Chapter 18

 

I stewed over Ron’s comment as I drove back to my neighborhood. Not so much his obsession with solving the football player’s case as the part about my sitting around doing nothing. Well, I would show him. We would just see who solved which case first.

Taking Elsa’s word for the fact both girls had not been home together for awhile, I decided to see who I would catch there today. Both Corvettes were in the driveway. I parked in my own driveway and walked up the street, gave a hard push at the Delaney’s doorbell. A twin dressed in low-riding jeans and a cropped tank top answered the door, barely glancing at me before her eyes went back to the smartphone in her hand.

“Clover?”

She looked at me. A flicker of emotion—something I couldn’t read—crossed her face, but then she gave a bright little smile. “Huh-uh. I’m Zayne.”

“Great—I’ve been wanting to catch both of you at home. Mind if I come in?”

The smile faltered. “Clover’s not here right now. She and Ryan went to the movies.”

I reached for the handle on the screen door and pulled it open. “I’d like to chat a minute, Zayne.”

She didn’t want me to come in but I used my age advantage to get my way. She stepped aside as I pushed into the living room. It was impossible to tell at a glance whether the home’s disarray was caused by one girl or two. A bright pink fluffy hoodie lay draped over the back of a dining chair. At least three pairs of shoes caught my attention, two of them by the couch in front of an enormous-screen TV set. Pillows and a couple of fuzzy blankets were tossed there, a cozy nest for viewing the big screen. A scattering of receipts littered the dining table, along with two shopping bags.

“Clover said you were in Las Cruces,” I said.

“Oh, yeah. I am. It’s spring break.” I tried to gauge the truthfulness of her response, but lost eye contact when Zayne glanced at her phone’s screen, distracted.

“Your aunt Donna called me this morning. She’s worried about you girls.”

“Really? Why?”

The question was a little sticky to answer. I couldn’t very well admit the elderly lady across the street spent her days spying and she was the one who alerted the aunt.

“Donna said she’d tried to call and no one answers.”

“Seriously, she must be using the landline. Half the time I don’t even know where that phone is. Anybody who needs us uses our cell phones.”

“That makes sense. If you’ll give me those numbers, I’ll pass them along to her.”

Zayne looked me straight in the eye. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call her myself.”

“She wants to hear from Clover, too. She needs to know you’re both okay, and when she talked to your dad recently he said he hadn’t heard from you two in awhile.”

“Geez, what is this, the phone police? We’re living on our own and we’re fine.” She took a breath and forced the perky smile again. “Really, Charlie, it’s all good.”

I knew a dismissal when I heard one. Pushing for more information would not accomplish anything, so I turned toward the door.

“Just give your aunt a call and reassure her, okay?”

She kept the smile in place, but the door closed pretty firmly behind me. I crossed their front lawn, remembering the time I’d confronted Clover about the loud party and trash all over the neighborhood. The incident had happened nearly five years ago. Her words and tone had been nearly identical to what I’d heard just now.

It’s all good. Great catch-phrase to gloss over an iffy episode or deliver a blatant lie with wide-eyed innocence. I’d used it plenty of times myself, back in the day. It might not be what Elsa thought, but those girls were lying about something.

Zayne might, indeed, turn right around and call her aunt thinking that would get us off her back, but Donna knew the girls played tricks at times. She’d specifically asked for a photo of the two together, and that’s what I planned to deliver.

I went inside my house and straight to Drake’s office. He had a pricey Pentax camera with a lens that brought objects right up to your face. While he used it for grabbing great shots during his jobs, I had purposes other than scenery in mind. I checked the batteries and ran through the menus quickly to remind myself how everything worked.

Freckles whined from her crate and I let her out. With the camera, my purse and the dog’s leash stationed near the front door, I called Elsa and asked her to give me a heads up when she saw either twin leave their house.

“Am I helping on the case?” she asked. I heard the eagerness in her voice.

“Absolutely. I need to track the girls’ movements and your eagle eyes will be invaluable.”

I’d barely finished making myself a peanut butter sandwich for the road when the kitchen phone rang.

“I’m not sure which one it is, but the girl just went out to the red car.”

“Keep an eye out while I’m following this one. I need to know if the other girl comes home. Supposedly, she went to the movies with that guy.”

So maybe this one really was Zayne. If I remembered correctly, hers was the red car. I grabbed a bottle of water to go with my sandwich, called to Freckles and we headed for my Jeep. Before I could get my key in the ignition, the Corvette raced past my driveway, made a rolling stop at the corner and turned left. I jammed my gearshift in reverse and squealed out of the driveway. I would need to finesse this a bit better if I hoped not to attract attention.

I managed to get close enough to witness each of her turns as she left the neighborhood and headed east on Lomas Boulevard. If she made two turns in quick succession I would definitely lose track. The good news was she probably had no idea I was following her. At Girard, Zayne made a right, and I did a barely legal right-on-red turn to keep her in sight. She slowed as she approached the UNM campus and turned into a parking lot for a couple of the big dorm buildings. I slowed, wondering what I should do if she went inside.

As it turned out she pulled to the curb in front of Hokona Hall and tooted her horn twice. A girl with flowing, dark brown curls came down the steps a little awkwardly on her high platform shoes. Otherwise, her outfit of jeans and tank and smartphone were nearly identical to Zayne’s. She smiled widely and reached for the door handle on the ’Vette.

A group of four college-age boys stood near the bottom of the steps, and they called out to the girls. Zayne turned to respond, although I couldn’t tell what any of them were saying. Her friend gave a coquettish sway with her hips but stayed with the car.

Fifty yards behind them, I snatched up the camera and got a few shots. At this point, I didn’t know if the group of kids had anything to do with anything, but I figured it was best to gather any and all data I could get. The girl slid into the passenger seat and the red car’s top began to retract. As long as I could somewhat match her speed, following a bright red convertible with a blonde at the wheel and a brunette riding shotgun should be fairly easy.

Animated conversation took place for about a minute, the girls waved to the guys, then the car began to move. I dropped the camera on my lap and cruised up slowly to narrow the gap between our vehicles. Zayne turned left from the parking lot and roared up Girard with a fair amount of noise. It must have been for the benefit of the boys—by the time she reached the light at Lomas she’d slowed to normal speed and I caught up, only a couple of cars behind her.

She made the right turn then sped up again. By the time I began to keep pace, we were both doing more than ten over the speed limit, not that it bothers me but some of these lights have the traffic cams that get your picture if you shave a red light a little too close. I really didn’t need another ticket on my record when the previous one was about to reach its time limit and drop from sight of my insurance company.

Lomas is a major street with traffic lights at all the big cross streets. I managed to keep within one light of the red Corvette until she reached Louisiana Boulevard. She pulled into the left-turn lane where she made the light and I didn’t. I watched the convertible longingly until it went out of sight. By the time I got a green arrow and followed Zayne’s direction, there was no sign of her car.

Ahead were the city’s major shopping centers and a freeway entrance. Two young women, off for the day and heading this direction … I could guess they might be doing a girl’s day of lunch and shopping, but the choices were nearly endless. I came to the ABQ shopping mall and pulled off the busy street. The center offered both storefront and underground parking, but a quick recon of both didn’t reveal the car I was seeking.

Next up the road was a bigger challenge. Coronado Center was built in the ’70s as the biggest mall of its day, and it hasn’t shrunk with time. Multiple parking lots with traffic that’s constantly changing—I took one look and decided it was a waste of time. Not to mention there were other shops throughout the area. I should have noted the shopping bags on the Delaney dining table for clues on the girls’ taste, but I hadn’t and it was too late now.