Never Coming Home (8 page)

‘What happened?’ Kaz questioned, totally diverted.

‘There was a terrible accident. Jed had a crazy habit of decanting his painting chemicals into old wine bottles. There was a mix up. He drank something – it was horrible. But that’s history.’ Suzanne shuddered. ‘What I’m trying to say is that Devlin is an attractive man. I may be wrong, but I sensed some chemistry between you.’ She grinned, looking wicked and youthful. ‘So, if you feel that you want to offer him an additional – inducement – then I would perfectly understand.’ She laughed. ‘Have I shocked you?’

‘Yes. No.’ Kaz pushed her hand into her hair, dislodging a handful of pins that scattered onto the floor with a machine-gun clatter. Picking them up helped cover her flush. When she straightened she had herself in hand. ‘A few centuries ago you would have been burnt as a witch,’ she accused.

‘For being a mother?’ Suzanne tipped her nose in the air. ‘Mothers know these things.’

‘Yeah, well.’ Kaz shifted her feet. ‘All right, yes, there is
 
… attraction. And I have already thought about what you suggested,’ she admitted. ‘And it’s not one-sided.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing her mother’s eyes widen. ‘I didn’t offer, but it
 
… sort of came up in conversation.’

‘And?’

‘Devlin doesn’t mix business with pleasure.’

‘Oh. Pity.’ They looked at each other, then dissolved into howls of laughter. It had more than a touch of hysteria in it. Kaz sobered first.

‘Mum, I’ll do anything I have to do, to find Jamie, but getting involved with Devlin – he may be on our side, because we’re paying him, but I’m sure that he’s every bit as dangerous as Uncle Phil says. I have to get my daughter back, but if I start seeing Devlin as some sort of life line
 
…’ She tailed off. ‘He’s a means to an end, that’s all.’

Kaz had only remembered the invitation to the dinner party at half-past five.

Now, at nine, they were just finishing the main course. Kaz had no idea what she’d just eaten. It might have been emu, for all she knew. Her eyes flickered around the room, like the eyes of a stranger, the dark red walls, the gleaming tableware, the faces flushed with wine and warmth and conversation. What was she
doing
here?

Her skin itched. She wanted to stand, to shout it out. My daughter is
alive.
Her father has her. I’ve just hired a man who probably kills people for money, to help me find her.
Oh God.

She took a deep, ragged breath and hauled herself back to now. These people were her friends, couples who still welcomed her, despite the divorce, and she knew how rare that was. She tuned back, with difficulty, to her hostess, in raptures over a recent trip to Italy.

‘I almost forgot, talk about coincidence. Who do you think we walked into, right in the middle of the San Lorenzo market?’

‘I think we’re about ready for the pudding, darling.’

Kaz turned, just in time to intercept the warning glance between husband and wife, the quick jerk of the head towards
her
and the embarrassed flush on Gwen’s face as she rose from the table. ‘Of course. Has everyone finished?’ she asked brightly. ‘If you’ll just pass along those dirty plates.’

Thirty seconds later Kaz was on her feet, gathering dishes. She carried them through to the kitchen.

‘You saw all that, didn’t you?’ Gwen dumped plates into the sink. ‘Subtle as a brick, my husband. And I’m no better. I’m sorry, Kaz, I didn’t think. I don’t want to upset you. I have
such
a big mouth
 
–’

‘Gwen.’ Kaz held up her hand to stop the flow of apologies. ‘It doesn’t matter. Please – just tell me – who did you see in Italy?’

Devlin scowled at the laptop, re-reading his partner’s e-mail. So far Hoag hadn’t found any answers, only more questions. Loose ends. Loose ends that Devlin didn’t like. He shoved his hand into his hair. Nothing was quite
 
–

The mobile phone next to the computer began to vibrate, threatening to hop off the end of the table. He grabbed it and pressed the switch.

‘Devlin?’ Her voice was high, excited. Drunk? There was a sound in the background like traffic.

‘Where the hell are you?’

