The Bishop’s Wife (Linda Wallheim Mystery, #1)(38)

Jared nodded. “I wouldn’t let Kelly answer the phone in these circumstances.”

Of course. He must get a lot of calls from reporters.

“But I thought that her cell phone was still here, at home.”

“It is,” said Jared.

“Then how did you know it was her?”

“I didn’t until I heard her voice,” said Jared. “It wasn’t a number that I recognized.”

I stared at him in astonishment. “And so you answered it anyway? It could have been a reporter.”

“It was out of state,” he said with a shrug. “I thought it was worth taking a chance, anyway. And I was right.” He nodded to Kelly. “She heard her mother’s voice and knows she’s all right. That’s all that matters to me.”

“But—surely the police need to know this,” I said. Whatever the phone number was, they could trace it and find Carrie.

Unless—a part of me felt cold and wondered how difficult it would be to convince a five-year-old girl that her mother was on the phone. How many details would someone have to get right? Not many, I thought. Kelly would be primed to want to hear her mother’s voice, especially if her father told her who it was.

“I don’t think the police would believe me,” said Jared flatly. “They’ve already made up their minds about what happened and any evidence they get all points the same way.” He hesitated and then met my eyes. “But if you called them for me, Sister Wallheim—”

Why me? Because I was the bishop’s wife and therefore more likely to be believed? Because he didn’t think he could carry the lie that far?

“Can I see the number?” I asked. I wanted some proof of my own before I delved into this.

Kelly hopped off her seat, brownie crumbs all over her face, and grabbed the phone. She knew exactly how to get the number to show up on the screen. I didn’t recognize the area code, which meant it was probably a mobile number. “Have you tried calling it back?” I asked.

Jared shook his head.

“I’ll call it back,” said Kelly eagerly. And that is just what she did, before Jared or I had a chance to react and stop her.

Then she handed the phone to me.

I looked at Jared, who didn’t seem alarmed. I listened to the sound of ringing in the background. After five rings, someone picked up on the other end. It was not a woman’s voice.

“Hello?”

“Hello. My name is Linda Wallheim,” I said, using the telephone etiquette my mother had taught me. “I’m calling because a woman called recently from this number and I wanted to talk to her.”

“Oh, you mean Carrie.”

I felt a jolt of electricity and nearly dropped the phone. My hand was shaking visibly, and I switched the receiver to the other ear, as if keeping the sight of it from Jared made the conversation more private.

“Carrie Helm?” I said. Was this yet another person involved in Jared Helm’s conspiracy to cover up his wife’s disappearance? That seemed less and less likely.

“Yes, but she’s not available right now. Can I have her call you back?”

“If she would, I would appreciate it. Can you ask her to call Linda Wallheim?” I rattled off my own cell phone number. “I desperately need to speak to her.”

“I’ll tell her.”

Now came the difficult part. I didn’t want to hang up yet. “Do you mind if I ask who you are and why she called on this phone?”

“She doesn’t have her own cell phone, so she borrowed mine,” the voice explained, his tone annoyed at the obvious.

“And who are you?” I asked.

He sighed. “My name is Will. I’m a friend of Carrie’s.”

“A friend of Carrie’s? Where did you meet her? She’s from Utah, isn’t she? Where are you calling from?”

“Las Vegas. Carrie and I met when I was in Utah a few months ago. Why do you ask? Who are you?”

Who was I indeed? “A friend of Carrie’s from her ward in Utah.”

He hung up immediately.

I tried calling back as Jared asked, “What happened? Did he hang up? Why did he hang up?”

I shook my head and moved away from him so he couldn’t take the phone. But Will, if that was really who the man on the other end of the line was, did not answer.

After three tries, I gave up trying to keep the phone from Jared and let him call the number back. He had no more luck than I did.

Jared slammed the phone down and cursed.

I expected Kelly to startle at the coarse word, but she didn’t.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” asked Kelly.

“Nothing,” said Jared.

“Can I have another brownie?” asked Kelly.

Little manipulator. She knew Jared had told her one brownie, and now that he was distracted, she was asking again. Where had she learned that trick?

I hated that I was so easily led to believe that Carrie Helm was cheating on her husband. It was exactly the kind of story the press would eat up and report on in the next news cycle. Everyone would breathe a sigh of relief and the footage with Jared in the family car in the middle of the night with his five-year-old daughter would become obsolete.

What did I believe? That Jared had concocted all of this as part of a plan to make himself appear innocent? Or that Carrie Helm had run away from her husband and daughter and had called more than two weeks later because she had felt a prick of loneliness for the first time since then?