Page 62 of Luck of the Devil
Relief swamped my head. Lisa Murphy was still going to help me.
Since I’d already decided that my goal was answers, not reporting her, I had no problem with that. Nevertheless, I waited a couple of seconds, not wanting to appear too eager or disingenuous.
I promise.
I texted the photo, and Lisa responded within seconds.
I don’t know who she is, BUT she looks familiar. Let me ponder on it a bit and maybe it will come to me.
Her response was better than nothing, but it also made it clear that the woman wasn’t one of my mother’s regular friends.
Then who was she? How did my mother meet her and why would my mother trust her enough to leave town with her?
All questions I didn’t have the answers to, but I’d find out. One way or the other.
“So?” Malcolm prodded.
I told him what she said while he kept his stoic gaze on the road.
“Do you think she really looked familiar or was she just saying that so you’ll keep your word to protect her niece?”
“Well, damn. I hadn’t considered that.”
He lifted his shoulder into a half shrug.
“What do you plan to do next?”
“Find Zoe’s number and give her a call.”
“Sounds like a good next step.”
After I opened my Skip Trace app, I looked up Zoe St. Martin in Jackson Creek. Information about her popped up within seconds. Only one phone was listed—unsurprisingly, a cell phone—and I called it. It went to voicemail. I hadn’t expected her to answer, given it was closing in on three and she worked in a doctor’s office. I was pretty sure they couldn’t carry their cell phones around and answer every call that came in. Still, I’d hoped to get ahold of her before Lisa warned her I was calling. I was more likely to get honest answers if I could catch her off guard.
Her voicemail message popped up, and a sweet, young voice said, “Hey! This is Zoe. I can’t chat right now, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Bye!”
I considered leaving a message, but I wasn’t sure she’d call me back, and I really didn’t want her calling me while I was talking to my grandparents.
“You didn’t leave a message.”
I glanced over at Malcom. “I don’t want to leave it up to her to call me. I need to be on the offensive.” I looked at the road and realized he was exiting the highway. The map app said we were about five minutes from my grandparents’ house.
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. I considered telling him I needed a drink, but I took a deep breath, held it for several seconds, then let it go, trying to ignore the voice in the back of my head that kept telling me over and over, the voice growing more and more insistent, that I really did need a drink.
A sudden wave of fear made me seize up. Would the voice eventually go away? I wasn’t sure I could live with it. What if I couldn’t do this?
He must have noticed how I’d stilled. “Do you know what you plan to say?”
“Why? Are you afraid I’ll screw it up?” I asked, but it lacked the heat to come across as accusatory.
“You won’t screw it up. I trust you.”
My heart tightened, and my irritation flared. “Less than a half hour ago you told me you didn’t trust me.”
He pushed out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his hair. “You have to understand, Harper. Some secrets aren’t mine to tell.”
Lisa Murphy had pretty much said the same thing. Which meant he was protecting someone or someones. I tried to remember what had prompted him to snap that he didn’t trust me—I’d asked him about contacting Jed, saying it should be his decision too.
But I quickly slid the thought to the back of my head as Malcolm switched on his blinker and turned down a tree-lined street with homes that looked like they’d been built nearly a century ago and hadn’t been updated since.
