“I think she swiped Elaine’s backpack,” Grant said, giving Carl a long, hard stare. “It had money in it, Carl. Do you know anything about that?”
Carl rubbed a hand over his whiskered cheek. “Money, huh?”
“Yes, it was a brown leather backpack. Have you seen anything like that around here?”
“It was Louis Vuitton,” Delaney added. “It was brown with gold initials all over it, and it’s about this big.” She gestured with her hands. Trembling hands. She looked around the room as she spoke, and winced at the view. This shack was full of so much clutter, that backpack could be hiding in plain sight and still blend in.
“No, can’t say as I have, but you’re welcome to look around for it,” Carl said, motioning to the room in general.
“Which spa? Do you remember the name?” Grant pressed him but Carl seemed unfazed. Then again, Carl always seemed unfazed.
“The name? Nah, not even a little bit. Not sure she told me the name, but it’s definitely someplace south of here because they’re on their way to Memphis.”
“Memphis?” Delaney and Grant burst out in unison, and her chest felt as if she’d been kicked. Hard. With a steel-toed boot.
“Yeah, Memphis. Your mother is going to stay with Tina for a while now that the wedding is over with. I think she needed to get away from this winter weather for a bit. I don’t know anything about a backpack, though.”
Grant turned toward Delaney. “Now do you want to call the police?” he asked quietly. “We could just say she’s a missing person.”
“Police? Whoa, whoa there. You don’t know for sure she has it, do you?” Carl held out a hand. “That’s your own mother you’re talking about.”
Grant’s face was grim when he turned back to his stepfather. “I know it, but there’s forty grand in the bag, Carl. How fast do you think she’ll burn through that if nobody stops her?”
Carl took a big glug of the beer. Then another, and another until the can was empty and he crushed it with his hand. Then he walked into the kitchen and pulled a torn slip of paper from under a toucan magnet on the avocado-green refrigerator door before walking back to them. “Forty grand, huh? In that case, there’s probably something you should know. I’m not entirely certain, but it’s possible that your mother might have left me.”
“Left you? What would make you think that?” Grant said.
“Because she left me this note.”
“What’s it say?”
Carl glanced at the paper, as if to refresh his memory. He cleared his throat. “It says, ‘Sorry, Carl. I’m leaving you.’?”
“Jesus,” Grant muttered, and Delaney plunked down on the coffee table with a thud because her legs had gone noodleroni under her.
“She’s left me before, you know. Couple of times, but she never gets very far and always comes back as soon as her paycheck’s gone. Usually it’s just a couple of days when she needs a little break, but with that much dough, well, she could be gone a while. All I know is she told me she was dropping some cake off at your place, and then heading to Memphis with her sister, but when I came back from walking the dogs this afternoon, she was gone and this note was on the fridge. Shoot, come to think of it, maybe she’s not going to Memphis.”
“Jesus,” Grant said, louder this time.
Delaney dropped her head between her knees, wondering if fainting might make her feel better. Probably not, but she was wishing she could give it a go. A little void of nothingness right now would most certainly feel better than the twirling, swirling anxiety clutching at her insides with nasty claws.
Carl shook his head, finally showing some distress. “I’m sorry about this, Elaine. If Donna does come back, I swear I’m going to have a LoJack installed on that woman.”
“If she comes back,” Grant muttered.
“If she comes back,” Delaney whispered, then her brain shifted into gear. She lifted her head slowly as a thought formed. “Wait a minute. A LoJack? That’s it! She’s got my phone.”
“And?” Grant asked.
She stood and grabbed his arm. “And my phone has a locator app on it. All I have to do is call my sister and she can tell me where it is. If we find my phone, we find the bag.” God, she was brilliant. She was practically Jason Bourne brilliant. She reached out her other hand. “Give me your phone and I’ll call my sister right now. Your mom can’t have gotten very far. It’s only been a couple of hours.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it over.
“In the meantime,” she said, “maybe you guys could look around here.”
She walked toward the kitchen so she might have a sliver of privacy, but the call went to her sister’s voice mail. “Mel, it’s Lane. Call me back at this number just as soon as you get this message. It’s hugely important. Huge. Life-or-death time.”
She turned around and there was Grant, like a shadow on her heels. “Lane? Is that what your family calls you?”
She nodded, and watched for any dawning realization, but none came.