If I wasn’t working, I was out in the town having a good time. (My mama raised me not to talk to ladies about this sort of thing, and I’m sorry to do so, but I want you to know the whole truth.) I usually went out with a buddy named Tommy. Tommy lived next door to me and seemed like a good guy. What I didn’t know—and how could I have, considering he drank more than me?—was that he was a Prohibition agent. And he was using me to trap Jim Burk.
Well, I was dumb enough to fall for it. And one night, when we were picking up a delivery at the river, Tommy was there with a team. The Burks aren’t the type to go quietly, and I was one of the few left when the shooting was done.
But I was as good as dead, because one of the men killed was Alan, Jim’s oldest son. Alan was a good guy too. Drank too much, maybe, but laughed a lot. He was married, had a kid on the way. Jim had a temper on him, and I knew that if I didn’t get out of town, I’d be six feet under.
So that’s what I did. Blew out of town. Changed my name and everything.
Anyway. Lydia and me. I’ve always liked women, but there was something special about her. She wasn’t just another pretty, rich girl. I know you know what I mean. The day she went missing, Lydia had come out to the garage and told me she was going to Minnesota for a while to see a doctor. She was all nervous, and I couldn’t figure out why until she said she loved me.
We talked for a while, maybe twenty minutes or so. She wanted to sneak out that night. Go somewhere, just the two of us, before she had to leave for Minnesota. But she had to go see the Barrows, she said. Had to tell them she couldn’t watch their kid any longer. You know Lydia. Couldn’t help but be responsible. Except for when it came to me, I suppose.
The thing is, Miss Sail, I felt like we were being watched while we talked. At the time, I told myself I was just nervous about getting caught. But now I wonder if we were actually being watched. I can’t shake the feeling that Lydia getting taken was somehow my fault. And that was even before yesterday.
I was running errands for the family, and I think I saw Maeve, Alan’s widow. She was talking to a man I recognized from the papers as one of the Finnegan brothers, Jim Burk’s cousin. I knew then that I had to get away from here before they came after me, and I hadn’t even been home yet. At home, I found my cat dead. I’ll spare you the details, but he looked like he’d been dragged through hell. My neighbor said he’d once had a dog look like that after it died, and they’d found later that it had inhaled poison from a fumigation.
When I was packing up to get out of town, I found my cat had dragged a tuna sandwich out of my coat pocket. Tabitha had left it out for me the day before, but I don’t like tuna, so I’d just taken it and planned to throw it out later. I don’t have any proof it was Maeve and the Burk family, of course, but I’ve never been one to believe in coincidences.
When things settle down, I’ll call you. I only wish I’d left before they got to Lydia. I’m sorry, Miss Sail. She deserved better. She deserved everything.
Matthew
As the sun sinks in the sky and casts beams of golden light in my bedroom, I alternate between seething—how can he leave? How can he stand to tuck tail and run?—and despairing. Sidekick watches me pace my room, watches me do the only thing a person can do at a time like this. Cry out to God.
If, indeed, you can muster the belief that he’s there in a time like this.
“Want to get some fresh air?”
I look up from my book and find Nick standing in the doorway of the living room, hands in his trouser pockets, eyes red. “No, thank you. I’m busy.”
“Waiting for the phone to ring doesn’t make you busy.”
Heat blossoms on the back of my neck. “I’m reading.”
“And when was the last time you turned the page?” Nick doesn’t wait for an answer, which is good, because I don’t have much of one to give him. “Don’t you think that new mutt of yours could use some exercise? Just a quick walk around the block.”
I glance at Sidekick, who has wedged himself between my feet. “Fine.” I snap shut my book. “A quick walk.”
It could be good for me to get away from the telephone. I’ve called Mariano twice now to tell him about the letter from Matthew and heard nothing back. Is it his day off? Is he busy with another case? Or is it that I’ve simply misunderstood the dynamic between us? Perhaps I think of Lydia’s case as being more important to Mariano than it actually is. After all, I have one person I’m looking for, and heaven only knows how many cases Mariano has piled on his desk.
I pull on my coat from last season, ignoring the new fur-trimmed one Father and Jane bought to replace the one I loaned to Lydia. The department store tags still hang from the unwanted garment.
Sidekick seems more content on the leash than he does in the house, and he trots alongside me as we exit.
“Thank you for coming with me.” Nick’s voice has a rattle to it as he jogs down the front steps. “I couldn’t take being in the house any longer. All this waiting . . . I feel like I might go mad.” When he looks at me, with circles under his red eyes, I wonder if I look as dreadful as he. “I know you know how I feel about Lydia.”
“I do.”
His larynx bobs. “Does she know?”