“All right.”
“You should get inside now, ma’am. I’m sure the flowers can wait until tonight.” Trent used gentle persuasion.
“I think I will.” She set the nozzle on the cut-in edge of the garden, but the hose itself was on her lawn. If it was left there too long, there would be a thread of dead grass.
“Let me roll up your hose,” Amanda offered.
“That is so kind of you, dear.” She looked at the card. “Amanda.”
“My pleasure.”
THREE
Amanda was hotter than she thought possible by the time she loaded into the car. She adjusted the fins on the vents, making sure they were facing her. Blessedly the air blowing out was a touch cool.
“I’d say someone deserves brownie points,” Trent said.
“I just did what anyone with human compassion would have.”
“Nah. It was more than that.”
She was sure it was something Trent would have done if she hadn’t offered.Maybe I should have given it a few seconds…She shoved the selfish thought aside. It was over and done now, and that lady had a chance of surviving the day.
“Where to now? Spencer give you anything else to go on?”
“Not a lot, but I’m wondering if I’ll get further going to Best Homes Realty in person.”
“Well, if something happened to Christine, someone there might help us fill in her last movements.”
“Yes, short of getting Christine’s daughter involved. I just don’t want to worry her if all this turns out to be nothing.” She realized Spencer had said the same thing.
“I get that.”
Trent got them on the road and not long after, they were walking up to the door for Best Homes Realty. It was a small boutique firm with a white storefront and a wood sign hanging from the point of the roof. It was designed like aFor Salesign with a redSoldsticker angled in the top corner.
Bells chimed when Amanda and Trent entered, and a young woman with blond hair and a phone to her ear smiled at them from the reception desk.
Amanda took in the wall behind her that showcased three framed photographs captionedAgent of the Year. Christine Lane was the top earner for the first two years until she lost the title last year to a redhead named Marcy Maxwell.
The receptionist set the receiver back on its cradle. “Thank you for your patience. How can I help you?”
Amanda flashed her badge. “Detective Steele. This is my partner, Detective Stenson.”
“Oh, you’re who I talked to on the phone, right?”
“I am. I never got your name.”
“Sierra Jacobson. We haven’t been able to reach Christine ourselves, and now I’m worried. Clients have started calling in, saying they left voicemails over the weekend for her, which she hasn’t returned.”
“And that isn’t like her?” Trent asked.
“Not at all. Christine practically worships her clients, whether it’s people she’s worked with before or new ones.” Sierra’s face pinched. “Do you think she’s hurt or something?”
“We can’t say, but that’s why we’re trying to find her.” Trent’s calm tone seemed to have a soothing effect on Sierra’s nerves. She relaxed her shoulders.
“Could you tell us her schedule from Friday afternoon until now?” Amanda based the starting point on when the manager had last seen her in the office.
“Sure. I remember she was in the office for abit. Let me check her calendar though. I have access to it because I help manage it for her. Sometimes she adds things, and other times I do.” She tapped on the keyboard. “Okay, so she had a showing booked for Friday at seven PM, nothing over the weekend, and her next appointment is this afternoon.”
