Girl, Forgotten (Andrea Oliver 2)

Can do a deeper dive when you tell me in which areas you would like to live.

Andrea clicked off her phone. She wanted to live in a pineapple under the sea.

“Thirty-six?”

Andrea jumped like she’d won at bingo. She grabbed the bags and drinks off the counter. Bible was on the phone when she opened the door to his SUV.

“I hear ya, Boss.” He winked at Andrea. “We’re heading over to the judge’s place now. Running a little late. Don’t think I’m gonna have time to call my wife.”

“I hope she understands.” Compton ended the call.

Bible pulled out of the parking space, telling Andrea, “The boss figured our pressure campaign could stand the heat getting turned up a little.”

Andrea couldn’t do any more riddles. She jammed their Cokes into the cup holders and opened her Happy Meal.

Bible said, “She had the press office grant an interview with a couple of reporters from one of the largest newspapers in Denmark. Over half the country reads it. Granted, that’s maybe two hundred people and some of the more socially engaged hedgehogs, but the story might stir up some interests elsewhere.”

Andrea chewed her fries.

“The reporters are flying over first thing. Should be in Longbill Beach by late afternoon. I don’t know about you, partner, but I’m guessing Ricky will start sweating when she sees two reporters poking around town. And Dean Wexler sure as shit won’t like a couple of nosy Danes knocking on his door asking why something is rotten in the state of Delaware.”

She appreciated the Hamlet reference, but Andrea could not follow him down the path of hopefulness again. “European libel laws are even tougher than ours. They’re going to run into the same problem we have. The girls at the farm aren’t talking. No one is talking.”

“Marshal rule number sixteen: slow and steady wins the race.”

Bible was smiling as he unwrapped his cheeseburger, but he seemed to pick up on her mood. He clicked on the radio. Yacht Rock trilled softly from the speakers. He drove with one hand as he took tiny bites of his burger.

Andrea finished her fries. She felt bad for her deflated mood in the face of Bible’s relentless positivity. Given the fact that he had endured unspeakable torture at the hands of a Mexican drug cartel, she should’ve been impressed that he managed to get out of bed in the morning, let alone joke about hedgehogs. Now, she found herself content to listen to the sound of his chewing over Toto’s ‘Rosanna’. There was only a couple of hours of sunlight left in one of the longest days of her life. She was looking at twelve hours of walking the Vaughn estate because of a threat that wasn’t exactly anonymous anymore.

To keep herself from spinning the magic dial of her thoughts from Mike to Emily to Alice to Star to Ricky to Clay to Jack to Nardo to Blake to Dean, Andrea stared out the window. They were in another residential neighborhood, this one not upscale but not blue-collar, either. The town of Longbill Beach was basically one giant circle with a state forest in the middle. Ricky’s house, the downtown area, the Vaughn estate and the farm were spokes on the wheel. You could probably walk from one side to the other in twenty minutes.

“Hey partner?” Bible turned down the radio. “I gotta confession.”

His confessions so far had been more like shocking revelations. She told him, “I don’t think that word means what you think it means.”

He laughed good-naturedly. “Don’t tell the boss, but I cleared it with Harri and Krump that we’re gonna be a little late. We’re only about three minutes from the Judge’s house as the crow flies. Figured you wouldn’t mind if we made another stop.”

He didn’t wait for her opinion. The SUV slowed. Bible pulled to the side of the road.

Andrea looked at the small cottage they were parked in front of. Gray asbestos tiles. Black trim. Seashells had been glued all over the mailbox. A converted attic with an eyebrow dormer in the shingled roof. The yard was overgrown, but not with weeds. The natural, low-water consumption landscaping reminded her of Laura’s yard.

Bible provided, “This is where Star Bonaire grew up. Her mom’s living there now. Thought we’d drop in for a chat, see if Melody Brickel knows anything about her daughter’s situation at the farm.”

Andrea caught the sly look he gave her before opening the door. Bible knew that Andrea recognized the name. She should have been surprised by the revelation, but it made a certain kind of sense that Melody Brickel was Star Bonaire’s mother.

She glanced around the street before following Bible up the walkway. The houses were tidier and farther apart than the ones in Ricky’s neighborhood. A yellow Prius was in the drive. A long cord plugged into the car and snaked into an outlet inside the carport. There was a water collection tank to catch the run-off from the gutters. Solar panels stood proud on the sway-backed roof. Andrea’s small-town experience told her that the copper rain chains alone could make the locals think that Melody was crazy.

Bible said, “Guess ol’ Star gets her green thumb from her mom.”

Andrea doubted that was something Melody was happy about. She stopped at the bottom of the steps and let Bible go ahead of her to the front door. She didn’t think Melody Brickel would greet them with an AR-15, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Sometimes a crazy bitch was really a crazy bitch.

Bible gave two soft knocks. The door opened almost immediately.

An older woman with short, shaggy, dark hair peered at them from the other side of the screen. She had to be Ricky’s age but she could’ve easily passed for ten years younger. She was also incredibly fit. Her tight black top showed sculpted arms and shoulders. A colorful tattoo of a butterfly was on the back of her right hand. Her left eyebrow was pierced with a small silver hoop.

Bible asked, “Melody Brickel?”

“The one and only.” Melody looked at Bible’s shirt. “USMS? If the M stands for Mormon, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”