Undeniably Yours (8 page)

“I hear you’re being impossible,” I said to Dad.

He straightened his tie. “I fear people across town heard as well.”

My mother silently mimicked him, then said, “It’s good to see you, Aiden. I heard you were missing for a while.”

Aiden looked at me. “It doesn’t get old.” Sarcasm dripped from his words.

“Were you undercover?” Mum asked him. “Dressed as a motorcycle gang member or infiltrating a drug cartel? Did you get a tattoo?” Before he could answer, Mum turned to me. “I’m thinking about a tattoo.”

“Dear God,” my father said.

My mother wiggled her eyebrows. “Maybe Dovie and I can get matching tattoos of your father’s face, so he can always be with us.”

Now I knew she was only kidding. Despite their current reconciliation, the only long-lasting tribute to my father she wanted was me.

My father’s strong jaw slid to the side and stayed there as his nostrils flared—a sure sign he was reaching his tolerance peak. “I’m not dying.”

“Not yet,” my mother replied, smiling sweetly, a murderous glint in her eye. “Give it time. Five, ten minutes or so.”

Ah, love.

“Amusing,” my father intoned.

Mum arched a thin blond eyebrow and returned her attention to Aiden. “Have you spoken with Em yet? She was quite worried.”

“This morning.” His mouth went back to being tight again.

“Good, good.” She narrowed her gaze on him. “
Is
everything good between you two?”

Aiden gave me a “help me” look.

It was Dad who came to the rescue. “Good god, woman, let the man breathe.”

“Impossible,” my mother mumbled.

“Raphael says you’re working, Lucy,” Dad said, turning the focus on me. “I thought you were taking some time off?”

“There are some cases you can’t say no to,” I answered with a shrug.

“You can always say no,” my father said quite seriously. “You should go home and rest.”

“No,” I said.

My mother tipped her head back and laughed.

“Not funny, Lucy,” Dad murmured, rubbing his temples.

I was quite certain my mother and I were the sole source of his migraines.

“Oh, lighten up, Oscar,” Mum countered. To Aiden and me, she added, “He’s cranky.”

He was cranky. She was murderous. It was just another day in their relationship.

“Why?” Aiden asked, pushing aside his empty soup bowl.

I was happy to see he’d eaten something. I had the feeling it was the first food in days.

Mum said, “Because I vetoed his renovation plans.”

My father let out a loud sigh. “In an autocracy, there is no veto power, Judie.”

“This King of Love stuff is going to your head, Oscar.” My mother looked at me and said, “He wants to combine the second and third floors into one space with lots of glass and teak and no. No, no, no.” She pulled a print of a floor plan from one of her binders.

I studied the page. “I kind of like it.”

“The betrayal!” my mother said softly, clutching her heart.

“Not the glass or the teak, but the layout,” I explained. The space combined the matchmaking and investigation offices.

“You’re two-thirds forgiven,” Mum said. “The character of the building cannot be sacrificed. The wood, the brick, the
charm
.”

“Agreed, agreed, agreed.” I liked the idea of us all being one big team, but I didn’t know how Sam would take losing his space. “You’ll want to run this by Sam before settling on any certain plan.”

“It’s my building,” my father said. “I’ll make the decisions.”

I glanced at my mother. “The king thing
has
gone to his head.”

“He’s impossible these days, I’m telling you.” She let out a deep breath. “I think it’s the grandpa thing. He’s not adjusting well to the news that he’s old enough to have a grandchild.”

My father looked at Aiden. “Kill me now.”

I smiled. “Aw. Grandpa. So cute. But he looks more like a Grampy to me.”

“Don’t make me disown you,” he snapped.

“How’s Preston doing?” Mum asked. “Have you heard from her today?”

“Earlier. She’s feeling fine, but Dovie’s trying to make her watch ballroom dancing. She’s thinking about flinging herself into the ocean.”

“Smart girl,” my father muttered.

I heard my phone chirp and fished in my tote bag for my cell.

“Is that Sean?” my mother asked. “How’s he doing?”

It was Sean—a text message. “Better,” I said, swiping the screen until Sean’s message appeared. I read the words, looked up at Aiden, and said, “We need to go.”

He looked more than ready. My parents in a tiff tended to have that effect on people.

My father stood out of the way as Aiden pulled his wallet from his inner coat pocket.

