Page 93 of Bourbon Bliss
His comment sent a little tingle rushing through me. But we were here on a mission, so I just smiled at him again. “Let’s see if we can locate her.”
Following the GPS, we drove across town and pulled into a quiet neighborhood. The sidewalks were clean and the manicured landscaping was tidy.
In my digging, I’d also discovered that the apartment Callie was living in had been rented by Mrs. Kendall. That was a fact I hadn’t cataloged yet in terms of what it meant. Did it lend credence that she really was Callie? Were the Kendalls simply as fooled as the rest of the world? Or were they cooperating with her for reasons of their own? I wasn’t sure, so I kept that information in the neutral column.
“That’s her building,” I said, pointing to the large brick structure on the left. “There’s a spot up ahead.”
George parked and I dug into my handbag, pulling out a pair of oversize sunglasses and a scarf.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“I’m going incognito.”
“Are we supposed to just sit here until she comes out? This is pretty stalkery.”
“According to what little I could glean from the most recent blog posts about her, I calculated the most likely time for her to emerge from her building as three in the afternoon.”
“Which is right about now. Imagine that.”
“I didn’t imagine it, I used—”
“Just an expression, June Bug.”
“Oh, of course.” I slipped the sunglasses on and put the scarf around my neck. I could pull it over my hair if I needed to, or use it to cover the lower part of my face. Then I got a second pair of sunglasses out of my bag and passed them to George. “For you.”
“Don’t these just make us look suspicious?”
“It’s spring. Sunglasses are an appropriate accessory, given the clear sky today.”
He took the black aviators and slipped them on. “Indeed.”
We waited in comfortable silence for a while. I watched Callie’s building. George traced his fingers along the back of my hand, as if he were mapping the shape of my bones. It was very distracting, but I had no intention of asking him to stop. Physical contact with George had become one of my favorite things.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a man across the street. The feel of George’s fingers along my skin held my attention. But something tickled at the edge of my awareness.
“Wait, is that…”
I turned to look, but he was gone. Had I imagined him? Or had he turned down the gap between two buildings?
“Is that what?” George asked. “Did you see her?”
“No.” I looked again, but I didn’t see anyone. “For a second, I thought I saw Gibson Bodine.”
“Gibson? What would he be doing out here?”
“I don’t know. I must be mistaken.”
George rubbed his chin. “Did he know Callie?”
“I’d assume as well as any of us did. Although Gibson was twenty to her sixteen when she disappeared. I don’t recall him hanging around with the teenage crowd then.”
“Hmm,” George said. “I was just wondering if maybe he was here doing what we’re doing. Trying to figure out if it’s really her.”
“I suppose it’s possible. But more likely that I saw someone similar and my brain filled in the missing pieces, constructing a likeness I recognized.”
He grinned at me. “Fair enough.”
Just then, Callie left her building.
