A Day in a Life

Chapter Eleven

Elijah

I TOSSED AND turned last night, unable to get the vision of FL written on Emma’s letter out of my mind.

By morning, I know I’m going back to her house to play tea party one more time. Before I knock on her door, I’ll politely gather her mail, so she won’t have to walk so far. If I come across the Florida address, I’ll snap a picture of it and check it out.

Sounds like an easy enough plan. But I know Emma is as sharp as a tack. I need to be careful. Not because I’m scared of her. A puff of air could knock her down. I need to be careful because I don’t want her to figure out that I’m snooping.

I feel as though I have ‘I’m here to find Sydni’ emblazoned on my t-shirt. Along with ‘And I suspect you.’ I’m pitifully obvious, and I’m positive she sees right through me. It’s my best lead, though. I’m doing this.

I park at the entrance to Lazy River Road, waiting for the mailman to arrive. Three sodas, two donuts, a pack of red licorice, and a stomachache later, the mail truck arrives, driving carefully down the pothole-covered dirt road that leads to Emma’s territory.

I follow, then park my car adjacent to the house. I can beat Emma to the mailbox with no problem whatsoever.

Once the mailman leaves, I get out of my car and make a beeline for the mailbox, as though I’ve found buried treasure. When it comes to this case, it very well might be. As I’m gathering up the mail, Emma pokes her head out the door.

“Mr. Elijah? Is that you?”

“Yep. Just collecting your mail for you. Thought I’d save you the trip. I hope you don’t mind another visit. I have a few more questions I’d like to ask you.” I glance at the few pieces of mail. There’s not a letter from Florida. What are the odds she’d receive a letter two days in a row? What was I thinking?

I flash Emma a smile, in spite of my disappointment.

“Thank you. You’re a kind one. But I’m on to you.”

“You are?” I’m not sure how I gave myself away. Actually, I’m not sure how I didn’t give myself away.

“I know you’re really here for more of my cookies. You can’t fool me. I’m old, but my mind’s still sharp.”

“You caught me. Dreamed of your cookies all night.” That’s not a lie. But my stomach is going to rebel against all the sugar. I’m already feeling queasy.

“Come on in. It gets lonely out here. I welcome your visit.”

Emma pours me tea and offers me a plate of cookies as if I’m stuck in the movie Groundhog Day . She made oatmeal cookies today. At least I’m getting something nutritious.

When Emma joins me, she says, “What do you really want, Mr. Elijah? A fit man like you doesn’t spend his life eating cookies.”

Or donuts and red licorice. “Touché. You’re right. I’m making an exception for your cookies. I’m here because I’d like to ask you a few more questions.”

“Well, get on with it then. At this rate, I might be dead by the time you get around to asking me somethin’.”

I release a quick laugh. I see why the young kids like her. She’s got spunk. “Do you know your neighbors?”

“Sure do. My nearest neighbor to the right is a young couple with three small children. My nearest neighbor to the left is a single fireman. Good lookin’ fella. If I was younger, I’d be sure to catch his eye. Across the river is an older couple. They spend their time sitting outside on the porch. She knits, he reads. If Sydni washed up on their shores, they would’ve helped her. Every single one of them. If she ended up around these parts, no foul play was involved.”

“Do you read minds? I could use a partner. Looking for a job?” I finish my last cookie. I swear, my stomach rumbles as though it’s begging for more. I’m cutting myself off. Intense exercise is the only thing that keeps my leg going. I’d rather not put on fifty pounds.

Emma laughs, the sound just as raspy as her voice. “It’s always the butler. Remember that, and you’ll be fine.”

“Got it. I’ll keep that in mind. Are there any houses around here that you’d be wary of?” I press.

Emma still has two cookies left. She’s a slow eater. “I don’t know everyone who lives along this riverbank, and you know it. Are there some crazy characters living in these parts? Of course, there are. Every neighborhood has them. Could Sydni have washed up at their houses? Yes, she could have. I find it highly unlikely, though.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Just do. Can’t say why.”

