Predator Page 3
After a moment, Parker joined her.
Erskine cleared his throat. “I will add though—”
“What?”
“I believe I saw scratch marks on the girl’s arm.”
Miranda turned to Parker. Had someone pushed the girl after all? Had she gotten into a fight? Girls could be mean.
Parker shook his head. “We’ll speak to her as soon as she’s able to see visitors.”
That could be hours. Involuntarily Miranda’s foot began to tap the linoleum.
She glanced at the magazines on the table, but ten tasty recipes for tuna salad and the workout routine of the latest Hollywood heartthrob didn’t interest her at the moment.
She took out her phone and thought about calling Mackenzie to update her, when a text came in.
It was from Wendy.
OMG. Mackenzie told me you went to the bridge to find out what happened to Ella. I know what happened. I need to talk to you right away.
Shooting up from her chair, Miranda stared at the text.
“What is it?” Parker was at her side.
She showed him the text.
Erskine was on his feet as well, so she let him read it, too.
“It that from Wendy Van Aarle?”
“Yes. She goes to Old Ferncliff, too.”
“Do you think she knows something about the incident on the bridge?” Erskine sounded skeptical. He was familiar with Wendy’s track record of lying.
“I don’t know.”
“Nonetheless, we should see her.” Parker turned to Erskine. “Hosea, will you update us on Ms. Skinner’s status as soon as you know anything?”
“If you’ll do the same with what you learn from Ms. Van Aarle.”
“Of course.”
Chapter Six
Wendy didn’t want to meet at her house.
Probably didn’t want Iris and Shelby to overhear what she had to say, Miranda decided as she texted back and forth with the girl from the passenger seat in the Mazda.
With a sigh of frustration, Miranda put the phone down in her lap. “She wants to meet us at our old place.”
“Not a problem.”
“Do you really think she knows something? I mean something relevant?”
As he turned onto the interstate and headed north, Parker considered the question. He was as aware of Wendy’s fondness of histrionics as Miranda.
“Any lead is worth checking out,” he said at last.
True. “I just don’t want to waste time.”
“Since she’s a classmate of Ella’s, Wendy may very well give us some insight.”
Insight, but maybe not anything substantial. No, Parker was right. They couldn’t ignore what she had to say.
After another fifteen minutes of fighting semis and SUVs for an open lane, Parker pulled onto West Paces Ferry and soon they were cruising around the hilly curves of Mockingbird Hills. Involuntarily Miranda’s stomach tensed as they made the final curve and pulled up to the front of the Parker family estate.
She eyed the vast three-story structure with its natural stone facade, its balustrades and porticos and Grecian columns. The branches of the live oaks and willow trees were bare, but would start to blossom soon. Suddenly Miranda had a flashback of standing on that lawn with Mr. P after Parker had decided to give the house to his surrogate son, Antonio Estavez and his new bride.
Pushing the memory aside, she spotted Wendy sitting on the granite porch near the iron filigree railing, her cat, Inky, curling between her legs.
Parker turned off the car, and they made their way up the elegant walk.
“Hey, kid,” Miranda called as they approached.
Wendy didn’t look up. “Hey.” She sounded as sullen as when Miranda first met her.
Miranda suppressed the automatic impulse to worry about her. “Kinda chilly to be sitting out here, don’t you think?”
The sun was out, but there was still a nip of winter lingering in the air.
Wendy lifted a shoulder. “It’s not so bad.”
Her hair was straighter now, and dark at the roots with a reddish blonde tint about midway to the ends that fell almost to her waist. She was dressed in rose checked sneakers, black leggings, a pink top, and a colorful lilac pashmina wrapped around her arms and neck. A bit of matching lipstick that her mother might have suggested graced her downturned lips.
Miranda shot Parker a look of concern and sat down beside the girl. “So what’s up?”
Wendy raised the other shoulder.
“What do you have to tell us?” Parker said gently.
Wendy shook her head. “I don’t know.”
She’d changed her mind about whatever beans she’d had to spill.
Miranda had had enough of the stalling. “What do you know about what happened to Ella Skinner?”
Wendy turned her head away and studied a nearby column as if she’d suddenly developed an intense interest in old Southern architecture.
Miranda wanted to shake the girl. Instead she got to her feet. “Thanks for wasting our time.”
Wendy looked up at her as if she were about to burst into tears.
At that moment the majestic front door opened and a very pregnant Coco appeared.
In contrast to the hipster-chick look Wendy was sporting, Coco’s pretty blond hair was pulled straight back with a band. She wore no makeup and had on an old T-shirt and jeans under a frilly blue polka dot apron. Her feet were bare and her toes were painted to match the blue dots.
The apron had to be a plus size. It was stretched across the baby bump that had seemed to double in size since the last time Miranda saw her. She was still in shock from the day Coco and Estavez had announced they were having their first child.
Blue eyes wide, Coco gazed at the gathering on the porch. “What are ya’ll doing out here?”
Miranda wiggled her fingers. “Hi, Coco. We’re just having a chat with Wendy.”
“Good morning, Coco,” Parker said. “I apologize for using your front porch.”
