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I pick up my phone to call Dad, but when I’m taken off hold, Marilyn O’Leary, his second-in-command, comes on instead. “Oh, hi,” I say, caught off guard. I don’t know Marilyn well—she’s one of those polished, hyper, always-on cheerleader women who overuse catchphrases like “circling the wagons” and “think outside the box.”Today she seems a little guarded, too, but that’s probably because of all the hack bullshit. “Alfred’s in an important meeting,” Marilyn chirps. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Do you remember Raina Hammond, Alfred’s old assistant?” I ask her.
Marilyn pauses for what seems like a beat too long. “Of course,” she says crisply. “Why?”
“Do you know why she stopped working for him?”
“You’ll have to take that up with your father. But my understanding is that she wanted to focus on her academics. Can you hang on for a sec, Willa?” Before I can answer, she places me on hold again.
I can tell she’s overwhelmed, so I hang up.Focus on her academics?Huh.
Still, there’s nothing incriminating about Raina in her e-mails. She doesn’t even seem to have a boyfriend, which puzzles me—she’s too hot to be single.
Fifteen minutes later, and I still can’t find anything. Whom can I turn to for answers? I comb through her e-mails for messages to her parents or siblings, even a cousin, but I don’t find a single Hammond in her contacts list.
The bursar’s files have been hacked, too, so I click on their files next, hoping this will give me some personal information. Raina’s information pops up, and after parsing through her files, I discover a few disconcerting details: First off, she started at Aldrich only this semester, not last year. That’s a red flag. As a rule, my father only hires students as his assistants, and I can’t imagine him changing his policy even for Raina. And wait—how could she leave to focus on her academics if she wasn’t even a student yet? Maybethat’swhy my dad let her go—he found out she’d tricked him? Only,whydid Raina trick him in the first place? I don’t understand why anyone would want to work for my father so badly as to lie.
Starting in January, Raina became a student for real. In her enrollment paperwork, she didn’t list contact information for either ofher parents. However, she did provide the necessary birth certificate and immunization records, and they say she was born in Cobalt, Pennsylvania, a coal town about an hour and a half from Pittsburgh. I squint at the words until they blur. From what I remember, Cobalt is quite poor. Is Raina on scholarship, then? I click through her records but see no awards. I do see, though, that she’s paid her tuition on time. The last record the bursar has of her is from the beginning of the semester, in January. She paid $9,500.
I dig into Cobalt next. There are only three Hammonds in the Cobalt online directory. Only one couple about the age of people who have a nineteen-year-old daughter. Bingo.
I find the old Volkswagen Jetta, which Kit and I used to drive in high school, under a tarp in the garage. There is still a Jetta key on a pineapple-shaped ring by the back door, and I grab it, praying the car’s battery isn’t dead. It isn’t, but a mile out of my neighborhood, I notice the gas light blinking. I pull into a station and hunch by the gas pump. Rain is blowing sideways, and fog is so thick that the minimart, only a few yards from where I’m standing, is eerily invisible.
“Hopefully, you’re going somewhere worth it in this weather.”
I jump and turn. A shadow of a man stands on the other side of the gas pump, hat pulled low and the top of his coat resting just below his nose. All I see are his dark eyes. I glance over my shoulder at the spookily empty parking lot. There’s barely a car on the highway.
I grab the gas pump and wrench it from my tank, figuring I’m full enough to at least speed away. But then the figure steps closer. “Willa. It’s Paul.”
He takes off the hat, and I see the mop of brown hair, those haunting eyes. I breathe out shakily. “Oh. S-Sorry.” My heart is still pounding.
“Where are you driving in this?” He gestures to the fog. “It’s not exactly LA weather.”
“I’ll be fine.” My fingers shake as I screw on the gas cap.
“Going anywhere good?”
An eighteen-wheeler barrels past, sending a splash of water dangerously close to our bodies. With his hat off, Paul looks vulnerable and almost small, but I’m still uneasy. Did he just randomly find me here, or has he been following me?
But that’s crazy. Paul’s an old acquaintance. Years ago, I would have died for a chance to hang out with him. I clear my throat. “I’ve decided to stay on for a while until Kit gets back on her feet. But to keep myself from going stir-crazy, I’m doing some sleuthing.”
He grins. “So you’re taking my advice, then.”
“I guess so.”
Paul glances at the highway again. “I don’t know where you’re off to, but you really should have someone driving who knows how to drive in this kind of rain.”
I place my hands on my hips. “Dude, I grew up here. I’ve probably hydroplaned more times than you have.”
“Okay, and there’s also the fact that there’s a killer on the loose, and no one should be alone.”
“I can handle myself,” I tell him.
Paul sticks out his lip in a pout. “I’m trying to come up with excuses for you to invite me along, but it’s not going so well.”
The wind shifts, and all I smell is gasoline, a scent I’ve never liked. Why is Paul so eager to hang out with me? “Do you want to protect me... or do you want to help poke around my sister’s husband’s murder case?”
“All of the above.” Paul shrugs. “Look, I just got a big check for some freelance work, so I have a few days off. And I’ve always wanted to investigate a murder. And, well, I’d love for you and me to catch up.”
