Page 29 of What She Saw
“I’m not a fan of them, either. Do you have a number for her? I’ll text her and give her a heads-up I’m in the area.”
“I can’t give out client information.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize she was a client.”
“I mean, it’s been fifteen years, but I sold her mother’s place after Monica inherited it.”
“Oh. Okay.” Sometimes a curious expression was enough to coax more information.
“Monica had it tough. Her husband left her. Her only daughter died of cancer. And, well, her niece Laurie vanished. And she was barely nineteen.”
“Like Patty.”
“Yes.”
“Damn. Monica could use a friendly face and good news from an old friend.”
Bailey seemed to enjoy holding secrets. “I can’t give you her number, but I can tell you she spends her Saturdays volunteering at the senior center. She hangs around until about three.”
“That’s great. Where’s the center?”
“A few miles from here.” She rattled off an address.
“Got it. Thanks.”
“Sure.”
“I picked up a little gossip today,” I said. “I hear the town’s former sheriff shot himself at the cabin where I’m staying.”
“It was a tragic event. It was over two weeks before he was found.”
“Wow. I guess that explains the ghost hunters.”
That startled a laugh. “Seen any ghosts?”
“Not yet. But I’ll keep you posted.”
“Are you going to write about the Mountain Music Festival?”
“Maybe.”
“Do everyone a favor and don’t. The mid-nineties weren’t the best of times for this town. And no one wants to remember.”
“Four women vanished. Don’t they deserve a little space in our memories?”
Her face flushed. “Of course, we need to honor them. But rehashing the case will do no one any good.”
“Even if rehashing means we find them?”
Bailey went silent, as if realizing arguing with one of the victim’s children was a tactical error. “I’m sorry about Patty. She seemed nice.”
Bailey smiled but I sensed she had nothing else to say to me. “Thanks.” I tacked on the word, and it dangled like a frayed afterthought.
Keys in my hand, I left the shop and crossed to my Jeep. Behind the steering wheel, I glanced back toward the agency. Bailey stood at the office’s main window. She sipped her coffee as she stared at me. As she turned, she brushed past the files hovering near the desk’s edge. The stack fell to the floor.
I started the engine and drove toward the senior center. Monica would be getting off in a couple of hours. Better to catch her at the end of the day, when she was tired and thinking about heading home. She’d have let her guard down.
As much as Bailey annoyed me, I felt a kinship with Monica. The way I saw it, we were on the same team. After the Mountain Music Festival ended, both our lives had changed for the worse.
