Morales disconnected the call.
Lucas stared at his phone for a moment, considering what he’d just done. Another broken promise. “Shit.” The word tumbled out of him in a muted whisper. He shoved his phone into the pocket of his lounge pants and stepped into the living room. Jeanie was watching Adventure Time over the rim of her bowl. She eventually glanced away from the TV and at her dad.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m . . . the worst father,” he said. “I can be back by four or five. We can drive up after that, spend the night in a fancy hotel . . .”
Jeanie gave him a who are you kidding look.
“I’ll put it on a credit card.”
“Forget it, it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. Shit, I need to call Selma.” If Selma was going to watch Jeanie, she had to leave soon . . . if Selma could watch Jeanie at all. Mark said Selma would be home, but that was later in the day. For all Lucas knew, Selma was out of the house, taking advantage of her day off.
“Or you can finally let me stay home by myself,” Jeanie suggested.
No, absolutely not. Not after what happened last night. Only an insane person would allow their kid to stay home alone after a break-in . . . if that’s what it really was.
“I’m not a little kid anymore,” Jeanie told him.
“Says the girl who’s eating sugary cereal in front of a cartoon . . .”
She made a face at him. “Like, what’s going to happen anyway? I’m not going to burn the place down.”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” Lucas said. “That’s the whole point.”
Jeanie rolled her eyes and slid her empty bowl onto the coffee table. “Well, what about that neighbor lady, then?”
“Echo . . . ?” No way. She was a stranger. He appreciated the box of photographs she’d brought over more than words could ever express, but that didn’t change the fact that he didn’t know a damn thing about her. Leaving Jeanie with Echo seemed almost as risky as leaving Jeanie by herself.
“Oh, come on, Dad. Is she a psycho or something? Is that why you were hanging out with her in your office while I was upstairs yesterday?”
“What? No. I wasn’t hanging out with anyone. We don’t know anything about her. I’m calling Selma, okay?”
She shook her head at him as he turned away and dialed Selma’s number. No answer. He left her a message, but unless she checked her voice mail in the next twenty minutes, she had no hope of arriving in Pier Pointe in time, even if she could come to begin with.
Dammit. Maybe . . . maybe Echo wasn’t that crazy of an idea, come to think of it.
She’d been nothing but helpful, and having her babysit would show that he trusted her. It would build rapport.
This is your kid’s safety we’re talking about, and you’re thinking about rapport?
Okay, that was the wrong way to think about it, but he had to get to know Echo better sometime, and she had seemed a little lonely. A family friend was far more likely to help him with his project, and it would be good for Jeanie to have someone other than him to talk to. Granted, he could drive Jeanie into town so she could find some kids her own age, but he couldn’t leave her alone in town anyway.
“Okay,” he said. “You stay here by yourself”—Jeanie’s expression lit up—“for now. . . . I’m going to drive over to Echo’s place to talk to her.” Jeanie snorted and went back to her show. “I’ll be back in half an hour, okay?” She didn’t respond. “Jeanie.”
“Okay, okay,” she mumbled. “Whatever you say.”
33
* * *
VEE WAITED FOR her dad to pull out of the driveway before sprinting up the stairs. She grabbed her laptop, tucked it beneath her arm, and took the risers two at a time down to his study. Flipping open the laptop lid, she paused to peek out the window—just a quick double check to make sure he hadn’t decided to turn back. She tugged the printer USB cable out of her dad’s computer and plugged it into her own.
34
* * *
LUCAS ROLLED UP to what he assumed was Echo’s house. It was the only place anywhere near Montlake Road for at least two miles. It was a little Craftsman-style house in need of a fresh coat of paint, but the flaking clapboard—once a bright red—gave the place a cozy feel. The faded cranberry color scheme was picturesque against a backdrop of never-ending green.
He climbed the four steps to the covered front porch, cast a glance at an old wooden rocker that sat empty in the corner, and knocked on the edge of the wood-trimmed screen door. What looked to be a homemade wreath of lowercase wooden letters hung cockeyed over the door’s mullioned window, promising him that all you need is love.
Echo appeared on the other side of the door a moment later, peeking through one of the glass panes before beaming a bright smile at him. “Lucas!” She greeted him with about as much enthusiasm as the oddly starstruck Josh Morales. Swinging the front door wide, she held open the screen door, waiting for him to come inside.
“Hey, I hope this isn’t a bad time.” He stepped into a house far dimmer than he had expected it to be. Mismatched drapes hung from the windows, giving the place a bohemian feel. The scent of burned incense clambered up his nose. He cast a glance at a small table holding a vase, a strange bouquet of pine branches and twigs poking out from the mouth of the vessel.
“No, not at all. I was just reading. Can I get you some coffee?”
Lucas didn’t have time for coffee. Could Echo watch Jeanie or not? He had a long drive ahead of him, and if he got to Lambert early, he could stop by the prison and harass Lumpy Annie about seeing Halcomb before his meeting with Josh and Marty. But he couldn’t be rude, either. He was a guest here, and needed a favor.