First Girl Gone(12)
“I hope not.” Charlie tucked her notepad back in her bag. “But I intend to find her either way.”
Chapter Seven
When Charlie returned to her car after talking to Kara’s family, she shut herself inside and sat for a minute, not moving. A thousand memories of Allie flashed through her mind. Being in that bedroom had felt like ripping off a scab—a familiar injury reopened.
After a couple minutes, Charlie started the ignition and headed toward town, trying to push away the negative feelings. Kara wasn’t Allie. This case had nothing to do with Allie. Continuing to compare the two girls wasn’t helping. It was only clouding her thoughts, dredging up old feelings that helped exactly no one.
She’d made arrangements earlier to talk with Kara’s friend, Maggie Stahl—a prospect that seemed all the more critical after what Rachel had said about Kara sneaking out at night—but that interview wouldn’t happen until the following morning. In the meantime, there was another lead she could pursue.
Downtown, Charlie pulled to the curb in front of an old Victorian house and parked. It had been converted into offices sometime during Charlie’s absence from Salem Island. The place had been in bad shape when Charlie was growing up—peeling paint and a sagging porch roof—but someone had really put some work into it, restoring the exterior to its original condition. The sign out front listed two businesses: Judy Walenski, CPA and Will Crawford, Attorney at Law.
“Well, well, well…” Allie said. “You didn’t even have to look up his address or anything. You dirty dog.”
“Shut up.”
The wooden steps out front creaked under Charlie’s feet as she climbed the porch and opened the door. The ground floor had been split into two separate spaces, and there was also a stairway leading to a second floor. Charlie spotted Will’s name next to the door on the left and entered.
A middle-aged woman with a Bluetooth earpiece in her ear sat behind a desk in the waiting room, having what sounded like a conversation with a child.
“Then you’re ready to put the clothes in the dryer,” she was saying. There was a pause. “I don’t know. It’s different every time. Start with sixty minutes and go from there. And don’t forget to empty the lint trap.”
She sighed and held up a finger in Charlie’s direction.
“The pull-out screen thing. Yes,” she said, rolling her eyes. “OK. Love you. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Pursing her lips, the woman shook her head and ended the call.
“Sorry about that. My thirteen-year-old is going bowling tonight, and now he’s in a panic because his favorite shirt is dirty. A year ago it was a fight just to get him to shower regularly. Now he’s obsessed with cologne and body wash.” She sighed dramatically. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“I’m here to see Will… er… Mr. Crawford?” Charlie said, her nervousness making it come out more like a question than a statement.
The woman smiled pleasantly, ignoring Charlie’s awkwardness.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, I—”
Just then the door beyond the woman’s desk opened, and a man in a suit came out. It took a beat before Charlie realized it was Will. She’d still been picturing him as a tall, gangly eighteen-year-old with red-gold hair that hung in his eyes. And definitely not wearing a three-piece suit.
His hair was still on the long side, especially for a lawyer, though it wasn’t quite the surfer-esque mop it had once been. But it was the eyes that really gave him away. They were bright hazel. Intense. Perhaps retaining some mischief even after all these years.
Will stopped short in the doorway, staring at her. At first she thought he was only trying to place her, but she saw the recognition on his face. It was a beat before Charlie realized he wasn’t seeing her. He was seeing Allie. The Allie that could have been. Because Allie was the one everyone remembered, and it would have been that way even if she hadn’t disappeared. If Allie had lived, Charlie probably would have gone her entire life being mistaken for her.
Finally, he seemed to find his voice.
“Charlie. Wow.”
“Hello, Will,” she said, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Like she was imposing. Why hadn’t she called first? “I was hoping you had a minute.”
“Of course.” He gestured that she should follow him into his office. “Come on in.”
Will’s office looked like something out of a TV show. Barrister-style bookcases lined either side of the room, each one filled with leather-bound books. On the back wall, Will’s credentials hung in large gold frames. The walls were midnight-blue, the ceiling coffered.
Will took a seat behind a large mahogany desk. As Charlie slid into the velvet wingback opposite him, she couldn’t help but notice that his chair sat much higher. She wondered if it was on purpose. To make him seem more dominant or imposing or something.
“Nice office,” she said, glancing at a pair of antique-looking brass sconces flanking the window. “I kind of feel like I’m a contestant on The Apprentice.”
Across from her, Will’s mouth popped open. He was quiet for a moment, and she worried she’d hurt his feelings.
But then he burst out laughing.
“You know, I used to have a much more casual office. Fewer books. Way less desk,” he said, pointing at the carved behemoth he was sitting behind. “Simple. Minimalist. But Marcia, that’s my assistant you saw out front, she suggested hiring a designer to come in. She said that my clients have certain expectations. And she was right. Business has more than doubled since we put in fancy bookcases and moody lighting. Everyone wants something that looks like a TV procedural or something.”