“Does my son know who your father is?”
Wayne had the decency to look uncomfortable. “Actually, no. Well, that is, I don't think so,” he stammered. “He hasn't asked, and I haven't mentioned it. He's been pretty preoccupied with this big software project, or he probably would have made the connection, at least to ask about it.”
She scowled. “Are you spying on Grant for your father?”
His eyes widened as he protested, “No way. I'm not jeopardizing a good-paying job. I told Pop that right off. No way I'm getting involved.”
She considered his reaction for a lengthy pause while he steadily met her gaze. Finally, deciding on a different tack and watching his face carefully, she said, “I understand you're a friend of Anita Collier.”
A small frown creased his pale forehead. Suspicion in his tone, he said, “Is that what my dad told you?”
“Actually, no. Brea told me you and Anita dated.”
Wayne's cheeks flushed slightly. “I wish,” he said emphatically.
It was her turn to frown. “What do you mean? You didn't take her out?”
“I wanted to. She was pretty friendly to me at work, like she wouldn't mind my calling her. I finally got up my nerve and phoned her one night. A guy answered, so I hung up.”
“A guy?” Edna prodded. “Do you know who it was?”
“Yeah, I do.” He sounded like a pouting teenager. “It was the guy used to go rock climbing with Lia Martin. His name's Yonny.” Wayne snorted derisively. “Yonny Pride. What a ridiculous name.”
The name was distinctive enough that Edna recognized it immediately and thought of the tall, dark-haired man to whom Grant had introduced her in the parking lot after Lia's funeral. She remembered the man's rugged good looks and couldn't help but compare him to the chubby young man in front of her. Besides a receding hairline, Wayne had inherited his father's portly girth. If he also had inherited his father's personality, women would feel comfortable around him, but she guessed he would elicit few sparks of excitement. A nice, loyal, temperate friend. She sighed. He wouldn't stand a chance of measuring up to a well-toned athlete like Yonny Pride.
“How long ago was this?” she asked, sensing by his reaction that the incident with the phone might have taken place fairly recently.
“Couple days before her parents' accident. I remember because I felt bad being mad at her after they died.” Wayne's tone softened, and his face now showed sorrow and concern. Edna marveled at how transparent his feelings were.
“Have you seen her or spoken with her since then?”
“Yes, Ma'am, and I told Pop, too. I saw her at the funeral, at her parents' funeral, but I didn't talk to her. Lot of people were hanging around her. I figure she didn't even know I was there.”
Yes, you would blend into the background, she thought. It was probably a good characteristic for a detective but not for a young man in love. “And since the funeral? Have you seen her since then?” She was getting frustrated with his vague answers. Another inherited trait from his father, she thought sourly.
“No, not since then.”
She prodded him further. “Do you have any idea where she might be?”
He shook his head. “Pop asked me the same thing. Like I told him, if anyone knows where she is, it's probably Yonny.” Jealousy hardened his tone.
“Aren't you worried that she hasn't been in contact with anyone for several weeks?”
“No.” A hesitation. “Not really. Not until my dad said he couldn't find her. I didn't think much about it. She's away a lot, you know, on the job, driving around Wyoming and Montana and stuff. I wouldn't know who she talks to.” He had returned to his pouting voice.
“But aren't you concerned at all that your father can't seem to locate her?”
“Nah. Dad's good at finding things. He'll get her.”
After she had said good-bye to Wayne and he'd driven off, she attempted unsuccessfully to call Ernie before leaving the parking lot. On the way home she kept asking herself why he would have kept his son's interest in Anita a secret or, for that matter, the fact that Wayne worked for Grant. Just before reaching the house, she pulled over and parked, trying once more to reach the detective on his cell phone. As before, there was no answer. She double-checked the number he'd given her, making certain she hadn't misdialed. She wondered if he could have written it down wrong. Ernie had definitely asked her to call after she'd spoken to Rice. Puzzled and slightly disturbed, she drove on to the house.
Determined to put her worries aside, at least for a little while, she spent the afternoon pleasantly with Karissa and Jillian. When her granddaughter got home from school, Edna received another Frisbee lesson in the backyard. After she had managed to throw the disc straight to Jillian several times, the youngster cheered at her grandmother's improved skill. Only once during the afternoon did Edna manage to get away long enough to try reaching Ernie again, but without success.
At five o'clock Grant called to thank her for the lunch she had left and to say he was on his way home. He would stop to pick up Chinese food for dinner. Jillian helped her set places at the dinner table while Karissa talked to them from the living room couch. Everyone's mood was festive, and the party spirit continued when Grant arrived home loaded with small, white take-out boxes and extra fortune cookies. After dinner they played a game of Yahtzee and three hilarious rounds of Bonkers, Jillian's current favorite board game, before Edna finally declared herself exhausted and ready to call it a night.
Before going to bed, she reached for her cell phone and dialed Ernie's number, deciding that quarter past nine wasn't too late to try calling him once more. She almost dropped the small instrument when she heard him say “Hello.”
