“Those are a personal favorite of mine as well.”
I jumped at the sound of Elaine’s voice and continued on with my perusal, calculating the odds of my getting away with breaking and entering here later to steal those. In the display cases were different items that had supposedly belonged to Reyes. From prison uniforms, a comb, and an old watch to a few books and a couple of postcards he’d apparently received. I looked closer. There was no return address on either of the postcards. Drifting farther down the case, I noticed several handwritten pages splayed along one shelf. The writing was crisp and fluid and reportedly Reyes’s.
“He has gorgeous handwriting,” Elaine said, her tone a little smug. She seemed to be reveling in the fact that she’d floored me. “We’re still unraveling the mystery of Dutch.”
I froze. Did she just say Dutch? After a long moment, I recovered, straightened, and placed my best look of nonchalance on her. Thankfully, Cookie stood behind her and off to the side, so the woman couldn’t see the wide- eyed expression on her face.
“Dutch?” I asked.
“Yes.” She sauntered forward and pointed. “Look closely at the script.”
I bent back down and read.
“Do you know how old these are?” I asked after a few calming breaths.
“Oh, several years. Once Rey figured out a guard was stealing them for me, he stopped writing them.”
A photograph sat at the end of the case and was quite possibly the most compelling of them all. It was a black-and-white of Reyes sitting on the cot in his cell, an arm thrown over a bent knee. He’d laid his head back against the wall, closed his eyes, and had the most forlorn expression on his face.
My chest constricted. I could understand why he didn’t want to go back to prison, but I still couldn’t allow him to die. Especially with what Blue had said, and Pari.
This place, this museum, was simply overwhelming. Here I thought Reyes was all mine, my little secret, my treasure to have and to hold till death did us part, and all this time he’d had hordes of women pining after him. Not that I could blame a single one, but the sting bit hard nonetheless. Cookie remained stock-still, wondering what I was going to do.
“So, you don’t know who Dutch is?” I asked, fishing for more information.
“One of the guards tried to find out for me. I’d offered him a hefty sum, but by then Reyes had caught on to me and the guard was fired. Reyes is very intelligent. You know he has two degrees. Earned them in prison.”
“Really? That’s amazing,” I said, feigning ignorance. If she figured out I knew more about Reyes than I was letting on, she would likely become a pit bull to get at it. Or she would offer me a lot of money that I wasn’t sure I could turn down. Especially now that Reyes was doing his darnedest to get on my bad side. “You couldn’t possibly give me the name of your current informant?”
“Oh, no. That would be a breach of confidentiality. And I’ve already been warned to cease and desist my exploits. I can’t risk getting this person fired or myself arrested.”
Did she not realize what a private investigator did? “Why did you ask me if I knew Reyes well?”
She chuckled, completely oblivious of the fact that deep down inside, I wanted her dead. “Reyes doesn’t see anyone. Ever. And trust me, dozens of women have tried over the years. He gets more mail than the president. But he never reads a single one.”
That made my innards happy.
“Really, this is all on the site. I try to warn newbies who visit that he won’t see them or read their letters. But each and every fan thinks she will be the one he falls in love with. They have to try, I suppose. I certainly can’t blame them. But of all the women who’ve tried, I’m the only one he’s ever seen.”
I could feel the lie all the way to my marrow. She’d never laid a naked eye on the man. That made my innards happy, too.
“So, how did you find out about Reyes?” she asked, finally growing suspicious of my presence.
“Oh, I’m on a case, and his name came up.”
“Really? In what capacity?”
I tore my eyes off him and turned to her. “I can’t really say, but I do need to ask you a few questions.”
“Questions?”
“Yes. For example, do you know where he is at the moment?”
She offered a patient smile. “Of course. He’s in a long-term-care facility in Santa Fe.”
“Oh,” I said. Cookie cast a sideways glance in my direction, encouraging me to put the woman in her place. Just a little. “Actually, he was scheduled to be taken off life support last week.”
This time, she froze. I’d surprised her, and it took her a moment to recover. “I’m sorry, but that’s not what my resources have told me,” she said, blinking those false eyelashes repeatedly.
“Well, then, you need to find new resources. He was scheduled to die, Ms. Oake. Instead, he woke up and hightailed it out of the medical facility.”
“He escaped?” she asked, her voice a high shriek. This was much more fun than I’d expected it would be. And her surprise was genuine. She had no idea where Reyes had absconded with his body. I was torn between relishing that fact and despising it. We were no closer to finding him than we were before. I’d turned back to look at his writings again as Elaine sought a chair, her legs apparently weak.
The drawing, the one that looked like art but still said my name, was actually a sketch of a building. I stepped closer and breathed in softly.
“Oh, that’s an old building,” Elaine said from behind me. “We don’t know where it is, but we think it’s somewhere in Europe.”
I turned back to Cookie, gestured her my direction with the hint of a nod. Her brows slid together and she inched closer, casting cautious glances over her shoulder. When she stood beside me, she studied the drawing and gasped softly as well.
“I’ll bet you’re right,” I said. “It looks European.” Except it was in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and both Cook and I lived in it.
My gaze traveled back to the postcards. “Can I see where those postcards are from?” I asked.
Elaine was busy fanning herself. She forced her body out of the chair and went around to the other side of the display case to open it. “Do you think he’ll come after me?” she asked as she handed them over.
“Why would he do that?” I asked, only slightly interested. Both postcards were from Mexico. They had Reyes’s prison address, but no return address and no message whatsoever. Which was way more interesting than Elaine’s sudden need to jump into panic mode.
“H-he knows who I am,” she said. “He knows I’ve paid money to get information on him. What if he comes after me?”
“Can I keep these?”
“No!” She snatched them back.
Okay. Possessive much? “Look, here’s my card,” I said, handing it to her. “If he comes after you, call me. I really need to take him in.” Cookie and I turned to leave.
“Wait, no, that’s not what I meant.” She followed us, her heels clicking along the Spanish tile. “What if he comes here to kill me?”
I stopped and eyed her suspiciously. “Is there a reason he would want you dead, Ms. Oake?”
“What? No.” She was lying again. I wondered what she’d done, besides paid people to spy on him for years.
“Then I really don’t see a problem.” I turned again to leave.
She rushed around us and blocked our paths. “It’s just, I … everyone…”
“Really, Ms. Oake, I have a case to solve.”
“Here,” she said, handing over the postcards. “I’ll give you these. I have them scanned into my computer anyway. I just need you to call me the minute he’s found.”
I glanced at Cookie, my face the epitome of reluctance. “I don’t know. That would be kind of like your breach of confidentiality.”
“Not if my life is in danger,” she squeaked. “I’ll hire you.”
