Tainted Mind (9 page)

It was apparent the woman had already contemplated this. “I know she lives on Old Bailey Road. Or at least when she is in town. But I don't know the house and I don't know where she lives in the city. We've always used the phone or email.”

Vivi had the information she needed, but she chatted about inconsequential things for a few more minutes anyway. And by the time she walked out she also had something she didn't need but had fallen in love with, a king-size quilt all her own.

Dropping the quilt off in her room, she thought about stopping at Frank's Café for lunch, but she hadn't eaten her breakfast all that long ago and she wanted to speak with Ian. So, going with plan B, she walked back through town, plopped herself into a seat at one of the few shops she hadn't yet been in, and pulled out her cell.

“Yeah,” Ian answered gruffly.

“You need to work on your phone manners, MacAllister.”

“Good afternoon, Dr. DeMarco. What can you do for me today?” he complied, tongue in cheek.

“Nice. You can meet me at What's the Scoop.”

“When?”

She liked that he didn't ask why. “As soon as you can,” she answered. “I ordered some ice cream after opting out of gelato at Frank's Café.”

“You went to Frank's?”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Yes, and while he didn't yell at me, I did get to see him kick someone out.”

“Must have been Mary Smythe.”

“Small woman. Round face, short curly hair, and glasses.”

Ian laughed in assent. “Order me something, I'll be over in five minutes.”

And he was. Sliding into the seat across from her, he eyed her ice cream.

“Don't even think about it, MacAllister,” she held her spoon over her bowl protectively. They were the only two people in the shop—other than the woman working there, who arrived at that moment to save the day, or at least Vivi's ice cream.

“Saved by the bell,” Ian smiled, switching his hungry gaze from her ice cream to the banana split being placed in front of him.

“Thank you, Meghan,” he said, looking up. “Did you decide I should have this?”

The petite young woman shook her head and nodded toward Vivi. “She must know you well.”

He glanced at Vivi and she wondered what he was thinking about her choice. It had been a guess, and a good one, judging by the look on his face. But he said nothing.

“How is Davey?” he asked Meghan.

“He's doing great, thanks.” Meghan's face lit up when she answered, and if Vivi had to guess, she'd bet Davey was the shop owner's son.

“And your mom?”

Her smile faltered a little bit and she tucked a lock of her short blonde hair behind her ear. “She's hanging in there. Good days and bad days. You know how it goes. Your mom dropped off some food today. I'll be sure to give a call and thank her.”

“She'd be happy to hear from you, and probably even happier to take Davey for a few hours, if you need it.”

“Thanks, Mr. MacAllister. I'll keep that in mind.” Meghan moved away, saying she would be in the back making more ice cream, but to call if they needed anything.

“She's had a rough go of it,” Ian said when he and Vivi were alone. “Good kid. Bad parents. Her dad ran off, her mother was a smoker and drinker all her life. Has lung cancer now. Meghan went a little wild a few years ago. Has a kid who is cute as a button but without a father—she's never said who he is. Now she takes care of her son and her mom, runs this shop—started it herself—and is trying to take some college classes online when she can.”

“Tough kid,” Vivi commented. Ian nodded in agreement.

“So, I assume you have something you want to tell me?” he said, taking a big bite of his sundae.

Vivi fingered the piece of paper she held, before sliding it across the table.

“What's this?” he asked.

“It's probably nothing.”

“But?”

“But I got to thinking about what we talked about last night and then, when I was out for a run this morning, I remembered something Julie said when I was in the quilt shop yesterday. So I popped in and, very discreetly, asked about a woman she'd mentioned to me. A regular that hasn't been in for a while.”

Ian's spoon hung from his fingers as he stared at her. “Once again, I'm probably not going to like what I'm about to hear, am I?”

She dropped her eyes to her ice cream. It was much nicer to make him smile than to deliver bad news all the time. But that was the job. She looked up.

“Since you pointed out that our Jane Doe looks like me, and Julie said her absent regular looks like me, I thought it might be worth looking into.”

Ian glanced at the name on the sheet. “I don't recognize the name.”

