"Glad we're on the same page." I smiled and left.
Unlike Jeff, who seemed to go days without sleep, I went home and crashed. I awoke hours later to find my sister, Kate, standing over me.
"Are you okay?" she whispered.
"I'm fine. Unless there's a reason you're whispering." I sat up and rubbed at my eyes. Diva stuck her head out from under the quilt and blinked a few times, then ran out of the bedroom. She was ticked. Her visit to cat heaven had ended too soon.
"I was whispering so I wouldn't startle you," Kate said.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. "Don't you have patients to see?"
"It's Saturday, Abby."
"Is it?"
"Yes. I saw your car in the driveway and you weren't downstairs. Since it's after two o'clock, I was wondering if you were sick."
"You've been spending too much time with Aunt Caroline. I'd expect her to come in and check on a break in my routine, not you." Aunt Caroline is Daddy's sister and she's always on the look out for ways to meddle in my business. I swear she drives down my street twice a day to see what's going on.
"Please don't compare me to her," Kate said.
"Sorry," I said quickly. "I just don't want you to run home for your homeopathic playbook, okay?" Kate loves to take care of me with the most god-awful herbal concoctions on the planet.
"You haven't napped since you were three. What's going on? And what happened to your hair?"
You'd think twins, even fraternal like us, would have plenty of similar traits, but Kate got the good hair, hands down, her dark brown hair so shiny and bouncy she could have done shampoo commercials.
"I was up late on a case and wasn't exactly concerned about my personal grooming. It's sad, though, isn't it? You could probably shave my head and make a hay bale."
Kate laughed. "I'm with you there. Is the Knight case making you lose sleep?"
I nodded. "That woman who found baby Will on her porch was murdered."
Kate sat next to me on the edge of the bed. "Oh, my God. That's awful. Did you ever get to talk to her?"
"Yes. Finding her was easy. The Knights had all the newspaper articles about the abandonment. But the way she died wasn't at all easy. I feel so terrible about the whole thing, Kate."
"Is her death connected to Will's case?"
"It's kind of a long story. While I take my second shower of the day to wake me up, would you mind running home for some green tea? Then we can talk."
She looked at me like I'd asked her to go on a safari. "You're serious?"
"Just plain green. None of that chai stuff."
"Sure, but—"
"I promise, the tea is all part of the long story."
While she went home—eagerly, I might add—I showered, used about half a bottle of conditioner on my hair and dressed. The hair did show some improvement, but now I smelled like a peppermint.
Hot green tea for us both was waiting when I came downstairs, and we sat at the kitchen table while I filled Kate in on the events of the last few days.
When I finished, she said, "You went to Verna Mae Olsen's house in the middle of the night? By yourself?"
"You have to leap on an opportunity when it presents itself." I drank the last of my plum/berry green tea, deciding it was pretty good even without much sugar.
"What's your next move?" Kate asked.
"The social worker. Maybe she knows how Verna Mae found out about Will. Then there's that blanket. The brand name is POSH PRAMS. I'm hoping I can trace it."
"From nineteen years ago? How?"
"Don't know yet. Got any ideas?"
"Hey, you're the investigator. My concern is Will. How's he handling this emotionally?"
"Very maturely. He's an awesome kid."
Kate smiled. "I think so, too. Sensitive, but tough. If you think Verna Mae was his mother, who was the father? Obviously not Jasper Olsen."
I rested my elbows on the table and supported my chin with my fists. "That's another challenge. Maybe we can get back inside the house, look for clues to lead us in the right direction."
"We?"
"I could use your help. That woman had a lot of crap."
"Don't we all," Kate said.
6
Though I'd hoped Kate and I could get inside Verna Mae's house Sunday—Kate didn't see patients on Sunday—Burl Rollins said it would be another day or so before the property would be turned over to Will. After this disappointment, my sister convinced me to take a day off, and we spent Sunday shopping on the Kemah Boardwalk, then overdosed on shrimp and crab at Pappas Seafood Restaurant. It was a good distraction, one I needed.
My appointment with Molly Roth, the social worker who had worked Will's abandonment case, was for nine a.m. Monday, so I was on the Southwest Freeway heading toward Roth's office in Sugarland by eight-thirty. Houston freeways at that time of day? Basically a cuss-off with hand signals.
I'd researched Roth and discovered she'd left Children's Protective Services many years ago and currently ran a private agency that supplied parents with certified nannies—that according to the sales pitch Roth had insisted on delivering over the phone when I called her for an appointment. I wasn't even sure I'd convinced her I had no interest in hiring anyone from her agency unless they wanted to babysit a spoiled cat.
Her tenth-floor office was housed in a smoked-glass high-rise right off the freeway. When I entered suite 1012, a woman in her late fifties wearing glasses and a vintage navy suit with pale blue piping on the lapels flew into the waiting area the minute I arrived. She nearly tripped over a child-size table and chairs piled with books and puzzles.
"Hi," I said, extending my hand. "I'm—"
"You're late. You must never be late in this business. Now get in here." She grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the waiting area into an office populated by enough stuffed animals, cartoon posters, dolls and toys to rival a Disney World gift shop.
The woman squinted at me through lenses so thick they magnified her dark eyes and made her look like a koala bear.
"What's happened to you?" she said. Her voice sounded like the Molly Roth I'd spoken with the other day but with the frantic button turned on. "You did something different to your hair. And we talked about clothes. No clingy T-shirts like this." She pulled at my pink V-neck and appraised the rest of me. "The khakis are okay, but—"
"Ms. Roth, I think you've mistaken me for someone else. I'm Abby Rose. Remember, we spoke on the phone and—"
"You're not Julie?" She craned her neck and moved in so close we were practically nose to nose. "God, you're not. Okay, you're new. Do you have a criminal background? And don't lie to me, because if I get you this job and find out later you lied, I'll—"
"We have an appointment, Ms. Roth," I cut in. "About a case you worked for CPS."
Roth blinked, her jaw slack. Then came the dawn of realization. "Oh. That's today?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said.
"I really don't have time for you. A nanny hasn't shown and—"
A cell phone twirped from its resting place on Roth's cluttered desk. Papers went flying everywhere when she swooped down on the phone. She flipped it open and said, "Julie? Where in heaven are you?"
I saw color rise up the woman's pale neck and scorch her cheeks. "Oh. Yes. Of course. That's right. Thank you for checking in."
Roth closed her phone and then her body went slack, her arms limp at her sides. "Today is Monday. Did you know that?"
"Um, yes. That's when you told me to be here."
"And Monday is not Tuesday."
"Not last time I checked." Why did I have the feeling I'd be getting absolutely nowhere with this interview?
Roth smiled, adjusted her glasses. "But that's a good thing, Ms. Rose. No child is without their nanny because today is Monday. Now. How can I help you?"