Lizzie
If Brenda Phillips knew where John Petersen was, she gave no indication. She claimed to be shocked at the news that he’d kidnapped a woman and her child. Shocked. Shocked. Lizzie wasn’t sure what she’d expected to come out of confronting Brenda, but she’d hoped for more than a refrain that brought to mind the clip of the French captain from that old classic movie Casablanca.
Brenda also denied either changing the records about Ashley Wise’s death or knowing that Tom Martin had done so. She did acknowledge giving the general legal advice that an abortion was illegal until the woman’s life was in imminent danger but denied giving specific advice related to Ashley.
She denied having an affair with Tom Martin. She denied a relationship with John Petersen, in the present or in the past.
On all topics, she was not believable, but she was unmovable.
The interview had been a total dead end as to both investigations. But what had Lizzie expected? That Brenda would just blurt out a confession about either case?
Lizzie was no closer to knowing who might be behind Tom Martin’s death than she was to finding Isabella.
The investigation into Tom Martin, though, could wait. The more urgent issue was finding Isabella and her child, whose lives were in danger not only because of Isabella’s medical situation but because they were being held by killers.
And if they had witnessed the shooting, they’d be in even greater danger.
Lizzie glanced at Murphy, who gave a barely perceptible shrug.
Then Murphy thanked Brenda for her time, signaling the uselessness of continuing.
“You can see yourself out.” Brenda didn’t move from her chair.
Murphy, walking next to Lizzie as they crossed the ridiculously white living room, murmured, “It was worth trying.”
Nice of her not to rub it in.
“You were right. Georgina would have been a better bet.”
“Still. Georgina wouldn’t be any more likely to help us than Brenda.”
“I thought she might let something slip inadvertently.”
“She’s a lawyer. They don’t let things slip. Generally speaking. You have another GPS tracker in your car, don’t you? And that Mercedes is close to your Lexus.”
It was a thought. But not necessarily a helpful one. “No guarantee that she’ll go to meet him.”
“No. But it’s something.”
“It’s something of a Hail Mary pass. Still. Why not?”
In the front hall with the marble floor and the sparkling chandelier, the housekeeper—Lizzie remembered that her name was Mindy Black—was speaking to a boy and a girl. The girl, a little on the chubby side but with a sweet face, glanced at Lizzie.
And then Lizzie remembered. Mindy Black was the middle-aged woman who had been walking two children to a car at the rescue ranch.
“Didn’t I see all of you at the stable yesterday?” Interesting that the housekeeper hadn’t mentioned seeing them. They’d arrived just as she was leaving, and neither she nor Murphy were inconspicuous. But maybe Mindy wasn’t all that observant or maybe she thought it wasn’t appropriate to mention seeing them. Lizzie put the questions aside and focused on the children. “Did you like the horses?”
The faces of both children fell. Mindy put an arm around the girl, who seemed on the verge of tears. “Christina and Kevin loved them. But their mother doesn’t think riding is a good use of time.”
“You disagree?” Lizzie asked.
Mindy hesitated. “Not my place to tell Mrs. Phillips how to raise her children. Although I do think horses are wonderful creatures. Even if you don’t ride. I like being around them. Always have. They bring me peace.”
“Me too.” Lizzie fished a card out of her pocket and held it out to Christina. “I’m adopting Nutmeg—one of the horses from the stable—although I’m trying to think of a new name for her. Maybe you can come up with a suggestion. And any time you and your brother would like to meet her, give me a call.”
Given that Brenda opposed her children riding, Lizzie knew that it was inappropriate to make the offer. But she didn’t care. And she found the housekeeper’s reaction intriguing. Or rather, her lack of reaction over Christina and Kevin receiving an invitation that their mother would not want them to have.
Mindy shooed the children towards the kitchen and their lunch. Then she escorted Lizzie and Murphy out with a brief apology for the chaos in the house.
On the way out, Lizzie casually asked, “Do you happen to know John Petersen?”
Mindy paused. “I’ve heard the name.”
“Do you know if he’s been in contact with Mrs. Phillips?”
Mindy smiled. “You may be a little confused as to my job responsibilities. I’m the housekeeper, NOT Mrs. Phillips’ executive assistant.”
