Hurt (15 page)

“Nah, you’re fine,” Nicole answered. “The client is off exploring the bedrooms right now with her agent. So, what’s up?”

“I’ll make it quick, then. One of the girls I work with has two tickets to a New Year’s Eve party at the Hard Rock Café in Nashville, but has come down with the flu and isn’t going to be able to go. What do you think?”

“I don’t know, Julie. That’s a long way to go for a party,” Nicole said frowning.

“It’s not that far, and she’s already reserved a hotel room that we can stay in. C’mon, what else are you going to be doing tomorrow night but sitting around feeling sorry for yourself?”

“It’s not really my thing, you know that.” Even as she spoke, Nicole knew that Julie was right. As it stood, Nicole’s New Year’s Eve plans consisted of a pint of ice cream, a box of wine, and Netflix.

“Well, it can be your thing. It won’t kill you to try something new. Please? Just go for me, if nothing else.”

Nicole heard footsteps on the stairwell and pushed off from the countertop.

“Let me think about it and call you later.” She pushed the ‘end’ button, disconnecting the call before Julie had a chance to say anything further. Nicole smiled as Gina and the client walked into the kitchen. “So, what did you think?” she asked.

Maggie pursed her lips and shrugged.

“I loved the size of the master and that walk-in closet was spectacular. Still…are you certain the owner would be willing to discuss the paint issue?”

“Of course,” Nicole assured her. From the look on Gina’s face, Nicole had the impression that if the homeowner wasn’t willing to make that allowance, Gina would come up with the money herself.

“Excellent. See, nothing to worry about,” Gina said smiling. “Do you have any more questions about the house Maggie?”

“No,” the woman answered. “I think I’ve seen all I need to.” She turned to Gina. “Really, at this point I would have say it’s between this one and the Johnny Cash house.”

Nicole felt her smile falter.

“I’m sorry, what? Did you say the Johnny Cash house?” She looked to Gina who quickly turned her head the other way.

“Yes,” Maggie responded. “It wasn’t
really
Johnny Cash’s house. I just call it that because of this bizarre—I don’t know what else you’d call it—Johnny Cash bedspread in the master bedroom. That one was only two bedrooms, though I really did like the neighborhood.”

What the hell
, Nicole thought. What were the odds of two such bedspreads in existence? And a two bedroom? Nicole glanced at Gina, trying to figure out why Jamie would be selling her house, and, if she was, why would she have listed it with Gina Southerland of all people?

“What was the address on that house?” Nicole asked, cocking her head to one side.

“Well, thank you, Nicole, for taking the time to show us this lovely home,” Gina said quickly before Maggie could respond. She grabbed the woman by the arm and began to lead her out the back door. “We’ll be in touch.”

Nicole reached out and grabbed Gina by the shoulder before she could make it all the way out the door.

“Just one second, Gina. I’m sure Maggie won’t mind if I have a quick word with you.” Nicole smiled at the client. “Agent to agent things, you know.”

Maggie shook her head.

“Not at all. You two can talk, I would like to take another look at the backyard.”

Nicole held onto Gina until the other woman had disappeared, and then feeling her temper flare, folded her arms.

“Would you care to explain?”

“Explain what, Nicole?” Gina asked sweetly, her South Georgia drawl becoming more pronounced than normal.

“Is Jamie selling her house?”

“Nicole, I have no idea what you’re talking about. And if I did know, then I most certainly couldn’t breach client confidentiality.”

“So that’s a yes, then?”

Gina smiled sweetly and twitched her nose.

“I think I’ve already answered the question all that I’m going to.”

Nicole narrowed her gaze.

“Hmm. I don’t know what’s going on, but you can let ‘your client’ know that if this is some new tactic she’s come up with to get me to talk to her, it’s not going to work.”

Gina frowned and gave Nicole a contemplative look.

“Nicole,” she said steadily, shaking her head. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” She turned toward the back door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go round up Maggie before she decides the grass in the backyard is too green.”

Chapter Twenty

“This is the third house we’ve been to. How many damn people named ‘Nathan Reynolds’ could there be living in the Red Bank area?”

