There really wasn’t anything more to say. The family had just pretty much said it all, and he and Dale were with them one hundred percent.
Chapter Eight
The house, upper middle class, was set in a suburban Dallas neighborhood comprised of like-aged homes—April figured no more than thirty years old, max. The yards on this particular street showed well-tended neatness. Dotted with flower beds and trees, these yards whispered home. A harried executive could wend his way through Dallas’s busy, rush-hour traffic, through the ever-present stop lights and hold-ups, and the occasional blared car horn, until eventually arriving in this neighborhood, driving down this street, pulling his vehicle into the driveway and probably on into the garage. These yards surrounded houses that provided a necessary escape, a sanctuary against the frantic busyness of American urban life. Inside the walls of these homes, one could completely forget there was such a thing as urban sprawl.
This particular house had a live oak in the front yard, and the grass was trimmed, lush green, and devoid of weeds. The outside of the house appeared to have been recently painted, and April Bixby took a moment to appreciate the planting beneath the wide picture window.
Mrs. Collins has a good hand with antique roses. April immediately identified the flower because her mother had several of the beautiful, demanding bushes outside a very similar house, a few hours away in Austin.
A quick visual scan told April there were no toys such as skateboards, bicycles, or Tonka trucks laying about in any of the front yards close by. She was certain the lack spoke more to the fact there were likely few if any young children in the neighborhood rather than whether or not the people here practiced a kind of ruthless tidiness.
No car appeared parked in the Collinses driveway, but there was a garage, and the family vehicle could be in there. April was capable of snooping to see what she could see but thought it unnecessary. She’d done her homework and was pretty certain this was the right house. Whether or not anyone was home, she’d discover shortly.
She rang the bell, waited a minute, then rang it again. In her peripheral vision she could see the front picture window sufficiently. The curtain didn’t flutter. No one was peeking out at her. Yet the sense she was being watched skittered down her spine.
She rang the bell again and took a half a step back.
“They’re not home, dear.”
April turned her head to the right. An elderly woman, sitting on the porch next door, had her attention fixed on her, her expression holding a trace of curiosity. April sorted through her repertoire of approaches, made a choice, and then smiled.
“Well, that would be my luck. I haven’t visited Camille and Jason in ages. I was hoping to find out where Jenny is.” She put on her girl-next-door persona. The girl-next-door was a little naïve and would tell perfect strangers all manner of things. “We met in college and kept in touch for a couple of years. But then I got a job and moved up north for a spell, and we lost touch.”
“Well bless your heart for coming back to Texas, child.”
April, who was from Pennsylvania originally, grinned wider. Her accent sounded Texan, born and bred. “Yes, ma’am. I decided the money just wasn’t worth it.”
“You and Jenny have a lot in common. She went to work for that big company in Houston and then decided the same thing. They paid well enough, I reckon, but she didn’t like the pace—or the tone—of the staff there.”
“I’m not surprised. She’s too sweet to be swallowed up by a soulless corporation.”
The elderly woman nodded. “She is indeed. She got herself a job, a couple of years back, outside of Waco, at one of those chain restaurant places. She also picked up part-time work at another restaurant, a roadhouse. She told me last month when she came to visit that she’d left the chain when she was promoted to full time at the roadhouse. Says she really likes the woman who owns the place and the people who live in the small town close by.” Then the lady laughed. “She told me she got herself a nice little apartment in that small town close to her work. When she told me the name of that town, I just laughed and laughed because Jenny’s so sweet and doesn’t sound like she’d belong in such a town with such a name.”
April worked hard at appearing patient. She absolutely refused to let her eyes go wide as the woman kept talking—clearly the older version of the girl next door. She seriously hoped to be rewarded with some information that would help her out even more than she had been already.
If she had to start looking at roadhouses in and around Waco, she had a feeling it would be a very long and tedious search.
Since the lady seemed to be waiting to deliver her punch line, April obliged her. “What was so funny about the name of Jenny’s new small town?”
“It’s called Lusty!” The woman laughed. “Lusty, Texas! I wonder why folks would call a place Lusty?”
April had to admit, that was funny—in a way. But she dutifully laughed and shook her head. “Maybe it’s a family name?”
“Golly, if that had been my family name, I’d have changed it. Although, those first few years my Henry and I were married…” The woman let her voice trail off. Her smile, followed by her sigh assured April whatever memory she’d chosen to visit just then had been a good one. She focused her gaze on April once more. “That would have suited us, but we wouldn’t have wanted to advertise that fact. My daddy was a preacher, you know.” She whispered that last and winked.
April returned her smile. “Thank you so much, Mrs.…” She waited, knowing the woman would provide her name.
“Mrs. Paulson. I’ll tell Camille you stopped
