Discovering You (20 page)

Dylan leaned back. “You don't have any idea where she is?”

“She told me she was visiting her little girl at her in-laws', but I don't believe it.”

“Why?”

“She told me they'd hardly let her talk to Cassia for fear the child would ask to come home. So I could see her going over there. She's missing her kid. But I can't see her staying. I doubt she'd feel welcome.”

“Where else could she be?”

Rod turned back to his computer. “That's what I'm trying to figure out. I don't believe she's using me to fight her battles, not if she won't even tell me where she is. When I asked her, she said it wouldn't be
right
to involve me.”

Dylan rubbed his chin. “I
knew
I liked her.”

Rod scowled at him. “I told you, I can't let her fight this battle on her own. Sebastian deserves to encounter someone his own size.”

“The thought of it being
you
scares the shit out of me,” Dylan said. “Because I don't foresee a good outcome. You can't touch him, not unless he comes after you first, or he comes after her when she's with you, which means he'd probably have a weapon. Either way, there's no guarantee that he'll go to prison. He killed her husband and got away with it, didn't he?”

“I've got a rifle. I'll use it if I have to.”

“That's my point! I don't want you to have to kill a man, Rod—even a man like that. However this plays out, it's going to be tricky.”

“I agree,” Rod said. “But what kind of chance has she got on her own?”

“I care about
you
,” Dylan muttered. “I don't even know
her
.”

“I have to help, Dyl. It makes me sick to think she might not be safe.”

“Already?” Dylan cursed, but then he gestured for Rod to get out of the way. “Fine. Let me use the computer. There are a few sites that might be able to give us the information we need. Anya was telling me she once used them to find a roommate who stole some of her stuff and then took off.”

“Wait a second,” Rod said. “You said the information
we
need?”

“If you're in,
I'm
in.”

Rod shook his head. “Hell, no. You have a family now. I'll handle this on my own.”

* * *

The house at 211 Birch Street in Hayward was quiet. Although it was nearly three, there were no kids playing in the yard. But it was a hot afternoon. And
someone
was home. None of the cars had been moved. There were other signs, too. If India watched carefully, she could see the flicker of a television reflecting off the glass beneath drapes that didn't quite fit the window.

Knowing Sebastian might be so close made her damp with nervous sweat. But she'd done everything she could to prepare herself to approach his neighbors. She was standing on the stoop of the house across the street from his right now, wearing a dowdy, billowing skirt with a flowing top she'd purchased at a secondhand store. She'd visited a few other shops as well and picked up a briefcase, a short-haired brown wig and a pair of “reader” glasses. Her goal was to look middle-aged and frumpy, so that if Eddie, Sheila or Sebastian happened to notice her in the neighborhood, they wouldn't immediately recognize her.

Her disguise wasn't a lot to rely on, but she was determined to see this through, do something to fight back. These days she had no doubts about the kind of man Sebastian was, felt no sense of obligation to be kind or helpful to him. So at least she knew who and what she was dealing with.

She was going to stay calm and outsmart him. He'd never expect her to go on the offensive like this. She supposed she had that in her favor...

Pressing one hand to her chest as if she could slow her racing heart, she lifted the other to knock. She had no idea who'd answer the door, if that person might be a friend of Sebastian's or how he or she would react to questions, even if there was no friendship involved.

The knob turned and a giant of a man, bald with rheumy eyes and a scraggly gray beard, stared out at her.

“Hi.” She summoned what she hoped was a disarming smile, but he interrupted before she could say another word.

“Whatever you're sellin', we're not interested,” he said and closed the door.

India was tempted to leave it at that. She didn't have the nerve to push very hard. The tattoos on the man's neck and arms made him look dangerous, despite his age. But this house faced 211, so the people here were likely to know more than anyone else on the street. They merely had to look out a window to observe the comings and goings at Sebastian's place.

Do it for Cassia...
Forcing back the fear that welled up, she knocked a second time.

The same man opened the door. “What do you want?” he growled.

A woman called out above the TV that was droning in the background. “Who is it, Frank?”

“If you'll shut up for a minute, maybe I can find out,” he yelled back.

Acting as professional and confident as she could, India handed him one of the cards she'd made at an office supply store.

“You're a private investigator?” he said after eyeing the fake name, fake business and other fake information she'd given him. Only the phone number and email address were real. The number was a new Google number that went to a voice mail attached to the email address.

“I don't usually do fieldwork,” she said, as if she was making an admission. “I'm a computer geek, working with a firm of investigators, and I'm not quite comfortable banging on people's doors. You can probably tell.” She fanned herself as if she was a bit flustered, which should be convincing, since it was true. “But I feel very passionate about this particular case, so I thought it might be worth coming to ask you a few questions.”

His eyes narrowed. “What case? What're you talking about?”

“How well do you know your neighbor across the street?” she asked.

“Which neighbor?”

When she pointed, she could only hope there was no one looking out at her. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself.

“Three people and some kids live in that house,” he said.

As she'd guessed. “Is this man one of them?” She pulled out the picture of Sebastian she'd gotten at the library from one of the many newspaper articles on Charlie's murder.

Frank glanced at it, but he didn't take it from her. He scowled as his gaze returned to her face. “Why do you ask?”

“Although I still have to prove it, I believe he's guilty of—” she hesitated as if she was being careful not to go too far “—some crimes against children, and I'm looking for the evidence to prove it.”

His manner changed immediately, which was why India had devised that particular lie. Even most drug dealers, addicts, burglars, ex-cons, gangbangers and other thugs were protective of children. “What kind of crimes?”