“Why haven't you answered your phone?” she asked, keeping her voice low. She didn't want Grant to hear her, in case he asked whom she was calling. “I've been trying to reach you all day.”
“The darned ringer was turned off.” Ernie sounded annoyed. “I could have sworn it was on, but when I checked about an hour ago, the blasted gizmo had been switched to vibrate. When it's in the side pocket of my coat and my coat is hanging on a chair, I can't hear the vibrator. I tell ya, Edna, I'm not sure I like all this new-fangled technology.”
Choosing to ignore his prattling, she cut in. “Why didn't you tell me your son works for Grant?” When the silence grew on the other end of the line, she went on. “And why didn't you tell me Wayne has a crush on Anita?” Crush might be more descriptive of a teenager, but it was the best word she could think of for Wayne's infatuation.
“How do you know about Wayne? Did Grant tell you Wayne was involved with Anita?” Ernie sounded as irritated as she felt.
“No. He doesn't know I spoke with Wayne and apparently hasn't made the connection between you two. I met your son at the office this afternoon when I took some lunch to Grant. It was Wayne who told me about Anita, and his feelings are pretty easy to read.” She wouldn't let Ernie change the subject. “Why haven't you told me about him before?”
More silence before she finally heard him sigh. “Wayne has nothing to do with her. He has repeatedly refused to help me with the investigation, so there was nothing to say. He isn't relevant to our case.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I just told you, I've already talked to him about it. He said he hasn't seen her since her parents' funeral, and I believe him.”
“Oh?” She felt her temper begin to rise. “So, you take your son's word for it, but you don't believe my son?”
“I know my son,” he replied, but his voice sounded apologetic.
“And I know mine.” She realized her voice had risen and stopped to take several deep breaths. When she felt calmer, she said, “Did Wayne tell you that he thinks this Yonny person might know where she is?”
“He mentioned the guy. I'm not sure how much weight I put on Wayne's opinion. I know he tends to be less than rational when it comes to this woman, but I had planned to check it out. I've been tryi
ng to locate Yonny since Lia's funeral. Finally found out this afternoon where he's staying. I'm going up there tomorrow to see if I can catch him at home.”
“Where does he live?”
“Eldorado Springs. The house he's living in belongs to a friend. That's why it's taken me so long to track him down.”
“Where is Eldorado Springs?”
“South of Boulder. It's a small town up a dead-end canyon, about a half hour or forty-five minutes from here. It's at the entrance to Eldorado Canyon State Park where serious rock climbers hang out.”
“Was Lia a rock climber?”
“Yes. That's how she and Yonny met. Apparently, he was teaching her some technical climbs.”
Her interest was stirred. “I'd like to go with you when you talk to Yonny. Grant is working in the morning, and I'll ask a neighbor to look in on Karissa and Jillian,” she said, thinking of Sudie. “I can probably get away by eight, and I think it'll be okay if we're back by one o'clock.”
After making arrangements to meet in the Safeway parking lot early the next morning, Ernie told her that he had spent a good portion of the afternoon at the impound lot where he convinced his mechanic friend to look over the Colliers' car again. The initial police investigation had determined the brakes failed when acid from the battery ate through the lining. The cause of the hole in the battery was believed to be a small nut that had gotten wedged beneath the case. Constant rubbing of the two objects eventually wore a tiny opening in the battery casing. On more careful examination, however, Ernie's friend found that a hole had been drilled in the same spot—had purposely been drilled and the nut left beneath the casing, probably to distort the entry site.
She gasped at the news. “So someone actually did deliberately sabotage the car?” She realized too late that her voice had risen again.
“Are you okay, Mother?” Grant's voice came from the other side of the door.
“I'm fine, Grant.”
“Are you talking to someone?”
“Yes, Dear. I'm on the phone.”
“Say hi to Dad for me.”
Not answering, she waited to hear Grant's bedroom door shut before speaking again. In a softer voice she said, “Have you told the police?” Even though she had insisted on Ernie's re-examining the car, she was stunned to hear that she might be right. The silence on the other end of the line lengthened. “Ernie?”
“I'm here.”
“I asked if you'd talked to the police.”
“I heard.”
“Well?”
“Not yet.”
“What do you mean not yet?” She was confused.
“Look, if they reopen this case as a possible homicide, I'm off it. The police will start looking for Anita, and I'll never get near her. What if they decide to hold her on suspicion of murder? Her great-aunt will die without seeing the only relative she's got left, and all that money will go to some veterinarian.”
“But won't you get into trouble for not reporting what you've found?”
“I'm not hiding anything. My friend stayed after hours to help me out. Officially, she was off the clock and out of there. She said she could give me until Monday morning before she has to file a report.”
“That means …” Edna began.
“Yes,” he cut in. “That means we've got only two more days to find Anita.” At that moment, Edna heard a woman's voice in the background. Ernie said, “Look, Edna, I gotta go. I'll fill you in on the rest tomorrow.”
