Were there other things that’d “fallen” out, as well? Would he bring them all back, one by one? “I see. That’s…very sweet of you.” She suddenly noticed that he was wearing two different tennis shoes. Was he not aware of it? Or was it something he’d done on purpose? “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you leave the pictures with me? I’ll give them back to her for you.”
That wasn’t the answer he’d been hoping to hear. Visibly reluctant, he hesitated but ultimately handed the pictures through the door. “I wouldn’t want her to think I’m trying to keep them,” he said.
“Right.”
“I’d never do that.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. Thanks for bringing them by.”
“Tell her I stopped at her house, too, but no one was home. Fortunately, you two don’t live very far apart.”
If he’d already been to Francesca’s, why hadn’t he left the pictures on her doorstep or in her mailbox? “I will. I’ve got to get back to what I was doing. Dinner’s in the oven,” Adriana said.
“Oh, sure. No problem. But, before I go, would you mind giving me a drink of water? It’s really hot this afternoon, and I’ve got a long bus ride back to Prescott.”
Adriana’s pulse kicked up even more. She’d have to take the chain off the door in order to fit a glass of water through the opening. And she wasn’t willing to do that. She had her boys at home. No way would she provide this odd man with the opportunity to break in on them. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I—I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
He seemed stunned. “Why not?”
Before she could answer, Tyler’s voice rose behind her. “Mommy, who’s here?”
Dean’s vanishing smile told her he knew she’d lied to him. She even thought she detected a hint of shrewd calculation behind that innocent face. But she couldn’t focus on trying to figure out what he might be thinking or feeling. Tyler was pushing to get between her and the door so he could see, and she was doing her best to block him. “I’ve got to go,” she said, and closed the door.
Grabbing her oldest son, Adriana whispered for him to be still and, probably because he could sense her anxiety, he listened. “Please leave…please leave,” she muttered above his head. Dean wouldn’t go around the house and try to get in some other way, would he? There was no reason for him to bother. They’d had such a short exchange, one that shouldn’t have meant anything.
Then why was she so rattled?
Because he didn’t seem to understand that her polite responses were merely civility and not friendship. When he’d realized she’d lied to him, he’d seemed so…betrayed, as if she somehow owed him access to her children. It gave her the creeps.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Tyler whispered, his body now stiff with fear.
“Nothing, baby. It’ll be okay. Just…just be quiet for a few minutes and come with me.” She planned to lead him to the kitchen window, where she could look out and, hopefully, confirm that Dean was leaving. But she didn’t stop there. A scream drew her to Levi’s bedroom instead.
15
Her parents were trying to reach her. Francesca stared at her family name on caller ID and almost let the call transfer to voice mail. With everything else that was going on, she didn’t have time to chat. Besides, she hadn’t yet decided how much she wanted them to know about what was happening in her life these days. She saw no point in worrying them, not when they’d come straight back to Phoenix if they thought she was in any danger. But they offered emotional support and a good sounding board—and they’d worry about her safety just as much if they couldn’t get hold of her.
Deciding to reassure them, and be judicious with the other details, she stepped out of the lobby of the fast-food restaurant, where Jonah was meeting a cop named Ernie, and answered.
“Hello?”
“Fran?”
“Hi, Dad.”
“What’s going on? Your mother says she’s been trying to reach you at the house for two days. It rings but your voice mail never comes on.”
Because the line had been cut. Francesca contemplated telling the truth, but resolved not to. “Something’s wrong with my service. They’re working on it. Why didn’t she just call my cell?”
“She did. More than once.”
There were all those voice mails she’d received yesterday, the ones she hadn’t taken the time to go through. And this morning she’d turned off her cell so she wouldn’t be interrupted. She hadn’t turned it back on until a few minutes ago. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t even aware that you guys were trying to get hold of me. I haven’t had a chance to listen to my messages.”
“Why not? What’s up?”
She smiled at the intrigue in his voice, knew his question revealed a professional interest as much as a personal one. “I’ve been working a new missing-persons case.”
“A woman? A child?”
“A woman.”
“Any luck finding her?”
Plugging one ear, she turned away from the street so she could hear. “The hunt is over. Her body was discovered yesterday.”
There was a brief silence. “I can see why you’ve been busy. How old was she?”
“Only a year older than me.”
“What a shame,” he said with a reverence she appreciated. “Do you know what happened?”
Because her father was the type who’d go stir-crazy if he didn’t have something important to do, and he missed his job with the force, he hadn’t entirely stopped working. He took on various cold cases, pro bono. His wheelchair didn’t get in the way of that. “It looks as if she was beaten with a baseball bat.”
“A crime of anger.”
“Anger against her specifically or anger against women in general?” she asked.
“Could be either, I suppose. Do you have any suspects?”
“Only the man who saw her last.”
“He have an alibi?”
“He hasn’t given the police a formal statement yet. They’ll be moving on that soon. They sent me in with a wire first, hoping to get him to talk more freely. Now they want to put some time between the two conversations, give him an opportunity to think about it….”
“Did he tell you anything interesting?”