Simone stood, tossing her empty coffee cup in the trash and gathering her bag and keys. “I will head to Celia’s neighborhood first and try to catch the next-door neighbor before she gets going for the day.”

  Hunter looked up from her computer screen. “Do we have any camera coverage in the area? Any traffic cams, home security, doorbell cameras?”

  “Chelle mentioned there are a couple of vacation rentals nearby,” I said. “Short-term guests, steady turnover, I’m guessing. Look for listings online and see if any of the owners use cameras on the exterior.”

  “Will do,” Hunter said.

  “Holly believed someone had been following her in the week before she died,” I said. “If she was right, we don’t know if that person lived in Cambria, or somewhere else, or if they were passing through town once, and they vanished. What we do know is that Holly tried to dig into her past, and within weeks of the start of her search, she was dead.”

  Simone slung her bag over her shoulder. “Then we better dig fast.”

  “And keep an eye out for anything or anyone suspicious,” I said.

  Simone gave Luka a quick scratch behind the ear on her way out, saying, “Text me if you think of anything else you want me to ask the neighbors.”

  “I will,” I said.

  Hunter remained in her seat, lost in public records and databases, her sweater sleeve sliding down her wrist as she typed.

  Then she shot out of her seat.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I’ve got something, an address for Lenny. According to this, he’s still living in Sedona. I’ll text it to you.”

  “Excellent work.”

  “You plan on trying to get out to see him today?”

  “If I can.”

  “Leave Luka with me. I could use the company.”

  I nodded, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door. Outside, the fog refused to lift, clinging to the street as if it had nowhere else to go.

  My thoughts turned to Lenny.

  He’d walked back into Celia’s life.

  Had he walked back into Holly’s too?

  Those questions were among many others taking up space in my head.

  But right now, I needed to clear it.

  I had a plane to catch.

  9

  The flight to Arizona left on time, which I hoped was a sign of a good start to the remainder of the day. I closed my eyes for most of the trip, letting the hum of the plane engines relax my mind. By the time we landed in Flagstaff, the skies were clear, giving the illusion of warmth even though it was a brisk fifty degrees outside.

  I rented a sedan for the day, tossed my handbag inside, and pulled onto the road. The drive to Sedona cut through stretches of pine, then opened into wide views of red rock that looked like it had been carved by something greater than water and wind.

  Forty minutes later, the turnoff for the RV park for Lenny’s last known address came into view. A wooden sign marked the entrance, hanging from a rope tied between two posts. A few dozen campers dotted the area, some with rusted, old campers, and others that looked like they’d just been driven off an RV lot.

  As I pulled in, I started looking around, seeing laundry flapping on lines, a few dogs in the area, and a group of people standing around playing horseshoes. I parked beside a faded camper van painted in swirls of blue, green, and gold. On the mat in front of the door, a stack of stones sat beside a pair of sandals.

  The front door opened, and a man stepped out. His hair hung past his shoulders in light brown waves streaked with shades of gray. He was barefoot and wore loose linen pants and a sun-worn shirt with a hole in the collar.

  He looked me up and down and whistled. “I don’t know how I lucked into someone like you showing up at my door, but welcome.”

  “Are you Lenny Cutler?” I asked.

  He studied me a moment before responding as if questioning my reasons for being there. “Depends who’s asking.”

  “My name is Georgiana, and I’m a private detective. I’m investigating the murder of Holly Honeywell.”

  He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, shaking his head. “Figured someone would track me down and talk to me about it. You found me faster than I expected. Come on in.”

  I climbed up the steps and entered the camper van, and the scent of incense mixed with weed hit me like a wave without warning. Lenny’s place was far more well-kept than I expected, given his appearance. A woven rug covered the floor, small plants lined the counter, and a stack of books rested beside the sink.

  Lenny motioned to the only chair and invited me to sit, which I did. He took the bench opposite, resting his elbows on his knees.

  “You drive here?” he asked.

  “I’m more of a flyer. It would have taken me over ten hours to get here by car. No, thank you.”

  He laughed, exposing a mouth full of pearly whites. “I suppose in that way, we’re opposites. Nothing like getting out on the open road, blasting some tunes, and connecting with nature.”

  “Oh, I connect. I just prefer to do it on a hike.” I leaned back in the chair, studying him. “I’ve heard a lot of things about you.”

  “I’m sure you have. Not sure how much of it is true, and even if some of it is true, in my experience, sometimes the truth cuts deep.”

  “I’m ready to cut if you are.”

  He folded his hands in his lap and nodded. “What have you heard?”

  “I was told you ended the relationship with Celia because you didn’t feel you were cut out to be a husband or a father. I also heard you were controlling or clingy, or maybe a bit of both. How am I doing so far?”

  “Not so good. Whatever stories you’ve been told, they aren’t true.”

  “Which parts?”

  “All of them,” he said. “I didn’t end things with Celia. She ended things with me. No reason. No warning. Nothing. I thought we were a family, planning a future together, and then one morning I wake up, and she’s gone.”

