Page 48 of Secrets Along the Shore
Reuben’s expression was not encouraging. “No. That’s not how you go about gathering evidence the proper way. If there’s even a hint of credibility to your suspicion, information needs to be obtained legally. Not you snooping into the system and texting me through the back door.”
I slouched in my chair. “So do it legally.”
“I need to run it by Dickson. See what she says.”
“Do that.” I pushed to my feet. “In the meantime, I have an idea.”
“Noa.” Reuben’s voice held warning. “You need to sit this one out now. You don’t want to place yourself in more danger.”
No. I didn’t. He was one-hundred percent right. But I also didn’t want to have this gnawing feeling that was growing inside of me that everything was just a little too close to home. Again. Once taken for a fool, that made me a victim, but twice? As much I wanted to retreat into safety until it all blew over, I also wanted to put an end to it. I had fought back and won once. I could do it again.
Elsie paddedonto her screened in porch, two glasses of lemonade in her hands. Her husband was out for a walk with the dog, she’d said. So it was just the two of us.
I liked her screened porch. It had taken me by a little surprise when I realized they lived less than a mile from Stillwater Lake. But their house was surrounded by woods, with a lovely little lawn, and a bird feeder hanging from the branch of an oak tree. The porch had wicker furniture with cushions on it, so they were comfortable enough, and of course, a few afghans from Elsie’s mother’s collection appeared to have made it to the porch also.
“Do you need a place to stay?” Elsie settled opposite me after handing me the lemonade. “I can get the guest room ready if you do.” Her eyes were large, her voice louder than necessary because of her hearing.
“No, thank you. I’m staying—with a friend.” That reminded me I should call Livia and let her know my ambition to return to my apartment had been thwarted.
Before I’d left the station, Reuben had returned my phone. They hadn’t been able to trace the message. Either due to the limitations of technology or the limitations of a rural Wisconsin police station, I wasn’t sure.
“I was wondering . . .” I needed to tread carefully. I didn’t want tooffend Elsie, or start trouble at work. For a moment, I almost decided not to ask. To choose a different subject. This had been a bad idea and I should have listened to Reuben instead of giving him a snarky parting comment about how he didn’t control what I could and couldn’t do.
And now, here was Elsie. Apprising me with her huge, innocent eyes and frizzy permed hair and wrinkled skin. I couldn’t. I couldn’t use Elsie to get answers about Archer’s employees.
“Noa?” Elsie prodded.
Nope. I wasn’t going to ask. I could excuse the reason I was here as a gesture of friendship. I would just act as though I wanted to get to know Elsie on a personal level. That wasn’t at all like me, but Elsie was the type to be so excited that I knew she’d ignore how out of character it was for me.
I would do that. I couldn’t stir the pot and my ideas were far-fetched and?—
I stilled. At the edge of the woods beyond the screened in porch, I could make out the silhouettes of three women. They had followed me here. At least, that’s what my mind told me. Lilian. Rosalie. Sophia. They were counting on me to help them and no matter how ridiculous it was, stepping back at this point was out of the question.
Besides, wasn’t I involved now? I’d received my own personal threat. Threat, or weirdly possessive text that had ominous tones of some sort of ownership over me.
Don’t cry. I’m here.
It was infused with the insinuation that they believed I was upset. That, somehow, they were offeringmecomfort. Comfort from what, if not them? Did they see me as a victim?
A pit formed in my stomach.
Did they know my history? Know that a decade before I had been just like the women they’d abducted? Did they think they were protecting Lilian, Rosalie, and Sophia?
As questions swirled in my mind, I redirected my attention to Elsie.
“I was wondering if you’d help me with some questions about work,” I ventured.
“Of course!” Elsie propped her arm on a pillow. “I’m all ears!”
And she was. I could see her hearing aids from where I sat.
“It’s a weird question . . . but, you’ve been at Archer’s for how many years now?”
“Honey, I have worked for the Archer’s since 1992.”
“So a long time,” I concluded, not wanting to do the math. “Do you know—” how did I even phrase it? I decided not to worry about tact and just plunged in. “Do you know if anyone we work with was raised in a single parent home?”
Elsie blinked. That she hadn’t expected that question was apparent, but she answered anyway. “Well, I pretty much know everyone’s history there. At least half the company was raised by single parents. It’s the way of things now, isn’t it?” Shetsked tskedand I wasn’t sure what she meant by it and I didn’t ask.
