Wolves at the Door (35 page)

Heading down the path back to the sidewalk, I plastered on a big, fake smile. “We’ve made so much progress already.”

Zack turned and blocked me from walking, grasping my shoulders. “Each house with nothing is another house we can rule out. We’re narrowing the field, Autumn. We’ll just get closer and closer. You found the guy at the store, right?”

“Yes. But if my parents kept to themselves, it’s possible that even if we found someone else who remembers them, they may not be able to give us anything more than the guy at the store.”

My stomach dipped. It was an awful thought, the possibility of never finding Richard and Patricia Nicholson, never knowing the truth.

~~~

Chapter Twenty-nine

“I’m starving,” I said.

The houses were spread over long distances — unlike the tract houses in southern California that were sometimes crammed so tight you practically lived with your neighbor. While we covered a lot of ground, there weren’t many people to talk to. And those who were willing to speak with us hadn’t coughed up any usable information.

“I’m hungry too. Let’s take a break,” Zack said.

Unless we wanted to drive back to the hotel, there were only a handful of places to eat — a drive-thru, a deli and a diner. After the long drive yesterday, I didn’t want to drive any more than we had to. And I wanted to sit and relax while someone took my order, so we chose the diner — a decision I almost regretted the moment we sat. The seats at the table were covered in orange vinyl and the place smelled of old grease. But my growling stomach became less discerning by the second.

After we ordered, I contemplated any possible way we could speed up the search and end my suffering. Except, as soon as I got what I needed, Zack would
want to leave and go back home. Then we’d have to go back to pretending.

“Anxious to get back?” I asked.

“Not really. But we should leave as soon as we can.”

“What’s the hurry?” He and I were better off here, away from outside influences — like Gina. Once we returned home, Zack might totally close up.  “Maybe that wasn’t Renzo behind us. I haven’t sensed any werewolves since we got here, which means we’re safe. Don’t you think?”

When he only frowned, I barreled on. “At least here, I don’t have to watch Gina making moves on you.” I hoped bringing Gina up would trigger memories of Cameron hitting on me. I was pretty sure Cameron had accepted my rejection on Friday, but Zack didn’t know that.

Zack stared out the big window of the diner. “With all these trees here, you’d think there’d be werewolves around.”

Or maybe he didn’t care about me anymore. Maybe he was just trying to rescue the damsel.

I sighed. “Maybe it’s more about the people and less about the forests. With bigger cities, it’s easier to get lost in a crowd. And doesn’t the werewolf king keep tabs on his people? If a lone werewolf were on the loose, chances are, he doesn’t want to be found, even by us.”

Zack nodded. “But if I didn’t want to be found, I might hide out in the woods.”

I’d store that in the mental vault in case I ever had to look for Zack. Thinking about his inevitable departure made me wonder if I was being petty over the Gina thing. Maybe he really had been just trying to help me…

“We should consider seeing some sights before we leave. Seriously, when will we get another chance to come back here? Besides, it’s tourist season and a weekend. I doubt we’d be alone, even in the woods. If we find the information we need today, we can be tourists tomorrow.”

“It’s your call.” But he didn’t seem thrilled.

“Zack, I know you’re mad at me and, yes, I’m pretty pissed at you, too. But we don’t have all the time in the world, so can you at least
try
to enjoy this trip?”

His jaw ticked and his shoulders tensed. “It’s not
you
I’m mad at. Well, maybe a little bit. It’s… everything.”

“Like?”

His eyes darkened. “Not now, Autumn.”

“When then?” I waited for him to answer, then reached across the table and covered his hand with my own. “So you’re just going to be cranky? And ruin the entire weekend? Who knows when we’ll be alone together again? Could be never.”

The realization made my stomach drop.

He lifted his chin, his green eyes melting into mine. “Okay, let’s go sightseeing, but only after we’ve covered more ground.”

† † †

The next few houses were a bust, and disappointment
smothered me as we parked in front of yet another house. As if weighted down, I slowly climbed out of the passenger side. “Zack, I can’t leave here empty-handed. I can’t continue in ignorance. I can’t.”

He rounded the hood, surveying the area.

I stayed put, waiting to see what was up. “What are you looking for?”

“We’re getting f
arther away from the store with the old man,” Zack said. “Where we are, right here, you’d have to drive four miles to his store.” He flipped his thumb in the opposite direction. “Or you could go the other way and add a few minutes to your trip for a bigger store with a wider selection. We need to canvas the area where residents most likely went to
his
store. This isn’t it.”

“Makes sense. Let’s bail and restart on the other side of his store.” I hurried into the Mustang with renewed hope.

Zack pulled over several minutes later. We knocked at the first house and a bleached blonde with very big hair opened the door. I guessed her to be around my mom’s age or a little older. She wasn’t too bad looking and kept herself in shape. Especially her top half which screamed boob job and Botox.

“What can I do for you, honey?” She curled her full red lips.

