Two Days Gone (Ryan DeMarco Mystery #1)(54)

“And that was it?”

She shook her head. “I knew who he was by then. I knew he was a famous writer. I told him about reading his second novel in lit class.”

“State university?” DeMarco asked.

She nodded. “I’m a senior. Elementary Education major.”

“And so…”

“There was just something…so easy about him, you know? I mean he actually seemed interested in me, this famous, big-shot writer. It was flattering. So when I asked him what he was working on now, and he told me…”

“You told him about Whispers.”

“On the way back to my place, he stopped at a convenience store and got us each a cappuccino. Then we just sat in his car outside my apartment for a while and talked. And yeah, I told him about Whispers.”

“And you became his Annabel.”

“He never actually said that. I mean, he did spend more time with me there than with the other girls, but he never said I was the one he was writing about. Anyway it was fiction, wasn’t it?”

“You’re the only girl he paid for private dances with?”

“As far as I know.”

“So maybe that part wasn’t just for talking?”

She looked up at him. “He told me I reminded him of his wife when she was my age. Except that her hair is darker than mine.”

“That doesn’t answer my question though, does it?”

“He never touched me. Not like that. He never once even tried.”

DeMarco considered asking what would have happened if Huston had tried to touch her. Then he decided that the answer was irrelevant.

“And after that first meeting in the park, he came to Whispers every Thursday night. You spent twenty minutes with him in the champagne room, and you had a conversation.”

“That’s it,” she said. “That’s all of it.” A few moments passed before she added, “Except that it wasn’t every Thursday night after that. He missed one.”

“Do you remember which one?”

She gave it some thought. “It would have been the time before the last time he was there.”

“Did you ask him about it?”

“He said he had to go out of town on business.”

DeMarco tried to think of something else he might ask. “Anything else you can tell me about your relationship with him?”

She thought for a few moments. “I gave him my phone number.”

“You did? When was that?”

“The last time he came to Whispers. I mean, it didn’t make any sense to me that he had to pay a cover charge and all just to talk to me. So I told him that. And I gave him my number. He promised to thank me in his new book. He said he’d like me to meet his wife sometime.”

With the final sentence, tears pooled in her eyes. DeMarco said, “Did he give you his number?”

She nodded. “He said that if I ever needed anything, just to let him know.”

“And did he ever call you? Or you call him?”

“Neither,” she said.

DeMarco watched her for a few moments. She was sitting with her head down, picking tears from the corners of her eyes.

And he asked himself, Was it just his kindness? Is that why she’s crying? And was his kindness real?

He had no answers. Finally he said, “So why did you run from me, Danni?”

“I don’t know. You’re a policeman. Thomas’s family has all been killed and he’s missing. I spent time with him at the club… I was scared, I guess.”

He studied her for a moment. “So you’re a senior this year?”

“I do my student teaching in the spring. Then I’m done. Graduate, get a job, maybe have a normal life for a change.”

“You have a boyfriend?”

“There’s a guy I’m seeing.”

“Does he know you dance?”

“He lives in Pittsburgh. I only see him when I go down there.”

“How about your parents? Do they know?”

She did not move. Only her shoulders quivered. He saw one small dark spot appear on the edge of the sofa cushion, then another.

He crossed toward her, laid a hand on the top of her head. He said, “I might have to call you again, Danni, if I think of anything else to ask. Be safe when you run, okay? I know that mornings are nice but…be safe.”





Thirty-Eight


Back at the barracks, he dropped the white paper bag, long and slender, on Commander Bowen’s desk. “You want half of this?” Bowen asked.

“I want six dollars and forty-nine cents.”

Bowen reached for his wallet. “Learn anything useful?”

“At the moment I’d say no. But I have to process it to be sure. Something feels off.”

“You locate the contact?” He laid a five and two ones on the far edge of the table.

DeMarco picked up the bills, folded them, and slipped them into his pocket. “I found her, but there were no revelations. She’s just a kid. Decent kid at that.”

Bowen unwrapped the spinach roll, a long tube of baked pizza dough stuffed with spinach, mushrooms, and gooey mozzarella. “You sure you don’t want some of this?”

“Nah, I’m not hungry. I already licked it a few times on the way back.”