She quickly reaffirmed the time they were to meet and disconnected the call, her mind trying to sort through all that he had just told her. She had slipped beneath the covers and was reaching to turn off the bedside lamp when her phone rang. Hurriedly picking it up before the jingle disturbed anyone else in the house, she spoke barely above a whisper. “What is it, Ernie?” She was certain he was calling back because he'd forgotten to tell her something that couldn't wait until morning.
“Edna?”
“Albert?”
“Who's Ernie?” Albert sounded put out. “Is that who you've been talking to for the past hour? I was trying to reach you and kept getting a busy signal.”
She glanced at the clock. She couldn't have been on the line more than twenty-five minutes, but she let Albert rage. He had no patience with telephones and usually didn't even bother to call back when a line was engaged.
“How are you, Dear,” she said, as soon as he paused for a breath. “It's good to hear your voice.”
“Fine,” he said. “I'm fine. Who's Ernie?”
She sighed, knowing she wasn't going to distract him this time.
“He's a detective I met recently.”
“A detective?” Albert seemed to be shouting. She moved the phone away from her ear. “You mean a police officer?” But before she could answer, he went on, “Where were you that you met a detective?”
“No, he isn't a policeman, and I met him at a funeral,” she replied.
There was a slight pause. “What funeral? Whose funeral?”
“A young woman who worked for Grant. He wanted me to go with him. I think he needed some family support, and Karissa certainly couldn't go.” Remembering how Lia's father had bent to kiss his wife's cheek, she felt the lump in her throat she had experienced in the chapel. “Oh, Albert, it was so sad. All I could think of was that she was only a few years younger than Starling.”
“What was a detective doing at the funeral? How did this girl die?” Typically, Albert ignored her sentimentality.
“She was killed in a hit-and-run, but Ernie is looking for someone else who works with Grant and who seems to have disappeared. He was questioning several people at the chapel, not just me.” She thought Ernie probably had spoken to others attending the service.
After a brief pause, she heard her husband expel a long, slow breath and flinched, anticipating his next outburst.
Instead of shouting, though, Albert began to laugh. Soon, he regained his voice. “You do manage to pick up strange people in weird places, Edna. I'll say that for you. Why did he think you would know anything? Did you tell him you're only visiting and you'll be returning to Rhode Island soon?”
The wistfulness of his last remark made her realize how much she missed him. He might not be perfect, but she did love him.
He, in turn, sounded more relaxed, now that his humor had been restored. She didn't question his mood change. Feeling relieved, she proceeded briefly to tell him why a detective was looking for Anita Collier. She knew he would launch into a lecture about how she mustn't trust strangers, so she was careful not to mention her interest or involvement in the case.
Intending to distract him, she said, “You remember, Dear, Anita was the one who was so kind to Michele and Jillian when the family first came to Colorado.”
He replied with some impatience, “No, I don't remember, but that doesn't matter. How's Karissa?”
Still thinking of Anita, she wished she could make Albert understand her concern about the missing young woman but thought she'd just make a muddle of explaining about the answering machine, the automatic paycheck deposit and bill payments as well as the ongoing customer orders. She knew her husband shied away from anything that smacked of modern technology or cyberspace. He wouldn't see things as she did, that a life could go on, but unless you made physical contact once in a while, how would anyone know you still existed, that you weren't just some virtual being.
“Karissa's fine.” She felt deflated. She would like to be able to talk to her husband about her concerns but realized the futility of trying to do that when he was so far away.
She let the silence grow, caught up in her thoughts, until Albert said, “Benjamin misses you. He's constantly under foot, and he's taken to sneaking up in the middle of the night to sleep on your side of the bed.”
She laughed at an image of her cat waiting until he heard Albert's snores and then leaping quietly onto the bed. Normally, the cat wasn't allowed in the upstairs rooms. “I miss you both very much. It'll be nice
to get home once the baby arrives.”
She and Albert caught each other up on news from family and friends for the next several minutes before finally hanging up. Even though she was tired from her active day, she didn't fall asleep immediately. She was thinking about the tiny hole someone had drilled in the Colliers' car battery.
Fifteen
Early the next morning, Edna was awakened by the phone jingling next to her ear. Feeling groggy and only half awake, she mumbled, “Hello.”
“Edna, it's Ernie. Sorry to wake you, but I only have a few minutes. I'm at the hospital.”
His words wiped the rest of her sleepiness away and brought her upright. “Hospital? What happened? Are you all right?”
“It's not me. My wife's had a seizure. I've been here since two, and the doc just told me I can see her now. Called to say I won't be meeting you like we planned.”
She looked at the digital clock on the bedside table. Six-forty-two, it read. Her mind began to whirl. If they don't see Yonny today, they might lose their last chance of finding Anita. The police would take over on Monday and wouldn't like tripping over amateurs in their search for a missing person or a possible murderer. She couldn't help but think that the authorities, once they learned of the hole drilled in the car's battery, would view the heiress as a prime suspect in her parents' deaths. She picked up the small pad and pencil she kept on the nightstand. “Give me directions. I'll find Yonny and talk to him.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.
“No, Edna. Thanks, but this is my responsibility. I'll get away later. Maybe I'll be able to get up there this afternoon.”