Swag Bags and Swindlers (12 page)

C
HAPTER
16

M
y day at Holt's had just ended. I was tired, hungry, and slightly out of sorts, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to start my car and drive out of the parking lot.

I'd pulled an eight-hour shift today, so it was getting dark. The big cursive Holt's sign glowed neon blue atop the building. The store was still open, so the Paper-Palooza protesters continued waving their signs and chanting near the entrance. As the day had gone on it seemed that fewer customers were in the store, so I figured shoppers had left after seeing the commotion out front. I'm sure the management team was worried about profits and public opinion—I was just irritated by the whole thing.

I didn't feel so great about screaming my resignation at Jeanette this morning. I was glad I'd told her I was quitting, but I should have handled it differently. I doubted she'd thought much about it, given the protesters and what could be a sizable drop in store sales and her monthly bonus.

And, of course, there was that moment in the stockroom with Jack.

From the pocket of my jeans I pulled the folded paper that he'd slipped into the front of my sweater. It felt warm to the touch and still carried his scent—or so it seemed, anyway.

I sat there staring down at it.

Of course, Jack hadn't provided just the phone number. There was also an address and a name—a woman's name.

Seeing the words and numbers printed on the slip of paper still made me feel kind of icky, even though I'd read them as soon as I'd blasted out of Jeanette's office this morning. Ty had been in contact with a woman in Palmdale. Once, for sure; maybe—probably—more than that.

And he'd done it while he and I were dating.

I had no real reason to think there was anything romantic going on between her and Ty. This Brianna King could have been anyone—a cousin, an aunt, a mentor, an old friend. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that had been bearing down on me all day.

Why else would Ty not have mentioned her to me?

Why else would he have kept her a secret?

And how could she not be connected to the murder of Kelvin Davis, which Ty had become involved with?

I'm not big on suspense—usually. But right now, at this moment, I wasn't sure I wanted to know exactly who Brianna King was and why Ty had kept her presence in his life hidden from me.

Of course, I could have called my best friend, Marcie, and talked it over with her. She had a way of making me feel better about things—as only a BFF can. But this ache in my chest and around my heart couldn't be eased, soothed, or calmed with a maybe-she's-this-maybe-she's-that conversation.

Still, I had to find out.

I knew my limitations, and only a
venti
mocha Frappuccino with extra whipped cream and double chocolate drizzle would get me through the rest of this evening. I started my car and drove to Starbucks.

The drive-through was quick, so I got my Frappie in record time, parked, and pulled out my cell phone. I figured that if anybody would recognize the name Brianna King it would be Ty's personal assistant. Even though I'd asked Amber if Ty knew anyone in Palmdale and she'd said no, there was a possibility that Amber had heard the name but not made the connection.

It was prime let's-hit-a-club time on a Saturday night, but Amber answered right away. I heard music and voices in the background, so I figured I'd interrupted her evening—which was just the excuse I needed to keep this conversation short.

“Hi, Haley. What's up?”

Amber didn't sound rushed or anxious to get rid of my call, which I appreciated. I came right to the point.

“Does Ty know anyone named Brianna King?” I asked.

“No,” she said.

I was always amazed at how well Amber remembered every detail of Ty's life and kept up on absolutely everything.

“Why?” she asked.

I hesitated for a few seconds, then said, “You don't want to know.”

“I can live with that,” Amber said.

I was also amazed at how she could be so deeply involved in Ty's life, yet separate herself from everything personal.

“She must be someone from back in the day before I started working for him,” Amber said.

“Yeah, probably,” I said. “Thanks anyway.”

“Sure,” Amber said. “And did we have this conversation?”

I'd never put her in a tough spot by asking her to keep anything from Ty, but I really didn't want him to know what I was doing.

“No, I'd rather we hadn't,” I said, “if you're cool with that.”

“No problem,” Amber said.

I thanked her again, ended the call, and took a long sip from my Frappie.

Only one person remained whom I could call for info. I scrolled through my contact list and hit the button for Ada, Ty's grandmother.

Ada was a hoot. We'd gone shopping and sightseeing together back when Ty and I were an official couple. I liked her a lot and we'd had a great time together.

I'd run into a friend of hers at a wedding who'd left me with the impression that Ty hadn't told his grandmother we weren't together any longer. I really hoped that situation had been remedied; I didn't want to be the one to break the news to her.

“Haley, dear, how are you?” Ada said, when she answered my call.

She sounded upbeat and cheerful, as always.

“I'm hanging in there,” I said. “How about you?”

“Troubled,” she said. “I know that you and Ty broke up.”

Hearing those words spoken aloud sent an unpleasant jolt through me—still, after all this time.

“Oh, that boy,” Ada muttered.

Ty was in his thirties, ran an international corporation on two continents, was responsible for hundreds of millions of dollars and a vast number of employees, and Ada still referred to him as a boy. Oh well, I guess grandmas were allowed.

“I don't know what he's thinking sometimes,” she said. “Typical of the Cameron men. Thinking something completely to death—then doing the wrong thing.”

I couldn't help smiling, knowing that Ada was still in my corner.

“Ada, I was wondering if you knew anyone named Brianna King?” I asked.

She was quiet for a few seconds, then said, “That name is vaguely familiar. Let me think for a minute and I'll remember—oh, dear.”

Her “oh, dear
”
made my heart lurch.

This couldn't be good.

I braced myself and asked, “You know her?”

“I
knew
her,” Ada pointed out. “I haven't heard her name mentioned in a long time. Years, really.”

I started to feel kind of icky.

“Ty met her in Europe the year after he graduated college,” Ada said. “She was touring with friends, the same as he was.”

