He should be getting on his flight instead of coming to see the Carson woman again. But he found he couldn’t walk away, no matter how much he needed to get home to his daughter.
This time, instead of walking onto the back of the property and finding the woman in the gardens, he went to the front desk. He was going to flat out ask Mrs. Carson if she was in trouble. He had a bad feeling he had fucked up taking this case.
The woman at the desk smiled as he entered the lobby. “Hello! Which one of our treasured members are you here to visit?”
They laid it on thick at the home. He met her smile with one of his own, though. “I’m here to see Emma Lawson.”
The woman lifted the phone on the desk off the receiver but looked at him. “Can I tell her who’s here for her?”
He nodded and pulled identification out of his pocket. “My name is Evan Willows. I’m a private detective.”
He didn’t know if Debra Carson would see him, but he hoped she would.
He waited ten minutes after the woman at the desk said Emma Lawson was out in the garden and the staff was going to get her.
When she was wheeled into the lobby and saw his face, her expression fell. He was lucky that no one else saw the flash of terror in her eyes. She knew she’d been found.
Still, this woman wasn’t weak by any stretch of the imagination. She might not be in any position to run from him or her husband, but she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders.
“We should talk, ma’am,” Evan said.
She kept her gaze locked to his as she nodded. “We can go to my room.”
“Ms. Lawson, wouldn’t you rather I bring you to the day room?” the orderly pushing her chair asked, eyeing Evan with something less than friendly ease.
She reached up and patted the man’s hand like a mother might to her son. “No, we’re fine, Mitchell. Mr. Willows here can push my chair.”
The orderly looked uneasy, but he shifted her chair so Evan could take over pushing her and she directed him down the hall and around two bends to her room.
It was actually more than a room. It was a bedroom and sitting room with small bathroom and kitchenette. It was small by any standards, but she had filled it with paintings of bright flowers and birds that she had clearly painted herself. She was remarkably talented.
That was something that hadn’t shown up in his research of the woman.
He was beginning to realize there was a lot missing from his research.
“Put me by the window, there,” she said, pointing to an empty space with an arm chair across from it.
He did as she asked and then sank into the armchair himself.
“My husband sent you,” she said and though her eyes were filled with terror, her words were strong.
“I’m afraid so, Mrs. Carson.”
She seemed to flinch at his words and he didn’t know if it was the confirmation or the fact he’d used her real name.
“Has he found my daughter yet?” Her eyes were panicked at the mention of the daughter.
Evan shook his head. From what he’d gathered, the lead Turner was chasing on the daughter hadn’t panned out at all.
He saw her relax a hair.
“Mrs. Carson, can you tell me, will you be in danger if your husband finds you here?”
She looked out the window.
He tried to explain himself. “I’m careful, ma’am. Real careful. I always check into the background of any man who asks me to find a wife or girlfriend who’s left them. If there’s even a hint of abuse, I don’t take that case. Someone else might find the woman, but it won’t be me.”
She gave him a sad smile now. “There wouldn’t be any record of abuse where Turner is concerned.”