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“No argument there. I’ll make the call first thing in the morning to the Reschers. Then we’ll reassess Trey as a suspect.”
After the last bit of dappled sunlight disappeared, Lucien got to his feet and held out his hand. “Let’s head back before the path gets too dark to see where we’re going.”
She dug in her bag and brought out a flashlight. “Just in case we took our time getting back.”
Lucien grinned. “This reminds me of the time we found that old sea cave in Malibu for the first time. Remember that?”
“Of course. But that time, you refused to wait for me to return home to get a flashlight. No, you just had to rush inside without a single light source.”
“I had matches.”
Brogan made a face and then held out her forearm, showing off a still-visible two-inch long scar. She made a raspberry sound with her tongue. “Matches didn’t do squat. I still have the proof you led me into a dark, spooky cave where I scraped my arm on the rocks. I stood there bleeding while you took off like Indiana Jones to explore the rest of the tunnel.”
“You didn’t speak to me for a week. But you didn’t have to follow me in there either. You could’ve stayed outside.” He let out a sigh and held up his hands. “You’re right. I was hasty and reckless. Maybe you should lead the way home tonight. Be myDora the Explorerand lead the way.”
She gave him a light smack on the arm, cuddled Poppy tighter, and flicked on the flashlight. “Come on Stella. The women are taking charge. We won’t need the Indiana Jones match trick to get home either.”
Lucien handed off Stella’s leash to Brogan. “You women certainly hold onto a grudge. That cave thing happened fifteen years ago.”
Brogan’s lips curved. “We have long memories. More importantly, we believe in Karma and Payback.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t worry. You’ll never see it coming.” Brogan guffawed with laughter and took off around the bay's south side, heading for home.
3
Neither Brogan nor Lucien gave Daniel Cardiff another thought, that is, until the following morning, a little after eight o’clock, when he showed up at their door.
Since Lucien was in his office on the phone with Jack discussing the Dolworth case, Brogan let Daniel into the kitchen. “Want some coffee? I just made a second pot.”
“That’d be great. Sorry to show up unannounced like this, but I don’t open up the Vanilla Bean until one. I thought I might as well get this out of the way.”
After filling two mugs, Brogan slid the cream and sugar across the island. She sat down and patted the seat next to her. “While Lucien wraps up his phone call, why don’t you tell me why you need a private investigator?”
Daniel poured cream into his coffee and added some sugar as if stalling. A few minutes later, he cleared his throat. “This will probably sound like I’m nuts, but I’m not.”
“We don’t judge. Take a deep breath and start from the beginning.”
“Okay. Here goes. Ten years ago, when I was a senior in high school—I grew up in a small town north of here called Coyote Wells—it’s north of Crescent City, almost to the Oregon border. That spring before graduating, just days before prom, my girlfriend went missing. Her name’s Lyssa Mayfield. I’ve never forgotten her. Never. Not one day goes by without me thinking about her. For a while, I was considered a suspect in her disappearance.”
“Why was that?”
“Because I was the one who dropped her off after work. We both had jobs at the only supermarket in town. We often worked the same shift after school or on weekends. I had a car. Lyssa didn’t. We lived four blocks from each other. So it seemed perfectly logical to take my girlfriend home. That night, when we reached her house, we sat in the car and talked. We might’ve made out for about twenty minutes before she got out of the car, walked up the sidewalk to the front door, and went inside. That’s the last time I ever saw her. The last time anyone ever saw Lyssa. Her parents flat out asked me once if I’d done something to her.”
Brogan watched as Daniel picked up his mug with shaky hands.
“I didn’t do anything to Lyssa,” Daniel claimed. “We probably would’ve ended up getting married a couple of years down the road. That’s why I want to know what happened to her. I’d like you to find out. I’m willing to pay whatever the going rate is.”
“What doyouthink happened to Lyssa?” Brogan prompted. “Did her parents know she got home that night? Did Lyssa sleep in her bed? When exactly did she go missing after you dropped her off and when her parents noticed her gone?”
“Good questions. All I know is that the following morning all hell broke loose. The phone rang at our house. The Mayfields wanted to know if Lyssa was with me. It wasn’t until months later that I learned Lyssa had gone into her bedroom, changed out of her work clothes—because they found her work uniform on the floor—and left the house. I had no idea where she was going. She didn’t say a word to me about plans to meet up with anyone else.”
“She didn’t leave a note?”
“Nope. Not to my knowledge.”
“How long did they look at you as a suspect?” Lucien asked from the kitchen doorway.
