And Now She's Gone(45)
Black lace lingerie
The truth and shellfish.
Here is a picture of me holding today’s USA Today. Please call her off. You and I have secrets—let’s keep them that way. Go in peace.
Izzy
Gray parked in the first space available, then tapped the second attachment.
It was a picture of Isabel standing in a tiled entryway with a USA Today to her chest. She was somewhere tropical—there were palm trees and a ribbon of blue water behind her.
In the background, there was a digital sign. The words … The Westin … Princeville … Isabel Lincoln was in Kauai, Hawaii.
During one of their better months, Gray and Sean had stayed at that resort.
Gray tried to zoom in to read the paper’s headline but couldn’t. Then she compared the answers in Isabel’s email to the answers Ian had provided. All correct. Isabel wasn’t dead. Kevin Tompkins hadn’t killed her—he wouldn’t have said Ian had been allergic to “the truth.” That answer could only come from a pissed-off ex-lover.
Proof of life was now in Gray’s hands. She could now report to the doctor that his ex-girlfriend was alive and okay. Her job was done.
But Isabel hadn’t sent a picture of Kenny G. She hadn’t sent a picture of her butterfly-tattooed left thigh. In this picture, Isabel’s hair was still golden brown, not the black of that L’Oréal box. And it was now one o’clock in Los Angeles. In Isabel’s email, she’d stated that it had been 12:47 p.m. PST on Friday afternoon. Even the email’s time stamp in the header said “12:49 p.m. PST.”
But it couldn’t have been 12:49 p.m. in Hawaii on this Friday afternoon. On the island, it was only 9:47 a.m. on Friday morning Hawaii Standard Time.
And she’d said, “12:47 p.m. PST” and “afternoon.”
This picture was a lie.
SHE WOULDN’T STOP
24
Yes. This picture that Isabel Lincoln had just sent was a lie.
Bits of disinformation or …
Gray stared at Isabel Lincoln’s email—that time stamp, especially. The answers were correct, answers only the missing woman would have known. But where the hell was the dog? And if she were truly in Kauai, why wasn’t the time stamp in Hawaii Standard Time?
No, Gray couldn’t help this woman disappear. Not until she knew the truth.
This case was far from over.
At this time of day, all of Rader Consulting was chewing on something. The hallways smelled of luscious ripe strawberries, char-grilled hamburgers, and French fries drowned in vinegary-sweet ketchup.
Gray popped her head into Jennifer’s office. “Hey, ladies.”
The blonde and Clarissa were pulling California Pizza Kitchen boxes out of a bag. “I told you she was coming in,” Clarissa said to Jennifer. To Gray: “We got you lunch.”
Gray shouted, “Ohmigod, you are the best.” She pulled one of the last items from the bag. “A salad.” She gaped at her coworkers, then reached into the bag again for a packet of … “What the hell is this?”
“Light balsamic dressing,” Jennifer said.
“No!”
“We’re being strong for you,” Clarissa said. “You made us promise, remember?”
Gray groaned as she settled in a guest chair.
Jennifer had switched from botanical oils in her diffuser to sugar-and-spices-scented oils, and now her office smelled like a 3 Musketeers candy bar. Pictures of her and her slick-haired third husband, Reynaldo, crammed the credenza alongside faux Tiffany lamps, scented sachets, and dishes filled with powders, pearls, and gems.
“Since it’s too early for margaritas…” The blonde grabbed cans of LaCroix from her mini fridge and handed one to Gray. “Day’s almost over. You got tired of spooning with your hot soldier and decided to earn a living?”
“He’s a hot marine,” Gray corrected, mouth filled with romaine lettuce.
“Get your swerve on, dude,” Clarissa chirped.
Jennifer sliced her Hawaiian pie with a fork and knife. “So? Details?”
Clarissa plopped down to the rug. “And use lots of adjectives.”
“And strong verbs,” Jennifer said with a wink.
Between bites of lettuce and sips of carbonated water, Gray offered highlights of her late night with Hank. Playing connect-the-dots with her tongue on his scars. How every part of him had been engineered for her hands, for her mouth, for every part of her, and how tears had rolled back into her ears so many times, she was either drowning or going deaf. How she’d shivered and sweated so much that she believed that she’d either caught the flu or was going through the change. He was like the El Ni?o rains and she was a forest after a ten-year drought.
Jennifer shook her head. “I hate you.”
“Dude,” Clarissa said, “you always have the best sex.”
“He is so hot,” Jennifer said.
Clarissa sighed. “My Irving is … rich. Not just rich, but Irving’s family was one of the richest in Macao. They’ll have money forever.”
Jennifer said, “You don’t think he’s sexy?”
Clarissa said, “The struggle is real.” She pulled out her cell phone from her shorts pocket. “Wanna see my American dress? I tried it on this morning.” It was cigarette-smoke white with enough tulle for six wedding gowns.