“Have you ever met Lynn’s grandmother?” I asked.
“Nana? Of course. She makes the best chocolate chip cookies.”
“Do you know where she lives?”
“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why?”
“Want to go on a road trip?”
She squealed and hopped up on her knees. “Do you mean it?”
“Yes. I want to meet Lynn’s grandmother.”
“She’ll tell you to call her Nana. She tells everyone that. And she’ll feed you. She’s a wonderful cook.” She hopped to her feet. “When can we leave?”
“First thing in the morning. I have something I need to do.”
Her face fell. “You’re leaving.”
“Just for a little while. I’ll be back.”
“But…”
“I won’t be gone long. I promise.”
“Can I sleep in your room?” She danced from one foot to the other.
I shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” I bent and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Promise?” she said.
“I promise.”
I left and went to the office of a private investigator I’d contacted last week. It took me hours to explain everything to him, but he agreed to take the case. I wanted to know where Shelly’s apartment was. I needed for Lynn to come home, and Shelly was the only one who might be able to help me.
It was late when I walked into my bedroom. Ash was already asleep. I undressed and slipped under the covers, pulling her toward me, her naked skin warming mine. “Ash?” I asked, unsure because she smelled like Lynn’s soap.
“Still me,” she whispered as she burrowed against my skin.
I kissed her forehead and held her close. She wasn’t Lynn, but I was getting closer to finding my wife. I could feel it in my heart.
30
Lynn’s grandmother was a stunning woman. She was tall and thin, and her hair was so white that it appeared to be almost blue. It was cut in a short little perfectly coiffed bob that almost touched her shoulders. She had eyes the color of the sky, and she kind of reminded me of Lynn a little, but then she looked straight at me and I realized that she was all Shelly. Deadly.
She extended her hand toward me. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, her voice strong but quiet, as we stood there on her sprawling front porch.
I shook her hand, which was bird-like but strong, all at the same time. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Punter.” But it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.
She waved a breezy hand in the air. “You can call me Nana, son,” she said.
I’d rather not. I said nothing.
Ash was nearly vibrating with excitement beside me. The whole way, she’d talked my ear off about the few times she’d visited Nana with Lynn.
“She told me I could call her Nana, too,” Ash had explained, her feet drawn up in the seat under her in the car. “I never had my own Nana, so Lynn let me borrow hers.”
She’d explained to me that Lynn didn’t like to visit Nana, because the old farmhouse in Georgia was Shelly’s domain, and when Shelly was around, things always went drastically wrong.