“You hoping to talk to both her parents?” Kipp asked carefully as he shifted into park, peering at the house skeptically.
“Yeah. I won’t go inside. Will you watch from here?” His lips tightened as his jaw clenched. “I’m just going to knock and see if they’ll talk to me.”
“If you get any weird vibes, just look this way, and I’ll come to you.”
Bobbing my head in agreement, I got out hurriedly before he could change my mind, shifting my mini-messenger bag for easy access to everything I needed. Taking a few deep breaths, I reviewed the questions I had before knocking on the door.
Connie Finch looked older than her years, with shoulders bent and a bowed posture. Our records listed her at fifty-two, but she appeared much older, as if time and hardship were chipping away at her. Grief does that, grinds you down to dust, but I’ve also seen women before who were worn out from struggling to survive each day, and she reminded me that she lived with a man capable of a lot of pain. The hospital records didn’t lie. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun, streaked with gray, and her watery blue eyes looked tired as they examined me.
“Yes?” she said.
“My name is Hattie Harper,” I said. “I’ve been looking into your daughter’s case. I was hoping we could talk to you.”
“Allison?” She stepped onto the small, crowded porch and closed the door partway. “Are you with the law?”
“No ma’am. I have a podcast, and we found some inconsistencies in how her case was handled in Briar Falls.” Fear flickered in her eyes, and I hurried to add, “I don’t think she ran off, do you?”
“No, but her father will be upset if he finds out you’re here.” I nodded in agreement even as my plan shifted. “Allison was a good girl.” Her eyes softened, a clear sign she was recalling a time when things felt brighter. “She loved learning new things, and she was incredibly smart. Allison was beautiful, too. I like to believe she’s out somewhere new, living her best life. That was her plan, but I don’t think she made it.”
That was news to us. I didn’t think we had uncovered anything that suggested Allison had any concrete plans to leave, aside from the bank account.
“She was planning to leave everything behind and start fresh. My girl was smart.” Connie’s shoulders straightened, and you could see that she was once beautiful. “That man of hers,” her lips curled, “was no good. She didn’t want to leave me behind, but I told her that she had to go or she’d be stuck here forever. Nothing ever changes around here.”
It was obvious she was referring to her own situation, and that broke my heart. Carefully, I prompted, “So you knew about her and Trent?”
“That he was beating her?” she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and slumping again. “Yeah, I knew. Hemade her start with the online stuff. She was embarrassed.”
“She didn’t like it.” I laced the statement with understanding. Interviews were a tricky thing. You didn’t want to lead people if you could help it, and I had to learn early on that my biases could twist the case if I weren’t careful with what I asked. Letting them talk it out was the best way. “She was saving up, though?”
“She hated it, but the money was really good.” Another look in my direction to see if there were any signs that I was judging her daughter for taking off her clothes for money. “She had an account in Briar Falls just for her. She said it was a lot of money.” She gave me a proud look.
“Itwasa lot. Trent must have been pretty mad. Did he know about the account?”
“Allison didn’t think so, but maybe she was wrong. I’ve been thinking that maybe she should have left sooner.”
Crimes were sometimes rooted in simple things. I thought of the money. If Trent had been struggling with making ends meet, maybe he’d found out about her squirreled-away cash that he couldn’t touch. I wouldn’t imagine that he’d like that much.
When the conversation wound down, Allison’s mother looked at me with a glimmer of hope, something she had probably taught herself not to feel. “You’ll find out what happened to her?”
Another thing I’d learned since Jane was that promises shouldn’t be made unless you could follow through. “I’m going to try.”
“Thank you.” She closed her eyes for just a second before nodding at me and ducking back inside, where a TV blared, and the air felt even hotter than it did out here.
When I got back into the air-conditioned Jeep, Kipp handed me my water bottle and waited for me to buckle up before we drove away. I filled Kipp in while we drove, and then we fell into companionable quiet as King Creek receded.
As the miles rolled by, I let myself think about what came next. I was hoping that we were right about the car being pivotal in the investigation. Months had gone by now from the crime itself. We were now in cold case territory. Hopefully, CID was as good as Kipp thought they were.
I had always told myself that justice mattered more than control. That the outcome was more important than who got there first. It was time to prove that when the shoe was on the other foot, I believed that.
Kipp pulled up onto what could only be described as a dirt track. “It’ll be a little bumpy for about ten minutes.” He shot me a smirk.
Holding onto the ‘oh shit’ handlebar, I rolled my eyes as we climbed up the mountain, surprised that Fish didn’t seem to mind the rough terrain as we bounced and jiggled (thanking God for a good bra) to wherever Kippwanted to go. It was gorgeous—all trees, grasses, and rough-cut rocks.
When he finally reached the top, the valley below spread out in a patchwork of farms and vineyards. It was a gorgeous spot with shade trees. Fish wiggled next to us in excitement.
“Come on, Trouble. Fish is going to burst. Let’s have lunch. You’ve already had a big day.”
That I had. It was nice not to have to think about anything for a little while, just enjoy an actual picnic lunch. Maybe I could talk Kipp into that quickie that I’d had in mind earlier.
