“No. You . . .” He hesitates. “You’re Lydia’s closest friend. We can’t imagine her running off with anyone else.”
“Had the staff observed anything different about Lydia?” My heart beats so loud in my chest, I wonder if Dr. LeVine can hear. “I assume you’ve talked to Matthew, asked if he overheard anything she might have said in the car?”
“We did. Matthew said there was no indication that she was planning to run away.”
I can’t seem to take a deep breath. Lydia is gone. But Matthew is not.
“Matthew is taking this very hard, actually. He feels responsible, like he should have driven her around the block. And while, of course, I wish we had asked Matthew to drive her . . .” Dr. LeVine’s eyes go misty again. He straightens and taps the ash from his pipe.
“There has to be someone who saw her.” The words seem to tumble out of me. “Have we walked the neighborhood? Interviewed neighbors to see who saw what? I could talk to—”
“Piper.” Dr. LeVine’s stern tone matches his gaze. “The police are handling this.”
“I’m sure they are. But I know Lydia and the police don’t, so I might see things that they wouldn’t—”
“No. It’s a bad idea for you to get yourself tangled up in this. Especially when we don’t know . . .” His voice breaks. “When we don’t know what happened to her.”
Tears clog my throat. I swallow them and do my best to keep my voice level. “I understand your concern, Dr. LeVine, and I appreciate it. But time is critical, and don’t you think we need everyone possible looking for her—”
“I don’t think little girls need to be out there poking around, no. I know you’ve been raised in a different kind of family, Piper, but this is a job for men. You would only get in the way. We don’t need detectives out there looking for you as well.” He stands. “If you’ll excuse us, we have matters to attend to.”
My knees tremble as I stand. “Please tell Mrs. LeVine I said farewell.”
His nod is curt. I collect my belongings in the entryway and walk out the front door into the peony-scented afternoon. Only then, when I can breathe easier, do I realize how life-sucking the fear within their home had been.
“I’m walking around back to have a word with Matthew. You don’t have to come.”
Walter glowers beneath the brim of his flat cap. “You really think I’m going to let you go anywhere alone?”
I study Walter. He’s already puffed himself up to his full height and breadth. He morphs into big brother mode faster than the two who are my brothers by blood. “But I don’t know how keen he’ll be on talking if you’re with me.”
Walter crosses his arms over his chest. “You’ll have to find out, because I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“Fine.” I thunder down the stairs. The LeVines’ house is too close to the neighbors’ to get to the alley—we’ll have to go around the corner.
“Look, Piper.” Walter takes hold of my arm as we walk. “I’ll take you to see Matthew, but after this, you need to just stay out of the way and let the detectives handle things.”
My jaw tightens.
“Piper.” Walter’s tone is somber. “I want to know you’re safe.”
“And I want to know Lydia is safe.”
Matthew is where I hoped we’d find him, in the company of only the Deusenberg and a bucket of soapy water. He pauses his work as we approach, but he doesn’t look wary or embarrassed or anything useful. He looks like stoic Matthew. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up on his tanned forearms, and he squints in the afternoon sunlight.
“What can I do for you, Miss Sail?”
The questions that have spun in my mind since Detective Cassano told me Lydia had been reported missing—is she with Matthew? Did she run off with him?—tangle in my mouth. As I look at him, his round face, his even gaze, the slight creases fanning from the corners of his eyes, new questions form. How old is Matthew? And where is he from? Besides being quiet and polite, what do we really know about him?
“You’ve come to ask me about Miss LeVine.” His words are matter-of-fact.
“Yes.” I force myself to say it louder. “Yes.”
Matthew’s nostrils flare with his exhale, and he swipes his sudsy rag across the top of the car. “If only she’d asked me to drive her. I’d have driven her six inches if it meant she was with someone. A girl in Lydia’s condition shouldn’t be left alone.”
My stomach pitches, and I brace myself against the hot car. “Matthew, do you mean . . .” Tears swell inside me. “Does that mean . . . ?”
Matthew pauses. Waits.
“Do you not know where she is?” Emotion pulses with every syllable.
“’Course I don’t, Miss Sail.” It’s the first time I’ve ever heard Matthew sound offended. “You can’t honestly think I’d have anything to do with this.”
“I thought . . . I mean, Lydia told me that . . .” My inhales and exhales are involuntary bursts, as if I ran to the LeVines’ house. “I had hoped that maybe you and Lydia had . . .”
His expression is like a giant question mark.