Dad put his hand on Aiden’s. “I’ve got it.”

“Thanks, Oscar,” Aiden said.

“What’s going on?” Mum questioned as she inched out of the booth to let me pass.

I dragged my crutches out. “Just something with our case.”

“Oh, top secret. I get it,” she said. “Tattoos?”

“No,” I said. No way. No how. No needles. Never. Ever.

Then she whispered to me, “You’ll tell me later?”

I kissed her cheek, then my father’s. “Don’t kill each other, okay?”

They glanced at each other, then at me. “No promises,” they said at the same time.

I was shaking my head as I crutched away. I said my goodbyes to Raphael and Maggie, and as Aiden held the door open to me, a blast of heat nearly had me backtracking into the cool air.

“What’s up?” Aiden asked once we were alone.

“That was Sean. He said Channel 3 is airing breaking news coverage of Kira’s disappearance. We need to get to her house before every news van in the city does.”

N
eedham was a good half hour drive in decent traffic. Southwest of the city, it was an upper-class town where people took pride in their homes, their yards, and their privacy.

Aiden hadn’t needed directions to Kira’s place—leaving me to assume he’d been there before. Once off the highway, it was like he was on autopilot. Right, left, left, straight. Finally, he turned right onto a residential tree-lined street, pulled across the street from a large picture-perfect Cape Cod-style home, complete with a white picket-fenced yard and tall trees shading the yard.

“No one’s here yet,” he said, stating the obvious as he tossed a Tic Tac into his mouth. He offered one to me, and I waved it away.

We crossed the street, the sound of my crutches clunking on the asphalt. I stopped to hitch my tote bag higher on my shoulder and wished I’d left it in the car, but I wanted access to my phone in case Sean called again, and my skirt had no pockets.

“I’m sure we don’t have long.” Ten, fifteen minutes. Tops. When the news vans arrived, chaos would ensue.

On the ride over, Aiden called his office to verify the search warrant had been secured and used his dashboard lights and siren on the way here. He’d cut the siren once we hit the suburbs, but he left the lights on. Blue flashes burst across his face—as surely as they did mine—at even intervals.

“I don’t suppose you still have a key,” I said.

“I never had a key, Lucy,” he answered, his voice tight as he stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Sorry. I just…”

“I know,” he said, “but it wasn’t like that. It was…casual.”

I didn’t really understand “casual” dating. I was a monogamy type of girl. I didn’t share well with others. Even the
thought
of Sean with someone else made my skin twitch.

A nearby sprinkler bathed the street, causing a stream of water to fill the gutters. I stepped over it, and crutched quickly to catch up with Aiden as he strode up Kira’s empty driveway.

Her yard was neat and tidy. The lawn was well-kept, there were urns overflowing with colorful flowers flanking a brick walkway, and there were no signs at all that Kira hadn’t been home in days. Papers weren’t piled up. Mail wasn’t spilling out of the box at the curb.

Anxiety and nerves coursed through me, and I closed my eyes, hoping calm would come over me. My scent-reading abilities were new, and I needed all my wits about me to concentrate. I wondered which house belonged to Morgan Creighton—Kira’s friend and neighbor. If they were especially close, she’d know much more about Kira’s daily activities and if she’d experienced other threatening events lately.

Somewhere nearby, a dog barked, alerting all the neighborhood canines that something was amiss in the neighborhood. A chorus of barks echoed back. It reminded me of a scene in
101 Dalmatians
, which made me smile, and just like that, my nerves calmed.
Good
. I hoped that within the hour Aiden and I would have a much better idea of what we were up against with Kira’s disappearance.

“Hey!” someone shouted from nearby. “It’s about time you showed up.”

I turned and found an angry man scowling from the other side of a short picket fence that separated his yard from Kira’s.

Aiden took off his sunglasses and said, “Pardon?”

“You’re the cops, right?” the guy asked, jerking his chin toward Aiden’s car where the lights still flashed. “I’ve been calling for days, and it’s about time they sent someone out.”

Aiden pushed open a gate and crossed the small patch of lawn, toward the fence. I followed along, hoping my crutches wouldn’t sink into the ground.

“And you are?” Aiden asked, giving the man an intense stare down.

“Morgan Creighton,” he said, straightening to try and match Aiden’s height.

