Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [19]
“How long will you be?”
“Half an hour or so.”
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“Okay.” That’d give me enough time. I spun toward hallway two. And luck was with me when I noticed the green “I’m OK” sign on his door. I knocked. Vernon Sloane answered by yelling, “What do you want?” through the closed door.
“Luella sent me to tell you she might be late.”
Silence.
“Mr. Sloane?”
The door opened. He blinked at me with vacant eyes.
“Hi, I’m—”
“Susie? Is that you?”
“No. My name is Kate. Is it all right if I come in?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he demanded, “Where’s Susie?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is she coming?”
I turned sideways and slipped past him.
Luckily he didn’t throw me out, but closed the door. The apartment was unbearably hot, and I loosened my coat as I looked around. Typical bachelor pad; beige walls and carpeting. Navy blue couch. One battered tan recliner facing the window and the TV. No kitschy doodads anywhere. It was depressing as hell. Stacks of word search puzzle books were piled on one end of the coffee table. Two simple black frames hung above the sofa. A black-and-white wedding photo and a picture of a much younger Vernon sitting behind the wheel of a big old car. I stepped forward to take a closer look at the pictures.
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“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”
“Yes. When was it taken?”
“Oh, 1948. The same year I bought it.”
He wasn’t talking about his wife, but the car.
“I loved that Roadmaster. See, it’s a convertible?
’Course, you can’t tell the color, but it was the creamiest soft yellow, the shiniest paint Buick ever put on a car. Reflected like a mirror. Still looks pretty good for an antique. I’d offer to take you for a spin, but she’s kind of touchy in the snow. Nothing like those fourwheel drives everyone has these days.”
Hadn’t Amery told us her grandfather had totaled his car, resulting in the loss of his driver’s license? What was I supposed to do? Correct him? Play along?
Better change the subject.
I turned around and smiled.
His eyes clouded and he backed away, slowly, hands in the air in front of him like I’d jabbed a gun in his face. “Why are you here?”
“Luella sent me, remember?”
“You look like her, but you don’t sound like her.”
Maybe he was blind, too, because I hoped to hell I didn’t resemble a sixty-year-old woman. “Who? Luella?”
“My Susie.”
“I’m not Susie, Mr. Sloane.” I sat and hoped he’d do the same. “But as long as we’re on the subject, why don’t you tell me about her?”
“I can’t. They’ll kill her.”
Man. I was so out of my league. I’d never dealt 63
with this type of situation. “Okay. Why don’t you tell me about your granddaughter, Amery, instead?”
“Who?”
“Amery. Susie’s daughter.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about. Susie is just sixteen years old. She’s a baby, not old enough to have a baby. Are you trying to trick me into telling you where she is?”
Over your head, Julie. “Ah. No.”
“Who is this Amery person?”
“Never mind. I should—”
“Susie went away because I couldn’t keep her safe. They wanted to hurt her. Sometimes she sneaks in here to see me. I have to hide her from them. But that means my sweet girl has to hide from her papa, too.”
His vacuous eyes flared panic. “You won’t tell them she was here, will you?”
“No. Your secret is safe with me.”
His gaze pierced my forehead as if he could see my brain to gauge whether or not I was lying. “I’m paying them to keep her safe now. She’s in a place no one will ever find her.”
“Paying who?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he snapped off. Mr. Sloane was getting more riled up. I knew I’d made a mistake barging in here. Problem was, I didn’t know how to fix it. He kept muttering and gesturing at me like he was warding off an evil spirit. It didn’t help I felt like I’d slipped on the devil’s skin. 64
My frantic gaze landed on the coffee table. “I used to love to do word search puzzles.”
Vernon Sloane glared at me. “You’re lying. Why are you really here?”
Shit.
“For more money?”
I stood. “Look. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll go.”
“I know your type. You smile while you lie so it’ll be easier to trick me.”
My