“It’s not that unusual of a name, Samuels. Give it a break, already. It’s not like you have anything better to do.”

Samuels looked at Jamie over the roof of the Ford as he slammed the door shut.

“Easy for you to say. You’re the one wearing a coat. It’s cold as hell and I’m freezing my balls off.”

Jamie sighed as she glanced over at her partner. They’d been driving around the small suburb just north of Chattanooga for the better part of the afternoon following up on the lead that Megan’s newspaper contact had come up with. Jamie had spent most of that time listening to Samuels, having left the station without his jacket, bitch about how cold he was.

“I told you a dozen times that we could go back and get it. You’re the one that kept saying you were fine.”

“Well, that’s before the temperature dropped ten degrees.”

“Whatever,” Jamie muttered as they stepped away from the car and up the long driveway leading to a brick duplex sorely in need of a new roof. Jamie made a face as she noticed a dozen or so plastic trash bags stacked up alongside the carport. An animal of some sort had ripped into the bags and foul smelling trash was strewn across the front of the duplex.

“Whatever, my ass,” Samuels said. “You just better hope I don’t get sick walking around in this weather. Although you seemed to have recovered nicely from your cold, or whatever that was.”

Jamie ignored him as she stepped over the rotted carcass of a rotisserie chicken to reach the front door. She waited for Samuels to catch up and then gave three heavy knocks on the door, wiping her hand on her pants leg with a scowl as the door’s red paint flaked off on her knuckles. After a minute, she knocked again and then looked to Samuels.

“What do you think?”

He shrugged and then walked to the front window, peering in through the blinds.

“No car, but television’s on. Doesn’t seem like the kind of house that would leave it on for the dog, if you know what I mean.”

Jamie nodded in agreement and then knocked again on the door, louder this time.

“I can see somebody moving around now,” Samuels said, stepping away from the window. “Here they come.”

Jamie took a step back and to the side as she heard the deadbolt on the door turn. The red door creaked open and a gaunt, dark-haired woman who looked to Jamie like she’d just woken up glowered at them from inside the house.

“I ain’t buying whatever it is, so go on.”

Samuels put a foot out to stop the door that she was about to slam shut and unclipped the badge from his belt.

“We’re not selling anything.” He held the badge out toward the woman. “We’re with the Hamilton County Sheriff’s Office.”

The woman squinted to read the badge and gave a curt nod.

“So? What do you want here?”

“Would you mind if we came in?” Jamie asked.

“Would it matter if I did?” the woman said, keeping her eyes on Samuels.

“As a matter of fact, yes. We’re not going to force our way in. If you’d prefer, we can talk right here,” Jamie responded. The woman cut her eyes over to Jamie for just a second and then stepped back from the door, motioning for them to enter.

“Come on in, then. I’m not going stand here all day and let all my heat out.”

Jamie followed Samuels into the duplex apartment, rubbing at her nose as she realized the inside smelled only slightly better than the outside. Trying to ignore the odor of stale cigarette smoke and sour milk, Jamie looked around for indications that anyone else was in the apartment, or anything lying around on the list of items taken in the home invasions. From the way Samuels’ eyes were darting back and forth, she could tell he was doing the same.

“So, Miss…?”

“Simpson,” she supplied. “Jane Simpson.” Keeping her eyes on them, the woman sat down on the arm of a green chair. She reached behind her and picked up an open pack of cigarettes. “Mind if I smoke?”

Samuels shook his head.

“Your house,” he said and then waited for the woman to light the cigarette and take a long draw on it before he spoke again. “We’re looking for a Nathan Reynolds. D.M.V. records show that he lives here.”

She blew out a puff of smoke and shook her head.

“Nah, I ain’t seen that sorry son of a bitch in months.”

“Any idea where he may be staying?” Jamie asked.

“Uh-uh. If I did, I’d go jerk a knot in his ass. He cleaned out my money jar before he left.” She took another draw on the cigarette. “One-legged fucker owes me three hundred dollars.”

Jamie and Samuels exchanged glances.

“He have any family in the area?” Samuels asked. “Any friends that he might be staying with or that would know where to find him?”

