Hidden Falls (37 page)

Liam chewed and stared. Dani did not relent.

“Follow me.” Dani led Liam into the other room, where her computer displayed a photo from the edge of the lake.

Liam leaned in for a closer look. “That’s the woods outside the cabin. So?”

Dani zoomed in and put a finger on the screen. “Here, where it’s darker. See that shape?”

Liam peered but shook his head. “What am I supposed to see?”

“A person. A man, I think.”

He shrugged. “It could be, I guess. You think this is the person who put a hole in the boat?”

“I think it’s somebody who doesn’t want to be seen. If you were going to commit a crime, would you want to be seen?”

Liam paled.

Dani clicked the photo closed. “Why are you so bent on finding out who Santorelli is?”

“Because of Quinn, of course.”

“You’re not even that close to him.”

“But you are. After four days, aren’t you starting to wonder?”

Wonder, yes. Worry, no. “He’ll turn up when he’s ready.”

“I’m impressed with what you’re doing with those photos,” Liam said. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

Dani shrugged. “People learn what they’re interested in learning. It’s easier than a lot of people think.”

Liam chuckled. “That sounds like the kind of thing a gloating hacker would say.”

Dani saw no humor in the remark. “I’m not one of those people who steals information or creates viruses.”

Liam backpedaled. “I didn’t say you were.”

Then what exactly was he saying?

“But you understand how to hack into a system, don’t you?” Liam asked.

Of course she did. “It’s not usually that hard. People are careless about passwords.”

“If someone’s computer was hacked, would you be able to trace how it happened?”

“Depends.” Whatever Liam was trying to say, Dani wished he would get to the point.

“I’ve been having some trouble with my computer,” he said. “Maybe I’ll have you take a look.”

“It’s not my favorite thing to do.” If he’d been hacked, Dani hoped Liam hadn’t been stupid.

“Nothing competes with fishing.”

Liam had that right.

“Back to Quinn,” Liam said. “I know you can track anything. I really want you to try to dig up something on this Santorelli business.”

“I told you—”

“I know. But if there’s even a remote possibility something happened to Quinn, don’t you want to help?”

7:31 p.m.

“I love macaroni and cheese.” Christopher stood on a chair pulled up next to Lauren at the stove and stirred the pasta and powdered cheese together.

Molly was at the cupboard putting away peanut butter, tuna fish, spaghetti sauce, pastas, bread, breakfast cereal, and assorted canned vegetables. Bananas and apples sat in a basket on the counter. The refrigerator was stocked with milk, juice, eggs, and yogurt. A generous gift card to the nearest grocery store would ensure Molly could get more fresh food.

Lauren patted Christopher’s back and smiled over his head at his mother.

“He doesn’t remember that we didn’t always eat out of boxes,” Molly said softly. “I pureed his baby food out of organic ingredients.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Lauren said. “You’re taking care of your son the very best way you can right now.”

“This is the fourth place we’ve lived in a year,” Molly said. “Each one is crummier than the one before.”

“Christopher knows you love him. That’s what matters.” Lauren put her hand over his and stirred the mixture with slightly more force.

The house was dismal. Lauren wouldn’t deny that reality. Standing next to the back door, she felt the draft that came in through the cracks around it. The curtains looked like they hadn’t been replaced in twenty years, and the linoleum floor had a crack that ran the length of the room. None of the chairs matched the table or each other. In the living room, the unpolished wood floors were gouged and lacked the rugs that would have warmed up the room.

Christopher hadn’t taken off the brown-and-green winter jacket since Lauren first helped him zip it up. It fit him well, with plenty of room for the growth spurt he might have over the winter. When they got home, Molly had coaxed him to take off his hat and gloves with the compromise that he could sleep in his new jacket that night even though the house was comfortably warm.

“This looks just about done.” Lauren glanced at the green beans heating on the rear burner. She had already promised Christopher she would eat with them and confided that mac and cheese had been her favorite food when she was his age.

Molly lifted Christopher off the stool, and they moved to the table. Lauren sat between mother and son and offered her open hands.

“I’d like to ask the blessing,” she said.

