Morgan wasn’t sure what to expect from the voice on the other end of the phone, but it sure turned out to be pleasant. The voice was full of concern, but it was laced with a soft tone that said she respected him. It wasn’t unlike Rachel’s—his wife.
“Where is Amy now?” Diane asked.
“She’s at the table in my dining room, going over the contract.” Morgan glanced at her through the glass doors that separated the room from the hallway. He made his way back to the living room, where he absentmindedly went to the window and peered out through the gap in the curtain. “You’ll find my fee quite reasonable, Mrs. Black, but I can send you a copy before she signs. Don’t worry, you’re in safe hands.”
“Call me Diane,” she breathed, and he could’ve sworn it sounded like a laugh. “I was in safe hands with my husband, Mr. Young, but you wouldn’t believe the trouble we’ve gotten into.”
He could though. Morgan had done his reading: first there was the Lullaby Killer, then his psychotic sister who’d posed as a prostitute to get close to her victims. If that wasn’t already enough, the Anarchy killer had soon made it into Mason’s life, and that was before he brought down the Malice killer. If Mason Black attracted anything, it was trouble.
“To be honest with you,” Diane continued, “the fee doesn’t bother me. We’re not rich, but we have money. More than anything I just want my husband back. I feel so helpless here. Are you married, Mr. Young?”
“I am,” Morgan said, turning to look at a picture of him and Rachel. It sat on the mantel above the fireplace, and it showed them both in their younger years, back when they’d first gotten married. Rachel’s dress was stunning, and she’d gotten it for a steal.
“Then you can imagine how this feels.”
“Like you’d never believe. Hey, can you tell me something?”
“Sure.”
“Amy says Mason had some correspondence with an outside contact. Some old friend?”
“That’s right.”
“Did he say specifically where he was meeting this friend?”
Diane paused, as if he’d asked something rude. “Didn’t Amy tell you?”
“No, she didn’t say.”
“Oh. According to the text messages, they were planning to meet in a Heidi’s parking lot.”
Morgan hurried across the room, grabbed a pen, and jotted it down. “Heidi’s? The supermarket? That’s a strange choice. Do you know which branch?”
“It’s not that strange. They were planning to grab beer there and then go somewhere quiet. Mason has always been like that—if he can drink cheap, he will. Anyway, I think the one they were heading to is near you.”
“Langley?”
“That’s the one.”
Morgan set down the pen and paced the room. “I’ll get on it right away. In the meantime, if there’s anything I can do—”
“Actually, there is.”
Morgan gripped the phone. “What is it?”
“First, I’d like to give you permission to start the case. If Amy doesn’t sign the contract, I will. You can tell her as much. I’ll pay the whole fee, plus a bonus if you get him back without a scratch on him. Although I don’t think that’s in your control.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“As soon as it’s signed, can you send Amy home?”
Morgan opened his mouth to reply, but then he heard the dining room door click open. A shadow elongated across the hallway floor and then Amy appeared in the doorway with the contract in her hand. Giving a thin, kind smile, she handed it over.
“Is that Diane?” she asked. “Can I speak to her?”
Morgan nodded and held up his finger, instructing her to wait. “I’ll send her home, Mrs. Black. And please, rest assured I’ll find your husband.”
He handed over the phone and took the contract. While Amy went to the window, Morgan perused the sheets, saw they were signed, and knew he could get straight to work. With that out of the way, he went to the bureau in the corner of the room and filed it away, listening in on the conversation as discreetly as he could.
“Honestly, I’m fine,” Amy said, tucking her blonde hair over her ear. “No, they’re good people. He called a cop over, and I think he’s going to help. He reminds me of Bill.”
Morgan closed the bureau and wondered who Bill was. He knew from the file that there was somebody by that name who’d worked alongside Mason on the police force all those years ago. He wondered if that was him.
“Sure. I signed it,” Amy went on, slumping onto the couch and leaning forward. She looped one arm around her legs as if to cradle her knees. “No need to get her involved. It’d probably end up in the magazine anyway. I know that’s not a bad idea, but I don’t want her to worry. That’s just—Okay, fine. See you soon.”
When she hung up, Amy crossed the room and handed over the phone, smiling.
“Everything okay?” Morgan asked, trying his best not to make it obvious he’d been listening.
“Yep. Listen, I have to go. Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Young.” Amy extended a hand.
“It’s Morgan to you. And put that away.” He gently nudged her hand as if to hide it from sight, like it was a great secret she’d be in trouble for spilling. “Save it for when I get your father back, okay? Until then, I’ll give you a ride to the airport.”
Amy nodded, her trusting eyes glowing. “You really think you can find him?”
“I know I can,” Morgan said.
But that was only half-true.