Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Can you zoom in?” I ask. Annie enlarges the image just as the man turns his head. I can’t be seeing this right. He has a ponytail tucked into the collar of his shirt.
“Holy shit,” Annie says. “Is that who I think it is?”
“Sure is.” I am almost positive that the man I’m looking at is Vincent Barker.
Betty leans forward. “Maybe this is the man in the white car.”
I swing my gaze to hers. “The one Luca said he talked to before the cops came to our house?”
She nods.
“He said the driver was considering buying in the area,” I say, thinking aloud.
“And I told him that there aren’t any houses for sale in Rancho Amaro. Which he should have remembered,” she says pointedly. “Frankly, I think that man was just snooping around.”
“Annie, what kind of car does Vince drive?”
“A Tesla. It’s white.” She looks over at me. “I need you to say it out loud: Are we thinking the same thing?”
“You mean that Vince has been skulking around my neighborhood? That he took Honey?”
“And brought her back?” Annie asks. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
My mind is racing. “Honey was missing a small chunk of hair on her front leg. It looked like she’d had blood drawn. But why would he do that?”
“Possibly to draw blood and run a sample through mass spec,” she says. “To get the chemical makeup of Compound Y.”
“That wouldn’t work, would it? It’s been weeks since she was injected. I’m sure any chemical traces were metabolized a long time ago. And because of her weight, her dosage was relatively small. But Luca…”
“Don’t worry, I have no idea what they’re saying, either,” Crash says to Betty.
“Are you thinking—” Annie starts.
“That Vince had something to do with Luca’s accident? That he’s responsible for his death? I have no idea how, but yes,” I say. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”
“Luca’s death?” Betty looks between us and then to Crash. When nobody answers, she reaches for her phone. “Okay, friends. Are you going to tell me what’s really going on, or am I calling my old friends at the San Diego Sheriff’s Department again?”
43 EMERY
Do it,” Annie says, folding her arms across her chest. “In fact, I dare you.”
“Are you insane?” I shout at her and then turn to Betty. “No, Betty. Don’t. Annie is clearly having some kind of mental breakdown.”
“No, I’m not. It’s time to call the police, Emery. We are in way over our heads.”
“And say what? That Luca died but is totally fine now? What crime would we report? That Vince brought my dog back?”
Behind me, Betty holds up the phone and dramatically starts dialing. “Nine… one…”
Fuck.
* * *
We reluctantly explain everything. Betty is probably the same age as my grandmother—a woman who still signs her text messages Love, Granny and who refuses to use a debit card because she insists writing checks is simpler—but Betty barely blinks at any of it.
“So, what I’m hearing,” she says, clasping her hands primly in her lap, “is that I was right to be suspicious, and Luca really was killed.”
“That whole crazy story and that’s what you got out of it?” Annie says. “That you were right?”
“I knew something was going on. A person would think Emery was curing cancer, as much as she was gone. It was either that or she was having an affair.” She pauses, her eyes drifting to Crash. “Are you?”
“No!” we both shout in unison.
Betty lifts her hands in a can you blame me? shrug.
“So… you believe us?” Annie says. “Just like that?”
“My late husband worked for the Office of Naval Intelligence.” And another piece of the puzzle slips into place. “He could never tell anyone about his real job, either, and he was just as self-important as you, dear.”
Crash snaps out a surprised laugh. I’m opening my mouth to tell her exactly where she can shove that logbook of hers when Annie steps in. “What’s important here,” she says, “is figuring out what we do now.”
Delighted, Betty shifts to the edge of her seat. “Yes, yes. What are we going to do now?”
“We’re not calling the police. But I am going to text Vince.” I pull out my phone.
“Why is everyone so against calling the police!” Annie says. “At the very least, we need to report that Luca is missing.”
“Luca is an adult. And he’s been gone for how long? A few hours?” Betty scoffs at our naïveté. “They won’t do anything and will berate you for wasting their time. Or so I’ve been told.”
Fuck. She’s right. And if they find out he talked to a lawyer about divorcing me, they’ll probably assume he just left.
Or that I killed him.
“And that’s why Emery is right,” Betty says. “You need to talk to this Vince person. Feel him out. See what he’s hiding. Don’t you agree, Crispin?”