‘I had to come outside, in the street, so no one would hear. I’m at dinner, old friends. They’ve just come back from Italy. Devlin
 
–’ Her voice shook, then steadied. ‘They saw Jeff, in Florence. Three days ago!’

Chapter Five

Bobby Hoag stepped sideways to avoid the hunk of rusting metal that might once have been part of an SUV. Maybe. Just beyond it a dog was going crazy, barking and snapping. Bobby sent up a silent prayer for the links on the choke chain that was stopping it from ripping out his throat. He gave the fangs a wide berth and kept going.

As trailer parks went, he’d seen worse, but not often. He’d travelled quite a way along the highway from Atlanta to Nashville, and down a few side roads, to find this one. Not a place he’d want to raise a kid.

Luanne Cheska was sitting on the steps of a run-down trailer, a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other.
A good healthy breakfast. Couldn’t be beat. Guaranteed to set you up for the day.

Bobby assessed her swiftly, looking for any resemblance to a dead child. It was there, if you looked. The blonde hair was natural, the mouth full-lipped and lush, the hands wrapped around the neck of the bottle delicate. Under the smudged layer of last night’s make-up, the bone structure was good. The claim to beauty and the match to her daughter ended there. The bloodshot eyes and overblown figure, in spray-on T-shirt and jeans, didn’t exactly bring up the word maternal.

‘Hi, handsome, you lookin’ for me?’ She raised the bottle in salute as she gave him a slow once over. Bobby felt sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. He planted his feet solidly on the ground and returned the stare. He had a nasty gut feeling
 
–

‘Mrs Cheska? It’s about your daughter
 
–’

Luanne’s feet slapped down on the dirt as she rocked back. Her face had flipped from lazy welcome to beyond ice. Bobby sighed. On a scale of friendliness and co-operation, it looked like the dog was going to score higher.

‘What d’you want to know about Sally Ann? You sure as hell ain’t the police.’

‘Your daughter is missing
 
–’

‘That bitch from Lynchburg, she sent you here, didn’t she?’ Luanne stabbed the bottle at him, waving it like a weapon. ‘You try and raise a kid on your own, no one wants to know. Soon as the little slut runs off someplace, the whole world comes sniffing around. I’ll tell
you
same as I told the cops, when she sent them here. I don’t know where that girl is. She wants to run off, nothing I can do to stop her. Now get the hell out of my face.’

Twenty minutes later Bobby slid behind the wheel of his car. His head was ringing. Luanne Cheska’s mouth would shame a trucker, but she’d liked his money. He had the name and number of the bitch from Lynchburg.

Mrs Laura Kettle, denizen of Lynchburg, Tennessee, had faded blonde hair, good jewellery and a dress splattered with tiny pink flowers. Bobby found himself looking into a pair of shrewd grey eyes. She served him tea, in a bone-china cup.

‘Tell me, Mr Hoag, just what is your interest in my granddaughter?’

‘Overlapping investigation, ma’am,’ Bobby responded promptly. ‘I’m looking into the disappearance of another young girl. Been employed by the family. Need to see if there’s maybe a pattern.’ He shrugged. ‘Probably not, but I have to check it out. You were the one who reported Sally Ann missing. Not your daughter.’

‘If you’ve met Luanne, then I guess you’ll know why that was.’ Bobby waited. Slim fingers twisted themselves into a knot in the woman’s lap. ‘Is this going to help find what happened to my granddaughter?’

‘I can’t say, ma’am, but if I find anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.’

Mrs Kettle sat still for a moment. ‘I suppose – if I’ve told the police, I may as well tell you. I should never have agreed to what Luanne wanted
 
–
 
’ She closed her eyes, let out a breath, opened them. ‘This is hard to say, but it’s the truth. My daughter is an unfit mother. When Jake was around, my son-in-law, Sally Ann’s father, things weren’t so bad. But when he left
 
… Luanne said she wanted her freedom. Needed to find herself.’ The words were bitter. ‘Didn’t want to be bothered with a growing girl. Sally Ann lived here with me for four years. Then, early last spring, Luanne came for her. Said she’d met someone, wanted to be a family again. He was supposed to make a home for them. Luanne said he was a good man, able to provide for them, wanted to meet his Luanne’s little girl.’

