The Real Allie Newman. Janice Carter

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СКАЧАТЬ had nerve, that was all he could say. The days were still brisk in early May; he couldn’t imagine how frigid the water must have been a month earlier. Cold, as she’d so curtly informed him. He’d smiled to himself at that, figuring she was fed up with answering the same questions over and over. And for some damn inexplicable reason he’d felt himself admiring her for not succumbing to the preening affectation of celebrityhood.

      The van chugged up the hill past the Canadian Forces base and stopped at the traffic light that marked the intersecting road to Fort Henry. He’d been there last night, acting the tourist for once and almost enjoying it. When the light changed, the van made a sudden left. Caught unawares, Joel was glad he was far enough behind to make the turn, too. Was this an impulse turn, he wondered, or had she forgotten to signal?

      The sign at the corner had indicated she was heading toward Barriefield. Joel liked the sound of that. In his mind, he imagined a different spelling—Berryfield—and pictured the fields planted with strawberries that people would come to pick in late June. Except the land was currently under development, and the fields that might have once produced crops were now harvesting partially built houses.

      The van swung right onto a gravel road, jolting him from his brief philosophical interlude. Joel swore, reminding himself to stay alert. He’d found himself drifting off into these dreamlike states too often over the past year, ever since Trish had walked out on him for the last time, taking Ben with her. This time they hadn’t even gone through the pretense of a marriage counselor. Joel had signed the papers without any protest, especially when Trish had agreed to let him have six-year-old Ben for one weekend a month and three weeks in the summer.

      Access to his son had been the only dispute in their divorce, and Joel knew, given the uncertainties of his job, that he couldn’t and shouldn’t ask for more. As it was, he’d had to constantly juggle his schedule. But for once, Trish was willing to be flexible, letting him shift weekends when necessary.

      The van was less than a quarter of a mile ahead of him on the gravel road now, so Joel slowed down. There was no more traffic to hide behind. This section was undeveloped, and the fields were sprouting with crops that had a whole growing season ahead of them. What few houses there were, were hundreds of yards apart, well back from the road, and accompanied by small barns and sheds. No big farming operations here, Joel noted. Maybe the people who lived here were what people called gentlemen farmers.

      Joel spotted the van turning into a narrow lane, and he pulled onto the shoulder next to a stand of fir trees. He had a good line of vision through the trees as he watched the van stop in front of a two-story limestone farmhouse with a couple of sheds out back. A big golden retriever bounded out the front door as soon as it was opened; good to know about the dog, Joel thought, in case he had to return here at night, which was unlikely.

      The Newman girl—Allie, short for Alyse, his notes had stated—got out to help the woman called Susan into the house. Joel remembered her saying she’d go back to the store to close up and decided to give her fifteen minutes. If she didn’t reappear by then, he’d have to do it here and he didn’t really want to, not with the other woman present. He checked his watch and leaned against the soft leather of the seat’s headrest.

      The Cadillac was a great car and he loved driving it. The monotony of his journey all the way from Michigan had been greatly diminished by the luxury of the car and its terrific sound system. Too bad it wasn’t his, he thought, sighing at the realization that he would never own a car like this one as long as he was making child-support payments. Hey, buddy, are you saying you’d rather have a car than your kid? No? So quit complaining.

      He didn’t have to wait fifteen minutes. She was out the door in less than ten, revving up the van like a Harley-Davidson and reversing down the drive with scarcely a backward glance. Maybe a tad too accustomed to lack of traffic in the area, Joel figured, making a mental note of that last fact. He had just gotten the Caddie back onto the road when she passed him. He drove another fifty feet before making a sharp U-turn and followed her dust into town.

      She didn’t bother parking in the lot this time, finding a spot on the west side of Princess across from the store. Luckily he noticed a car pulling out just ahead of him, also on the west side, and was angling into the space when she jumped from the van to dash across the street.

      Joel switched off the engine and waited. The sign on the door of the health-food store had posted a closing time of six, and it was about forty-five minutes to that now. If his lucky streak continued, the other woman would leave first. Then he’d have the Newman girl to himself. He got out of the car and leaned against it, ready to dodge the traffic when the moment was right.

      Unexpectedly he felt a twinge of guilt about what he was about to do. Chastising himself, he was reminded that Allie Newman wasn’t the first pretty girl whose dreams he’d shattered. Or whose life he’d changed irrevocably. And likely she wouldn’t be the last. Joel couldn’t figure out why he felt so down about the whole thing all of a sudden. Perhaps he was getting too old for this business. Certainly he’d lost his taste for the thrill of the hunt.

      On the dot of six the front door opened and closed again behind the woman who had come into the store when Joel was talking to Allie, waving a goodbye as she left. Joel was across the street and inside the store, flipping the Open sign over to read Closed before Allie had a chance to lock up.

      She was standing behind the counter totaling what looked like the day’s receipts, and her head shot up at the sound of the door. Her big hazel eyes widened in recognition. And something else, he thought. Puzzlement? Or fear?

      “Uh, we’re closed,” she said. “Sorry. Can you come back in the morning?”

      Joel didn’t say anything, just turned to bolt the door behind him.

      “I said we’re closed,” she repeated, her voice a bit higher now.

      Definitely fear. But well-contained, Joel thought, noticing the way she kept her hand poised above the cash register while her other hand fumbled under the counter for something. Not a gun, he decided, considering this was Canada. But maybe a police-alert button or something.

      “Please, don’t worry. I’m not here to hurt you.” Liar, his conscience reprimanded. “I meant to ask you something before and didn’t get a chance to because that other woman came in. It’s personal. My name is Joel Kennedy and I’m a private investigator.”

      That stayed the other hand. She was more relaxed, though still wary. “I wonder if I could talk to Mr. Newman—would that be your father?”

      “My father’s dead.”

      She announced this without a flinch. Joel sensed the part she didn’t verbalize was, So buzz off.

      “Oh, I’m sorry. When, uh…?”

      “Almost a year ago. Heart attack,” she said, looking down at the magazine on the counter.

      “And your mother?” Joel asked, knowing the answer.

      She took a deep breath before raising her head. Her eyes were darker than ever, her cheeks bright red. “Look, I think you should leave. As I’ve said, my father’s dead and Susan isn’t here to answer any questions.”

      “Is Susan your mother?”

      “My stepmother. Since you seem so keen to find out, my real mother left my father and ran away with another man when I was three. Now, was there something else I can help you with?”

      Joel could tell from her tone СКАЧАТЬ