A dog barked from somewhere as Aidan pulled up at the suburban home of Betty Trent. The houses weren’t large or expensive, but the lawns were manicured and the fences were painted. It seemed like a place where people didn’t have much but worked hard with what they did have.
As he exited the car, he saw a gate to a backyard, where a woman of about thirty-five was hanging laundry. Near her, a child of four or five was playing on a tricycle.
He didn’t want to startle the woman, so he called out as he approached, asking if she was Betty Trent. She frowned as she looked up, then studied him with curiosity. She looked wary but not frightened.
“Yes, I’m Betty Trent. Can I help you?”
She had probably been a beauty at a younger age, and she remained an attractive woman, but he saw her hands as she finished hanging a shirt, and they were worn. Deep creases lined her forehead.
He extended his hand. “Hi. My name is Aidan Flynn. I’m a private investigator, and I recently came across your cousin-in-law’s file.”
A look of hope appeared on her face and was quickly gone as she met his eyes. He realized that she had hoped at first that he had come with good news and knew now that he hadn’t.
“Beginnin’ of October, and the days are still mighty hot. Would you like some iced tea, Mr. Flynn?” she asked.
“That would be nice,” he said.
She called to the child, whose name was Billy, and explained that her twins were still at school, but that kindergarten ended earlier. She led him into a comfortable ranch-style home with threadbare furniture covered by handsome needlepoint throws.
They sat in the living room. “Well, at least there’s interest in the case again,” she said. She lifted her hands as if she understood an explanation that had never been given. “They’ve been busy, the police have. I know that. But it just seems to me that they investigated so far, came to a dead end…and didn’t try any detours.”
“So according to the records, Jenny’s car was found in a public lot. And she checked in for her flight on the computer before she left home, and had something to eat and drink at a place called the Hideaway. Can you add anything to that?”
“That’s what I’ve heard. I told them everything I knew, which wasn’t much. It’s as if Jenny just…vanished. She told me she was going to spend a night in New Orleans before she left, and that’s really all I know.”
Betty stood and walked across to an occasional table by the door. She picked up a picture and brought it back to Aidan. It was probably a few years old, but the woman in it had pretty brown eyes and soft brown hair, both glowing. Her smile was hopeful. Her energy and happiness had somehow come out in the picture. Aidan felt a twist in his gut and was glad.
Glad that he was feeling pain? Yeah, it was a good thing. It was better than being numb. And the girl in the picture deserved more than just his obsessive drive; she deserved someone on the case who cared.
“That’s Jenny. My husband, Phil, didn’t have any family left to speak about, just Jenny. She was eight years younger than he was, but they were pretty close. And I have to say, I grew to love her. She was wonderful with my kids. She had no-account parents who drank themselves to death. Well, Jenny’s dad died in the oil fields, but that was because he went to work drunk. She worked so hard and came out on top of it all. She paid her own way through college, and the kids where she taught loved her. She tutored on the side, and in the summers she worked banquets for one of the local catering companies to earn the money for that trip.” She paused, looked at him suddenly, and frowned again. “Did someone hire you, Mr. Flynn? You did say you’re a private investigator, right?”
Even if he’d had some kind of smoke-and-mirrors explanation planned to account for his interest, he wouldn’t have used any subterfuge. This woman deserved better.
“No. As it happens, I have just come into some property in the area, and I heard about Jenny in the course of something I was looking into and thought maybe I could do something.”
He was startled when a tear suddenly slid down Betty’s cheek.
“I don’t have any money,” she told him.
She looked as if she were going to collapse. Billy had been playing with a Lego set, but now he looked up, distressed.
“Mama?”
“Mama’s fine, Billy,” Betty said quickly, wiping her face.
“I don’t want any money, Mrs. Trent,” Aidan assured her firmly. “But if you don’t mind, I am going to say that you’re my client.”