August Unknown (11 page)

But even as she drove into this rat-hole part of town, it all
came back like a relapse of some hideous disease.

When her dad got laid off and the money for college stopped, she’d
tried to get work as an exotic dancer. The seedy manager of the place snorted,
looked her up and down, and told her to come back after she “got new titties.” The
response had been the same at the three other “gentleman’s clubs” that were
within driving distance. No way was she getting breast augmentation, even if
she could afford it. How would she explain it back home?

The only way she could stay in school was to go to work as an
escort. And the only way she could stomach being an escort was to get high.
Vince was the man who could always make that possible.

At least no one back home would know. The taint of those
wretched experiences was on the inside.

And now it was all in the past. She was off that shit and
would never go back on it. She could hardly believe she was standing outside Vince’s
run-down building again, even if all she sought was information.

She stepped over a sleeping drunk on the stairs, thinking he looked
vaguely familiar, and started up the three flights to Vince’s top-floor loft.
She rapped the knocker on his door. One, two, pause, and a third time. The
secret knock seemed ridiculous now that she was sober.

He opened the door. After a moment’s surprise, he gave her a
smarmy smile. “Thought I’d never see you again.”

“Likewise.” She pushed inside. “Not a social visit, Vinnie.
Don’t get your shorts in a bind.”

“Hey, no problem. Whatever you want, you know I’m always
here.” He snickered. “Though I wouldn’t turn one down for old time’s sake?”

Thankfully she had her back to him, and he couldn’t see her
grimace. She gagged at the memory of the many times she’d exchanged a blow job
for a hit. Even though he spent most every day in this rat hole, he didn’t
bathe much.

She glanced at the messy coffee table. The assortment of glass
paraphernalia made her mouth go dry. Too-familiar longing rolled through her,
ending as prickling chills across her flesh. She swallowed her uncertainty
through a dry throat. This was the point when recovering alcoholics called
their sponsors.

She turned away. She didn’t need a sponsor, or anyone else.
She was strong. This was behind her.

“I only need information. You owe me a favor. When Carly and I
got busted, I told her I’d kill her if she ratted you out.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She faced him. She’d never noticed, or never cared, what a
crap hole this loft was. When she was in college, living in a dorm room with
three other girls she despised, having a loft this size all to herself was her
greatest fantasy.

Geez, did he ever clean? A dust bunny the size of a kitten sat
on the floor in the corner by an old pizza box. Empty aluminum cans lay
scattered about. Overfilled ashtrays made her want to gag.

“All I require is your time. I need information.”

He eyed her, working a piece of candy in his mouth. “What sort
of information?”

“Nothing you can’t handle. I’m looking for a missing person.”

“Why don’t you try the police?”

She scowled. “Why do you think?”

He crossed the room and sat in front of his computer. The
setup looked like an alien beast, with its tangle of wires stretching out
behind it like monstrous veins. “Give me a lead.”

She sat beside him on an old office stool. “Her name is Emily
Atkinson. She went missing September ninth. Fell overboard near Hutchison’s
Island.”

“So I’m looking for bodies washed up.” His fingers tapped
across the keyboard with surprising speed. “You’ll want me to check the
coroner’s records for any unidentified women?”

“Will there be pictures?”

He tapped away. “Depends on where she is.”

“I want you to look all the way down to Southern California.”

He made a face. “That long in the water, won’t be pretty.” He
leaned back in the office chair and swiveled back and forth as the computer ran
its search.

She waited as irritation crawled up her spine. This loft, and its
dark memories, made her itchy.

A fat orange cat walked into the room and plopped down on the
floor. Did Vinnie ever get confused between it and all the dust clods?

The computer beeped and Vinnie righted his chair to face the
screen. “All right, um, eight drownings in the past two weeks.” His mouse
clicked. “Five bodies so far recovered.”

“That many?” She tried to sound concerned instead of
perturbed. “That’s terrible. Any of them have pictures?”

He shook his head, pushing the hard candy left and right across
his mouth. “None. Can’t say I’m disappointed. The sight of a stiff always makes
me want to hurl.”