I gave her my spiel and waited for her to tell me she’d just moved there or one of the other half dozen things we’d heard since breakfast.

“Richard and Patricia Nicholson…” She nodded thoughtfully.

“Somebody looking for the Nicholsons? From twenty years ago?” a deep voice boomed from behind the well-endowed blonde.

“Yeah.” She dropped her arm and let the door swing open.

A man appeared at her side. He wasn’t much taller than her, balding and wearing a handlebar mustache. “I remember them. Kind of hard to forget. That Patricia...” He whistled. “She was a knock-out.”

The blonde raised one eyebrow. “My exact thoughts about Richard.” She pretended to fan herself with her hand.

My heart raced. I’d found someone who actually knew my parents. I’d ignore the part about their hotness… Eew. “So what else do you know about them?” I bit my lip.

The man shrugged. “They
didn’t say much. Stayed inside most the time.”

“Did they have a baby?” Zack asked.

“Yes, though Patricia’s pregnancy was difficult,” she answered. “Spent most of it on bed rest, so we didn’t see much of her and Richard rarely left her side. They stayed a few weeks after the baby was born, then moved away. Kind of odd to just up and move with a newborn and all. Never said good-bye or anything.”

“Do you know where they lived?” I asked.

“Sure, they were our neighbors.” The man pointed directly behind us. “We had the best view of them.”

“I’ll say.” The woman giggled. “They seemed very much in love, if you know what I mean.”

I bit my lip, not wanting a visual of that. But I kept my mouth shut not wanting to derail them from coughing up any new information.

“Being neighbors, you talked to them now and then, right? Maybe had them over for a barbeque?” Zack asked.

“They were good neighbors. Always waved, always friendly. But they never accepted party invitations.”

“Before they moved, did they say where they were going?” Zack asked. “Or mention putting the baby up for adoption or anything like that?”

She looked to the man and they shook their heads. “No. But they talked about New York, I think.”

No, no, no. Too far away. How would I ever find them among all those people?

Zack took my hand and gently squeezed.
They could’ve remembered wrong or maybe your parents were covering their tracks and lied about where they were going. We don’t know yet.
He switched back to speaking aloud. “Can you think of anything else that would help us find them?”

The couple looked at each other, shaking their heads. “No,” they said in unison. “Sorry. That’s all we remember of the Nicholsons.”

† † †

Over the next two hours, most of the people we interviewed had no idea who Richard and Patricia were. Anyone who remembered them didn’t have any more information than we already had — which was where they lived, what they looked like and that they had a baby. I was hungry again and the sun was already disappearing behind the trees.

“We should do dinner and call it a night,” I said, standing in front of a house that looked like so many others we’d stopped at. Or maybe we’d already been there. Had we gone around in a circle? “The houses are beginning to look the same. It’s becoming a blur. You sure we weren’t already here?”

“Positive.”

“So far, the only thing we’ve learned is that my parents were here and they had a baby. I already knew all that. What an epic failure this trip has been.”

Plus, Zack still wouldn’t talk to me about
us and that drove me nuts.

“Let’s hit one more and we’ll eat, okay? Then we’ll do something fun tonight and start again tomorrow.”

“And what if we don’t find anything tomorrow?” I asked.

“Shh.” He laced his fingers through mine and held my gaze. “Then we’ll come back next weekend.”

“Really?” My eyes burned in gratitude. Zack may have poor judgment on where to draw the line when trying to get info from skanks, but in the end he was always there for me.

“Really. C’mon.”

We walked the stone path to the modern stucco covered house, carefully avoiding the rose bushes that reached out to snag our clothes. I knocked on the door.

It seemed like the door opened by itself until I lowered my gaze to a tiny, older woman peeking out from between the narrow gap. I told her why I was there and asked her about my parents.

The crack widened and she stepped into the doorway. “Yes, I remember them. Lived just a few houses away. They were nice neighbors. The couple that lived across from them was noisy though, always throwing parties.” She shook her head.

I smiled, remembering the mustached man and the busty blonde. I could totally see them loud and partying. “Yeah, we met them earlier today.”

“Do you remember anything about Patricia or Richard that might help us find them?” Zack asked.

“Not really. My memory isn’t as sharp as it used to be. Sometimes I think of something days later.”

“How about I give you my cell phone number? Then you can call me if you remember anything.” Reaching into my purse, I fished for a pen. After rummaging a few more seconds, I found a receipt to write on. As I pulled it out, my mom’s ID clattered to the ground. I bent over, snatched it up and stuck it between my fingers while I wrote my cell number on the tiny piece of paper.

“That’s her,” the woman said.

I hadn’t realized she’d stepped out of the house. She peered up at my hand — the ID actually. Stuffing the pen back in my purse, my gaze shifted from the plastic card between my fingers to the little old lady. “Excuse me?”

She thrust a finger at my mom’s picture. “That’s Patricia.”

~~~

Chapter Thirty