The Homewreckers(47)

“Yes,” she said, a little breathlessly. “Only I’m at work, and I don’t get off until nine. Could we maybe meet after that?”

“I’m off at six, but yeah, tonight will work,” he said quickly.

“Could we meet downtown at the Crystal Beer Parlor?” she said. “I’ll tell my boss something important came up. Is eight okay?”



* * *



He spotted her at a two-top in the corner of the main dining room. Her hair was chopped short and silvery white with purple tips. She was studying a menu, and despite the sleeves of tattoos covering both forearms, she looked about twelve years old.

“Emma?”

She looked up. Her bright blue eyes were rimmed with black eyeliner and she had one of those little silver rings in her nose, and she was so petite he was tempted to ask the hostess for a booster seat for her. What was the word he was thinking applied to her? Waifish. Yeah. She looked like one of those waifs from a Dickens novel.

“Detective … I’m not sure how to say your last name.”

“Makarowicz, but just call me Mak.”

Their server appeared. He ordered a burger and a Diet Coke. She asked for a salad and herbal iced tea. “No cheese on the salad, please. I’m a vegan.” She had her hands folded in front of her on the table.

“I’m glad you reached out to me, Emma,” he said. “I’m sorry the article ran before I could contact you.”

“So it really is her wallet? You’re sure?”

“Looks like it. The driver’s license photo checks out, as do the credit cards. Her St. Mary’s faculty ID is in there too. And there’s a family photo of you, and her, and your dad. And one of the two of you. And another one of you, maybe a preschool picture?”

“Ohhhhh.” She picked up a paper napkin from the dispenser on the table and twisted it.

She started shredding the napkin. Her nails were short and painted black, and the cuticles were reddened and raggedy, like she chewed on them.

“Why was her wallet in that house?” Emma asked.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. Does the name Creedmore mean anything to you? That’s the name of the family who owned the house at the time your mom went missing.”

“No, not really. But I looked them up, after I saw that piece in the newspaper. They had some connection to Cardinal Mooney, the school where my dad used to coach, right?”

“That’s right. Have you asked your dad about the connection?”

“We don’t really talk. I don’t even have his phone number.”

“I understand he’s living down in Florida. Orlando? Does that sound right?”

“Maybe?”

“Was there some kind of argument? I’m only asking, Emma, because I’m trying to get a fix on your family dynamics.”

“An argument?” Her laugh was brittle. “Like, just one? No. Me and my dad, we just see things different. Like, always. After Mom went away, things were bad. My grandma was real sick with cancer, and she couldn’t help babysit me anymore. After Grandma died, he kinda hooked up with this chick who lived down the street. Rhonda. She was divorced, and her kids lived with their dad. So, Rhonda moved in with us.”

Emma smirked. “One big happy family. I got out of there just as soon as I could.”

“How did you do that?”

“Dropped out of school, moved in with my boyfriend, got a job at Taco Bell, but the pay sucked, so then I got a job waitressing at a bar down on River Street. By then I was sixteen.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility for a sixteen-year-old,” Mak observed.

“I was basically on my own way before that,” Emma said, shrugging. “You know what life is like for a high school football coach in the South, right? Like, Friday Night Lights but on steroids. All he cared about was football. Winning the game, winning the region, winning the state. Getting his players signed to play in college. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about me.”

Mak blinked. “That sounds pretty harsh.”

“I’ll admit, I didn’t make his life easy. Me and Rhonda didn’t get along. I got in trouble for cutting school, smoking weed. The usual. I think he was relieved when I left.”

Their food arrived. He slathered mustard on his burger and ketchup on his fries. She looked down at her salad and sighed, painstakingly removing the cubes of cheese. “They never remember to leave off the cheese,” she mumbled.

“Emma…” he started. “I know you were only three, but did it seem to you that your parents had a happy marriage? I mean, do you remember any arguments, things like that?”

“I was four. No. I don’t remember them fighting. I remember my mom’s laugh. Tinkly, you know? She liked to sing. She’d sing while she was fixing supper, and she’d sit me up on the kitchen counter and teach me songs, and she’d do this dance. Way later, I saw some YouTube video and I realized, she was doing that Britney Spears song, ‘Baby One More Time.’ I bet I’ve watched that video a thousand times, because it reminds me of her. It’s even the ringtone on my phone.”

“It’s good you have nice memories like that,” Mak said. “Did the police talk to you, after she disappeared?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Everything from that time … I was so little, you know? My grandma died pretty soon after that, and all I can remember is being sad. I kept asking my dad to take me to her house, and he said he couldn’t, ’cause Grandma went to live with Jesus.”