But…Kevin was a graduate student, working on his master’s. There was a master’s degree abbreviation following his name on the sign. How many Kevin Ngotas could there be in Austin, and how many of them worked as counselors?
And how many of them were a few doors down from the office of a man like Franklin, who was intimately involved in the investigation?
Why was Kevin, who had an office down the walkway from the PI who had investigated her, saying that he was a graduate student and offering her free therapy?
Kevin. What was his game?
She knocked on the door. No answer. She tried the doorknob. It was locked.
She stepped back, and then she saw Randy Franklin hurrying out of his office, a cell phone pressed to his ear.
He’d told her all this, why? What did he have to gain? Hoping to scare her? Or did he have another reason?
She turned and she ran.
19
THERE’S A SECRET here. Something terrible happened that night.
Perri Hall, attacking her for even showing up at David’s grave. Cal Hall, suddenly dropping his lawsuit against her and her mother. Both of them, smothering the proof that could have cleared her of penning that suicide note on the night that David died. Kevin Ngota, misrepresenting himself to her. Trevor Blinn, holding back some truth of that night. Kamala Grayson and her unrelenting sugar-coated hatred—the girl who had once been her best friend. And her own mother, who had a note that showed David and Jane feared a danger and had apparently never bothered to show it to anyone, and seemed ready to commit her to a hospital.
She walked along Old Travis to the next name on her list.
Happy Taco’s customers, after the midday rush, were a few people working through their solitary lunches, chowing down a taco with one hand while tapping at tablet computers with the other. Another table held a woman writing on a laptop, a finished lunch plate pushed to one side.
At the counter, Jane ordered the cheapest taco they offered and a glass of water. She went to the back booth where she and David had allegedly sat and eaten David’s last meal. A chill settled on her; she pressed her palms against the table. When the cheerful attendant brought her food, she said, “Is Mr. Sing here, by chance? It’s personal.”
“Let me check.”
She ate her taco. Four minutes later a spare young man, in his late twenties, with a goatee and a Happy Taco ball cap, came out. She stood. “I’m Jane Norton.”
“Billy Sing. I recognize you.”
“Really? You remember me?”
He nodded. “Sure. It was a weird night and then you hear about the car crash and I had to talk to the police and all the memories sort of get set in stone.” His eyes widened. “Oh, sorry, that was thoughtless. Do you still have amnesia?”
“Yes. But I’m so glad you remember. Can you tell me what you know about when we were here?”
“OK. You came in, you ordered, I saw the two of you sitting back there. You were upset. Crying even, once. He was trying to comfort you. He looked upset as well. I tend to notice anything that looks like it could lead to an argument or a disturbance. Because, we’re, well, Happy Taco.”
“Do you know what we were arguing about? My memory of that night is still gone.”
“I came toward you to see if you were all right. If you needed anything, but I was trying not to insert myself into whatever your drama was. So I cleaned the table next to you and eavesdropped.” He bit at his lip. “David Hall had his arm around you, and he was bent more toward you, trying to reassure you, and I heard him say something about getting out of town.”
She had no idea what that meant. “Leaving town?”
“Yes. He had a laptop open and he was showing you a travel site. Places you could go. I thought, it was odd, you know, like maybe teenagers eloping. But kids don’t elope these days, do they.”
“Where were we going to go?”
“He said Canada, because you both had passports, and maybe they wouldn’t make a fuss about you being minors. And you said, ‘What, sneak across the border?’” He coughed. “It was the weirdest conversation I ever overheard in the restaurant. But, I remember, because the police came the next day and I had to tell this to them.”
But their going to Canada was something she hadn’t heard. It must have been a story that withered in light of the discovery of the suicide note. It also seemed very out of character; she would never have left her mom alone like that. Would she?
Who had she been then?
While Billy Sing had talked, she’d pulled out her list of items recovered from the crash.
There was no laptop listed. So where had it gone? And why would they have been running to Canada? The police didn’t tell her any of this, confront her with it, because her mom shielded her. But had her mom known about this witness interview?
“I guess the police came and talked to you.”
“Yes, a couple of days later. I guess kids had told them that they had seen you and David here and they found a receipt on one of you. I didn’t know your names before this. They wanted to know if I thought you might have been suicidal, like that was something I could tell. I told them you were upset, but not in a loud or aggressive way, but you two were talking about running away, but I didn’t know if it was serious. I don’t know if they thought you talking about running away to Canada was a sign of, um, instability. Or being upset. They asked for the video when you were here. I gave it to them.”
“A security video? You don’t still have it, do you?”
He bit his lip again. “Before I turned it over, I made a copy of it. I also wanted to have my own proof that you hadn’t been served beer or wine here. We had a problem with that once before, one of our servers was a Lakehaven student serving beers to his buddies but ringing up sodas. I thought I better have a copy in case there were any further questions. But I might have thrown it out when I last cleaned my office.”
She felt a tickle of hope. “Can you show me that video, please?”
“You have to fill out a form for our downtown office…but I can give it to you if I still have a copy.”
She nodded. “Please.”
She waited. What did any of this mean? She was crying, they were planning on running away to Canada, it was insane.
He brought back the form, which she signed, and he slid a DVD to her. “I burned a spare one for you.”
A thought occurred. “Thanks so much. Did anyone else ever ask for that video? Maybe the Halls’ lawyer, or my mom’s lawyer?”
“Hold on. I might still have the forms.” He left and returned with a folder. “Hey, how was your taco?”
“Very good, thank you.”
“OK. There was a request from Randy Franklin; my note here says he was the investigator for the Halls’ attorney. That reporter did. Matteo Vasquez. I gave him the video, but I didn’t do an interview with him. It seemed wrong to talk about your problems.” That was why none of this Canada detail had been in his articles.
“Thank you, Mr. Sing.” She slipped the DVD into her backpack.
“I hope you get your memories back. Is there any chance of that?”