“That's why it could be nothing. Apparently, she stays at a friend's house up here in the winter. So she's a regular during that time, but she's not from here. She's from the city.”

“So, she could just be home? Wouldn't her friend report her missing?”

“She could be home, but Julie ordered this fabric especially for her and she hasn't been in to pick it up yet, despite it having been four weeks since it arrived. And as for her friend, again according to Julie, the friend spends his winters in Argentina and only comes up here in the summer, which is why the house is empty. But you're right, it could be nothing and she could be back at home, safe and sound, in the city.”

“Or she could be another missing person.”

“Or she could be another missing person,” Vivi echoed.

“Any idea where this friend's house is?”

“Julie didn't know which one it was, but she said it was up on Old Bailey Road. I have no idea where that is, but I assume you do?”

“I do, and I probably know the house. There aren't a lot of them up there and I'm pretty sure most are owned by locals.” He paused and stared at the piece of paper. “I suppose we should take a drive?”

“It can't hurt.”

“We can't do much without a warrant and we can't get that without more cause. I'll call Granger though and have him call this in, see if any missing persons reports have been placed on her.”

“I hope she's safe in the city and I hope this is a fool's errand, but thank you for considering it.”

“I hope you're right, but you're welcome. Let's go. I'll drive.”

Twenty minutes later they pulled Ian's Jeep up to a large farmhouse. The house, like most in the area, was originally built sometime in the late 1700s. But the clean siding, perfect shutters, and geometric gardens all pointed to a recent remodel—to the nines.

“Nice place,” Vivi commented, her eyes fixed on the window and the land unfolding before them.

“Yeah, it is. Used to be the old Calloway farm, but a few decades ago the three kids all up and moved out of the area. They kept the house for a while. But it was too big for their mother, who was a widow by then. When she got too old to be here by herself, they moved her to an assisted living place over in Stockbridge and sold the house to a builder. He did the remodel about ten years ago.” Ian put his car in park and killed the engine.

“And sold it to a weekender?” She studied the house, as if it might tell her something.

“At the time, they were the only ones who could afford to buy something like this. Not many people who live around here full time can afford a two-million-dollar house.”

“Not many people living anywhere can afford a two-million-dollar house,” she pointed out.

“True enough,” he conceded, opening his door. “You ready?”

“A bit of a loaded question, MacAllister, but yes, I'm ready.”

They approached the door and Ian knocked. No one answered. They waited a minute before trying again. Still nothing.

“Want to look around the outside?” Vivi suggested.

In response, Ian stepped off the porch and headed toward the side of the house. Looking in a window, he spoke. “There's a blue, late-model Subaru in the garage, but I can't see the plates.” They tried looking in another window and though they could see into the house, they saw very little to help them. No obvious signs of a struggle. With the exception of the car and a single glass in the kitchen sink visible through a window, there were no signs of anyone even living there. They walked the perimeter, and when they'd completed the circuit, they stopped in front of his Jeep.

“Not much to go on until we hear if she's officially missing or not,” Ian said.

Vivi crossed her arms and leaned against the grill. Gazing up behind the house, her eyes swept over a large, sloped hill that ended about a third of a mile away in a thick copse of trees.

“Is that land part of this property?” she asked.

Ian shook his head. “The pasture is, but the woods belong to the Mayfields.”

“Any chance we can go up there?”

“You think we might find something in the woods?”

“In a perfect world where killers are stupid, it would be a good place to hide a body. Provided the woods aren't used on a regular basis. At the very least, we might get a different view of the house, especially if you have binoculars.” Silence met her suggestion. She turned to give Ian a questioning look and found him staring at her.

“What?” she said, feeling self-conscious.

“Just that the same thought crossed my mind. Higher ground is usually better ground. I'm just surprised, though I probably shouldn't be, that you thought of it too.”

“You weren't going to say anything?”

“I didn't want to seem like a perv, peeking in second-floor bedroom windows through binoculars. I figured I'd come back out when I was alone.”

She stared at him for a beat before responding. “I think we should go up there.”

