His Brother's Bride

There, parked by itself in the middle of a two-car garage, was Cecilia’s Crown Victoria.

* * *

IT DIDN’T LOOK GOOD. Spinning through the facts in his mind, Scott tried to find a positive explanation for the seemingly unplanned disappearances of every key player he came across in this case that wasn’t a case. And found none. Something bad was afoot, he was certain of it.

“Maybe they all decided to visit Leslie’s adopted parents and took her car instead of Cecilia’s,” Laurel said as she walked briskly beside him down the sidewalk to the neighbor’s front door.

She was trying to find that happy ending, too. “The Renwicks are dead. Have been for several years.”

“Oh.”

They walked silently for a couple of steps, then Laurel asked, “Do you think Leslie could be the culprit, somehow? Or is she another victim?”

He’d been wondering the same thing. “My hunch is she’s a victim—a culprit probably wouldn’t leave the victim’s car in her garage—but I’m keeping my mind open to any possibility.”

They found a total of three people home on Leslie’s block. The third of the three, a woman about their age who lived directly across the street, seemed to know Leslie the best.

“We do dinner and a movie at least once a week,” the woman told them when they asked if she knew Leslie. “It’s my date night out away from the kids,” she added. “I’m a stay-at-home mom with two little ones still in diapers, and my husband makes certain he’s home early at least one night a week to watch them for me so I can play with the big kids.”

The pretty blond woman smiled, and Scott noticed how naturally Laurel smiled back. It amazed him how she seemed able to sympathize with anyone in any situation.

Laurel looked beyond the woman to the quiet house behind her. “Do you need to check on your kids?” she asked.

“They’re both asleep,” the woman said. “I’m Katy Miller, by the way. So what’s up with Leslie? You two friends of hers?”

“Not exactly.” Scott took his notebook out of his pocket. His badge was attached. “I’m with the Massachusetts State Police, though I’m here unofficially.”

Katy’s easy demeanor changed instantly to one of concern. “Did something happen to Leslie?” she asked, clutching the front door with both hands as if bracing for bad news.

“We aren’t certain,” Scott told her. “We hope not. We just wanted to ask you a few questions, hoping you’d be able to help clear things up for us.”

“Is she in some kind of trouble?” Katy’s face was shuttered.

“Again, we hope not,” Scott sighed. “I need to reiterate that I’m not here in any official capacity. My superiors know that I’m working on this case, but I’m doing it as a favor to a friend.”

Katy seemed to sink even lower, and Scott was suddenly more glad than ever to have Laurel there with him. She’d know what to do if the woman became emotional. “Leslie’s missing?” Katy whispered.

“Maybe,” Scott said. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Late Saturday afternoon. She was over here for lunch but left before we started the movie we’d rented.”

“Did you find that odd?”

“No,” Katy said, shaking her head. “She’s a workaholic and heads home early a lot.”

As quickly and succinctly as he could, Scott filled Katy in on the bits of the case he felt free to tell her, ending with the fact that Cecilia’s car was in Leslie’s garage and there were several days’ worth of papers on Leslie’s doorstep. He didn’t, however, mention that Leslie was adopted or that they suspected Cecilia was her birth mother.

“So, at this point, we’re just looking for any clues that might tell us where she’s gone,” he concluded. “Does she live alone? Can you tell us anything about her friends? Where she works?”

Katy was willing to tell them whatever she could to help them find her friend. She said Leslie lived alone, and had for the five years she’d been here.

“What does she do for a living?” Laurel asked softly, her expression warm. Scott could see why she was so good at her job. One of those looks directed at him and he’d have told her anything she wanted to know.

“She’s a writer,” Leslie said, looking from one to the other. “She does freelance technical writing for people all over the United States.”

“So she works at home?”

Katy nodded. “She comes over here for lunch sometimes to give us both a chance at conversation.”