A Day in a Life

Chapter Thirteen

Elijah

W HEN MY EYES first land on her, my heart stops. I’ll swear up and down to my dying day that it skipped a beat or two. She walks out onto the patio with a glide in her step, looking healthy and—maybe not happy—but relaxed.

It’s her. I’ve found her. Sydni Greer is alive.

I’m staring, while trying not to appear as though I’m staring. Her pictures didn’t do her justice. She’s a stunner.

Her hair is a natural mix of brunette and blond. The sun catches her blond streaks and sends a sparkle or two rushing my way. Did I just think that? Yes, I did. Because I’m a man who’s so besotted, I could sit down and write the cheesiest love song ever penned.

I’d write about her glowing tanned skin, the way every inch is smooth and flawless. I’d write about our matching brown eyes, and how we’re destined to have gorgeous, brown-eyed children. I’d write about the curve at her hip and how my hand would fit perfectly there. I’d write about her petite figure. I didn’t realize she was only about five feet tall. With my six-foot frame, I’d write about how we fit together so well, it’s as if we were made for each other. Because who cares about all those extra inches between us.

I’d end the song with one line. “If only I knew her.” Maybe that should be the title.

I run a hand through my hair several times. I need to focus on the case. I make my way to the beach where I can speak privately.

I give Ry a call. He answers after the first ring. “Eli, how’s it going?”

“I found her. She’s alive. There was never a suicide. There was never a missing body. She’s been in Key West all along.” Or so I assume.

“Sydni Greer? You actually found her? Guess you ate your Wheaties for breakfast.”

I ignore his joke, although I do feel like a champion for finding Sydni. “Once I had the name she was going by and her address, it was almost too easy to find her. As though she’s not in hiding at all.”

“Really? Doesn’t make a lick of sense,” Ryan says, sounding puzzled.

“Right? She’s working as a waitress at a seaside restaurant. Not a low-profile job. Anyone could’ve found her if they’d tried.”

“Anyone looking was searching for a body, not a living person. You’re my hero, Eli.”

I scoff at Ryan’s words. He’s the razzer of all razzers. He’s also an excellent cop, so he gets away with it.

I find it interesting that Sydni’s in Key West, not Key Largo where she and Cole honeymooned. I feel like she’s saying, “I was happy here in the Keys, but not in the place where I was with Cole.”

Instead, Sydni chose Key West. The journey from the mainland to Key West is a somewhat harrowing drive on the Overseas Highway, unless you don’t mind being surrounded by water while driving on what suddenly feels like a precarious roadway.

“Sydni’s actions tell me she wanted to get as far away as possible from her jerk of a husband without leaving the United States,” I tell Ryan. “Key West is actually closer to Cuba than Miami.” If she was in Key Largo, I’d be questioning her motives. But Key West says “Screw you, Cole.”

“Smart girl. Watch your back, Eli. She might be a whole lot smarter than everyone thinks. Hard to say what’s really going on. You’re working a freaking soap opera.”

“Yeah, well, I’m on to her. I’m not taking a step toward home until I have this craziness figured out. Hey Ry, can you check on Cole Greer’s travels over the past seven years. That’ll tell me if they’ve been meeting in various places for secret rendezvous. I doubt it, though. My gut is telling me Sydni doesn’t want anything to do with her husband.”

“You got it. I know you, Magnum. You’re going to crack this case wide open, put it in a hot pan, and fry it up.”

I’m about to burst wide open with questions. One thing at a time, step by step. I need to be patient. “That’s the plan.” I ignore the fact that he called me Magnum.

“Don’t let her fool you. Maybe she’s as money hungry as Cole Greer. Maybe he visits her often. Maybe their amateur plan didn’t go as expected and that’s why there are so many holes in the story. Not only did everything go wrong, everything that could go wrong went wrong. Maybe that’s why this case is so hard to understand. It was one blunder after another.” Ry makes some good points.

I don’t believe that’s what happened, though. “I’m going to find out, one way or another.” I’m positive she’s innocent of all wrongdoing. I may or may not be a little obsessed with the very thought of Sydni Greer. Puts me in a dangerous position. I’ll fall for anything she says at this rate. Whatever wits are, I need them to stay about me. “Thanks for your help, Ry.”

“You bet. I’ll get back to you soon.”

IT’S LATE AFTERNOON now. The rays of the sun feel good on my skin. I’m sitting at the neighboring Snack Shack, adjacent to the restaurant. It’s unclear if there’s any division between the seating areas on the large deck. The Snack Shack feels like a continuation of the restaurant. Except they serve popcorn, caramel apples, cotton candy, funnel cake, house-made donuts dipped in a house-made chocolate sauce, specialty drinks, and various types of candy.

It’s the perfect addendum to the restaurant without competing for customers.

I can see and hear the ocean lapping against the sandy shore of the beach the restaurant overlooks. In the water, people are paddleboarding and kayaking. A few snorkelers as well. A band is setting up in one corner, preparing for the nightlife Key West is known for. Meanwhile, very soft trop-rock plays over hidden speakers.

The mood is festive, chill, almost tranquil. I can see why living here has its allure. I swear, stress is not allowed to exist by lawful mandate. I could get used to wearing shorts and flip-flops all the time. I guess I could get away with it most days in California too, but I don’t. Here, it’s the accepted uniform of choice, whether you’re working or vacationing. The laid-back atmosphere is my kind of speed.

Sydni appears again, expertly carrying several plates at once and delivering them to the correct table. She’s wearing jean shorts with a t-shirt boasting the restaurant’s name, Bayside Eatery. The t-shirt is knotted on one side of her waist. Her hair is in a ponytail that sways as she moves from table to table with such grace I think she darn near floats rather than walks. Wonder why she’s waitressing when she had a promising career as an artist?

If she’s in hiding, I suppose she can’t sell her artwork. It would be a dead giveaway she’s still alive. Her artwork has a definite style that screams, “I am a Sydni Greer original.”

I can’t imagine there’s any remote possibility she’s in cahoots with Ashcole, that her entire existence is all about insurance fraud. But I don’t actually know her. I only know what I want her to be, what I imagine her to be—what friends and family have told me about her. The thing is, people will do surprising things for money. I can’t allow my wishful thinking to muddy the waters of this case.

Yet Cole is the one who told me about the name Saige Riley. Why would he tell me their baby’s name if he knew Sydni was using it as an alias? Things aren’t adding up. Nothing is fitting together like that moment when you find the exact puzzle piece you’ve been looking for.

That’s why I’m here.

I’m troubled she hasn’t told her family she’s alive. Regardless of their obvious ill treatment, it doesn’t mesh with the Sydni I’ve come to know through the interviews I’ve conducted so far.

Perhaps she’s written them off. All of them. I wouldn’t blame her. Not one of them came to her aid on the worst day of her life.

Maybe she came here for a fresh start, to be happy on her own terms. It’s possible.

As I observe her from a seat at the Snack Shack, nursing a virgin pi?a colada, there’s one thing I notice that can’t be ignored.

Sydni doesn’t smile. Or laugh. Not once in the two hours since I’ve been staring at her, watching her every move.

She’s friendly, polite, and pleasant.

But she never smiles. It speaks volumes about her life without saying a word.

Time to get a table in her section. It’s my turn to meet the infamous Sydni Greer.

When I’m cracking a case, I’m always excited, jittery.

This time is different. I’m excited and jittery for reasons I’m not sure I understand.