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“He’s more than a patron, isn’t he, Ms. Larsen?” Gaudin chimed in, a smirk on his smarmy face. She wanted to punch him. Mere had never wanted to punch anyone in her life, not even Tyson.
“It’s a small town. No one is a stranger.”
“Is that why you failed to tell us he was new to the area? We asked if anyone new had come by.” Okabe kept her body language relaxed and neutral. She was much better at this than her partner.
“No, you asked if anyone odd had been frequenting the library. Mr. Haynes isn’t odd.”
Gaudin opened his mouth to protest, but a sharp glare from Okabe shut it again.
“Do you know where Mr. Haynes has gone?”
This she could answer with complete honesty. He hadn’t told her where his super-secret spaceship was, hadn’t even hinted at it. She was grateful.
“No. I didn’t know he left town.” True, though that had changed thirty minutes ago.
“You don’t buy this, Okabe. She has to know. Several people saw them out on a date.”
“Shut up or leave,” Okabe hissed.
Gaudin glared at her before stomping down the hall and out the front door, slamming it closed behind him. Okabe returned her attention to Mere.
“We can pull your phone records, find evidence you spoke with him.”
“Feel free. I don’t have Anders’s phone number. We went on a date. It was a good date. I hoped for more.” She’d gotten more, but she wasn’t about to tell Okabe. “I’m sorry he’s gone, but I can’t help you.”
The special agent scanned her from head to toe with a penetrating scowl. Apparently finding no evidence of deceit, she rose from the chair.
“Thank you for answering our questions, Ms. Larsen. We will be back if any evidence comes to light that you were less than honest with us.”
“I understand. Have a lovely evening.”
Okabe grimaced and saw herself out.
18
PUT SOME BAILEY'S IN IT
Mere watched them drive away and waited fifteen minutes before heading over to Nadine’s. She walked in without knocking, as usual, and went straight to the kitchen. Her aunt already had a kettle on the stove.
“Cocoa or tea?” she asked her seated aunt.
“Cocoa, but only if you put some Bailey’s in it.”
Mere grunted her agreement. Her hands shook as she measured out the liqueur.
Nadine’s warm, wrinkled hand covered hers. “I’ll finish. Go sit.”
She collapsed into a chair, the shaking traveling up her arms and down to her toes. Mere was a quivering, tear-streaked mess by the time Nadine plonked the cups on the table. Her aunt handed her a box of tissues and retrieved a blanket from the living room. She draped it around Mere’s shoulders, and the tremors subsided.
Mere picked up her cocoa and sipped it. Nadine had added way too much Irish cream, but she wasn’t complaining.
Nadine broke the silence. “Talk to me.”
“There’s not much left to tell.”
Her aunt scoffed. “It’s not every day a tall drink of water like Anders Haynes strolls into town, steals my niece’s heart, and vanishes as mysteriously as he arrived. There’s a lot to tell.”
She trusted Nadine, but it wasn’t her secret. So she told her aunt what she could.
