AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’m not perfect. The occasional evil thought does sometimes crawl into my brain. In this case, the evil thought is siphoning off some energy from that woman’s four little kids to make them a bit easier to wrangle. But I don’t. I merely think about it. The guilt would be far too strong after the fact, so the idea remains as one of those random little wicked things moms fantasize about but would never do.
Danny once cracked up laughing at this skit comedy thing on TV. Some show made a parody of that movieThe Silence of the Lambswith a fake commercial for chloroform spray intended to be used by busy parents on their kids called ‘the silencer of the lambs.’
My husband thought it was hilarious. I didn’t.
My involvement in this beleaguered mom’s life is limited to intercepting her youngest—a two-year-old—when she tries to go zooming off. After handing the child back to her mother, we commiserate about mom stuff for a little while in line. Finally, I reach the barista and order a basic venti cappuccino. Feeling kinda plain today.
Soon after I take my seat, a man in his late thirties walks in. He’s got short, light brown hair. Green shirt, tan jacket, jeans, a squarish face, big glasses. Looks like the sort of man you’d expect to make engaging videos on YouTube teaching science or engineering concepts to grade school kids. He’s also probably got LL Bean catalogs all over his living room.
It doesn’t take a mind reader to assume he’s Scott Fulton. People who go to a place like this Starbucks to meet someone they’ve never seen before act in particular ways a trained eye will recognize. He stops two steps inside the door and, rather than stare up at the menu boards or get right into line, he looks over at the people in the seating area. Right now, he’s probably trying to figure out what a ‘Samantha Moon’ looks like.
Honestly, I have no idea what most people picture at the thought of a female private investigator. Chances are it’s probably not anything close to the truth. They’re probably expecting a stocky, rough-and-tumble brick house of a woman who resembles Dog the Bounty Hunter with less facial hair.
That’s not exactly me. Far from it.
And yeah, I’m used to hearing it. Too thin, too cute, too young, too girly—to be a cop. Or a federal agent, or a PI. Back in the day, people used to ask me what my diet secret was. I’d say I didn’t have one. The closest thing to a true ‘diet secret’ I had would be growing up poor. Easy to stay skinny when you are malnourished. Poor people only get heavy when they have easy access to fast-food places. My parents one-story ranch out in the middle of nowhere did not offer such access. I will never understand how in this country a healthy meal costs so much and a heart-attack-on-a-bun is ninety-nine cents.
Scott—I assume—takes another step in, still scanning the crowd.
He looks at me for a second and moves on. Then swivels his head to me when I get up and walk directly toward him.
“Scott?” I ask before he can blurt something dumb. “Scott Fulton?”
“Umm.” He blinks. “Yeah. You’re Samantha?”
“I am.”
The ‘not what I was expecting’ is as obvious on his face as his glasses. However, it’s not the usual sort of condescension I get. If I had to guess, he’s not thinking ‘oh, she couldn’t possibly help me.’ It’s more the kind of awkwardness that can develop between an older person and a doctor young enough to be their child. Not that this guy is old. To him, I look inexperienced. Also, I’m guessing he was hoping for someone to go kick the ass of whoever is responsible for Gemma’s disappearance. While I can likely accommodate that desire, my methodology is a bit more thorough than jumping straight to violence. He’s potentially hiring Samantha Moon, not John Rambo.
“Hello,” mutters Scott, offering a hand.
I shake it and practically drag him over to my table, directing him to a seat before sitting down again myself. He’s still a bit too perplexed to realize on a conscious level I used beyond-human strength to move him. It’s subtle enough to make him more open to the idea I’m capable of doing what he needs without him understanding why his opinion shifts.
“Tell me about Gemma,” I say.
“She’s my younger sister.” Scott pauses, seems to take in our surroundings, then begins to ramble in a somewhat meandering manner. Gemma is single. As far as Scott knows, the last time she dated a guy, she was twenty. The woman is now thirty-two, lives alone, quiet. Shy. Doesn’t go out much at all except to work. She does have a friend or two, but it’s not like she and Scott live together or even hang out. All of this is coming from his guessing or assuming. “… I mean, she’d pretty much be a cliché if she had a ton of cats.”
I chuckle. “I take it she doesn’t?”
“No, just two. I asked her why two and she said that cats get lonely. They need another cat. After a couple days of Gemma not answering my texts or phone calls, I went to her place. She hasn’t been there. I’ve been feeding her cats.”
“Okay. When was the last you saw her?”
“Umm, couple months ago. We keep in touch online for the most part. Last time I saw her in the sense of being in the same room was her birthday last February.”
“Okay, so two months ago.”
He nods. “About that.”
“What do you know about the circumstances surrounding her disappearance?”
Scott pulls out his phone, fiddles with it, then shows me the screen. “Got a text from her last Friday, eight days ago. She told me she met a guy at a bar and hit it off with him. So much so, she was going away with him for the weekend. That’s not normal, right?”
I nod. “I concur.”
Hmm. Maybe she got tired of living alone with two cats? I read over the text exchange. Doesn’t mention any names, but she included a photo of the night in question. The guy looks like he’s in his early thirties. He’s part John Krasinski fromThe Office, part Jim Varney’s Ernest. The background of the photo doesn’t look like a watering hole sort of bar, more a somewhat trendy bar-restaurant. I don’t recognize it. Then again, my days of randomly going out with friends to eat and get buzzed are long over.
“The police have the photo. I’ll send it to you as well.”
