What She Found (Tracy Crosswhite #9)(49)

Tracy kept telling herself it was unconditional love, and she could not put a price tag on that, but she was glad Dan had talked her into tile floors in the entry and kitchen. The hardwood wouldn’t have lasted a week under that kind of pounding.

“Where are you two coming from?” Tracy said to her greeters.

She set her briefcase on a kitchen chair and scratched each dog and patted both backsides as she worked her way to the rear of the house. “Dan?”

“Outside.”

Tracy stepped onto their wood porch. Dan looked to be in the midst of a massive project. Four sturdy beams, ten feet tall, delineated the corners of the porch, and what looked like a thousand other parts—crossbeams and nuts and bolts—lay on the patio or remained in the open cardboard box. Therese gave a wave from the swing set in the corner of the yard in between pushing Daniella seated in a basket. “Do I dare ask?” Tracy said to Dan.

“It’s a gazebo,” Dan said matter-of-factly. “At least the start of it.”

Tracy looked again to the four standing beams.

“It will cover the deck, and the roof is two tiers with space between the tiers to allow smoke to escape from a firepit or a barbecue.” Dan held one hand six inches above the other.

“Did we talk about this?” Tracy asked.

“We talked about an outdoor living space we can use year-round, and Costco was having a sale. We saved six hundred dollars.”

Tracy stepped along the porch and eyed all the pieces. “And how much did we spend to save six hundred dollars?”

“Twelve hundred dollars.”

“Twelve hundred dollars and you have to assemble it yourself?

That will take until next summer.”

“When we’ll use it the most.”

“I didn’t mean this summer. I meant the following summer.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Dan said. He picked up a thick booklet.

“Look at that instruction manual. It looks like the Gideon Bible.

What page are you on?”

“Eight.”

“Out of how many? Two hundred?”

“This would go a lot faster if I had more help and less skepticism.”

“No doubt. Where are you going to find it?” Tracy walked past him to Therese and Daniella.

“Who’s here?” Therese repeated to Daniella. “Who’s here, Daniella? Mama. Mama.”

“Mama,” Daniella said, kicking her arms and legs.

Tracy bent and kissed her. “What are you doing? Are you swinging?” Tracy lifted Daniella from the basket and hugged her.

“I’m worried about Mr. O,” Therese said under her breath. “He didn’t go into work again today, and when he came home this afternoon, half that box was sticking out the back of his car. I thought it was going to flip over.”

Tracy, too, worried that Dan was depressed over his client’s suicide, and though he reasoned aloud it had not been his fault, reasoning and believing were not the same thing, Tracy knew. “Well, that project will keep him busy for a few days. Maybe take his mind off things.”

“You two should take a break and go away for the night. I’ll take care of Daniella for you.”

It was not a bad idea. They could go to Cedar Grove Saturday morning and do nothing for the weekend but hike the mountains and relax by the fire at night reading books and sipping wine. But Tracy hated to leave Daniella, and Dan did as well. She spent too few waking hours with her daughter during the week; she tried to put aside everything but Daniella on weekends. If she and Dan could get away, they would bring Daniella with them.

She took out her cell phone and checked the weather in the North Cascades, but the weekend forecast was for rain with sleet and high winds. So much for that idea. Maybe they could get out and golf. Tracy carried Daniella back to the porch where Dan read the manual. “You get it all figured out?”

“I think Mandarin would be easier to follow.”

“It’s getting late. Call Tim and see if he has time to help you tomorrow or Sunday.” Tim Berg was a retired Boeing engineer who could fix just about any problem. Tracy had initially met his wife through her parenting group, and the four had become fast friends. “I can invite Brenda over and we’ll take the girls to the park and cook dinner when you’re done.”

“Done? You said I wouldn’t be done until next summer.”

“Yes, but that was before I thought of Tim.”

Dan frowned. “Funny.”

“I’ll bring you a beer and we can enjoy what daylight we have left. What do you want for dinner?”

Neither felt up to cooking so they ordered Thai food, then drank beer on the back porch, killing time before Dan left to pick up the order. Tracy fed Daniella in her high chair. In between spoonfuls of yams, Tracy’s phone pinged. A new email from a CTaylor.

Tracy opened the email, which included four attachments. Tracy opened the first attachment, a copy of Melissa Childs’s California driver’s license. She used her fingers to increase the size of the photograph. When she did, the photo nearly took her breath away.

“Oh my God,” she said.

If it wasn’t Lisa Childress, it was an uncanny likeness.

Tracy quickly opened the other documents. One was a Social Security card. Tracy would have to compare the number with the card in Lisa Childress’s cold case file and compare the handwritten signatures.