn’t—share the details of my mother’s financial holdings. I’d investigate that issue next week, but this evening my mind overflowed with thoughts of Annie Connolly. Where did she go? Or hadn’t she gone anywhere? Perhaps she was still in town, residing in a shallow grave? I recalled the fear in Sloane’s eyes, which quickly morphed intoanotherpair of eyes squinting into my high-intensity light beam. If Matt was actually Ray Connolly, it made sense he was hiding out in another empty home nearby. He could be close to his lover and keep an eye on the Pine Hill house. Monitoring police activity or observing anyone else snooping around the property. My heart thudded heavily. He’d probably seen me trespassing.

I pondered Sloane’s reference to “the others” who’d inquired about his sister. If Matt was Ray Connolly, he’d be seeking the whereabouts of his wife—or pretend to be. I was pretty sure of who else had sought out the lawyer. I whipped my cell phone from a pocket and scrolled through the contact list, pressing Jeffrey’s name.

When he answered, he didn’t bother with a proper greeting. “What have you got?” he asked. I felt like a fellow reporter updating him on a lead.

“Did you go to the offices of Sloane and Sloane looking for Annie?” I asked.

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