And Now She's Gone(13)

Beatrice Tompkins pooched her lips. “No. The sun was high. Couldn’t see cuz of the shadow. But I ain’t never seen that truck before. Other cars, yes, but not that truck. It was one of them ugly-looking things with the big wheels and the metal bars and the loud engine that go bup-bup-bup? I was still hearing it ten miles away.”

Gray glanced back at Isabel’s front door. “I don’t see any water bottles or newspapers out. Have any of her other friends…”

Beatrice Tompkins laughed. “Ain’t nobody else come round here. Not that I can remember. I got a key to her place, so I’ve been taking everything in. I used to take care of Morris sometimes. You know, feed him, clean his litter box, keep him company whenever she was out of town.”

“Poor kitty,” Gray said. “She loved that cat.”

“Oh yes she did. I can let you in, if you need. She left a message on my machine a few days after she left. She said that you’d be coming by to pick up some mail and her key.”

Gray’s skin tightened. “Huh?”

But the old lady had already shuffled back into her home. “Took you a long time to come round. Hold on.”

Panic exploded near Gray’s heart. She said that you’d be coming by. What did that mean? “She?” Who? “You?” Who?

“I found the key,” Beatrice Tompkins shouted.

A camel-colored man with broad shoulders and a crew cut strolled in from the entry gate. He wore army fatigues and clean boots. As broad as a linebacker, he was several inches taller than Gray, six feet at least. “May I help you?” he asked.

“Kevin,” the old lady called out, “that you?”

He kept his gaze on Gray, and shouted, “Yes, Mom. It’s me.”

Gray offered her hand. “Hi. I’m Maya.” She pointed to Isabel’s door. “Her friend.” The lie made Gray buoyant and light as a balloon. So far, lying was her favorite part of the job.

The old lady returned to the breezeway with three keys on a pink ribbon. To her son, she said, “How you doing, baby?”

Kevin kissed the top of his mother’s snowy head. “Mom, you should be resting.”

She waved her hand at that. “What you think I been doing all day?”

He frowned. “Just because your hip feels like it’s healed, doesn’t mean—”

“Boy, hush now.” She touched the soldier’s chest, then turned to Gray. “I’ll let you in.”

Kevin glared at Gray and shook his head.

Gray’s stomach wobbled, and her open mouth popped closed, then opened again to say, “That’s okay, Mrs. Tompkins. Really. Kevin’s right—you should be resting.”

Her phone wiggled in her hand and she glanced at the screen. Tea!

“You sure?” Mrs. Tompkins asked.

Gray met Kevin’s eyes—hard, dark, resolved—and glanced at her phone again. “I’m positive.” She offered the old woman a reassuring smile. “Thanks so much for helping Izzy. You’re incredibly kind.”

“I can’t wait to see her,” Beatrice Tompkins said. “Maybe she’ll have dinner with my Kevin. He’s been in the army going on fifteen years. He’s a sergeant now. He likes fishing and photography and he’s the most generous man she’ll ever meet. And he’s handsome, too.”

Kevin almost smiled. “Okay, Mom.” To Gray, he said, “Nice meeting you, Maya.”

Gray hurried back to her car, praying that Tea Christopher’s message would bring her one step closer to Isabel Lincoln.





8


Back in the Camry, Gray read Tea Christopher’s text message.

Did Ian hire you? I have nothing to say



Frustration, anger, distrust—each emotion bristled from those nine words.

I don’t want her to come back. If you met him you’d know how awful he is.



Gray had met him, and now she wanted to drive back to UCLA and yell in Ian O’Donnell’s face, Just leave her the fuck alone! This was so unfair, so unnecessary, and she was pissed that Nick had given her this case.

I told her to move on but now he wants her to come back and I don’t so NO I’M NOT TALKING TO YOU. BE blessed.



Gray laughed—Be blessed—and that relieved some of the tension in her shoulders.

If Ian was truly an abuser, as Beth had suggested, Tea was probably the frustrated BFF who had stayed up late at night consoling her distraught friend. Tea had probably cried, I’ll do anything for you, Izzy, I don’t care. Let’s just go. You can’t let him do this. Words that all concerned friends said out of desperation. Words that ultimately fell on deaf ears. Words like: Well, when is the right time to leave?

Do you hear yourself?

What kind of life is this?

But words? Just distinct elements of speech used with other elements to make a sentence or to form a thought. As concrete as air.

Gray paused before responding, and her fingers hovered over the phone’s keyboard. Her body hot again, she watched a hawk circle the sky as she waited for her pulse to slow.

3 minutes, 3 questions. Then you’ll never have to hear from me again.

Back at the condos, Kevin was pushing a trash bin to the curbside. Dressed in those fatigues, he looked heroic, strong, like America back in its heyday, America before the Nazis and the anthem and the uranium and the wall and the treason and the porn stars.