“I don’t believe you,” Liv scoffed.
“Believe it. I had so many rolls, I looked like one of those Chinese dogs. I lost more than a hundred pounds. “
“How? What did you do?”
“Come outside,” Cameron said, “and I’ll show you.” He led Liv past the two step-down additions at the back of the house. Stopping twenty feet beyond the lower one—the mudroom, as he called it—Cameron told Liv to wait. Then he ran toward the driveway fence, touching a hand to it before swinging his legs over. Seconds later, he leapfrogged the fence, dashed to the mudroom, shot out a foot and pushed up to the roof. From there, he ran the center beam, planted a foot on the next wall and launched himself to the main house roof. Moving along the eave, he reached the end, where he jumped off to a tree branch. He swung around this, dropped and then rolled, popping up to his feet directly in front of Liv.
“Parkour! Wow!” she shouted, clapping wildly. “That was awesome—the raddest thing I’ve ever seen!”
“I’m just a newbie,” he said. “Wait a while, and I’ll have better tricks.”
“You’ve got to show me how to do that,” Liv insisted. “It’s like…it’s like flying. It’s—”
Cameron waved his hands at her. “Shh!” He peered nervously toward the house. Grabbing her elbow, he urged Liv toward the far side of the mudroom where they couldn’t be seen from the kitchen. He told her in a whisper, “Mom hates it when I do Parkour. She’s sure I’ll break my neck or wreck the house or…or both. I told her I lost interest so she’d calm down, but I don’t dare do any more tonight.”
“When can you teach me? Where? I really,
really
want to learn.”
Cameron rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, maybe next Friday in Boston? I’ll be there for the Be-a-Hero Concert anyway.”
“It’s this Friday?” Liv asked. “How come I didn’t know?”
“I just got a text from Tay a couple minutes ago. You probably have one in your mailbox.”
“Oh. Of course. Tay.” Liv gazed at Cameron’s face. He looked wistful, pleased, so maybe this was the right time. “Look, I’m having a birthday party—it’s a Halloween party really ‘cause my birthday’s on Halloween—but the party’s Saturday after this one. Grandmother’s worried about security, thinks there’s too much activity on Halloween. Anyway, it’s a costume party, and I can have a DJ or band, and— Oh! I just realized! Your brother’s group would be perfect. Do you think they’d play at my party?”
“You’ll have to ask Eric, but if there’s money involved, he’ll be there.”
“Good. I want you to come, too.”
His face fell. Liv realized a high school party might seem lame to him. “Don’t feel like you have to,” she mumbled.
“It’s not what you think,” he said. “It’s just a whole lot of preppies from a power school, the
cool
kids—” Cameron made air quotes before he went on. “I wouldn’t fit in.”
“You said my friends were all right,” Liv reminded him. “And Tay—you like her, I know you do.”
He shrugged. “What’s not to like about Tay? Still, rich kids, all of them flexing—I’m outta my league.”
“You’re in a league of your own.
You
are the coolest guy I know, Cam,” Liv blurted out. She might have gone too far, said too much, made a fool of herself, but she had to plunge on. “I mean it. You have way more style than any of the others, but I hear you about a party where you hardly know anybody. If you’re bored, you can always say you’re the band’s roadie.”
“I could….” Cam laughed. “Yeah, I could.”
“So you’ll come?” Liv pressed.
“Yeah. Oh, wait—I’ll have to see if I can get off work. If it’s a go, I’ll reach.”
“Great!”
And so, the day that started out awful, ended pretty well. Cam was a friend. Liv warmed inside. Tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow, she’d get Teddy, and the puppy would lead her to Ari. Teddy knew Ari’s scent; he’d been in her arms when she was taken. If he needed reminding, Liv still had Ari’s purple hat. And just as Liv knew Teddy would find Ari, she knew the van that took Ari was the same one that broke her uncle’s arm.
But she couldn’t tell Cam or anyone what she knew. No one would believe her. They’d think she was crazy, making up stories, trying to get attention. Liv hardly believed herself.
Day 9—Sunday
Holly woke to a field of blue flowers, the wallpaper of her mother’s bedroom. Light streamed in through white Priscilla curtains.
She rolled over on the daybed. The last time she’d slept here, she’d been a sick little girl. Now she just fit between metal head- and foot-rails, but she felt comfortable, safe,
home
.