I hold my hands in the air, surrendering. “Okay, I get the hint. This is a dead lead.” If I could just get a glimpse of yesterday’s letter from Florida. There has to be a way.

“Don’t beat yourself up. I’m impressed with your skills. No one else has been here to question me.” Emma shrugs.

“Really? I thought a thorough search of the area had been conducted.”

Emma shakes her head. “Oh, they searched the area. But they never knocked on my door.”

“Interesting. Seems like the logical next step.” The investigation into Sydni Greer can hardly be called an investigation. I don’t like speaking ill of anyone on the force. But so many balls were dropped in this case, they’re still bouncing.

“Well, that’s enough of that. May I ask you for a favor?” Emma says.

“Sure.”

“It’s my front door. It won’t latch properly, so I can’t lock it. Could you give me a hand, son?”

I end up fixing the front door, two kitchen cabinets, a leaky toilet, repairing a few holes in her walls, and cleaning the built-up lint out of her dryer. It takes up most of the afternoon, partly because Emma insists I take a few breaks on her ancient floral couches to put my leg up and give it a rest.

Her motherly instincts are sharp. She knows I’m lying through my teeth when I say my leg is fine. I find I enjoy the way she fusses over me. She’s a caregiver at heart, and a good one at that.

It’s when I’m replacing a light bulb in Emma’s bedroom that I finally catch notice of a white envelope—amid many other papers and bills—sitting on top of an open rolltop desk that’s seen better days.

Could it be?

If it is, here’s my chance. I can hear Emma’s shuffling footsteps approaching to check on me. Her low ceilings don’t require a ladder. I can reach her light fixtures easily.

Even with my bum leg, I’m faster than her. I approach the desk and snap a picture of the littered desktop. By the time Emma reaches the doorway, I’m already screwing in the new light bulb.

“Just about done,” I say.

“Can’t thank you enough, Mr. Elijah. You’re a good one. I’ve been around long enough to know these things.”

“Glad someone thinks so,” I tease.

As I finish replacing a few more light bulbs, I pause in front of a small room with one twin bed inside.

“For guests?”

“Aw, no one stays here anymore,” Emma grumbles.

Huh. But someone could’ve stayed here. Someone could’ve been nursed back to health here. Someone who still writes to her savior from Florida.

It’s possible.

When we say our goodbyes, Emma says, “When you find her, be good to her.”

“Excuse me?”

“If anyone’s going to find Sydni, it’ll be you. Just be good to her, okay? She’s been through a lot.” Emma’s eyes stare me down from her face of wrinkled skin.

“If she’s out there, I will find her. I promise you that.”

“I’m counting on it, Mr. Elijah. Now get out of here and live your life. No one your age should have to spend time with an old lady with one foot in the grave.”

“I have a thing for older women,” I tell Emma before I exit her house, her croaky laugh following me out to my car.

Once I reach the end of Lazy River Road, I pull over. I whip out my phone and navigate straight to my latest picture, praying I aimed correctly under the circumstances.

I did.

I enlarge the screen and find I’m staring at a return address in Florida from none other than Saige Riley.

Of course.

Of course.

Of course.

Why didn’t I think of that?

Sydni Greer is still alive. She’s going by her beloved daughter’s name and hiding out in Florida.

She has a surprise coming. The surprise is me.

Sydni Greer has become an obsession. I have to learn the truth. It’s a burning need inside me.

Was the accident an attempted suicide?

Was it simply an accident?

Was Sydni running away, as the go-bag suggests? Is she scared of Cole finding her?

Has Cole threatened her? Is that why she’s in hiding?

Or is Sydni scheming with Cole to collect the life insurance money?

I know which way I’m leaning. Nothing will stop me from learning exactly what happened the night Sydni’s car went off that bridge.