And Now She's Gone(44)
“And I changed my mind.”
He waited for more.
She shrugged. “The end.”
Gray followed Kevin as he strolled back to his work space behind a short cubicle wall. “I’m sorry she forced you to come here.”
“No problem.” There was a bottle of Coke on his desk, a bag of barbecue potato chips, and an unlocked cell phone. “I was headed here anyway. How long has she been living there?”
Kevin said, “Since ‘ninety-two. She and my dad had a house farther up the hill, but when he died, she decided to sell and get something smaller. With me being sent all over the world, I wanted her to be around people. The Gardners kept her company, but then they moved to Arizona and rented out their condo. Isabel arrived, and … She was heaven sent.”
Was?
Gray said, “I’m grabbing lunch at Wokcano. Wanna join me? You can pretend to eat your mom’s lunch and save it for tomorrow.”
He sat in his chair. “Thanks, but no.”
“Okay, no garlic.” She settled into his guest chair.
“Can’t.”
“Uncle Sam won’t let you leave?”
He laced his fingers across his belly. “I can close for lunch, if I want.”
“So, come with me. Share a wonton.”
“I don’t wanna send the wrong message…”
“That … what?”
“I’m … involved.”
Gray cocked her head. “It’s lunch, not sex. Not that there’s anything wrong with sex.” The idea of it—sex with Kevin Tompkins—screeched out of her like a distressed peacock. But then she did what women do and found the sultriest smile in her bag of tricks.
His eyes remained flat and uninterested. “I’m involved with Isabel.”
“Huh?” For real: Huh? Nothing Gray had seen or heard indicated that Isabel was interested in this man.
“We’re on the D.L., since she’s with the doctor. Officially.” He searched Gray’s eyes, then added, “I hope you understand,” since he’d found not one mote of understanding there.
She nodded. “Have you talked to Izzy lately?”
“It’s been a few days.”
She squinted at him.
He sensed her skepticism. “We’ve texted back and forth, I mean.”
“It’s a special day today,” she said, remembering the missing woman’s birthday.
“It is.” The soldier tossed her a smile—he had no clue.
On the desk, his cell phone chirped. He swiped at the screen as the front door opened.
Young men were filling the center.
Kevin stood from his chair. He said, “Excuse me,” to Gray, then shouted, “I see future soldiers.” He marched over to the small group, leaving his phone right there on the desk.
She grabbed the phone before it could fall asleep. As Kevin Tompkins talked to the young men about military benefits, Gray swiped through his digital photo album.
A far-off shot of a bedroom window and a woman wearing pink panties and a purple bra.
And another shot—the young woman now wore yoga pants and was bending over to retrieve something out of her yellow VW Beetle.
Gray kept swiping as Kevin Tompkins extolled the virtues of being servicemen. And then she found them.
Pictures of Isabel Lincoln, in various stages of undress, standing in her window or on her patio, or at her car, or in a parking lot. There were also photos of an erect penis and Kevin’s blurred face in the background.
Out front, Kevin Tompkins said, “You gentlemen interested?”
Two young men shouted, “Sir, yes sir!”
And as he set the future recruits at computer stations, Gray found that woman’s smile again and forced herself to walk to the exit and wave at Kevin Tompkins. “See ya later.”
Kevin smiled back at her. “Thanks again.”
Gray wandered back to her car. From stalking to kidnapping to murder—easy jumps. Her phone buzzed. She clenched, prayed the next text hadn’t come from Sean.
Or Kevin. Or Ian …
She exhaled. It was a message from Isabel.
Miss Sykes?
I’m here.
Who do you work for?
Rader Consulting. The sun had sucked all the cool air from the Camry, and now sweat trickled down Gray’s spine. Were you and Kevin Tompkins involved?
Over by the white Subaru, gulls fought over a discarded hamburger bun. Over by the blue Chrysler LeBaron, a mother struggled to collapse a baby stroller. Down on Gray’s phone screen, ellipses bubbled … bubbled …
Ugh no!! Did he say that??
He hinted more than said straight out
No!! He’s DISGUSTING!
This wasn’t Kevin.
You said you can help me
But I don’t want a male detective helping.
I don’t trust men anymore.
Gray said, “Gurl,” then texted, Got it but you have to confirm that you are you.
This time, no ellipses. This time, no response.
Gray had nearly reached Playa Vista and Rader Consulting when her phone buzzed again.
An email with two attachments from [email protected]. The first attachment was a scanned letter dated Friday, July 12.
Ian, I meant what I told you back in May. I don’t want to be with you anymore. I’m tired of screaming. I’m tired of crying. Tired of your hands on my body. I don’t want to be there anymore. I don’t want you to find me. I AM OKAY. I AM ALIVE. It is now 12:47 p.m. PST on Friday afternoon. Here are the answers to your questions: Hyundai Sonata