“I need any incident on the ninth or tenth concerning a
twenty-five-year-old blond woman. I’m looking for Jane Does.”

The cat rose and ambled over to sniff her pant leg. Usually
she hated cats, but reached down and scratched his head to be congenial.

“Jane Does, huh.” Vinnie’s fingers clacked away. Ghostly
flashes of blue and orange moved over his face as the screen changed. “Hmmm.
Also got a traffic fatality in Crescent City involving a pedestrian still
unidentified, approximately thirty years of age.”

She rose and peered over his shoulder. “No picture?”

“Nada. Hmmm, this one’s interesting. Splatto.”

“The short version, please.”

“This one jumped off Yaquina Bay Bridge. Again, no photo
available.” He rolled his eyes. “
Thank God
.”

A jumper? Emily? Unlikely. “Probably not her. Give me the
location anyway.”

He wrote it down and continued. “Here’s another unknown, blond
woman is still missing after a boat sank off the coast of Agate. No picture or
names released at request of the family.”

At first she thought it would be the report on Emily, but then
as “Agate” registered, her heart leaped. Could Emily have been picked up by
someone? She chewed her lip to keep from smiling. That would be poetic justice;
Emily rescued, only to get swamped.

“Here’s another on the night of the ninth: a traffic accident
victim with head-trauma, checked in to the hospital at eleven thirty p.m.
Strange...this file’s confidential.”

That one couldn’t possibly be Emily. The bitch would still
have been floating. She’d wager a month’s pay Emily was the blond woman on the
swamped boat. Still, she had to rule out every possibility, at least until her
bloated corpse surfaced.

“Can’t you hack the password?”

“That’s just it—there’s no password to bypass. The information
simply isn’t logged. Someone wants to keep this
off
the records.”

Cold worry rushed into her gut. Was it possible Emily had been
rescued and was biding her time as the authorities made their case?

“Where is she?”

“This report was first filed by Pacific Communities Hospital,
Newport. It’s a coastal town near Eugene—”

“I know where Newport is, thank you.”

“But there’s no police report to go with it. Probably a false
alarm.”

She’d learned long ago not to count on such luck. A coastal
town, was it? Could it be Emily had made it ashore that far south?
Better check
it out, just to be safe
.

“Write down what you can find. I’m going to check them all
out.” She opened her wallet and fished out some bills. “Will fifty bucks make
you forget you saw me here today?”

He snatched the cash from her hand. “Saw who?”

Chapter Eight

Geoffrey and August came through the front door to find Derek
sitting on the living room couch talking to a woman with shoulder-length, honey-blond
hair. The sight of yet another stranger made August’s shoulders tighten, but
Geoffrey brightened instantly.

“Leah! I thought you weren’t coming back until Tuesday.”

She swiveled around and smiled, taking August in with a degree
of guarded curiosity. At the same time, her friendly eyes and the warmth in her
smile told August she didn’t have anything to fear.

“I decided to come home early after Jocelyn told me the most
amazing story.”

“Uh oh.”

“Don’t worry. Heaven knows I’ve let her sit up front, too.”
She stood up and came around the couch. “But I had to see the mysterious woman
for myself.”

Her words held subtle warning, but her smile only increased.
She extended her hand.

“I’m Leah Tanner. Derek tells me you’ve lost parts of your
memory.”

She shook the woman’s hand. “I wish I could tell you my name.
Dr. Carlson tells me I have hysterical retrograde amnesia.”

“Hysterical amnesia? Isn’t that just like him. I bet if you
were a man, it would have a strong, macho name.”

August laughed, already enamored with Leah.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Geoffrey dropped his briefcase on the
foyer table. “I was planning to take August for a drive down the coast tomorrow
to see a chain of restaurants she thinks she remembers.”

“Actually, Geoffrey dear, I’m here because I remembered the
Sierra Foundation awards benefit is tomorrow night. You know I don’t dare leave
Jocelyn in Derek’s care.” She glanced over her shoulder with a sly look.

Derek smirked. “That’s my loving sister.”

Leah smirked right back. “Sweetheart, love has nothing to do
with it.”