  Thinking back to what I’d been told, it didn’t make sense.

  And yet, as I searched his expression, I had no reason to believe he was lying.

  Not yet.

  “Take me back to the beginning, to the time the two of you met,” I said.

  He reached for the glass of water sitting on a side table and took a sip, circling the glass around in his hands. “I’ve always been somewhat of a nomad, a restless person, uninterested in settling down or putting down roots. I came to Sedona planning on staying for one week, maybe two, and then I met Celia. She was at one of the local parks, teaching a class on meditation. I stood there, watching for a while. A toddler kept circling around her, interrupting the class. Cutest little thing I’d ever seen. I waited for the class to be over, and then I walked up and introduced myself.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “We were inseparable, together day in, day out. Two weeks later, we married at town hall.”

  “Even though you’d only known each other for such a short time?”

  He shrugged. “What can I say? I loved that woman from the first time I set eyes on her. And then there was Holly, who added more joy to my life than I can express. She was an angel of a child. In my mind, we were a family.”

  “From what Celia’s friends told me, she didn’t have many nice things to say about you. Let’s say I believe your side of the story over hers. Why do you think she lied about you?”

  He looked past me, staring out the window. “I have no idea. She had a lot of friends here, but her relationships with them were a lot different than her friends in Cambria.”

  “How so?”

  “To my knowledge, they never visited or called. Or if they did, it wasn’t even when I was around. I thought they’d written her off. Out of sight, out of mind.”

  “I spoke to Chelle. She wasn’t your biggest fan.”

  Lenny raised a finger. “Now that’s a fact. Chelle liked to be in control of Celia’s life. When she wasn’t, it caused problems.”

  “Funny, that’s the same thing she said about you.”

  “It doesn’t surprise me. She struck me as a jealous type of person, and I’m … well, the opposite.”

  I switched subjects. “Did Celia ever tell you anything about Holly’s birth parents?”

  “I never knew the story behind Holly’s adoption, even though I asked about it several times. Celia would change the subject or say things like the past belonged in the past. I thought the whole thing was strange. From what I understand about adoption, it’s a long process, and a hard one, especially if you’re single.”

  He had a point.

  The same thought had crossed my mind.

  “You went to see Celia a short time ago,” I said. “Why?”

  “She called me. I saw her name on my phone, and I almost dropped the darn thing.”

  “After all these years, how did she get your number?”

  “We had a few mutual friends. She got it from one of them. Anyway, like I was saying, I answered the call, and she sounded tired and … well, lonely. Holly had graduated and moved out of the house, and Celia didn’t know what to do with herself. We talked for a time, caught up on our lives, and then she asked if I could meet her in Cambria, and I did.”

  “Tell me about your visit.”

  He took another sip of water. “It was surreal, seeing her again after so many years. The first time I looked into her eyes, for a moment it felt like we were right back to being those young, crazy kids who fell hard for each other. We talked about what happened at the end, and how she left things, and she apologized. She said she was a different person, and I agreed.”

  “How so?”

  “She was softer, I guess. Not as aggressive as she was in her younger years.”

  “Did you see Holly while you were there?”

  His expression changed to one of pain and hurt. “If you’re asking if I spoke to her, I didn’t. I asked Celia if I could, and she said no.”

  “That’s not what I asked you. I asked if you saw her.”

  He set the glass on the table and rubbed his hands together, going silent.

  “You followed Holly,” I said. “Didn’t you?”

  “I … let me explain. I attended Celia’s funeral. I sat in the last row and ducked out just as soon as it was over. Holly glanced back at me once, and I thought I saw recognition on her face, but then it was gone. My plan was to return home, but then I decided to stick around for a bit, see how she was holding up. I wasn’t stalking her or anything. I kept my distance.”

  “Holly told her college roommate that she thought someone was following her.”

  “Well, shoot. I never meant to scare her. I thought maybe if I found the right words, I could work up the nerve to talk to her, offer to be around if she needed anything.”

  He’d admitted to following her.

  What I didn’t know was whether he was the one Holly sensed nearby, or if someone else had been tracking her.

  “Holly found out she was adopted after her mother died, and she went to the adoption agency to try and get some answers, but it’s no longer in business,” I said. “Were you there that day?”

  “I was, and once I realized where she’d gone, I wondered if she found out she was adopted.”

  “Tell me about the day you saw her at the adoption agency.”

  He tugged at his chin, thinking. “After she got there and realized it had been shut down, she sat down on the steps, staring at some papers in her hand. She got emotional for a time, and then she left.”

  “And she died not long after.”

  He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I know.”

  I leaned forward in my chair, looking him in the eye. “Did you have anything to do with her murder?”

  “I didn’t. I swear to you. After Holly left the adoption agency, I drove home. I thought maybe it would be easier for us both if I wrote her a letter instead of approaching her after all this time.” He pointed at the kitchen counter. “I started it. See for yourself. I worked on it a little each day. Next thing I know, I’m seeing her face on the news, and finding out she’s dead.”