“Good thinking, but you aren't dressed for it,” he pointed out.

Vivi had on jeans, a pair of sandals, and a white tank top. The hill was a long slope but nothing she couldn't handle.

“I'll live. As long as you don't mind slowing down a bit to account for my shoes.”

“It might rain.”

“I won't melt, MacAllister. I'll be fine.”

He shrugged in acceptance and went to get a pair of binoculars from his car as she headed up the hill.

“Do we need to get permission from the Mayfields?” she asked when he caught up with her.

“On it,” he answered, pulling his cell off his belt. His voice mumbled behind her as they made their way toward the tree line. By the time they were halfway there, Vivi was wishing she had her hiking boots. The walk wasn't all that difficult, but every time she stepped down, something—a branch, a twig, or some other sharp, spiky thing—wormed its way into one or the other of her sandals. Still, she'd been adamant about being fine, so she kept her complaints to herself as they continued up.

When they reached the top of the hill, Ian came to stand beside her and they turned to look at the house from the back. He pulled out the binoculars and began scanning the windows. There wasn't much Vivi could see from her vantage point so she let her eyes skim the horizon. And her heart sank.

“It's going to rain, isn't it?”

“Yep,” he said, not taking the binoculars from his eyes. She could see a line of black clouds making its way toward them from the south. It was a quintessential northeast storm; it would move in quick, rain hard, and then move on. Just like it had the night she'd discovered the Jane Doe. The good news was it wouldn't last. The bad news, judging by the increasing darkness, was that they were going to get soaked.

“Shit,” she huffed. Ian chuckled. And the first drops hit.

“You were trying to tell me about this, weren't you? When you were hinting that I wasn't prepared to come up here.”

He pulled the glasses away from his eyes and gave her a half smile in response.

She sighed. “Nice. For future reference, when you know something I don't, or think I'm being dumb, I would appreciate it if you just told me.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied.

A few minutes passed and it was raining in a steady flow—at this point, even with the binoculars, they couldn't see into the house. She stared down at the Jeep thinking about how dry and warm it would be inside. It wasn't the worst storm, but wet jeans sucked.

She was still fixating on her jeans when a loud crack erupted across the valley. She jumped and suddenly found herself pinned between Ian and large tree. Stunned, it took her a moment to sort out what had just happened. Thunder. She looked up at Ian and saw in a split second everything that haunted him—all the fear, all the memories. He must have sorted out what was going on at the same time; his expression shuttered, then turned grim.

Vivi wanted to make it all go away for him—the pain and confusion of everything that had happened to him, everything he'd done as a Ranger, everything he'd experienced just doing his job. But even if he wanted her to, it wasn't something she, or anyone other than Ian, had the power to do. So she did the best she could.

“It's nice to know you'd put your body between mine and a bullet if it ever came to it. Although, if it did come to it, I would rather you didn't. I'm Catholic; I don't think I could live with the guilt.” Her tone was intentional and light.

His eyes searched hers and he looked like he was trying to sort out how to take her words. She didn't know what he'd concluded, but he stepped away, keeping a hand on her shoulder. “It's the training. What can I say?” He lifted a shoulder with deliberate carelessness.

She thought it was a bit more than his training that was bothering him—like the fact that it was kicking in when he was no longer in the line of fire.

“Are we safe from the storm here in the woods?” Changing the subject, she turned to look down over the valley.

“Safer than out there.” Ian gestured toward the open field.

As if to make his point, Mother Nature chose that moment to send a bolt of lightning no more than a half mile away.

“Fair enough,” Vivi conceded. Looking around, she found a low stone wall and perched on it to wait out the storm. Ian came and sat beside her. “Is this an old fence?” she asked to pass the time.

He looked around the area before answering. “Probably not. It looks more like the foundation of an old house.”

That surprised Vivi, who turned her head to see what Ian saw. Sure enough, she could make out a few other rows of stones that would have formed the outline of a building. “It's amazing how something can be here and then be gone, with no one knowing much about it,” she commented, wondering who might have lived in the house and what had happened to them.