Christopher sobered, shook his head, and put his hands in his lap.

Lauren raised her eyebrows toward Molly.

“We haven’t asked a blessing in a long time,” Molly said. “He’s not used to it.”

“Do you mind?” Lauren asked.

“I wish you would. I’m so grateful tonight.”

Lauren kept her prayer simple and childlike, using words she hoped Christopher would understand. They ate macaroni, beans, and salad greens. Christopher asked for two refills of milk, making Lauren wonder about the last time the child had unlimited access to filling food.

“Time for your jammies.” Molly prodded Christopher when he had scraped his plate clean. “You can put your coat back on after you change.” Once her son left the room, Molly turned tear-filled eyes to Lauren. “I was so desperate this afternoon when I found out the community center couldn’t help us. And then there you were.”

“We were both where we needed to be.” Lauren had come so close to simply phoning the community center and taking her chances with leaving a message for the director. Even after she was there, she’d almost let Molly and her son walk out of the center. The clipboard was still in her bag, untouched for the last few hours. Tomorrow was Thursday. She had only two days to pull the fair together. When she got home tonight, she would call the other members of the committee and begin trying to share the load—if it wasn’t too late to make phone calls.

“We’ve taken up so much of your time,” Molly said.

“I was glad to give it.” Lauren stacked the plates. “I hope you’ll come to the fair on Saturday. We’re planning fun for the kids, and I think you’ll meet people you’ll really like.”

“The only thing that will keep us away is if I find a job.”

Lauren wondered who would look after Christopher when Molly found work. He had just missed the cut-off for being old enough to go to school.
One challenge at a time,
she reminded herself.

Christopher returned to the kitchen in Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas that were too short and his new coat. “I can’t zip it myself.”

“We’ll have to work on that,” Molly said.

Rather than standing before his mother, Christopher presented himself for Lauren’s assistance. “Can you tell me a story while I fall asleep?”

“Oh, honey,” Molly said, “Lauren has done a lot for us today.”

His face fell.

“I would be happy to do it,” Lauren said. She didn’t care if she didn’t make her calls that night no matter what the consequence would be tomorrow.

“At least let me help you brush your teeth.” Molly steered the boy toward the bathroom.

Lauren ran water in the kitchen sink and started on the dishes while she waited for Molly’s return.

“He’s ready,” Molly said. “But make it a short story. He needs his sleep, and you have things to do. We’ve imposed enough.”

Lauren found Christopher’s bedroom. There were only two rooms at the other side of the house. He was in his jacket and under a quilt. In the background, Lauren heard his mother cleaning up after the meal.

She sat on the bed. “This story is about a little boy who
loves
macaroni and cheese.”

Lauren filled the story with bits and pieces of Christopher’s own day—at least the good parts she had witnessed for herself. After only a few minutes, his eyes closed and his shoulders drooped. She lowered her voice and spoke more slowly, matching her cadence to his even breathing until she was sure his slumber had passed the fragility of waking. Lauren managed to stand up without disturbing him and, on impulse, leaned over his face to give him the butterfly kisses she had learned from her Nana, her eyelashes barely brushing his cheek. Christopher shifted his head on the pillow but didn’t wake. At his door, ready to pull it closed behind her, Lauren turned to watch him. A prayer welled in her for this little boy to know blessing more than fear.

Molly was in the hall and embraced Lauren. “I can’t remember the last time someone was so kind to me. You’ve given us both a beautiful day. It gives me hope in my spirit. I had just about given up on hope.”

Just about.

Lauren patted Molly’s back. When Molly woke in the morning, she would still have no job and crushing debt. She would still be raising a child alone. She would still be living in a dismally furnished rental house. She would still grieve the little girl she had laid in the ground last year and the dismantling of a life where she had been loved and happy. Lauren knew nothing she had done that day would solve the disappointments of Molly’s existence. But for now, her son had a warm jacket, new shoes, and food. It was a start.

Outside Molly’s house, Lauren remembered she had ridden her bicycle out to the community center. Molly drove them around town to the various businesses that allowed Lauren to find a chink in the desperation of Molly’s day and ignite hope. Lauren could walk to her apartment easily enough from the edge of town. The movement would give her time to pray for Molly and Christopher.