  He seemed genuine and believable.

  But was he?

  “There’s something I ought to mention before you go,” he said. The adoption agency was in an old, run-down building that looked like it hadn’t been tended since the agency closed its doors. Except for one thing—a security camera hidden behind one of the hedges.”

  “If it was hidden, how did you know it was there?”

  “I walked over to the agency after Holly left, and I poked around a bit. That’s when I saw it. The agency may have been falling apart, but the camera looked new.”

  My pulse quickened. “Do you think Holly saw the camera?”

  “I doubt it.”

  I took in everything he had told me.

  The lies.

  The secrets.

  A hidden camera at a shuttered business.

  “Where were you the day Holly died?” I asked.

  “In Sedona,” he said. “I was in a holistic seminar all day. I can give you a list of names of people who saw me there.”

  “Sure, I’ll take it.”

  He reached for a small notepad on the counter. While he wrote, I took one last look around the camper van. On the wall was a collage of pictures of what appeared to be Lenny and Holly in earlier times. After all these years, it appeared he’d never forgotten her. And now, at the moment he was ready to step back into her life, her life was taken.

  Lenny tore the paper free from the notepad and handed it to me. “Here you go.”

  He looked out the window, his eyes fixed on the red cliffs beyond the park. “It was hard, you know? Seeing Holly again, even if it was from a distance. She may not have been in my life for long as a child, but the years we were together were my happiest. We always think we have more time, until we don’t.”

  I nodded and stood.

  “When you find the person who did this, I’m going to look them in the eye, give them a piece of my mind.”

  In the time we’d talked, he’d come across as a man who was gentle and soft-spoken, with the exception of what he’d just said to me.

  Not that I blamed him.

  If what he’d told me was true, he’d held a flicker of hope—hope that one day he and Holly could reunite—and that hope had been taken from him.

  It was dusk when I stepped outside, and the last of the day’s sun was washing the park in burnt-orange light. I walked to the car, reflecting on our conversation.

  The camera at the adoption agency was suspicious.

  Someone else had also been following Holly, and I needed to know who.

  10

  The next morning, I called Wren to update her on the developments of the case so far. After the call ended, I saw that Hunter had texted me the address of the adoption agency, and I headed that way.

  The agency sat on the edge of a quiet business district, tucked between an abandoned consignment shop and a building with a faded sign that once read “Travel Center.” Part of the last word had peeled off, leaving only “Travel Cen,” which felt like its own sad plea to an area of San Luis Obispo that had once been thriving.

  I pulled into the cracked parking lot and parked close to the front door. The building looked dead, the kind of dead that went beyond empty. A metal plate covered the old mail slot, a thin layer of dust coated the glass, and there was an old, faded “For Lease” sign tilted behind the front window.

  I stepped out of the car and walked to the entrance, searching for the surveillance camera. I looked in the hedges where I thought it should be, surprised to see it was no longer there. Someone had removed it. A bracket remained, along with the outline of a dark square on the siding.

  Next, I tried the door.

  It was locked, so I walked around back.

  A rusted dumpster leaned against the wall, and a stack of old pallets sat beside it. One of the latches on a window around back had rust spots. It also looked loose. I dug a small tool out of my bag and wedged it beneath the frame. Seconds later, the wood creaked and the latch popped.

  I pushed the window open and climbed inside, landing on the carpet with a soft thud, breathing in dust and stale air. A smattering of dead insects lay scattered across the floor, tiny reminders of how long this place had been ignored.

  I pulled my flashlight from my pocket and clicked it on.

  In what was once the reception area, I found a counter and a cracked leather chair that had been pushed against a wall. The file cabinets beside it were empty.

  I moved down the hall, checking the offices one by one.

  Empty desk.

  Empty drawers.

  The last office at the end of the hallway mirrored the rest. Bare walls. Dusty floor. I stood in the middle of the room and turned in a slow circle.

  There was nothing here worth stealing.

  Nothing worth hiding.

  At least not at first glance.

  I walked back the way I came, forcing myself to slow down, to look again, even though it seemed I was looking at nothing. When I reached a small room near the front again, my light swept across a tall bookcase on the far wall.

  Unlike everything else in the building, the shelves held books, rows of them, spines loose, covered in dust. I stepped closer. There were books on parenting, counseling, and adoption ethics, among others.

  The rest of the office had been stripped, yet the books remained.

  It begged the question: Why were the books still there when everything else had been removed?

  It felt—off.

  I grabbed one side of the bookcase and pulled. It didn’t move. I shifted my weight and tried again. This time, a soft groan rose from the wall, and the base slid an inch. I braced my feet and pulled harder. The bookcase shifted. A narrow crack appeared between the wood and the wall, and behind it was a square panel that looked like a door, except it didn’t have a knob.

  A hidden room, perhaps?

  I wrapped both hands around the edge of the shelf and dragged it far enough to expose the rest of the panel. Then I flattened my hands against the panel and pushed, and it popped open, swinging outward with a low whine.

 

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