“Nonsense. Ya’ll come inside and have your talk, or you’ll catch your death of colds.”
“Is Antonio home? We don’t want to disturb you.”
“No, he’s at work. He has a trial coming up.” She sounded disappointed about that.
“We can go somewhere else,” Miranda offered. She hadn’t wanted to bother her friend.
“Don’t be silly. C’mon in.” Coco wasn’t taking no for an answer.
As Wendy rose, Inky took off for the bushes. For a moment, Miranda thought the girl would go after the cat. But she decided to follow the adults inside instead.
Coco led them through the big foyer with its third-story crystal chandeliers, its tall paintings, gold inlay, and the sprawling mahogany staircase. Miranda thought of coming down that staircase on her wedding day. And what had happened when she did.
Life never changed for her and Parker. As a spirit told her in a dream recently, there were always more demons to fight.
Coco led them to one of the front drawing rooms.
Miranda recognized the rosy colored drapery and French-style furnishing against the ivory walls contrasted by white crown molding. This was where Estavez and Coco had announced their engagement, much to her and Parker’s chagrin.
The elegant double doors leading to the dining room were closed.
“You can talk in here,” Coco said. “I have to get back to the kitchen. Joan’s doing the reception for the Mullin-Bonnaire wedding tomorrow, and I’m making the mini mudslide cupcakes.”
“You’re still helping out with the catering business?”
“As much as I can.”
“Is Fanuzzi okay?” Miranda hadn’t heard from her friend in a while.
Coco bit her lip. “The nausea’s back and she can’t stand the smell of chocolate.”
“Shouldn’t that be over by now?” Fanuzzi was nearing the end of her second trimester.
“I don’t know. She’s got an appointment with her OB/GYN next week.”
Parker eyed the sullen young girl for a moment and turned to Miranda. “Why don’t you speak to Wendy alone? I’ll see if I can be of help to Coco.”
“Sounds good.” Probably would be easier to get the kid to open up with only one adult hovering over her.
“Do you cook, Mr. Parker?” Coco asked.
Parker gave her a confident grin. “I can manage a few things.”
“I can put you to work, then.”
They started down the hall.
“He makes a great scrambled egg.” Miranda said as she closed the door and turned to face her adolescent informant.
Chapter Seven
Parker followed Coco down the hall to the kitchen.
Though he was concerned about Ella Skinner and Mackenzie and Wendy, he couldn’t keep his mind from drifting back to the past and all the mixed emotions this estate evoked in him.
The very walls, though artfully designed and decorated, still reverberated with painful memories of the ancient quarrels he’d had with his father when he was not much older than Wendy. When he’d moved in here with Miranda, he’d intended to put all that behind him.
But they’d added their old tumultuous recollections to the place, though they’d also had some wonderful times here.
At the moment, his father’s recent revelation was overshadowing the good memories and bringing back the bad ones.
When he stepped into the granite and stainless steel kitchen, he determined to think only of the meals he had prepared for his wife here. He loved spoiling her with good food, and he liked to think she enjoyed the fare as much as he did feeding it to her.
That thought reminded him they hadn’t had breakfast. He would have to remedy that.
Coco’s lovely voice brought him out of his thoughts. “Is Wendy having a problem?”
“Oh, no. Miranda needs to speak to her about a case.”
“Oh. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s not confidential information.” Briefly he explained what happened to Ella Skinner that morning and what Mackenzie had requested.
“That’s just awful. I haven’t turned on the television. I didn’t see the story.”
“The poor girl is in surgery now.”
“I hope she recovers.”
Parker changed the subject. “What would you like me to do?”
“Oh, um. Why don’t you make the coffee.” Coco said, handing him the glass carafe. “With a bit of Kahlua, it adds a wonderful mocha flavor to the mudslide cupcakes. It’s Joan’s secret.”
“That I can manage.”
Opening the cabinet, Parker found St. Helena coffee, his own brand, and began to grind the beans. He smiled at the knowledge that Antonio had tastes similar to his own.
“Have you and Antonio written any new songs lately?” he asked, intending to keep the rest of the conversation light as he went to the sink to run water into the carafe.
“No. No new songs,” Coco said. “He’s been spending a lot of time at the office.”
Parker detected a note of sadness in her reply. That concerned him. “Is anything wrong?”
Coco glided to the refrigerator and took out a carton of eggs. “No. He just likes to work.”
Nodding, Parker found a coffee filter in a drawer, poured in the ground beans, and started the machine.
Coco’s words reminded him of his own work life, the one Antonio had been raised with. When he was on a case, he would spend days away from home, and he knew Sylvia didn’t like it. Antonio must have picked up his habits.
He should have a word with his son. A good family life was not something to take for granted, no matter how much the work pulled at you. How lucky he’d been to find a woman he could share both with.
Though their last several cases had taken more of a toll than any before.
He thought of the last text on his cell from his old friend and physician, Jackson Taggart, reminding him he hadn’t come in for the results of his checkup. Parker had been ignoring the messages for weeks, fearing whatever news Jackson had would disrupt the life he had with his beloved wife.