The woman squinted her eyes for a moment and then shook her head.

“Just a brother, Jerry. But I ain’t seen him around neither.”

“Any idea where the brother lives? Where he works maybe?” Jamie inquired.

“He’s one of those certified nurses,” the woman said, sniffing. “You know, the kind that works at the nursing homes.”

“Do you know what home he works at?” Samuels asked. “Or did the last time you heard?”

She took another draw on the cigarette and nodded.

“Yeah, that fancy one over near Signal Mountain. Golden something…palms or sands…”

“Meadows?” Jamie interjected with a quick glance to Samuels. “Golden Meadows?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. I don’t know if he still works there or not. Was last time I heard, though.”

“You’ve been a big help, Miss Simpson. I would ask that you keep our visit just between us,” Samuels said as Jamie motioned to him that it was time to go.

The woman nodded and stood up from the chair.

“Yeah, whatever. Just if you find that son of a bitch, you let me know.”

“Don’t worry,” Samuels replied. “We have you on our list.”

Jamie turned to Samuels as they stepped out of the apartment.

“Are you fucking kidding me? All this time and the guy’s brother works at the nursing home where Nicole’s grandmother is.”

“Small world, isn’t it? Ready to take a ride over?”

Jamie nodded and followed Samuels back down the driveway and to the car. As she slid into the passenger seat, Jamie’s cell phone buzzed. She gave the screen a brief glance before answering the call.

“Hey Megan.”

“Well, have you heard anything yet?”

Jamie cast a glance over at Samuels, who was making no attempt to hide the fact that he was listening in to the conversation.

“Not yet, but I drove by the house this morning and didn’t see her car. She may have gone to visit her brother or Julie or something for New Years and just not made it back home yet.”

“Hmmm. Well, let me know as soon as you do.”

“I will,” Jamie responded and ended the call.

Jamie looked out the side window as they drove, wondering how long it would take Samuels to ask about the call. She’d given it five minutes, but he didn’t last three.

“So, you want to share what that little conversation was about?”

“Not really,” she answered.

“You know, it was that secret squirrel shit that got you in trouble with your girlfriend in the first place,” he growled.

Jamie turned to look at him and grinned.

“Don’t worry. This will be a success or a complete failure. I don’t need your negative energy pushing it the wrong way. You can wait a day or two and see what happens.”

Samuels shook his head.

“Day or two, my ass. That’s assuming I’m not dead from pneumonia first.”

Chapter Twenty-One

“Damn, when did it turn off so cold? I think it was warmer up in Nashville.”

“It’s that front moving in,” Nicole said as she unlocked the front door. She stepped inside the house and dropped her keys on the small table that sat by the doorway. “They said on the radio that we may get a little snow out of it. Were we not riding in the same car just now?”

“I guess my mind was elsewhere,” Julie said, closing the door behind her.

“Like on that guy with the tattoos?”

“Exactly like on the guy with the tattoos.” Julie grinned as she walked into the kitchen. “You still have some of that wine left over?” she asked, opening the refrigerator door.

“I should. You go ahead. I have an early appointment in the morning, so I think I’ll stick to Diet Coke tonight.” Nicole opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out a phone book. “You want pizza or Chinese?”

“Pizza sounds fine.”

“Pizza it is, then.”

“I still can’t believe you just sat around all night.”

Nicole glanced up from the phone book and over to Julie, who was measuring out a large glass of red wine.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just what it sounded like. All those hot guys—and girls—running around the Hard Rock and you didn’t so much as give any of them a second glance.”

“Well,” Nicole said as she flipped through the phone book, “I told you going in that it wasn’t my kinda thing.”
And none of them were Jamie
, she thought in spite of herself.

“The whole purpose was to get your mind off you-know-who. The least you could have done was—” Julie was cut off by a loud knock at the front door. She glanced at Nicole. “Are you expecting somebody?”

Nicole shook her head.

“No,” she said. “I don’t know who that could be.” It flashed across her mind that it could be Jamie, but she hadn’t heard anything from her in days. Surely she wouldn’t just be showing up unannounced now.