Pain flashed across the woman’s face. ‘Grandparents don’t have much say, Mr Hoag, not when a mother wants to take her child, but Luanne – she had to have her chance to be a real mother, and I had to give it to her. I still think that.’

She paused, swallowed, began again. ‘Sally Ann was excited. She wanted to go with her mom. I told her though, if she ever needed me, she was to call and I’d come get her. Gave her the change, for the phone. End of September last year, we had a big storm and a power outage. Phone lines went down, too.’

Mrs Kettle looked away. The fingers spasmed again. ‘I had no reason to think that my granddaughter would have tried to get in touch with me when the line was out. I’d spoken to her just the day before. She said everything was okay, but she sounded
 
–’ The woman hesitated. ‘There was just something, you know? So I rang Luanne. Turns out the number she’d given me for their new home was some bar in Atlanta. She wasn’t living in the city, as I thought. When I finally tracked her down, in that trailer park, she was drunk – and alone. My granddaughter had been missing for a week.’

‘You think Sally Ann tried to reach you and when she couldn’t get through she set out on her own, to come here?’

‘I’m sure of it.’ The grey eyes were awash now, with an anguish Bobby couldn’t begin to measure. ‘She was coming to me, and someone took her. To do
 
…’ Her voice jarred. She stared at Bobby. ‘Sometimes I find myself praying, Mr Hoag. Praying that my granddaughter isn’t alive any more.’

‘So, looks like the child was on her way to Lynchburg when she ran into Elmore’s girlfriend.’ Devlin rammed the mobile phone closer to his ear, to cut out the noise of the airport announcements. ‘You backtracking on that? See where they hooked up? Good. There was something else too, about the accident report. We really need to get a look at it. Can you
 
–
 
’ He tipped his head away from the phone, to listen, cursing softly. ‘They just called our flight. Yeah
our
. Yeah
flight
. Uh! You too buddy. I’ll e-mail you once we land. Keep digging.’

The phone was at the top of the house. It rang for a long time, the sound echoing in the empty room.

When it was finally answered: ‘Kaz Elmore has arrived in Florence.’

Silence, then a breath. ‘Is she going to find anything there?’

‘It’s possible.’

‘Do what you have to do.’ The command was curt. ‘I have something else for you also. Her uncle, Philip, the policeman. Is he becoming a problem?’

‘He might.’

‘Then deal with it.’

‘You know I’m not in London?’

‘If you can’t do it yourself, get someone. Reliable. I don’t want any fuck ups.’

‘I will do it. Personally. But there will be a delay with the other.’ A soft warning.

‘Just get it done.’

‘Payment?’

‘You can put it on my account. You know I’m good for it.’ A harsh bark of laughter. ‘Don’t call again until it’s completed. Call soon.’

Chapter Six

Kaz pushed open the shutters and stepped onto the tiny balcony. The square below her was coming to life in the early morning sun. The proprietor of the café opposite was putting out tables and chairs on the piazza. Pigeons sidled hopefully around a few early coffee drinkers at the counter, before being shooed back out onto the square through the wide open doors. Kaz blinked as a waiter flourished white linen and gleaming cutlery, bouncing light into her face. The hotel Devlin had organised was small and quiet, despite being in the heart of the city.

She stretched, welcoming the sun on her bare arms, mind idle for a moment, imagining what it would be like to be here in Florence on holiday. Just wandering the streets with
 
–

Abruptly she turned back into the room. She didn’t have time for daydreams.

‘
Grazie, signor
.’ Kaz slipped the picture of Jeff back into the side pocket of her bag, as the man shook his head. On the other side of the road she could see Devlin getting a similar reaction from the girl behind the counter of a small sandwich bar. She sighed and crossed over to him. Together they completed the remaining shops in the narrow street. Nothing.

Kaz swore softly, under her breath. ‘We’ve been here three days already. In that time, someone might have thought, even vaguely, that they recognised him!’