heard they’re both missing.”
“They weren’t found on the body?”
Edie shook her head. “Nope. One of the cops was asking Cindy Martin about them last night. Cindy always did Morgan’s nails, and the cops wanted to know if Morgan was wearing her rings the last time she came into the salon-which she was, by the way. Cindy said she never went anywhere without them.”
“So people are thinking that the killer stole her rings?”
Edie shrugged. “Cindy says she’s heard that Bryan is really hard up for cash right now.”
“So now she’s suggesting that Bryan made off with his wife’s rings in hopes of what-pawning them and realizing some quick cash?”
“It’s just a theory,” Edie said. “People are entitled to their opinions.”
“And I’m entitled to mine!” Ali returned. “What else are people saying?”
“There’s evidently some talk about possible drug use. I guess there was a puncture wound of some kind found on the body. The cops asked Cindy if Morgan Forester ever used drugs of any kind. Cindy said that if that had been the case, she for sure would have known about it.”
Did she know about Singleatheart? Ali wondered. If she had, she would have spilled her guts about that, too. Remind me never to set foot in Cindy Martin’s salon.
“Look, Mom,” she said. “I don’t think we should be discussing any of this.”
“Why not?”
“For one thing, these sound like confidential details of a homicide investigation.”
“But Cindy-”
“Cindy talks too much,” Ali declared.
As Edie went to deliver coffee to another table, Ali was left thinking about the series of ha-has that had been written over every one of Bryan Forester’s computer files. If Bryan wasn’t responsible for destroying his own computer files, who was? Someone who had no idea Bryan had backups. Ali was equally sure Dave was right about one thing-the culprit, whoever it was, had something to hide. And that was when it came to her for the very first time that there might be some connection between the guy who had infiltrated Ali’s computer and Morgan Forester’s killer.
Maybe what Ali and B. had been dealing with was something far more deadly than a simple identity thief. Lost in thought, Ali removed Bryan’s thumb drive from her computer. She needed to warn B. about that, and much as she had wanted to avoid doing so, she also knew that she would have to ask him for help with the possibly contaminated thumb drives.
Ali glanced at the clock on the far wall. She had spoken to B. on the phone under three hours earlier, and he’d been on his way to bed, but the urgency of the situation meant she needed to talk to him sooner than later. When she called, though, his line went straight to voice mail, so she left a message. When her cell phone rang a few minutes later, she more than half expected to hear B.’s voice on the line. She didn’t.
“This is Haley Marsh’s grandmother,” Nelda Harris said. “Is this Ms. Reynolds?”
“Yes, it’s Ali. What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry to bother you so early in the morning, but I need your help.”
“Why?” Ali asked. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Haley. I told her about our conversation when I got home from work last night. I wanted her to reconsider turning down your scholarship offer. She was very upset with me. She claimed I had no right to go behind her back and talk to you. We had a terrible fight about it. This morning she’s shut herself up in her room with the baby and is refusing to come out, refusing to go to school. What if she drops out completely, Ms. Reynolds? What will happen to her then? In all the years we’ve been together, we’ve never had this kind of difficulty. I can’t imagine what’s gotten into her. I’m at my wits’ end.”
“Do you think my talking to her directly would do any good?” Ali asked.
“I don’t know,” Nelda said. “Maybe. Right now she won’t listen to a word I have to say. Like I said, she won’t even come out of her room.”
Ali finished putting away her computer. “All right, then, Mrs. Harris. If you think I can be of assistance, I’ll come right over. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Thank you so much.”
Halfway between Sedona and Cottonwood, Ali’s phone rang again. This time, when she answered, the caller was Leland Brooks.
“Do you remember hearing anything about a tile delivery scheduled for today?” he asked.
Ali didn’t. What she did remember was spending what had seemed like weeks of her life narrowing her choices down to the particular kind of Italian limestone tile that was to be laid in all three baths.
“What about it?” Ali asked.
“A driver from Contract Transportation just called here looking for Mr. Forester. He’s bringing a load of tile up from Phoenix and is on his way to Manzanita Hills. He says he can’t unload it without having someone on hand to sign for the delivery. He’s currently unable to locate Mr. Forester.”
“Because Mr. Forester happens to be in jail at the moment,” Ali supplied.
“Yes,” Leland agreed. “I thought it best not to mention that. The driver told me that since your name is on the invoice, along with Mr. Forester’s, you can okay the delivery in his stead.”
“I can,” Ali agreed. “Unfortunately, I’m halfway to Cottonwood right now. What about you? Could you sign for it for me?”
“If that’s what you’d like, I’ll be happy to do so,” Leland said. “But I’ll have to drop off the carpet shampooer first. It’s due back before nine. The carpet is quite damp at the moment, so it’s just as well that I’ll be out of the house for a while. That’ll give it a chance to dry a bit. Is there anything else you need me to do?”
“Not right this minute, but I’ll need your help this afternoon. We should probably both plan on being back at Manzanita Hills later on today. Detective Holman told me that someone from the sheriff’s department will be executing a search warrant there, looking for incriminating evidence they believe Bryan Forester may have hidden somewhere on the property. We’ll need to be there to let them in.”
“Very well,” Leland said. “I have all the keys. I’m more than happy to handle that for you as well.”
“Thank you,” Ali said. She was incredibly grateful to have the unflappable Mr. Brooks backstopping her every move. “Depending on what happens in Cottonwood, I should be back in plenty of time for the search warrant.”
A few minutes later, when Ali stopped in front of Nelda Harris’s duplex, the woman herself hurtled through the front door and came rushing to meet her.
“We’re not having a good morning,” she said, gripping Ali’s hand. “Not at all. Thank you so much for coming.”
“Where is she?”
As Nelda led the way into the house, Ali’s ears were assaulted by the sound of wailing. Liam was clearly unhappy. “They’re both still in her room,” Nelda said, pointing toward a closed door. “She won’t come out.”
Ali went over to the door and tapped on it. When nothing happened, she tapped louder. “Haley?” she said. “It’s Ali Reynolds. I’m here with your grandmother. We need to talk.”
“Go away,” Haley said, raising her voice to be heard over Liam’s screeching. “I don’t want to see you, and I don’t want to talk.”
“What’s wrong with Liam?” Ali asked. “He sounds upset. Is he all right?”
“He’s tired. He needs a nap. He didn’t sleep last night, and neither did I. Now go away and leave us alone.”
Ali felt her heart constrict. She remembered those early years when Chris had been little and when everything to do with him had fallen on her shoulders. She’d had some help from babysitters during the day, but she also recalled those long sleepless nights when Chris had cried for hours on end and hadn’t cared at all that his weary mother needed to stagger off the next day to school where she’d had to fight to stay awake during class.
“Please come out, Haley,” Ali pleaded. “Let’s all talk about this. Your grandmother is here to help you, and so am I.”
There was a pause filled only by Liam’s plaintive wailing. At last the bedroom door inched open to reveal Haley standing there in a pair of sweats with her sobbing child perched on one hip. Without a word to Ali or her grandmother, Haley marched into the kitchen, filled a sippy cup with milk, and then went over to the couch. When she sat down, Liam reached for the cup.
