What She Found (Tracy Crosswhite #9)(57)

“Anita is the one who asked me to find you, but she’s vacillating now, seeing the pain that reliving your disappearance has caused her father. Don’t get me wrong. Your daughter and your mother will be elated to know you’re alive and well, but outside factors also need to be considered.”

“Like the media,” she said.

“Like the media. This won’t remain hidden. You were a reporter, after all. You’re newsworthy. Your coming back will be news, and you won’t be able to hide forever, no matter how hard you try.”

“Might be best to just tear off the Band-Aid then.”

“I don’t know. Maybe a media consultant could guide you. But I will keep this as quiet as I possibly can. You should also know that before Lisa Childress disappeared, she was working on some sensitive stories. They’re the kind of stories that could injure some people, and I have uncovered some evidence that your disappearance might not have been completely accidental.”

“I don’t understand?”

“When the security guard found you, did you have any blood on your body or your clothing?”

Childs looked like she was slipping back a million years, though her gaze never left Tracy. “How did you know?”

“They found blood, your blood, in the car you drove.”

“That was why I sought the guard’s help. I had blood on my jacket and my shirt, but I didn’t know how it got there.”

“Do you know where the blood came from?”

“The back of my head, I assumed. I had a welt and a cut. It’s why they thought I had fallen and struck my head. They thought that was maybe the reason I couldn’t recall anything.”

“Would you mind if I obtained a copy of your medical records from the time you were admitted until the time you were discharged?”

“We have them,” Beltrán said.

“Sure,” Childs said. “By all means. Take a copy.”

“We’ll make you one,” Beltrán said.

“Are you saying that I was in danger . . . because of the stories I wrote?”

“And the stories you were investigating. I’m trying to find out more.”

Childs seemed to give this thought. After a moment she said, “But those stories were twenty-five years ago, thereabouts. I mean, they couldn’t hurt anyone now, could they? I couldn’t be in danger now, could I?”

“I can’t say that you’re not, Melissa, not with any certainty.

That’s why I’m obligated to tell you.”

“I can’t even remember the stories.”

“I know that,” Tracy said. “But it’s possible people won’t believe you have amnesia.”

“What would they think? That I just walked away?”

“It’s possible.”

She sighed and sat quiet for a moment. “Does my daughter have a family?”

“No.”

Childs looked again at the tabletop strewn with photographs of relatives she didn’t know.

“Think about it,” Tracy said. “Nothing has to be done tonight.”

“Is there a number to call after I’ve made my decision?”

Tracy handed Childs a card with her personal cell phone number. “It’s your decision.” Tracy thanked Rafael Beltrán and left the conference room with Davis, who would take her back to the San Diego airport.

“Has to be the strangest thing you’ve ever dealt with,” Davis said, still smiling.

“It’s certainly up there,” Tracy said, though she seemed to be a magnet for the bizarre. “I hope it turns out well, for her and for her daughter.”

“You and me both,” Davis said. “It’s hard for me to imagine. I’ve been married to the same woman for more than thirty years, and I have three great kids and two grandchildren. I sit in my backyard and watch them swim in the pool, and I think, man, life doesn’t get any better than this. But I know a lot of people out there not as fortunate, people for whom a redo, or a start over, would have some real appeal.” He paused, then asked, “Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

“You’ve known her almost twenty-five years; what do you think?”

Davis laughed. “I know I couldn’t fake an Irish accent for twenty minutes, let alone twenty-some years. So, yeah, I think she’s telling the truth.”

“So do I.”

“You think she could be in some danger?”

“I think it’s a possibility,” Tracy said, “which is why, if she decides to go forward, I’m going to push the amnesia story as much as I can, and we’ll make sure she has security, at least for a while.”

“And maybe people will believe she really can’t remember?”

“Maybe,” Tracy said, though she knew human nature and, like her, most would be inclined not to believe.

After Davis dropped her at the airport and Tracy weaved through the precheck screening and reached her gate, she had time to kill. She found a place to grab a bite to eat and to have a drink.

She needed one. She took out her cell phone and called Dan.

“It’s her. It’s Lisa Childress.”

“No kidding.” She could hear the chuckle in his voice. “What did she say? Why did she leave?” They were questions for which most people would want answers.