credit report that includes the address and the reporting date. If you apply for a credit card, a loan, or anything else along those lines, at least one of the major credit bureaus tracks the date and the address you use. Matthew Jefferson’s Social Security number generated an address match in Indiana, for a town called Nashville, reported six times in the last few years.
I pulled a road atlas out and flipped through it until I found the Indiana map. Nashville was a small town in Brown County, maybe a five- or six-hour drive from Cleveland.
“I suppose I’ll make the trip,” I said aloud. “There’s certainly enough money in the budget.”
I laughed at that, but nobody laughed with me. I was talking to myself more regularly, particularly in the office. Sometimes, like when I laughed at my own jokes and no one joined in, it wasn’t that different from having Joe around, at all.
The phone rang, and I answered on speakerphone.
“Turn that thing off—it makes you sound like you’re in a cave,” Amy Ambrose said.
“I only turn it on for certain callers. People I know will talk so long I’ll get a neck cramp if I actually hold the phone.”
“Hilarious. Joe back yet?”
“No,” I said, and some of the humor went out of my voice. “No, and he’s given no indication of when he thinks he will be. To be honest, today I was about to ask him if he ever will come back. I’m not sure anymore.”
“You should have asked.”
“Probably.” It was quiet for a moment, and then I changed the subject. “Hey, what are you doing the next two days?”
“Writing great stories, per the norm.”
I’d first met Amy when she was working on a newspaper story about a murdered high school student who’d been a member at my gym. After a contentious start, we’d become friends, and now she joined Joe in the small circle of people I trusted completely.
“Any of those stories crucial?” I asked.
“Not particularly. Why?”
“Take a road trip with me. Scenic southern Indiana.”
“Ugh.”
“Come on, corn is gorgeous this time of year. Supposed to make the ladies swoon.”
“I see. So this means you’re finally taking it up a notch, proposing romantic road trips instead of making sophomoric remarks about my ass?”
“I was thinking of a package approach.”
She hesitated. “Are you serious about this?”
“Absolutely. I’ve got a client throwing tens of thousands of dollars at me to locate a missing heir. Hell, I can probably bill you out as a subcontractor. I’ll let you contribute somehow—holding my gun, maybe.”
“You can hold your own gun, soldier.”
“No bonus for you, then. I’m serious, though. Want to go along for the ride? Take a day down there, a day coming back.”
“I guess. I’ve got an interview to give early, but I could probably leave by ten.”
“Good,” I said, and although the idea had been spontaneous, I was glad she’d agreed. I was tired of working alone.
“Who’s the client?” Amy asked.
“Karen Jefferson.”
Silence.
“You’re working for the woman you were once engaged to,” Amy said mechanically. “She of the recently murdered husband. Same guy she left you for.”
“That’s her.”
“Are you out of your mind? Why would you possibly put yourself in this situation?”
“Easy money. Nothing more to it.”
“Oh, please, Lincoln. That’s so weak.”
“It’s not weak if it’s the truth, Ace. The cops came to question me about Jefferson; she found out about it and called to apologize. Then she asked me to find Jefferson’s son. He’s in line to inherit a few million and doesn’t know it. Doesn’t know his father’s dead, either.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Hang on to the skepticism as long as you’d like, Amy, but the only reason I’m doing this is for the money. There’s a lot of it promised to me, and the agency can certainly use it with Joe out of work, stacking up medical bills.”
“Okay,” she said, and then it was quiet again.
“I’ve got things to work on,” I said eventually. “I’ll see you in the morning? You can give me shit for taking this case for the entire drive if you’d like.”
“See you in the morning,” she said and hung up.
I sighed and turned the phone off. I hadn’t expected Amy to be particularly impressed with me for this one, but hopefully she’d decide against taking my suggestion to heart and berating me for the entire drive.
I spent a few hours finishing the only case report I had to write. You can afford to spend a little extra time on polish when you’ve got nothing else waiting ahead of you. It’s a luxury most small business owners aren’t hoping to encounter, however. When that was done, I locked the office and walked back up to my building, changed clothes, and went down to the gym to work out. I lifted for an hour, then left the gym and went for a run. The air had a chill to it when I returned, the sun fading and leaving my building dark with shadows. I stood on the sidewalk and stretched, looking up at the two stories of old stone that became my home after my fist connected with Alex Jefferson’s face and ended my police career. I thought about Karen in the extravagant house near the country club, and how empty it had felt that morning. I wondered if it felt emptier still when the sun went down.
4
Amy came by my apartment at ten the next morning, as planned. She pulled her Acura into the spot beside my truck, came to a jarring stop when her tires ran into the parking block, and then put it in reverse and backed clear again.
“She’s landed,” I said. I was standing in the doorway to the gym office, talking to Grace, who was asking me to diagnose a car problem that began with a “thwackity thwak” sound and progressed to a “clankity clank” upon reaching highway speeds. I’d recommended taking the vehicle to an actual mechanic, and, when that was dismissed with a snort, I’d suggested she wear headphones when she drove.
“Hey,” Amy said. She was wearing jeans and a thin jacket over a white cotton shirt, sunglasses tucked into her hair above her temples. She’d straightened her dark blond hair about two months earlier, and I still wasn’t used to it. It looked great, but there was something carefree about the natural curl that I missed.
“Traveling light?” I stepped into the parking lot with her. She had a small purse over her shoulder but nothing else.
“No,” she said, leaning against the hood of her car and stretching her legs out in front of her. “I don’t think I’ll be making the trip.”
I frowned. “You have to work, or did something else change your mind?”
She gazed up at me for a moment, then away.
“Are you backing out on this just because I’m working for Karen?” I asked.
“No.”
“Okay. It’s not that, and it’s not work, and yesterday you were up for it, but today you’ve changed your mind. What’s the deal?”
She sighed and tugged the sunglasses free from her hair, then ran one hand through it. “Why do you want me to go along?”
I tilted my head and looked at her, puzzled. “Thought it would make the trip more enjoyable for me, and thought you might enjoy it, as well.”
