LITMIR.BIZ

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him out. The gas station lowlifes hadn’t even hesitated to bad-mouth their supposed friend.

      “How did Philomene hook up with a jerk like Jerrod?” Eric asked as they let his GPS lead them to Crowley’s address.

      “A lot of people said the same thing about me when Kelly and I were dating,” Bree said a bit huffily. “‘What’s the mayor’s daughter doing with a guy whose father is a drunk and whose mother works at the counter of a doughnut shop?’”

      “I’ve wondered that myself,” Eric said. “Though I didn’t know you were the mayor’s daughter.”

      “Kelly was a sweet guy. Yeah, he’d been in a few scrapes, but nothing serious. Shoplifting. Probably because he was hungry, or he wanted something for his mom. I remember once, on Mother’s Day, he didn’t have enough money to buy her a present, so he stole a potted daylily off someone’s front porch.” She laughed.

      “I’m sure his mother was proud,” Eric said, tongue firmly in cheek.

      “She was thrilled. And she didn’t ask how he got the money, though she probably knew he hadn’t bought the plant at the local nursery. Anyway, Jerrod Crowley must have some redeeming qualities. Maybe Philomene saw something about him that no one else did. Maybe he was just nice to her, and that was all it took. Philomene is...” Bree shrugged.

      “Damaged from the rape? Low self-esteem?”

      “Yeah. She didn’t grow up with a good home situation. I don’t remember her when she was younger, but I’m guessing she was the kind who always tried a little too hard, wore too much makeup and let any boy have his way if she thought he had feelings for her. Girls like that are so easy to victimize. And I don’t think that rape was the first time she was a victim, either. I mean, I don’t know her that well. Not well at all. But I can read between the lines.”

      “That’s sad. I really hope I can raise MacKenzie to think more of herself than that. I mean, she’s already a victim, indirectly. In all likelihood she witnessed her mother’s murder. It’s certainly had an effect on her.”

      “Oh, God. I didn’t know that.”

      “We don’t know for sure, because she doesn’t remember that day. Or at least, she won’t talk about it if she does. But she hasn’t been the same since it happened.”

      “She seems bright. And sweet.”

      “She is. I just hope she’s not too sweet.”

      “Arriving at destination,” Suzy the GPS said, “on right.”

      “The brown brick house,” Bree said.

      They were in a 1950s subdivision of cookie-cutter houses.

      “Nice trees,” Bree remarked. The houses might be cheap and a little shabby, but mature live oak trees elevated the neighborhood’s appeal.

      A pleasant-looking woman in her thirties with a toddler on her hip answered the door wearing a look of caution. “Yes?”

      “Does Jerrod Crowley live here?” Bree asked. Eric was content to let her do the talking; she was less intimidating and people were more likely to drop their guards.

      If anything, the woman at the door looked even more wary. “Jesus. What’s he done this time?”

      “Nothing that we know of,” Bree said. “We’re trying to find his girlfriend.”

      “Oh. Well, Jerrod’s not here. He’s supposedly out looking for a job now that he’s got a car. That’ll be the day.”

      “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

      “God only knows. He comes home when he runs out of money to buy beer.” The woman’s sturdy body blocked the door. There was zero chance she’d invite them in to wait.

      “So he has money now?” Eric asked.

      “He comes up with a little cash every once in a while—mows a lawn or details someone’s car. That’s what he used to do when he had a job. What’s up with Phil? Is she in trouble? I don’t know her that well, but she seems like one of the nicer girls he’s gone with.”

      “We can’t find her, that’s all,” Bree said. “Has Jerrod said anything about her disappearing?”

      The woman frowned. “No. God, I hope...”

      “You hope what?” Eric prodded.

      “Nothing. Oh, hey, you’re in luck. That’s him now.”

      A blue Toyota Corolla was coming down the street way too fast. It whipped into the driveway with a screech of brakes.

      “Oh, my God,” Bree said under her breath.

      Exactly what Eric had been about to say. Jerrod was driving Philomene’s car.

      * * *

      RATHER THAN WAITING for Jerrod to exit the car, Eric was across the postage-stamp lawn in three long strides. He wasn’t going to give this jerk a chance to flee as he had the other night. The second the driver’s door opened, Eric had the man by his elbow and was dragging him out of the car.

      “Hey!” Jerrod screamed as Eric shoved him up against the car. “What the—”

      “Jerrod Crowley. Want to tell me what you’re doing with that car?”

      “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re thinking. Get the hell away from me before I break your nose!”

      Eric wasn’t worried. This guy was soft and doughy, and the fear in his eyes gave him away. He was the type to run rather than fight. Eric could take him any day of the week.

      “How did you get this car?”

      “It’s my girlfriend’s.”

      “And where is Philomene?”

      “Look, I don’t know. She vanished couple of days ago, no warning. Then she texted me, said she was leaving town for a while. Check my phone. The text is still there.”

      Eric loosened his grip on Jerrod, just enough that the man could reach in his back pocket and pull out his phone.

      Jerrod scrolled through his texts for a few seconds, then handed the phone to Eric. “Right there. See?”

      The text was dated Tuesday, the same day Philomene had stood them up at the Home Cookin’ Café. The message had originated from Philomene’s phone—Eric recognized the number by now.

      HAD TO LEAVE FOR A WHILE. PICK UP MY CAR AT CURRY ROAD & 238. KEYS UNDER MAT. LOVE YOU.

      “He could have texted that message to himself,” Bree said.

      Eric jumped. He hadn’t realized she’d come up behind him. “So he could explain why he has her car.”

      “Are you guys cops?” Jerrod asked dubiously.

      It was tempting to say yes. The second Jerrod knew they were civilians with no authority over him, he would cease to cooperate. But impersonating a cop came with some pretty severe penalties. Eric wasn’t above allowing someone to believe something that wasn’t true, but he wasn’t going to lie about it. He’d done enough lying this week to last him awhile.

      “We’re not cops,” Eric said.

      “Then get your friggin’ hands off me.” Jerrod shook off Eric’s grip.

      “We’re worried about Philomene,” Bree said. “And if you care anything about her, you should be worried, too.”

      “She took off. What’s the big deal? People do it all the time.”

      “Then why did she abandon her car at some intersection in the middle of nowhere?” Bree countered.

      “I figured she met some guy there. Phil wasn’t too happy with me lately—it was only

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