Again, she pretended to be making a conscious effort not to poison his mind, all the while hoping his imagination would fill in the blanks. “I'd rather not say. He's innocent until proven guilty, as you know, and I'm not here to stir up any negative sentiment.”

“This must be serious.” He peered more closely at her. “Are you saying he's a pedophile?”

She raised her free hand. “We don't have enough proof to bring charges...”

“He's suspected of it, though? Way I heard it, he was arrested for killing some doctor. The police came 'round asking questions about him last year.”

“They couldn't make those charges stick, which is why he's back in the neighborhood. And now there's reason to believe he's done a lot more than shoot one doctor.” India hoped this guy hadn't followed the coverage of Charlie's murder too closely. She wasn't sure how well her disguise would hold up. There'd been pictures of
her
in the papers, too. “He's obviously not a law-abiding citizen. I don't condone murder of any sort, but I especially don't condone victimizing children.”

“Hell, no!” he said. “The wife and I have grandkids who come over here. He'd better not touch one of 'em.”

“Frank?” The woman who'd called out before did so again.

“Be there in a minute, June!”

India hoped “June” wouldn't decide to come to the door. The fewer people who saw her, the better. “If you could help me, we might be able to put him away for good. He belongs behind bars.”

“Yeah, he does. Like I said, there are kids living with him. What do you want to know?”

“First of all, I'd like to make sure I've found the right man. Could you look at this picture?”

“That's the guy who's living across the street,” he confirmed without hesitation. “I recognized him immediately.”

“How well do you know him?”

“Not well. People come and go in this neighborhood. When he lived here before, I passed him on the street a few times. Then he was gone, probably in police custody. Now he's back.”

“When did he return?”

“No clue.”

“When did you first notice him?”

“Night before last?”

“So you can't tell me if he has a job.”

“No, I'm guessing he doesn't work. They're night owls over there. Sleep most of the day.”

“Have you ever spoken to him?”

“Not directly.”

“Would any of the other neighbors be able to tell me more?”

“Doubt it. Like I said, people come and go in this neighborhood. Most of these houses are rentals. It's not like anyone's ever going to throw a block party.”

India hadn't learned a great deal, but she'd confirmed that Sebastian was living with his wife again. “I understand. Well, if you see anything...unusual, would you please alert me at that number?”

He held up her card again. “You bet.”

“Frank, what's taking so long?”

He turned as the woman he'd been hollering with walked up behind him.

India froze. She'd been hoping to get away before she could come face-to-face with anyone else, but she hadn't quite made it. “This gal works for a private investigator,” Frank explained. “The guy across the street's some pervert.”

“He is?”
June, who was obviously Frank's wife, squeezed into the gap between him and the door.

India held her breath as their eyes met.

No recognition. Thank God. Perhaps she hadn't followed all the media coverage...

“What kind of pervert?” she asked.

“I really can't—” India started, but Frank answered.

“Sex offender.”

June shook her head. “There are so many of 'em these days. They oughta cut off their nuts.”

India let her breath seep out. Not only was there no recognition in June's eyes, she was buying the pedophilia story. “I'd be satisfied if we could just get him off the streets,” she said. “So if you see anything you think I should know about, anything he could be arrested for—” she indicated the card she'd given Frank “—please feel free to call or email me if you'd rather not contact the police.”

“Okay, but...what should we be looking for?” June asked.

“The license plate numbers of any people he seems close to. Whether or not you see him carrying a gun. That sort of thing.”

“I remember the cops were looking for the gun he used to kill that doctor,” Frank said. “Did they ever find it?”

“I'm afraid not,” India told him.

“We'll keep an eye out,” June promised. “His wife sits out front with the kids every once in a while. Not that she watches them very well. But I'll speak to her next time I see her, find out what I can.”

India reached out to shake her hand. She'd come to this street fearing the neighbors, had judged them by the depressed state of the houses and shabby yards, but she really liked this couple. “Be careful what you say, though,” she warned. “He's dangerous.”

“Don't worry about me,” she said. “I'm a tough old gal. I'll call you if I learn anything.”

India turned to go. She got all the way to her car. But she felt so guilty for lying to them, was so afraid that what she'd said would persuade them to stick their necks out too far, she turned back and knocked on the door again.

This time June answered. “Is there something else?” she asked.

India cast a hesitant glance over her shoulder. She wanted to keep herself and her child safe, but she didn't want to put others in jeopardy in the process. “I'm afraid I'm not working for a private investigator who's on a pedophilia case,” she said.

June blinked several times. “You're not?”

“No.” She clasped her hands tightly in front of her. “That card I gave your husband? It's fake. And this wig and...and the rest of what I'm wearing? It's a costume.”

The bewilderment on June's face made India cringe.
“Why?”

“That doctor you mentioned? The one who was shot?”

Frank came up behind his wife. “Yes...” he said.

“I'm his widow.”

“So what are you looking for?” June asked.

India told them the truth. How Sebastian had gotten off and was contacting her again. How she'd moved away and yet feared he might come after her. How desperately she wanted to protect her child. That the police weren't able to do anything to change her situation. “I feel like...like finding more evidence or something else that might put Sebastian back behind bars is my only choice,” she finished. “I'm sorry for telling you that big story. If I wasn't so desperate, I would never have lied.”

Instead of being angry, as India had expected, June pulled her into an embrace. “Honey, you got nothing to apologize for. I'd lie, cheat or steal to protect my family.”

India squeezed her eyes shut. This total stranger was being kinder to her than her own mother-in-law. “Then you won't tell him I came by, asking about him?”