I pegged him to be five feet eight or so. Matching Aiden’s height was impossible.

I’d assumed Morgan had been a woman. Color me embarrassed. Instead, he was a good-looking guy. Mid-to-late-thirties. Light skin with a sprinkle of freckles and light brown beard stubble. Brown hair, loosely styled. He wore khaki shorts, a wrinkled short-sleeve shirt, and Nike sandals. No wedding ring.

Aiden held out his hand. “Detective Lieutenant Aiden Holliday.”

Morgan’s face flushed red as a maraschino cherry and his hand stalled on the way to meet the handshake. His brown eyes widened. It was quite evident from his reaction that he knew exactly who Aiden was.

Morgan’s house was a traditional colonial, its clapboard freshly stained a slate blue. White trim popped against the color, and fieldstone accents cemented its New England charm. A beautiful collie that looked exactly like Lassie stood behind a closed screen door, letting out random barks at our interaction.

“This is a colleague of mine, Lucy Valentine,” Aiden said, introducing me.

“Hi,” I said, gripping the handles of my crutches so I wouldn’t have to shake hands.

“I don’t understand.” Morgan set his hands on his hips. “Are you here because I called? Or here because…” He seemed to struggle to finish the statement without coming right out and calling Aiden on his former relationship with Kira.

Aiden barely mollified the man by saying, “I know nothing of your calls to the local police.”

“Then why…?” Morgan asked.

“I suspect,” I said, “we’re here for the same reason you called the police in the first place. Kira’s missing.”

The man seemed to slump in relief. “Yes. Kira and Ava. I got home late Thursday night to find Kira’s dog in my backyard with a half a bag of food and some toys but no note, no explanation. Kira’s not answering calls, and I’ve been collecting her papers and mail. This isn’t like her,” he said. “And I’m worried.”

“You’re close friends?” Aiden asked, a lift to his brow.

Morgan said, “We’re close friends, yes, but not dating if that’s what you’re getting at.” He added, pointedly, “Her type is apparently six-feet, blond hair, blue eyes.”

I bit back a laugh. It appeared he was right. The description fit both Aiden and Trey Fisher.

“I waited a day,” he continued, “for her to come back then called the police to report her missing, but you wouldn’t believe the hoops you have to jump through to prove someone is actually missing and not missing because they want to be missing.” He tipped his head. “Did that make sense? I filed a report yesterday, but can’t help but feel like no one took me seriously.”

I knew all about the hoops. It bordered on ridiculous.

“No one wants to believe something’s wrong. But something is. Kira wouldn’t leave Scout with me all this time otherwise—she knows I’m allergic.”

“Scout?” I echoed.

“The dog.”

I glanced over his shoulder at the dog in the doorway. The collie pranced back and forth. Ava’s sweet voice echoed in my head.
Scow, scow, scow.
She’d been calling Thoreau by her dog’s name—Scout.

Morgan searched our faces. “Something is wrong, isn’t it?”

“We think so,” I said, glancing at Aiden. I didn’t know how much to tell this man.

“Kira came by my house Thursday night,” Aiden said. “She handed me Ava and left. She hasn’t been seen since.”

Color drained from Morgan’s face. He grabbed on to the fence. “I don’t understand. Why?”

“We’re trying to figure that out,” I said. “Did you know of any problems going on in her life? Had she gotten any threats? Anything of that sort?”

“I know she was going through something with Trey—Trey Fisher,” he added. “They’ve been dating for a couple of months now. They had a fight recently.”

“About what?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Kira didn’t elaborate, but I had the feeling the relationship wasn’t going to last much longer. Kira doesn’t suffer fools easily, so I’m extremely surprised she stayed with him as long as she has.”

Trey had quite the reputation.

“What about Trey’s wife?” I asked. “Any problems with her?”

I didn’t want to let go of my scorned woman theory just yet.

“Not that I know of, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Did Kira break them up?” Aiden asked.

“I think Trey Fisher’s wandering eye is more to blame,” he answered.

“You don’t like Trey Fisher?” Aiden asked.

Morgan clenched his fists. “I barely know the man, but I don’t think he’s right for Kira. That’s all. She needs maturity, not an attention seeker. At least she had the foresight not to let Ava near him.”

A cloud passed in front of the sun, and I was grateful for the sudden shade. “She didn’t?” I asked.