He thought of their fight last night over the “Man in Boston.” After he’d again brought up the idea of retiring.
Perhaps if he talked to Jackson he’d have the ammunition to convince Miranda they did not need to get involved in chasing down the head of a criminal organization.
He hoped Simon Sloan, their FBI contact, was making progress doing that.
Coco combined ingredients she’d assembled on the granite counter into a bowl and began whisking them together.
“The cooking keeps me busy,” she said. “I’ve been spending a lot of time at Joan’s helping her out, but I’m making the desserts for the reception here because, like I said, Joan can’t stand the smell of chocolate today.”
“Yes. The nausea,” Parker said. “Is Joan all right?” He’d grown fond of Miranda’s former coworker.
“I don’t know. I’m just glad she’s seeing the doctor. I guess we’ll find out next week.”
Parker watched her take out another bowl and deftly separate eggs into it. Coco had been adding to her talents.
Parker had once doubted that Antonio’s marriage to Coco would work. But the couple had proved him wrong, and now he accepted the pretty talented singer as his own daughter.
“We had your father and Tatiana over for dinner last week. He said you and Miranda had been to Ukraine.”
At the mention of his father, Parker’s gut tightened. He couldn’t bring himself to speak of the secret his father had revealed after they’d returned from Ukraine a few weeks ago. The old quarrels buried in the walls of this house seemed even more of a mockery to his mother’s memory now.
His father had cheated on her.
Parker had shared that revelation with no one. Only he and Miranda knew of it.
“Oh?” he said as if he were making more small talk. “What else did he tell you about our trip?”
Coco shook her head. “Oh, nothing much. I thought it was, you know. Confidential. I just thought it sounded exciting.”
Parker forced a smile, glad his father had the discretion not to talk about dark family secrets. He could not imagine what Antonio would think if he knew the truth.
“Yes. It was very exciting.”
He and Miranda had nearly lost their lives.
As he watched the coffee start to brew, he wondered if Miranda was making progress with Wendy.
Chapter Eight
Miranda sat in the rose-colored settee across from Wendy and watched the girl finger a miniature wooden globe on the side table.
She hadn’t offered any information, pertinent or not. She hadn’t asked about Ella.
At last Miranda let out a huff of frustration. “I haven’t got all day, Wendy.”
Wendy pulled her hand away from the globe and bent her head, as if she’d been caught cheating on an exam.
No words were forthcoming.
Miranda would have to pry them out of the kid. “Okay. What did you want to talk to me about?”
Wendy looked around the room as if she couldn’t remember her own name.
Miranda took out her phone, scrolled to the text she’d received at the hospital, got up, and stuck it under Wendy’s nose. “Were you crying wolf when you sent this?”
“No,” Wendy moaned.
“Then what did you mean?”
“I—I just don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
Miranda put her phone back in her pocket. And Wendy had realized she might after she’d sent the text.
Miranda didn’t have time for teenage games. “Parker and I need to get back to the hospital. Ella’s in surgery.”
Wendy sat up, eyes wide. “She is?”
“Nobody knows if she’ll make it.”
“Oh, no. No.” Wendy put her hands on her face as tears began to roll down her cheeks.
She did know something.
“It was yesterday,” Wendy sniveled. “Friday. At lunch. We were in the cafeteria.”
“Who’s we?”
“Mackenzie and me. It was just so stupid.”
“What was stupid?”
“Ella’s new at school. She transferred from North Atlanta last month. She’s kind of shy. And artistic. Anyway, she’s been, like, quiet. Keeping to herself, you know?”
“Okay.”
“And Mackenzie decided to like, ask her to sit with us at lunch. You know how popular Mackenzie is.”
Miranda didn’t realize her daughter was popular, but okay. “Go on.”
“So Ella’s been sitting with us all week.”
“With you and Mackenzie.”
Wendy nodded. “And Rachel.”
Rachel. The new friend Mackenzie had had for some months now. Miranda had never gotten to know her, and she’d always gotten an uncomfortable vibe from the girl. “And what happened?”
“Well, on Friday, yesterday, Mackenzie and I were sitting at a table, talking about the Algebra teacher. I think his homework is like, way too hard. And he’s got a big nose that’s hard not to look at. Anyway, so Rachel comes by with her tray.” Wendy looked down at her fingers again.
“And?”
“And so she goes, ‘I’m not going to sit with ya’ll anymore. I’m tired of hanging out with adolescents’.” Wendy sneered the word.
That was a kicker. “And you think that bothered Ella?”
“Well, yeah. Ella was like, mortified. She said she wasn’t hungry, and she got up and threw her lunch away and headed out the door. I think she went to the restroom or something. I didn’t see her the rest of the day.”
“Do you have any classes with her?”
Wendy shook her head.
Miranda sat back, taking in the story. She was familiar with high school cliques and the havoc they could wreak on a young psyche. In her own teen days, she’d been a loner. Wendy had been one, too, when she’d met her. And she’d been tormented by a group of mean girls, as well.
“And you think that’s what made Ella go to the bridge today?”