Deceit

clicked to the page on Tony’s site that I’d registered after some delay last night. It was a recently updated page of his current listings. Today he was conducting an open house for the home at 3007 Tradden Lane. The picture showed an off-white stucco with dark blue shutters and a well-kept front yard. The description labeled it as a four bedroom, two-and-a-half bath on a quiet cul-de-sac.

Just the kind of home I found myself in the market to buy.

I picked up the phone and dialed Tony’s number.

Please, God. Let this lead me to her.

“Tony Whistman.” The voice was deeper than I’d expected. A little gruff around the edges.

“Hi, my name is Sarah Blair. I’m interested in looking at the house on 3007 Tradden Lane. Your website lists it as an open house today. Is that still on?”

“Yes, I’m opening it from noon to five. Be happy to have you come down.”

“Great. So you’ll actually be at the house? Not an associate?”

Tony chuckled. “It’s just me around here, trying to hang on and make a living.”

I laughed with him. “I hear you’re a good realtor. I can’t remember where I first heard your name. I think it was some friend of Melissa Harkoff’s.”

Silence. I felt a shift over the line.

Tony grunted. “Well. At least she did something for me.”

Ah, so his relationship with her was personal. Which meant this Melissa was likely somewhere around the right age.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“Hey, if it gets you to my open house, I’m happy. You buy the place, I’ll forgive her everything.”

My hope snagged. Sounded like this relationship was over. So where was Melissa now? My mind raced for a way to push Tony further on the phone. But his antennae would surely go up.

“Okay.” I gave another laugh. “Sounds like a deal for everyone. Anyway, I’ll see you at the open house.”

“Good. About what time will you be coming by, Sarah?”

Realtors—ever the salesmen.

“I’m hoping pretty soon after you open up.”

“All right. See you then.”

I clicked off the line and said a silent prayer of thanks to God.

Under “My Pictures” I clicked on the file for 2004 and found the photo of Melissa and Linda. I printed it on three-by-five photo paper, then trimmed it with a sharply bladed cutter to fit in my wallet.

MapQuest gave me directions to 3007 Tradden Lane.

My phone rang. Dineen’s ID. I picked up.

“You sure left early,” she said.

“I had things to do. Sorry to visit and run.”

She laughed. “Did you have to wait long for your electricity?”

“It was on when I got back. A little while later my whole house lit up.”

“Huh?”

“Baxter came to my door.”

“Baxter?”

“And Steve.” I told Dineen the sordid details.

“You think Baxter knows you’re looking for Melissa?” Anxiety tinged her voice.

“I’m not sure it matters. He does know what the article said, and that’s enough.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“I’m going to put the man away.”

Just speaking the words coursed fresh determination through my veins. Linda should have stood up for herself when she had the chance. Baxter Jackson was not going to take me down too.

“Joanne, I don’t like this.”

“I’m not liking the fact that you’re my sister right now. I don’t want you in danger.”

Silence. I could feel the repercussions sinking into Dineen’s brain.

I stared at Melissa’s picture. Her smile now looked taunting, as if she dared me to believe I’d ever find her.

“How’s Jimmy?” I asked.

“A little better but still feverish. He’s down for the day.”

“Give him a kiss for me. I need to go now. I’ll check in with you later.”

“Joanne. Be careful.”

“You too.”

I clicked off the line and stared again at Melissa, standing next to Linda and smiling. Why hadn’t one of them told the world about Baxter’s abuse? What went so wrong in that house that Linda ended up dead?

My eyes flicked to the clock on my office wall. Time to get moving.

I headed for the bathroom to put on some makeup, thoughts turning to my next bluff with Tony. Apparently he was no longer on good terms with Melissa. A point in my favor. He’d be less protective, more likely to complain to a listening ear. Still, I would be treading unstable ground. If Tony clammed up, I’d lose precious time.

As I crossed the threshold to my bedroom, sudden hard rain beat against the roof.

TWENTY-TWO

JUNE 2004

Four couples joined Baxter and Linda for their dinner party on Saturday. Melissa helped serve.

They’d invited her to eat with them, but she politely declined. She wasn’t interested in being one of them. She wanted to glide in and out, as invisible and discreet as a server in an upscale restaurant. While she soaked up every word.

In the past few days Melissa had worked everything out in her head. Stay the course. Do what she needed to do to keep in the Jacksons’ good graces. All week she’d been Linda’s right-hand gal, writing down everything the woman rattled off in a long shopping list, going to various stores with her, unpacking all the bags of goods. After the grocery run for five courses, and the wine and flowers and centerpiece, Melissa added up the total in her mind. Over six hundred dollars. Baxter didn’t bat an eye at the cost. In fact, he didn’t even ask. Linda saved all the receipts as tax deductions, since the dinner was “for business purposes.”

Maybe. But the Jacksons sure made it seem like those people were their best friends on earth.

They introduced Melissa to everyone, and she worked hard at remembering their names. Mr. and Mrs. Sanyon were probably in their sixties, both with gray hair and looking very refined. She wore a silk dress that had to be as expensive as the one Linda had on, with a diamond necklace and earrings. “Who are they, what do they do?” Melissa whispered to Linda when they retreated into the kitchen to make drinks. Linda looked absolutely stunning in a fitted red dress and matching heels, her hair up. Melissa had done her best to dress for the occasion too, in black slacks and a slinky black top Linda had bought her the day before.

“He’s a real estate developer.” Linda said no more, meaning Mrs. Sanyon did the same thing Linda did—took care of the house and her man.

Then there was Police Chief Eddington and his wife. Maybe in their late forties. The chief stood tall and porky, with a big nose and deep-set eyes. His wife looked a foot shorter. She was quite a talker. Oh, so chatty and charming. She gave Melissa a hug as if greeting her own granddaughter. “How wonderful to see you, dear. We know how happy you’ve made Baxter and Linda.”

Baxter and Linda. It hit Melissa that everyone she’d met said their names in that order. Like Linda was an afterthought.

Chief Eddington looked Melissa over with a nod. “Nice to meet you.” But an undertone edged his voice, as if Melissa’s kind wasn’t really good enough for this household.

Had she imagined that?

The chief flicked his eyes at Baxter. “This man treating you right?”