Nothing about the last four days had been what Lauren expected. In her small corner of the world, Lauren had just about given up hope herself—hope for the health fair, hope for being able to do it well, hope for caring enough to carry through when she was exhausted.

She had lost another precious day.

And she would do it again in a heartbeat.

8:36 p.m.

“Tell me you’re not on the Internet.” Ethan snatched the phone out of Nicole’s hands and closed the search window.

She looked up at him. “I’m not on the Internet.”

“Funny.” He set her phone out of reach. “If it rings, I’ll let you answer.”

“I remember your being a lot more entertaining to be around.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t so grumpy in those days.”

“I thought Lauren would be home by now,” Nicole said. “I was going to ask you to go over to my house and get my stuff. Lauren can go along if you feel weird about doing it.”

“I’m sure you think it will be easier to scour the Internet for clues about Quinn on your laptop instead of your phone.”

“Don’t forget my iPad.” Nicole raked her fingers across her scalp.

They’d tried the TV, but Lauren didn’t have cable and Nicole wasn’t satisfied with broadcast options. Ethan snooped in the hall closet and uncovered a Scattergories box, but Nicole found him such a pitiful opponent that she refused to play more than two rounds. Ethan called in an order to the Fall Shadows Café and left Nicole alone long enough to run down the street and pick it up. When he got back, she was rolling around the apartment in the swiveling desk chair again. He wasn’t an orthopedist, but he’d seen enough broken bones to know she was in pain, and she refused to take another painkiller before bedtime. The lack of response by her assistant to her phone messages increasingly bothered Nicole. Her uninjured foot jiggled almost nonstop.

She was anxious, in pain, tired, and bored—though Ethan doubted Nicole would admit any of it. Her general state of agitation underscored for Ethan why he became a physician and not a nurse. He was used to being in and out of a patient’s room within a few minutes. He counted on nurses to let him know when his skills were needed or when a change of meds might be helpful, and he’d never developed the ability to patiently respond to shifting moods and chronic discomfort.

“I hear footsteps.” Nicole straightened as much as she could in the recliner.

Ethan breathed relief at the sound of the knob turning. Lauren came through the door.

“Nicole was about ready to send out a search party.”

“Sorry.” Lauren dropped her bag on a chair next to the door. “I kept meaning to call.”

“I hope you were able to get some work done on the health fair,” Nicole said.

“Not really,” Lauren said. “Something else came up.”

Despite Lauren’s words, Ethan thought, she looked less stressed than she had when she left after lunch. She went into the kitchen for a glass of water and then stretched out on the sofa.

“I hope you ate,” Lauren said.

“We did.” Nicole rubbed her eyes. “How about you?”

“Yes. Has Ethan been taking good care of you?”

“No comment.”

They laughed.

“Actually,” Nicole said, “I was hoping you and Ethan could run out to my house to get my things.”

“Sure. I’m willing.” Lauren sipped water. “I wish that as long as we’re in the neighborhood there was some way to get Quinn’s notes on the fair. I still think it would make my job easier.”

“The place is locked up,” Ethan said. “We’d have to climb a tree to see if Quinn ever fixed that window into the attic.”

Silence slid into place as the women froze.

“Ethan,” Nicole said, “are you saying that all this time you knew a way to get into Quinn’s house?”

“Well … no,” he said. “That was years ago.”

“What are you talking about?” Lauren asked.

“Quinn’s house has a full attic with windows at the back,” Ethan said. “I used to climb the maple that shades his deck and get into the house that way.”

“Why did I never know this?” Nicole asked.

“I only did it a few times when I just had to get out of my house,” Ethan said. “It was a scary climb and it’s a small window, which was probably why Quinn never got around to fixing it.”

Nicole reached for the lever and lowered the footrest on the recliner. “My crutches, please.”

Lauren rose from the couch and handed Nicole the crutches. “I’ll find your shoe.”

Ethan stared at them. “You’re not seriously thinking about breaking into Quinn’s house.”