“I don’t remember you, and I would. You have pretty green eyes like my daughter.”
“You asked for me. By name.”
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. Everything from that night is blurry.”
“You spent the next two days in the hospital, correct?”
“Yes. I had a terrible headache and was just so out of it. I hardly remember anything. I don’t even remember going to the house. All I remember is what the police told me after.”
“Did the doctors find out what was wrong?”
“No. They think it might have been from stress.”
“And you’re better now?”
“I was better the next day. Weirdest thing.”
Yeah. That is weird. Too weird.
“What about your call log? Is their number still there?”
“Oh, probably. I didn’t even think about it. After I missed their appointment and they didn’t contact me back, I assumed they weren’t interested. Especially if they heard about the blood.”
She gets up, cats following her, and returns with her phone. She scrolls through her calls and holds the phone out for me to see. “That’s the number. See how late they called? Nine p.m.! Hardly gave me any time to get the place checked on, though it’s a good thing I went over, right?”
“Right.” I copy down the number, thinking the late call was done on purpose, knowing Mrs. Green would have to go over there that night and discover the blood. “Thank you, Mrs. Green. I’ll be in touch if we find anything further on your case.”
Once I’m back in my car, I pull up a simple Google search and enter the number I got from Mrs. Green’s phone. The service in the area sucks, and it takes a few seconds for my results to load.
“Is that right?” I say out loud, looking at the top hit. I check the number just to be sure I didn’t make a typo.
I didn’t.
Whoever called Mrs. Green to set up what had to be a bogus appointment was calling from Silver Living. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. Gemma works at Silver Living, but this happened before I met her. And there are countless others who could have placed the call, from patients to doctors to the slew of other people who work at a nursing home. Just because Gemma works at Silver Living doesn’t mean she’s behind this.
But she very well could be.
* * *
“Hello, Detective,”Lyra says when I step into the shop. “Are you here to shop?”
“Yes, just shopping today,” I assure her, and go right for the crystal necklaces. “This is all I need.”
“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” She wraps one in tissue paper.
“Very.” I get my credit card from my wallet. Lyra wraps up the other necklace and rings me up.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Actually, yes.” I hand her my credit card. “I think you know my friend Gemma, right?”
“I do! She’s been coming in here for years.”
“Who is the older lady who came in here with her the other day? We’re supposed to all get together this weekend and I forgot her name.”
“That’s Marissa.”
“Has she been coming in here for years too?”
