Vindicate (Recovered Innocence #1)(62)

“You guys make a great team,” Dad says.

He glances back and forth between us, no doubt taking in how close we sit and how my arm turns out toward Cora under the table. It’s probably obvious from where he’s sitting that my hand isn’t in my lap. We haven’t discussed what’s going on between Cora and me other than him telling me to stay away from her. If he only knew the dynamic between us, he’d laugh his ass off. I’m the one likely to get hurt here, not Cora.

“Thanks.” Threading her fingers through mine, Cora looks up at me. “I think we make a great team too.”

“Well. I’d better go. I’ll call you when I get done with Mr. LeFeaux.” Dad slides out of the booth. “Don’t forget to call your mother.”

We watch him walk out. He didn’t even touch the coffee he ordered.

Cora squeezes my hand. “Do you want some privacy?”

She’s not dumb. She knows the phone call to my mom likely won’t go well. I don’t blame her for not wanting to sit next to me while I defend her for something that’s not her fault.

“I’ll call her later.” I set the laptop on the table and turn it on. “First I want to see if we can find out any info on Mrs. Wheeler’s niece.”

It takes a while to get the old beast up and working and connected to the café’s Internet. I log on to one of the genealogical websites the agency uses to track people’s relatives. I looked mostly on Mrs. Wheeler’s side of the family, not expecting that her long deceased husband’s family might step in and take care of her.

The waitress comes by to give us a third refill right about the time I’m ready to give up. There are no Robins or Robertas with a last name that starts with a D on Mr. Wheeler’s side of the family.

“What about this one?” Cora points to a box on the screen with the name Alice Denise Rodriguez. “It’s the only name that’s vaguely close and has the right letters in it.”

I click on the box. Alice Denise Rodriguez is on the old side for a niece. She could be a younger cousin. I put her name into People Locator, a program we use to get people’s addresses. It’s surprisingly easy to find people these days. Too easy.

There are twenty people in the U.S. named Alice Denise Rodriguez. We sort through them, setting aside the ones who are too old, too young, or dead. When we’re done we’re left with no names to work with.

I sit back in my seat, frustrated. “Damn it. I thought for sure Zelda’s info was good.”

“I’ve learned not to get my hopes up.” I hate the dejection in her voice.

And I hate that I’m the one failing her. Sitting forward, I click out of that program and try another and another. No luck. Then a thought strikes. What if Alice Denise Rodriguez isn’t in the U.S.? I switch programs again. Her last name is Spanish, so I try People Finder in Mexico. We get thirteen hits. Lucky thirteen. We weed through them until we’re left with one name. I check the birthdate. It’s a match. All the hair on my arms stand up. Cora leans so far over me I can barely type. She must feel it too. That low buzz at the back of my head that tells me we could be onto something here.

Alice Denise Rodriguez lives in Ensenada. Just two hours away.

“This might not lead to anything,” I say, trying not to get her hopes up as high as mine. “We should call and see what’s what.”

Cora nods. She’s vibrating in her seat as she pulls her cell out and hands it to me. “Call.”

I open a new window and Google how to call internationally. Before I know it I’m calling Alice Denise Rodriguez in Mexico.

She answers after the second ring. “Hola?”

Shit. I didn’t figure on her speaking Spanish. I know enough to order a burrito and that’s about it.

“Hola,” I say in my crappy Spanish accent. “Habla inglés?”

“Yes,” she says with barely an accent.

I introduce myself as a private investigator looking for Edith Wheeler. I give her some bullshit excuse about old Edith being owed some money by the insurance company I work for.

“Do you know how I can reach Mrs. Wheeler?”

“Yes. She’s in an elderly care center here in Ensenada. I have power of attorney over her affairs. She’s quite infirm.”

I turn to Cora and nod. She grips my arm, her eyes wide. We f*cking found Mrs. Wheeler.

“I need to verify she’s alive and your power of attorney before I can release the funds,” I tell Denise. “I’m in San Diego. I can be there around three. Will that work?”

“How much money are we talking about?”

“A little over twenty grand. I also have some papers that’ll need to be signed. Where should I meet you?”

She rattles off the address of the care center. As soon as I disconnect the call Cora screams and launches herself at me, planting a big kiss on my lips. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe we found her.

“I can’t believe it,” Cora says, reiterating what I was thinking. “This could be it. This could be the thing that frees Beau.”

I don’t want to bring her down with the possibility that Mrs. Wheeler could be in a coma or in some other way unable to speak. And even if she can it doesn’t mean she’ll be able to tell us anything useful. But I don’t say any of that to Cora because she’s looking at me like I’m a big f*cking hero, with something I’ve never seen before in her expression—hope.