Page 93 of Hiss and Make Up
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Chloe knew what street near campus Dale lived on but not which house, so they drove up and down that street, hunting for Sierra’s car with no luck.
They parked along the road and exited the convertible. If they could at least find Dale, he could tell them where Sierra went next. Maybe she was already on her way home safe.
“So the plan now is to go up and down the street knocking on doors asking where Dale lives?” Marc asked.
Chloe pointed a finger and her cold stare at a nearby house, hiked her skirt two inches higher, and knocked on the door. Less than five minutes later, they were standing on Dale’s front porch.
“How the hell did you do that? And what would you have done if some little old lady lived in that house? Were you gonna drop your phone in front of her too?” He flinched at his own words, realizing he sounded exactly like Adrien.
And for the first time, he also realized she didn’t need either of them. If he was learning one thing that night, it was that Chloe Guidry could take care of herself.
She rolled her eyes. “No curtains. No flowers in the garden beds. And a cardboard case of cheap beer sticking out of the trash can near the road. Student renters.”
He glanced back at the trash can. “Good eyes.”
“I’m a reporter, Marc. What did you expect?” she said. “Besides, it’s not like that required deep investigation. It was obvious.”
Before her promotion to editor of their publication covering fundraisers and fluffy profile pieces, Chloe had been a reporter. It was Marc’s own fault for forgetting that. And for underestimating her.
While he stood on the porch wondering what to do now, Chloe double-timed down the steps and ran to the back of the house.
What was it with the women around him? Fierce, feminist super sleuths. Both Sierra and now Chloe. He was glad Denise had left town for a while. He didn’t think he’d survive a third.
“Found anything?” he asked.
Chloe finished hopping from window to window, peeking in Dale’s house while he looked around for a hidden spare key. “No surprise. I figured he’d have this place tied up tight, even though I’m sure there’s nothing of real value inside.”
“You guys still keep in touch with Dale?”
Chloe sat on the top step. “Haven’t even seen him since Dad went…” She swallowed hard. “Since Dad died. But I remember him pretty well. You don’t forget a guy like Dale.”
Marc chuckled, remembering the wiry-haired man who smelled like coffee and dirt. “No, I guess you don’t.”
He sat on the step beside Chloe, propped his weight on his elbows, and stared at the sky.
“It’s getting late.” She elbowed him. “No time for resting now, lazybones. Ready to move on?”
“Where? Sierra doesn’t have a phone. Our only lead was Dale, and he seems to have vanished. We’ve checked their work and his house. Where do you suggest we move on to?”
It was a good thing Sierra had banned him from being her protector because he was really sucking at it.
Chloe shrugged, all traces of the fearless detective gone. Her eyes were soft and filled with sorrow. “I guess it’s time to tell you the truth.”
“The truth?” He sat up. “What truth? Do you know where Sierra is?”
She shook her head. “Not exactly.”
“Then what exactly? You know where we can find Dale?”
“It’s more of a who than a where.”
Marc rubbed the side of his head. The lump was gone, but it was still sore. He wondered if his confusion was some sort of latent concussion effect. “I don’t get it.”
She patted his shoulder and stood, motioning her head toward the convertible. “Come on. I’ll fill you in on the way.”
“On the way? On the way where?” he asked, more confused than ever.
