Hard Eight (Stephanie Plum 8)

There was a long silence on the phone.

“Well?” Ranger asked.

“I'm thinking.”

“That's always dangerous,” Ranger said. And he hung up.

I was still contemplating the retraction when Dotty rolled in. She parked in her driveway, took two grocery bags from the backseat, and let herself into the house.

My phone rang again. I did an eye roll and snapped my phone open. “Yes.”

“Have you been waiting long?” It was Jeanne Ellen.

I whipped my head around, looking up and down the street. “Where are you?”

“Behind the blue van. You'll be happy to know you didn't miss anything this afternoon. Dotty had a full day of housewifey things to do.”

“Did she know you were following her?”

There was a pause where I assumed Jeanne Ellen was stunned that I might think she'd ever get made. “Of course not,” Jeanne Ellen said. “She didn't have Evelyn in her day planner today.”

“Well, cheer up,” I said. “The day's not over.”

“True. I thought I'd stay here a bit longer, but the street feels crowded with both of us sitting here.”

“And?”

“And I thought it would be a good idea for you to leave.”

“No way. You should leave.”

“If anything happens I'll call you,” Jeanne Ellen said.

“That's a big fib.”

“True, again. Let me tell you something that isn't a fib. If you don't leave, I'll put a bullet hole in your car.”

I knew from past experience that bullet holes were very bad for resale. I disconnected, put the car in gear, and drove away. I drove exactly two blocks and parked in front of a small white ranch. I locked up and walked around the block until I was directly behind Dotty's house, one street over. There was no activity on the street. Not a lot of life visible from Dotty's neighbors. Everyone was still at the mall, the soccer game, the Little League game, the car wash. I cut between two houses and straddled the white picket fence that enclosed Dotty's backyard. I crossed the small yard, and knocked on Dotty's back door.

Dotty opened the door and stared out at me, surprised to find a strange woman on her property.

“I'm Stephanie Plum,” I said. “I hope I didn't startle you by showing up at your back door like this.”

Relief replaced surprise. “Of course, your parents live next to Mabel Markowitz. I went to school with your sister.”

“I'd like to talk to you about Evelyn. Mabel is worried about her, and I said I'd do some inquiring around. I came to the back door because the front of your house is under surveillance.”

Dotty's mouth dropped and her eyes widened. “Someone's watching me?”

“Steven Soder has hired a private detective to find Annie. The detective's name is Jeanne Ellen Burrows, and she's in a black Jaguar, behind the blue van. I spotted her when I drove up, and I didn't want her to see me, so I came through the back.” Take that, Jeanne Ellen Burrows. Direct hit. Kapow!

“Omigod,” Dottie said. “What should I do?”

“Do you know where Evelyn is?”

“No. Sorry. Evelyn and I sort of lost touch.”

She was lying. She'd waited too long to say no. And now spots of color were booming on her cheeks. She was possibly the worst liar I'd ever seen. She was a disgrace to Burg women. Burg women were great liars. No wonder Dotty had to move to South River.