“Fair enough.” Lizzie paused on the doorstep. “Still, if you see him or if he tries to contact Mrs. Phillips, will you call me immediately? It’s very important. A young woman’s life is in danger.” She offered a business card. Mindy glanced at it and placed it in a pocket.
“I somehow doubt that Mrs. Phillips would see that as part of my responsibilities either.”
“Some things are more important than job responsibilities.”
“Easy to say if you don’t need the money.”
Her gaze moved past Lizzie to the Lexus. Lizzie flushed. She didn’t usually feel guilty about the money that she enjoyed but hadn’t earned, money that put her in a different world from people who barely made ends meet.
“I can help you find a better job.”
“I like it here, even though I appreciate the importance of saving a life.”
“Then you’ll call if you hear anything?”
“Of course.” The bland reassurance was given with a smile, and then Mindy closed the door, locking them out.
“She won’t call,” Murphy said.
“I get that impression too.”
“Interesting that she didn’t ask what was going on.”
Lizzie thought it was interesting too, but not her focus. She had a GPS to place.
Lizzie walked around the Lexus, as if she were about to enter, while checking yards and houses. No neighbors in sight. No one watching from a window. Then she headed for the Phillips’ driveway and the Mercedes.
Murphy was oohing over the naked angels.
When she reached the Mercedes, Lizzie made a show of admiringly walking around the car while speculating loudly about the price. Next to the back rear tire, she dropped her keys onto the cement of the driveway. As she bent over to scoop them up, Lizzie attached the GPS under the fender.
She straightened and looked at the Toyota parked next to the Mercedes. She’d seen the car before—at the stable, hadn’t she? That was the car that Mindy had used to take the Phillips kids to see the horses.
But something else struck her.
Hadn’t she seen the same car somewhere else? Or a car just like it?
The previous night in front of Georgina Crane’s house.
It looked a lot like the Toyota that had sped away from Georgina’s house when she and Murphy had pulled up. It was a twenty-year-old car, and not the type of twenty-year-old car that was popular in Austin, Texas.
Back in the driver’s seat of her Lexus, as she put on her seatbelt, she thought about Mindy Black. The motherly housekeeper with the kind face who loved horses. The housekeeper who didn’t ask any questions about the young woman in danger and who was reluctant to agree to call Lizzie. Who hadn’t mentioned seeing Lizzie at the stable.
Something about Mindy seemed—well—off.
Now that she was focusing, something about Mindy Black had been familiar when Lizzie had caught sight of her at the stable.
She closed her eyes and visualized the woman’s face. She’d seen Mindy before the stable. In a photograph, maybe? Her hair had been different. Not pulled back in a bun, and not dyed brown. Loose and streaked with gray. And something about her face had been different, too. There had been a lightness—a joy—that was missing now.
What had Mindy been doing and where had she seen the photograph?
“Earth to Lizzie. We leaving anytime in the next hour?” Murphy asked.
Lizzie held up a hand. “Give me a second.”
It hadn’t just been a photograph of Mindy, had it? There had been other people around her, hadn’t there? But where was it taken and where had Lizzie seen it?
She visualized Mindy’s face. Then she visualized the face next to Mindy’s.
Suddenly, her memory clicked. If Lizzie were right, Brenda Phillips was in danger. On the other hand, if she made a wrong accusation, Lizzie could be hurting an innocent woman and opening herself up to a shitload of trouble.
Her memory could be wrong. She knew that facial identification wasn’t an exact science. So many wrongful convictions came from people identifying the wrong person because they had seen that person somewhere else and confused the two memories.
If she was right, she’d found Tom Martin’s killer, who was planning to kill again. But she had to be sure.
“Georgina next?” Murphy asked.
It was the logical thing to do, wasn’t it? See if Georgina knew where Petersen was keeping Isabella.
But as important as it was to find Isabella, it was also important to stop a murderer before she struck again. If Lizzie was right. One way to find out.
Was it safe to take the time to be sure? Lizzie thought so. Mindy seemed to have a real connection with Brenda’s kids. Nothing would happen while the kids were there and awake.
She hoped.
“Not yet.” She put the car into gear and sped out of the driveway. She revved the speed up to 70 mph in a 30-mph zone, praying that she wouldn’t be stopped.