The house was quiet. She was the first one up. Her mother was still asleep in her massive Victorian bed, some ancient relative’s idea of modern décor. The daybed and most of the furniture dated from the same era, but the walls held photo blowups of distant places her mother longed to visit—places Lisa Glasscock hadn’t gone because she’d been raising three kids.
Slipping from the daybed, Holly reached for her jeans and shirt tossed over the foot-rail last night. She’d slept in underwear and cami because her duffle with fresh clothes was locked in Mike’s car. She could change later; for now, yesterday’s clothes would do. Turning the antique doorknob, praying it wouldn’t squeak, Holly headed toward the hall bathroom where she could shower and dress without disturbing her mother.
Every door was closed except the guest room. Mike stood in the hall wearing slacks, a shirt draped over his shoulders. He held the sling for his arm cast in his right hand.
Mike looked at Holly, a long look, top to bottom.
“Glad you’re feeling better,” she said, grinning. “Need help with the shirt?”
“Uh, yeah, but I’m really after headache pills.”
“The kitchen. I’ll meet you there in a minute.”
No time for a shower. As Holly dressed, Mike crept into her thoughts. Sitting for a living, how could a lawyer have a kickin’ body? She was still mulling over that question when she joined him in the kitchen.
“Here,” she said, opening a cabinet. “What’s your pleasure: acetaminophen, ibuprofen or aspirin?”
“One of each,” Mike said, “and coffee. Must. Have. Coffee.”
Holly gave him the pills with a glass of water and started the coffee machine. “I think we can get your shirt on if we begin with your left side.”
“All right. Glad I didn’t let them destroy this shirt,” Mike said while Holly was slipping on the left sleeve. “Ouch! Go slow.”
After that, she did. Mike buttoned the front himself. “I have to learn how. Can’t have you dressing me for the next six weeks.”
“It’ll take six weeks to heal?” Holly asked while she buckled the sling.
“So the doctor said.”
“Jeez.” Holly looked into his eyes. “I need to thank you. If you hadn’t protected me, I’d probably be a blot on the sidewalk. I’m so sorry you were hurt.”
Mike shrugged. “Just acted on instinct.”
“Well, thank your instinct for me.” Holly smiled. “Hungry? I’ll make you breakfast.”
“Not yet. I need to wake up a little before I eat. It’s beautiful weather outside. Can we sit on the terrace? Might be the last nice day of the year.”
Holly nodded. The coffee was done. She reached for mugs, poured coffee, and then absently opened the cookie jar—an old habit from high school. How many times had her mother warned “Cookies and coffee are
not
a proper breakfast!”?
Inside the cookie jar was a package. Holly lifted it out, found her name written in her mother’s handwriting on the wrapping paper and a card. She opened the card. “Dearest,” it said, “I know it’s not your birthday yet, but you need this. Enjoy!”
Holly ripped into the package. It held the phone she’d been drooling over. “Look!” she said to Mike.
“A phone?” He didn’t seem impressed.
“Not just any phone,” Holly said. “The perfect phone.” She hugged it to her chest. “You have no idea how much I wanted it.”
“
Mazeltov
,” Mike said, lifting his mug.
“What’s going on?” Liv asked from the doorway.
“This! My birthday present!” Holly held the phone at her.
“Oh, that’s like Maddy’s,” Liv said. “I want some coffee, and then can we get Teddy?”
Holly switched on her phone, checking the time. “The Humane Society won’t be open for another half hour. You really want coffee?”
“Yep. And a cookie.”
“Help yourself.” Holly ran upstairs to thank her mother, who was out of bed and getting ready for church. After many hugs and a little dancing around the room with her gift, Holly returned to the kitchen, where Liv was bent over her phone.
She looked up. “I’m learning about dogs.”
Holly joined Mike on the terrace. “Liv’s really excited about that puppy,” she said.
“For now,” Mike allowed, “until the novelty wears off. Later, she’ll be just as irresponsible as her mother, and I’ll get the dog chores.”
“You and your sister don’t get along,” Holly said, hoping to draw him out. Mike’s attitude toward Liv perplexed her, and it didn’t make her work any easier.
Mike shrugged. “Oil and water. I did what I was told all my life. Jules did what she pleased. Her idea of advance planning is calling ahead for Chinese.”
“Jules?”
“Her real name is Juliet. Jules is her model-name.”
“Why was she treated differently?”
“Well, she was a girl. According to my father, ‘Girls get married. Men have to think about their futures.’”
“Wow,” Holly said. “Old school.”