Geoffrey put a hand to his forehead. “I completely forgot. I
can skip it.”

Leah’s eyes grew wide. “Don’t you dare! You’ve earned this
award. There’s no way I’m letting you skip out on it.” She grabbed August by
the right arm. “Talk some sense into him. I have a dress that’ll be perfect for
you.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t go.” August choked down the sudden welling
of dread. “I can’t go to public events. Not yet.”

“Nonsense. Didn’t Dr. Carlson say you should be out seeing as
much as you can?”

August glanced over at Derek, still slumped into a deep
leather loveseat in the living room. He shrugged. “We’re family—we talk.”

“Now Leah, don’t pressure her,” Geoffrey said. “If she doesn’t
want to go, she can stay here with you and Jocelyn.”

August had an instant to convey her gratitude in a smile
before Leah hauled her away. “We’ll let her decide. In the meantime, I can show
her the dress.”

She suspected Leah wanted a private moment to talk more than
she wanted to show her any dress. August didn’t blame her. Even without her
memory, she knew she’d be wary at finding a stranger in her home, too,
especially if there were small children there.

“Derek told me what happened this morning,” she said softly as
they walked down the hall to the bedrooms. “I want to thank you for sending
Geoffrey back out after him.”

“Derek knew that?”

“He guessed as much. Geoffrey sure didn’t do it on his own.”

The woman’s statements made her curiosity grow. What had
happened between those two brothers to put them at such odds, when the rest of
the family was closer than most?

August suddenly wondered how she knew that. Was the ache of
longing squeezing at her heart because she was separated from her own loving
family, or because the closeness she saw in the Barthlow house was truly a
foreign thing?

“Derek didn’t do anything, really.” She allowed Leah to lead
her into a beautiful room decorated with flowery striped wallpaper. “I couldn’t
let things get worse between them because of a misunderstanding.”

“Sweetheart, things are bad enough already. You don’t have to
worry about causing anything.” She slid open one of three mirrored doors to
reveal an enormous closet filled with clothes. Instead of divulging more about
Geoffrey and Derek, she rifled through her clothes. “Here we go. I’ll never fit
in this again.”

She removed a tea-length silk dress in pale blue and held it
in front of August. “This compliments your eyes beautifully. Of course you
can’t wear a bra with these little spaghetti straps. I have a strapless one you
can borrow.”

“It’s beautiful, really, but I don’t feel right—”

“Have you been wearing these clothes for an entire week?” She
pulled the dress back and looked August up and down.

“I’ve been washing out my underwear at night,” August said
with a twinge of self-conscious heat in her cheeks. “And we do a load of
laundry every other day.”

“Well goodness, there’s no reason to keep doing that.” Leah
turned back to the closet. “I need to take Jocelyn shopping for new clothes
tomorrow. I’ll pick you up some undies. Can’t have you putting on damp drawers
every morning.”

“That’s so nice of you, really.” August sat on the edge of the
bed. “But I don’t want to be a bother.”

“No bother at all.” Leah started yanking clothes off their hangers
and tossing them onto the bed. “There’s so much crammed in here because I never
throw anything away. I’ve been meaning to donate a lot of this stuff.”

“I don’t think...” August stammered, unsure how to put her
situation to this woman who had obviously never been without money. “I’m not
sure I could pay you back.”

“Well, it’s just some underwear for goodness’ sakes, and maybe
some comfy sweats to sit around in. Don’t worry a bit. Geoffrey’s picking up
the tab, right? Wait a minute, I have some yoga clothes that’ll fit you.”

She turned and dug through the top drawer of her dresser.
After pulling out a pair of black cotton pants and an oversized t-shirt, she
went back to the closet. “Geez, I still have this? And this is from before
Jocelyn was born. I’ll never squeeze my rear end into these again...” A pair of
jeans flew through the air, followed by a coral colored blouse and a pair of
blue cotton slacks. “This one is too out of style for me to interview in.”

August picked up the chic blue velvet jacket Leah’d flung at
her. It was fabulous, and she loved the single glittery rhinestone button that
fastened the front.

But something about accepting such generosity just felt wrong.