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“I’d like to talk to you individually, but first, let me ask a few general questions.”
Nobody said anything.
“How long has your family been in this house?”
It was Beth who said, “Something like thirty years.”
“Do any of you still live here?”
Matt shook his head. “Of course not. We’re adults. I work in the Admissions Department at Wakefield. I’m married and own my own home.”
“I work for the county agency dealing with long-term care and aging,” Beth said. “I rent a townhouse a few blocks from downtown.”
His gaze shifted to Emily.
“What difference does it make what we do for a living?” she burst out.
“It probably doesn’t. I’m trying to get a picture of your family, that’s all.”
She sniffed and, looking remarkably childlike, swiped the back of her hand beneath her nose. “I work at a chiropractor’s office. Dr. Findley. I’m a massage therapist. And I have an apartment near the community college with some friends.”
His eyes met Beth’s. “I gathered from you that your father lives in the house. What about your mother?”
* * *
THE SEEMINGLY INNOCUOUS question froze all three people, who suddenly had a deer-in-the-headlights look that sharpened Tony’s interest.
Beth and the brother glanced at each other. She was apparently elected to answer.
“Our mother left Dad when I was fifteen, so…thirteen years ago. Obviously, we stayed with him.”
A man she’d described as a typical absent-minded professor. Apparently, a man incapable of keeping his own home organized in any minimal way, who was, in fact, indoors at the moment, not even lending a hand. Because—how had she put it?—he’s not much good at this kind of thing. Yeah, that was it.
“Did you maintain visitation with her?” he asked.
“No,” Beth said, so softly he just heard her. Horror showed in her eyes before she looked down at her hands. She knew what he was thinking. “Mom just…went. When she didn’t call or anything, Dad reported her missing. The police thought it was clear she’d chosen to leave.”
“On what basis?”
Matt answered, his tone curt and edged with old anger. “She left a note on the computer. Took her purse, some of her jewelry and I guess some clothes.”
“Birth control pills and toiletries,” Beth added.
“Car?”
They all shook their heads at once.
“Was a suitcase gone?”
Matt and Beth looked at each other again, leaving Emily out. With reason, Tony realized. She’d have been eleven or twelve, maybe, when their mother had run away.
“I don’t know,” Matt said. “I don’t remember anyone saying. I mean, why wouldn’t she have used one when she packed?”
Did he really not get it? “I presume your father can tell us,” he said.
He was beginning to find those silent exchanges irritating. He should have separated the siblings from the beginning.
“I sort of doubt he’ll remember,” Beth said. “He’s…kind of vague about details. You’ll see.”
Mentally ill? If he was still teaching at the college level, could he be? Tony’s curiosity about the man grew.
“I should speak to him next,” he said.
Beth jumped up. “Let me get him for you.”
He moved fast, staying right behind her when she dashed for the French doors. She cast him a startled glance when she realized how close he was, but damned if he’d let her warn her father in any way.
She pushed open the door, letting cool air spill out, and called, “Dad?”
“Beth?” A pleasant tenor voice preceded the man. “That you?”
“Yes, there’s someone here to see you.”
As soon as he saw her father, Tony had to discard preconceptions he hadn’t realized he’d formed. The guy didn’t have a receding hairline, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose or narrow, stooped shoulders. No sweater vest or corduroy jacket with leather patches on the elbows, either. If he smoked a pipe, Tony couldn’t smell it.
Instead, the man was tall, thin, handsome, his brown hair graying at the temples. He hadn’t shaved today, and his stubble was clearly gray. Tony saw a resemblance to Matt, in particular, and perhaps to Beth in the bone structure and shape of the eyes. Only Matt’s coloring—blond and blue-eyed, like his younger sister—kept him from being the spitting image of his father.