“Dad was. So when Jules ran off to New York to be a model, he didn’t change his attitude. ‘She’ll meet someone there and get married.’ Except she didn’t. Six months later, she came back pregnant. My father was furious—wouldn’t talk to her. After Liv was born, Jules took off for California following her baby daddy, a photographer. Turned out he wasn’t the father, but Jules made enough contacts to start a career while she was with him. She stayed in L.A. Then my father had his strokes, and presto! Jules hauled ass to Boston where she could ‘nurse him back to health’.”
“She had a change of heart.”
“She saw her chance to snag his whole estate. But Dad wasn’t as brain damaged as she thought. He made Liv his heir—after my mother, of course.”
“So the issue is money,” Holly concluded.
Mike shook his head. “For me the issue is my father believing Jules’ lies about me. He despised me before he died, when all I ever wanted was to make him proud.”
“But Liv didn’t do these things. She—”
Liv opened the kitchen door and called, “Can we go now? It’s time. The Humane Society is open.”
Dog adoption, Holly discovered, took time. First, there was the meet-and-greet with the animal, which went well. Teddy took to Liv as though she were his long-lost BFF. As soon as she was in the room with him, he leaped into her arms and tried to lick her to death. Tail wagging, a doggy smile of ecstasy on his face, Teddy was besotted with Liv.
Holly had to admit the dog was adorable. After bathing and grooming, he looked like a snowball with chocolate eyes. The shelter people said Teddy was about five months old and most likely purebred Bichon Frisé. No one could understand why such a desirable, valuable puppy was abandoned.
Paperwork and a sizable donation came next. Though shelter personnel were nice, they had their rules, and some of these weren’t working for Liv. For one thing, they wanted a 24-hour waiting period before adoption, and for another, the adopting person had to be over 21. Taking the puppy to Boston added more complications. Finally, after a conversation with Catherine and much pleading from Liv, they relented, letting Mike sign for the dog—and pay the bill.
Standing by Mike’s car, Holly hesitated. Did he want her to drive to Boston? “I need my prescription for pain pills,” Mike said, getting into the passenger seat. So that decided it. After the drugstore, where Mike also picked up a dog leash and collar, they headed for Boston.
The interstate was an easy cruise. Holly worried about negotiating the whorls of downtown Boston, but Mike had GPS. She dropped him and Liv in front of their house, left the car at the garage, and jogged to the Smallwood place.
Catherine was waiting on the couch in the ground floor family room, watching Liv play with the puppy on the terrace. When Holly sat beside her, Catherine said, “The next time I think a trip out of town will be a safer than spending Columbus Day weekend in Boston, please remind me to make a psychiatrist appointment. Somehow, an expedition for a costume fitting turned into two violent crimes and a puppy!”
“Catherine, if you’ll let me explain—”
She held up a hand. “No need. I don’t blame you. But my every impulse was to insist you bring Olivia straight home. Why did you stay in Portsmouth on Saturday afternoon?”
“We thought the dog might be released early, and I felt normal activity would be good for her. She—all of us—needed to do something life affirming, something fun and relaxing. It was a bad call. If Mike and Liv had gone to Boston, he’d be okay.”
Catherine pursed her lips. “There’s no hope of finding the driver who hit him?”
“Probably not. Everything happened so fast we didn’t get a useful description.”
“Makes me furious to think people can get away with things like that. Still, with time, Myron’s arm will heal, but I’m less certain about Olivia’s state of mind. Does she need grief counseling, do you think? How did she react to the discovery of the dead girl?”
They talked about Liv’s moods and her return to apparently normal behavior. Catherine sighed with relief. “If you’re sure she’s not harboring silent fears, secret dread.”
“I can’t be sure,” Holly said honestly, “but I don’t believe she’s grieving. I think she’s focused on rescuing the remaining captives. She expects the concert to bring a breakthrough in the case.”
“The concert, yes,” Catherine said with satisfaction. “Final approvals came through yesterday. It was like moving Everest, but I worked through all the red tape. Emily Fitzgerald, Madison’s mother, will handle publicity, and we’re relying on Taylor’s father to liaise with the performers.”
“Sounds good. Were you all right this weekend? We worried about you.”
“I called in a caregiver from a service as a safeguard in case I took a tumble down the stairs or had some other emergency. They sent over a delightful young woman named Marisol. She told me she works weekdays at the Tinsley home tending Myron’s former mother-in-law.”