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“Okay. I’ll bring her over right after dinner.”
“Perfect.” Vivian smiled.
Elizabeth pressed for more speed and their conversation stopped. Another group, she thought warily, then decided that maybe opening up and sharing her concerns would actually help her.
Chapter 19
It was a pisser being left at Rex’s house waiting for her clothes to wash while he was off following a lead. Ravinia had argued with him, but he’d left her high and dry anyway, heading out while she was still wearing the woman’s robe he’d found for her in one of his closets. She’d asked about it, but he’d mumbled something unintelligible, which had led her to believe the robe was a leftover from some woman with whom he’d once been involved.
It had all been a ploy, anyway. He’d waited till she was without her clothes and then taken off. Just like that. Honestly, she hadn’t thought him wily enough to pull that on her, which had been a mistake. He was an investigator and he probably did things like that all the time in his job. She’d just thought . . . well . . . she’d trusted him more than she should. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Barefoot, she wandered from the living room into one of the back be
drooms, neither of which possessed a bed. It looked like he lived in only three rooms, but it was a nice place. Particularly nice with rain pouring outside. She’d turned on the television and learned that the Californians were rejoicing in the deluge as they’d been in a long-term drought, although the freeways were choked with creeping traffic caused by numerous fender benders.
I’ve got to get a driver’s license. And I need Rex’s help.
Ravinia wasn’t calculating by nature. She was too up front and generally annoyed by obstacles to approach them in any way other than head-on. It was something she’d always known about herself. However, she saw that she was going to have to find a new tact with Rex. She’d chosen him as her mentor, of sorts. She knew she could work with him, if he’d just let her, and he could help her get the things she needed. If he helped her, she could help him.
“What’s that called?” she asked the room aloud. Ravinia had been home-schooled at Siren Song by Aunt Catherine and her older sisters, and she had a “broad and eclectic education” her eldest sister, Isadora, was wont to say. She hadn’t been the most interested pupil; she’d fought her education all the way. But she’d absorbed more than she’d ever let any of them know, and then had passed her GED without a hitch, surprising everyone but herself.
She’d always known she would leave and had dreamed of grand adventures. Once she found Elizabeth and made sure she was all right and safe, maybe those future grand adventures could begin....
She returned to where she’d started, to the warmth and rhythmic beating of the dryer in the laundry room. For a moment, the word escaped her, and then it hit her. “Symbiosis,” she said. That’s what she and Rex Kingston could have. A symbiotic relationship where he helped her and she helped him.
She just had to convince him of that.
The Brightside Apartments were a lesson in deferred maintenance. The paint was peeling along the edges of the eaves and one downspout had completely disengaged from the building, allowing rain to pour over the choked gutter in an unbroken arc of water. Cracked and uneven concrete made treading along the sidewalks hazardous, and yet the cars he saw in the parking lot were newer, higher-end models. Rex made an immediate assumption that the people living here valued their vehicles more than their abodes, not that it took a genius to figure that one out. No one was taking care of the building, although the cost of living in the area was high enough that he suspected it wouldn’t be long until some conglomerate bought the apartment buildings, upgraded them, and jacked up the rents.
He found the manager’s apartment on the lower level at the end of the north building and knocked loudly. What had once been a darkly stained door was scratched, faded, and marred. It had a brand-new lock on it, however, and the door handle was sturdy. He glanced down the row of units and realized it was one feature available for every renter. Made him wonder if there had been trouble with break-ins.
The door suddenly opened inward and a skinny woman in her twenties with thin brown hair stood in the aperture. She wore a bright green bra top and tight jeans that squeezed over her flared hip bones, but the waistband was loose around her waist. Her collarbones were so defined it looked as if she was a skeleton with stretched skin.
Anorexia, he decided, making a snap judgment. The hell of it was, he was rarely wrong. “Are you the manager?”
“My dad is, but he’s not here. You want a room, you can put your name down and we’ll do a credit check, but we’re pretty full up.”
“What’s your father’s name?”
“Ben Drommer.” She tilted her head and gave him a good, hard look, apparently encouraged enough by what she saw to trust him a little. “I’m Erin.”
“I’m Rex. Has your father been manager here for a while?”
“Ages. The whole time I was growing up, and I’m twenty-two now. Eons before that, too. After the divorce, Mom moved away, but Dad stayed.” She shrugged. “You want a place or not?”
Rex pretended to think that over as he debated whether to play a game to get to the truth or just hit her straight on with what he wanted. He chose the latter. “A family lived here when their daughter was young. The daughter’s in her midtwenties now, so you might remember her?”
“Don’t count on it. You know how many people have lived here?”
“The last name was Gaines. They had a daughter who’s a few years older than you are.”
Erin shrugged. “You could always ask Marlena, I guess. She’s been here forever and that’s no lie. She’s in the other building, lower floor now. She used to be on the top, but Dad had to move her ’cause she couldn’t do the stairs.”
“Which unit?” Rex asked, turning to look at the building that ran perpendicular to the manager’s.
The two structures created an L-shape with a path between them. The interior walkways were overgrown by various succulents and threaded through with weeds. A listing jacaranda grew from a center planter, and Rex imagined when it was in bloom, the purple flowers might jazz up the place . . . then again, maybe not.
Erin pointed to the interior unit next to the lower eastern corner. “Number thirteen. Marlena didn’t care, but I’d never stay anywhere that had a thirteen in it.”
