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“You can,” Cassie said, infusing her voice with reassurance despite that being the very last thing she wanted to happen. “Unfortunately, they won’t be able to verify that we’re here, since Adelaide isn’t from their department.”
“If she’s the detective,” Melissa said, slowly, “who are you?”
“Oh, um.” Cassie took in the woman’s living room for the first time, trying to find an item that would tell her more about the Shermans. It was clean and neat, with a cross on the wall above a picture of an older woman. Candles everywhere. Pictures in frames on every surface. “I’m a consultant.”
“What does that mean? Are you a cop?”
“No. I do work with the Savannah PD on cases.” Most definitely not a lie. “I’ve helped solve dozens of murders.”
“Murder?” Tears began to streak down Melissa’s face. “Do you think—”
“No, no. That’s not why we’re here. Well, it is. But not for your husband.”
But the tears didn’t stop. “What if he’s dead? What if someone killed him? He never misses Georgie’s events. Never.”
“Where is your son right now?”
“Upstairs.” The woman’s tears slowed a little. “I had to work late today. We were supposed to meet at the school. But when I got there, they said Bob never showed up. I brought Georgie home right away. I didn’t know what else to do. Thank goodness he has no idea what’s going on.”
“Good, good.” Cassie gestured to the couch. “Can we sit? Would that be okay?”
Melissa nodded, but as soon as she sat down, stood up again and started pacing. “He could be dead. What if he is? Oh, God.”
“Melissa, he’s not dead.” Cassie kept the annoyance out of her voice, but she needed to be firm, or they’d get nowhere. She hoped Harris was having better luck. “Are you sure he just didn’t forget?”
“I’m sure. I was texting him. He got a promotion, so we were celebrating.” She held out her phone so Cassie could see the conversation. It went back and forth for a while, and if Melissa was embarrassed by some of the more explicit texts, she didn’t show it. “Then he just stops answering.” There was a wall of blue text, one after the other, that got more panicked as time went on. “I called him, too, but he never answered. He always answers.”
“If he got a promotion, maybe he went out drinking with his buddies?”
She shook her head so vigorously, Cassie could see the tears flying off her face. “Bob doesn’t really like those guys. They’re a bunch of backstabbers. He would’ve preferred to spend his time at home. With his family.”
“We’re going to find him.” Cassie had a gut feeling those words were true, but she didn’t know whether they’d find him dead or alive. “But I need to ask about his cousin, Randall. And Randall’s wife.”
Melissa stopped pacing. “Randall is not a good person. We stopped associating with them a long time ago.”
“Randall is dead.”
A myriad of emotions flashed across the other woman’s face. Shock. Sadness. Regret. Resolve. “I told Bob his cousin would end up in prison or in a ditch someday.” That resolve flickered for a moment. “But I’m sorry to hear it was the latter.”
“What about Rose? Do you know anything about her?”
Melissa was already shaking her head. “I don’t want to talk about this. I’m calling the police. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Wait!” Cassie stood. Harris hadn’t emerged from the back of the house yet. She must’ve found a room to search but hadn’t found what she was looking for—whatever that was. “Please, we need your help.”
“You need to leave.”
Cassie’s eyes landed on the portrait of the older woman on the wall. She looked like Melissa, with the same gentle eyes and thin lips that turned down a little at the corners. “You were close with your mother, weren’t you?”
Melissa froze. “What?”
“Your mother. She died recently.” Cassie pointed to the portrait. There was no point in trying to deny she saw it. “I’m sure that was difficult.”
“What’s your point?”
What was her point? She was grasping at straws here. “I lost someone recently, too. A friend. My best friend.” Tears, unbidden, gathered in her eyes. “That’s why I’m here. Trying to figure out what happened to him.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” It sounded sincere. “But I don’t understand what that has to do—”
