The Obsession(78)

“And I got here about twelve thirty.” Though Xander leaned negligently back on his truck, irritation edged his voice. “The dog got us up just after five, and I left about seven thirty, maybe a little before. Come on, Chief.”

“Xander, I’ve got to ask. Patti’s been screeching about Ms. Carson attacking Marla—she’s the only one with that take,” he added before Xander could speak. “And even she’s backed off that mark. But the fact is, Marla stormed out of Loo’s in a temper about twenty minutes after Ms. Carson, and as far as I can determine, that’s the last anyone saw her.”

Sam huffed out a breath, petted the dog, who now apparently found him delightful. “Did either of you see her with anybody, somebody she might’ve taken it into her head to go off with?”

“She was sitting with Patti.” Xander shrugged. “I try not to notice Marla too much.”

“I saw her at her table, with her friend, earlier in the evening.” Tense now, Naomi rubbed her neck. “I was sitting with Kevin and Jenny. I really wasn’t paying attention to her, until Jenny and I got up to dance and she . . . I don’t even know her.”

“I understand that, I do, and I don’t want you to worry about this. She probably went off with somebody she met at the bar, to lick her wounds and get Chip worked up.”

Naomi shook her head. “A woman who’s pissed off and upset? She’s going to talk to her girlfriend.”

“They had a bit of a falling-out after the incident.”

“Regardless. Even if she called this Patti to argue, or at least send her a bitchy text.”

“We’ll be looking into it. I’m not going to keep you, but I’d like to come back sometime, see what you’re doing inside.”

“Yes, sure.”

“You have a good day. I’ll be seeing you around, Xander.”

Naomi’s insides twisted as Sam got back in his cruiser.

“Will he really look?”

“Yeah, of course. He’s the chief.”

“Has anyone else ever gone missing?”

“Not that I know of, and I would. Hey.” Xander put a hand on her arm. “Marla’s the type who looks for trouble, likes to cause it. It’s just the way she is. The chief will do his job. Don’t worry about this.”

He was right, of course. Marla was a troublemaker and had very likely hooked up with some guy for the weekend to boost her wounded ego.

Not every woman who went off that way ended up raped and murdered. It had never happened here before, Naomi reminded herself. Hadn’t she checked into just that after she’d fallen for the house?

Low crime rate, even lower violent-crime rate. A safe place. A quiet place.

Marla would probably show up before nightfall, pleased she’d worried her ex-husband, her friend, had the police out looking for her.

She put it out of her mind, as much as she could, as Xander pulled away from the house in the truck, with the dog riding with his head out the window and his ears flying in the breeze.





      LIGHT AND SHADOW


   Where there is a great deal of light,

   the shadows are deeper.

   JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE





Sixteen




When he’d realized she was serious about taking pictures in his place, Xander had considered pulling the Simon Vance book off the shelf. He’d done so long enough to read it again, refresh himself, then had nearly tossed it into the box he kept for donations.

He didn’t want to see that dull, stricken look on her face again.

In the end, he decided pulling it off gave it too much importance. She knew it was there, and would wonder why he’d taken it away.

Weighing the stress factor, he figured it at fifty-fifty, and opted to leave it alone.

She’d tell him when she was ready. Or she wouldn’t.

He helped her haul her equipment up the steps, where she paid more attention to the equipment than what she intended to shoot. She pulled a tripod out of a case, telescoped it, did the same with a light stand.

“I’ve still got that wine you like if you want.”

“Thanks, but not when I’m working.”

As he subscribed to the same rule, he got them both a Coke.

She nodded, ignored it as she pulled out a light meter. “Can I have one of those chairs over here for the laptop?”

“I’ll get it.”

She attached a camera to the tripod, eyes narrowed now on the wall of books.

“That’s an impressive camera.”

“Hasselblad, medium format. Larger media, higher resolution. I’m going to shoot digital first.”

She took a back from her case, attached it to the camera. When he looked in the case, the bag—the lenses, backs, cables, attachments—he understood why everything was so damn heavy.

How the hell did she haul all that stuff around?

He didn’t ask because he recognized focused work mode.

She peered through the viewfinder, used a remote to switch on the light, switch it off. She popped an umbrella out of the bag, screwed it onto the light stand, then shielded that with a screen.

She checked everything again, changed the angle of the tripod, walked it back about an inch.