He didn’t want to endanger Evie and Loretta by bringing Roark back to Evie’s place, but he couldn’t abandon his friend. He, Reuben, and Roark had been through hell together. Roark needed them now. But the only places Jax could call his own were his office and this cottage—and the cottage was rented from Loretta’s trust.
He handed the burner back to Roark just as his own phone beeped again.
He could almost hear the resignation in the single image Ariel sent—the recliner in her spare bedroom.
Jax thought he might fall over in shock.
Six
“Bleak,”Evie pronounced as Reuben drove the utility van up the circle drive to the Azalea Retirement Apartments in the senior citizens' complex.
A six-story high-rise of cement blocks disguised by paint, a few rosebushes, and half-dead azaleas, the building had undoubtedly been built early in a prior century.
“It survived decades of hurricanes,” Reuben countered pragmatically, parking in a lot filled with cheap SUVs, trucks, and a few sedans. “But it ain’t no luxury unit, for sure.”
They entered a lobby of artificial plants under fluorescent lighting. The smell of disinfectant was strong. Evie assumed that was a healthy thing, even if living with the stink had to be depressing. The receptionist at the horseshoe-shaped desk noted their arrival in a guest book and directed them to the elevators. “Miss Gump is waiting for you upstairs. Are you relations?” She eyed Reuben with curiosity.
“Nah, I’m the family ghost-buster,” Reuben responded, heading straight for the elevators. “Gotta get one of them cool blasters to carry,” he muttered when Evie caught up with him.
She giggled at the image of Professor Reuben in his man bun and scar tattoos carrying a ghostbuster. “Just buy a great big scary looking black bag and pretend you’re Will Smith.”
“Yeah, I like that. I can put my equipment in that, slap bugs all over the room. Except I’m thinking once the perp is dead, electronics don’t help much. Don’t know what you need me here for.” He looked stoic as the elevator rose to the fourth floor.
“You distract the client with intelligent questions while I go spacey and look for auras. We’ll figure out a routine once we have some practice.” Evie tried to tuck a straying strand of hair back in its pin, with little success.
“I like undercover better. You shoulda left me in the van.” The nerdy spy looked uncomfortable.
“You’re working withLarraine. You are no longer invisible.” The mayoral candidate was movie-star flamboyant in the eyes of their rural town.
“Man, Larraine takes up so much space, even Will Smith would be invisible around her. You, on the other hand, make me look like a drug dealer pimping an innocent.”
“I’m small but not a child.” Evie smacked his hard bicep, then punched the doorbell to Apartment 421. She stood straight and smiled big when the door opened.
Marlene Gump’s granddaughter, Stacey, wasn’t any taller or older than Evie, and she was Asian. Evie mentally smacked herself for judgmental expectations of FBI families with names like Gump and held out her hand. “Miss Gump? I’m Evangeline Malcolm Carstairs from Sensible Solutions, and this is my partner, Reuben Thompson.”
Judging from Stacey’s hesitation, she’d anticipated someone different as well. To her credit, she shook hands and gestured them in. “I feel foolish calling anyone about this, but I found your name in Granny’s computer. I have an aunt who lives in Afterthought, so I called, and she said you’d helped her. Then I read how you caught Senator Swenson and his son and thought maybe...” She gestured helplessly. “I really don’t want people to know if Gran was doing anything wrong. I just want to know if we’re leaving things undone that she might have wanted finished.”
“And if we find pots of stolen money, you want to return it to the rightful owners, right?” Reuben asked cynically, scanning the shabby apartment with a jaded eye.
“I really don’t think Granny wouldstealanything.” Stacey looked uncertain. “I mean, she worked with law enforcement all her life. I think maybe she just got bored? It was weird enough to find all these cell phones and computer devices scattered everywhere...” She gestured at a maple dining table lined with laptops and notebook computers. “But I keep finding scraps of papers with addresses and names stuffed in odd places. And utility bills and credit card statements for other people.”
Reuben headed straight for the hardware. “She got a land line? Voice mail? You got all her ID here?”
Stacey’s face scrunched up with doubt and concern, but she followed Reuben to explain the file folders she’d created.
Evie preferred to stay connected to the atmosphere. She was sensitive to temporal displacement, and the apartment gave her cold shivers. The hair was literally standing up on her arms. “May I look around a little?”
“Of course.” Stacey held her elbows and looked a little chilly, too.
They were on the fourth floor, and it was August. The apartment would be sweltering without air-conditioning, but the air didn’t seem to be blowing. Evie glanced at the extra-large thermostat. It was set on 80, the way a lot of old people did. It was way colder than that in here.
Evie started with framed photographs packed in an open box. Photos of Stacey at various ages, occasionally with her parents, she guessed. Marlene’s son must be Stacey’s father, judging by the purely Southern name. Mama had the Asian genes. They all looked happy. None of the images included anyone who might be granny.
The furniture was boring enough to look as if it came with the apartment. Stacey had done a good job of cleaning out toiletries and packing up clothes and dishes. Evie wandered into the bedroom, closing the door so she wouldn’t be overheard. The linens were still on the bed. Poor Stacey might be staying here while she worked. Money could be tight.
This room was even colder, but Evie didn’t see any evidence of an aura. She bounced on the bed and opened her third eye.
Granny Marlene popped up beside her.