Now I felt really icky.

“Turned out, she was from right here in the L.A. area. She came around for a while with his other friends, then . . . well, I don't know what happened, exactly,” Ada said. “She just disappeared and Ty never mentioned her again.”

Yeah, okay, now I felt super icky.

“Why are you asking about Brianna?” Ada said. “Is Ty involved with her again?”

I mentally scrambled, desperate to come up with a reasonable excuse for asking her about Brianna.

Jeez, I wish I'd thought of that before I called.

Luckily, my tricked-out Frappie had pumped up my brain cells to peak performance levels.

“Ty's assistant called me,” I said. “She's organizing a function and she came across Brianna's name for the guest list. She didn't know who Brianna was, and I don't know, so I thought you might.”

“What sort of function?” Ada asked.

She sounded a little suspicious now—not that I blamed her.

“Some sort of award,” I said. “Ty doesn't know about it yet, so please don't say anything.”

Okay, that was an outright lie, but what else could I say?

I didn't want Ada to know the reason I'd asked about Brianna. I wasn't even sure she'd been told that Ty was a person of interest in the Kelvin Davis murder investigation—and no way was I going to be the one who broke that news to her.

“I see,” Ada said, in that I'm-not-sure-I-believe-this tone.

I decided it was better to let Ada think I was checking out a possible girlfriend in Ty's life rather than that I was investigating his involvement in a major crime.

“And,” I said, “I wondered if she was somebody Ty was dating now.”

“I see,” Ada said, and it sounded as if this was something she understood.

“But, please, don't say anything,” I said. “I don't want Ty to think I'm . . . well, that I'm checking up on him, like some crazy psycho ex-girlfriend.”

“I'll keep this to myself,” she promised, then shifted topics. “And you and I must go shopping again soon.”

“You bet,” I said, and was relieved because I really liked Ada. “See you soon.”

“Take care, dear,” she said, and hung up.

I sat in my car a while longer, thinking as I finished my Frappuccino. My next move was obvious, but difficult to commit to. I wasn't sure I wanted to learn exactly what had happened between Ty and Brianna King in Europe after they'd both graduated college.

I knew what had probably gone on, but I didn't want to think too much about the details.

But I did wonder why, after returning to Los Angeles, Ty had introduced Brianna to his family and brought her around often only to have her suddenly disappear from their lives. Bringing a girl to meet the family wasn't a decision made lightly—and Ty never made a decision in that fashion.

Of course, all of that had happened many years ago—nine or ten years ago, if my math was right. A lot could have changed. Back then, Ty was younger, freer, as of yet not burdened with the running of the Holt's Department Store chain. Maybe he hadn't been taking life so seriously.

And what about Brianna King? What was up with her? Her life must have changed, too, although it didn't escape my notice that Ada had recognized Brianna by her last name, which meant she hadn't married.

Whatever had gone on between Ty and Brianna must have been over and done with a long time ago, given that Ada had to cast her thoughts back nearly a decade to remember who Brianna was. They'd moved on, gone their separate ways, and gotten on with their lives.

Until recently.

What happened, I wondered? What had changed?

I had to find out.

 

On Sunday morning, I punched Brianna King's home address into my GPS and headed north on the 14 toward Palmdale. The freeway climbed higher and higher and wound through sparsely populated rugged hills and past pockets of houses and businesses until it crested a hill and I descended into the Antelope Valley, the entrance to California's High Desert, home to Palmdale, Lancaster, and dozens of other towns and communities.

I'd come here to pick up Ty from the hospital after his car accident, but that wasn't the only time. My dad was an aerospace engineer so, when we were kids, he'd taken my brother, sister, and me to the annual air show at Edwards Air Force Base, situated at the other side of the valley.

My GPS took me off the freeway at the Rancho Vista Boulevard exit, then west past a shopping mall, restaurants, and lots of other businesses. The streets were crowded—though not as bad as in L.A.—and the area looked prosperous.

After a few miles, I turned left on Resort Way and navigated a maze of residential streets until the GPS announced I'd reached my destination. I drove to the end of the cul-de-sac, flipped a U, and pulled in at the curb in front of a house down the block and across the street from Brianna's.

It was a neighborhood of tract homes probably built within the past few years during the boom, before the housing market—and the economy—collapsed. The houses varied in size—some one story, others larger—and were situated on small lots nicely landscaped with shrubs, green grass, and flower beds. It looked like a warm, welcoming, safe place to live and raise a family.

And this was where Brianna King lived?

It didn't sit right with me, for some reason.

I stayed in my car, unsure of what to do. My first instinct was to ring the doorbell and ask this Brianna King just what the heck was going on. I held back, though, watched the house and waited.

I'm not good at waiting.

Just when my patience reached its end, the garage door on a house down the block opened and a little girl rode out on her two-wheeler. A woman, who must have been her mom, came out after her, set up a folding chair in the driveway, and watched as the girl cruised around the cul-de-sac.

Soon, other garage doors on the street opened and more children came out bringing bikes, three-wheelers, and scooters with them—along with their moms and dads to keep watch. The kids knew each other. They laughed and talked as they rode. The parents waved to their neighbors. Some of them joined up on the sidewalk and chatted.

The garage door on Brianna's house rolled up. A girl on a bicycle rode down the driveway and joined the other kids riding around the cul-de-sac.

My heart started to beat faster.

She was a cute little girl, dressed in yellow pants and T-shirt and wearing a pink sparkly helmet over her light brown hair.

I started to feel sick.

She looked as if she was about eight years old.

Eight. Nine, maybe. Born around the time Brianna had disappeared from the Cameron family. A year, perhaps, after Ty and she had returned from Europe.