The Murder Rule(34)

“Shit,” Camila said. She punched the seat. “Shit. I screwed that up.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Hannah. “She was pretty clear. I’m not sure there’s anything you could have said that would have made her agree to help us.”

“Wel , we’re not giving up,” Camila said. She opened the car door and jogged back up the path to the inn.

“Camila?” Hannah cal ed, but Camila didn’t slow or stop. Hannah watched as she knocked on the door, as Angie opened it, and the two women talked. Angie disappeared back into the house for a few minutes, while Camila stood at the door, her arms folded across her chest. A few minutes passed before Angie came back, exchanged a few more words with Camila, and then Camila was jogging back to the car.

“I got it,” she said, as she climbed back into the driver’s seat.

“Got what?” Hannah asked.

“An address for Sophia Prosper, Prosper-Reynolds, whatever she’s cal ing herself,” Camila said. “She lives in Wil iamsburg. It’s basical y on our way home.” She grinned at Hannah, held up her hand for a high five. “Don’t leave me hanging,” she said.

“Angie just handed that over?” Hannah asked. She forced a smile and returned a weak high five.

“She wasn’t sure about it, but I gave her the hard sel . . . just repeated her own words back to her real y, about Michael’s whole life being taken away from him and just wanting to get to the truth.” She made a let’s go gesture.

“You want to go right now?”

“No time like the present,” Camila said. “Come on, Hannah, we’re on the trail here. We’re kil ing this thing. Beyoncé had it right, girl. We run this mutha.”

Despite everything Hannah laughed.

“What we need now is music,” Camila said.

“And food.”

“That too. Angie said she’s a marketing manager. Sophia is, I mean. So let’s go eat, and then let’s drive to her place and wait for her to get home. I real y think we’l have more luck in person.”

They went to the York Pub, where they ate crab cakes and side salads. The food was good and the atmosphere was better—the place was half ful , despite the fact that it was only three o’clock in the afternoon and lunch hour had long passed. A handful of groups were already drinking—beer or happy-hour margarita pitchers.

Camila cast them an envious eye.

“I almost wish we were staying,” she said. “We could get lit and talk about our first boyfriends.”

The pub was the kind of place that drew you in. There was a happy buzz of conversation. Hannah felt another little knot of tension unravel.

“So tel me about U Maine,” Camila said. “Are things very different from UVA?”

Hannah finished her last mouthful of crab cake. “Not as much as you’d think,” she said. “But I’ve only got a couple of classes. I’m just doing enough to stay on top of things for next year.”

Camila nodded, eyes hooded. “So being here, for you, real y is about your mom, huh?”

Hannah nodded, and just like that the tension was back. She pushed her plate away. “Did you see the carrot cake up there? I’m going to get some, and maybe some coffee. Can I get you anything?” Camila didn’t take much convincing. By the time Hannah had been to the counter, ordered, and returned, Camila had finished her crab cakes, but the conversation hadn’t moved on.

“It must be difficult for you,” she said. “Do you have other family?”

Hannah hesitated. “Nope. No other family, real y. Or I suppose there is, but we’re not in touch.”

“Not with anyone?” Camila asked.

“Wel , my mom’s mom is dead, and she hasn’t been in touch with her dad in years. My father’s family didn’t want anything to do with us. He was . . . I guess he was wealthy, and my mother came from nothing, so . . .” Shit. It was hard to keep Camila at bay. She was good at asking questions, probing away gently until your back was up against the wal .

“Man, that’s real y tragic,” Camila said, brow furrowed.

“What about you?” Hannah asked.

Their conversation was interrupted briefly by the waitress, who delivered two slices of cake and two cups of coffee. Both women were quiet for a moment as they ate. The cake was incredible, the coffee even better.

“Wel , my dad bailed when I was twelve,” Camila said. “He lives in LA now, I think, although the last time he was in touch was a phone cal maybe two years ago? But my mom remarried and I’m real y close to my stepfather. I think of him as my dad, real y. My mom’s a nurse and she works two jobs. I’ve got two sisters and she is like, determined, that we are al going to set the world on fire. She never let us get weekend or evening jobs, you know? It was always about study, study, study.” Camila’s tone was chatty, very friendly, intimate.

Hannah told herself to be careful not to be fooled. They weren’t going to be friends. “I had to maintain a perfect GPA or man did I get it. I got financial aid for undergrad and grad school, obviously, otherwise there’s no way. But the deal is when I start earning, I start contributing to the family finances. I guess it’s a form of financial indenture. I don’t know how many years I’l have to serve. That depends on my sisters.”