The sewing machine stopped. “I’m not able to share all the details, but some of it is public knowledge. Her foster parents, Dennis and Sybil Franklin, were abusive toward her.” She sounded disgusted. “He’s that big condo developer who’s building anywhere he can find land. Anyway, Mira ran away from their home and was hiding in the homeless community for a while. When they found her, they put her in a group home until she aged out.”
“What’s the deal with the brothers?” I asked. “The older one was out of control.”
“That’s Will,” she said. “Mira said he was always a jerk, but that Rocky was nicer.”
“Well, Rocky wasn’t actually nice. He stayed quiet, but he didn’t do anything to stop it,” I said.
She was silent for a moment. “I’m worried. What if Mira’s wrong and they don’t leave her alone? What if they do something worse?”
Oh man. It was so hard to know what to do. “Then we’ll get Norma involved.”
“That’ll have to do.” Lani started up the machine again. “How’s Elliott’s first day?”
I smiled. “So far, so good. His English teacher liked his Toxic Avenger shirt.”
She laughed. “Anyone who knows a musical that obscure is a winner.”
* * * *
The rest of the morning passed uneventfully. I asked the owner of the kitchen to hold onto the security tapes, just in case. On the way back to Sunnyside, both Mira and I avoided talking about the incident, but I checked my rearview mirror often, just to make sure the freaky Franklins weren’t following us.
My phone dinged with a text, and I handed it to Mira to read.
“I like the new cover,” she said. Elliott had found a place online that made personalized phone covers. It was thinner than my normal one and had the Meowio logo on it.
Mira entered my security code and read. “It’s from your dad,” she said. “He bought burritos for lunch.”
I glanced over and saw her smile. “What?”
“He said he picked up a chicken one for me,” she said.
“Can’t say no to Pico’s Burritos,” I said.
She handed me back the phone. It slipped out of my hand into the slot between the console and my seat. “Damn. That keeps happening with the new case.”
She peered into the slot. “Want me to get it?”
“It’s okay. I have to move the seat back when we stop,” I said. “Where are you working this afternoon? I have some shopping to do and can drop you off.”
Mira had a complicated schedule, dividing her working hours between four part-time jobs. She was seriously thrifty, sharing her apartment with three other girls and eating lots of ramen noodles. I’d only known her a couple of months, but had never seen her in new clothes. She was determined to become self-sufficient. Buying a used car was the next big goal, so that she could drive to her college classes.
She picked up her phone to check her schedule. “I’m at the farm this afternoon,” she said. “Packing boxes.” She gave me a sly look. “Maybe you should walk over with me to see your boyfriend.”
Calling the farm’s owner, Joss Delaney, my boyfriend felt like a little much. We had a few dates, and then everything was put on hold when his ex-wife gave in on the custody battle over their ten-year-old daughter, Kai. He was allowed to have her for a whole month.
I’d totally understood that Joss had to focus completely on his daughter to make up for all the time he hadn’t been able to see her. Even when the month was over, it had been hard to fit in dates between the demands of our families and businesses, but we’d managed.
I pulled into the driveway and noticed someone sitting in a car across the street. It was a beige Honda, definitely not the SUV that Mira’s nasty foster family had used, but I kept an eye on it anyway. I paused on the porch and looked right at the car. An older man in a baseball cap was taking photos of Mira and me. “What the hell?”
“What is it?” Mira asked, looking around.
“Go inside,” I told her and marched across the street.
The man seemed to get a few photos off (probably of me with my fuming face) before he set the camera down, put the car in gear and drove off. I memorized his license number and then texted it to myself before I forgot.
Mira had stayed on the porch, phone in hand. “Who was that?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“I got photos of him,” she said.
“Oh good,” I said. “You thought fast.” I ran up the steps to look over her shoulder as she scrolled through the couple she captured while he drove away. “Can you send them to me? It’s probably nothing to worry about, but I’m going to have my friend look to see what she can find out.” I tried to reassure her but it came out wrong.
“Nothing?” she asked. “He was taking photos of us! He must work for the Franklins.”
I’d suspected the same thing and was pretty creeped out. “What do they hope to gain by taking photos here? It doesn’t make sense.”
My dad opened the door, a root beer in his hand. “What’s taking you so long? Food’s getting cold.”
We followed him into the kitchen, where he’d already set the table and poured ice water for me and Coke with lime for Mira—her favorite. Even the spicy scent of the burritos couldn’t help my uneasiness.
I took my seat. “Hey, Dad, did you notice a beige Honda outside?”
He looked at me. “An Accord?” His voice sounded sharp.
“Yeah,” I said.
“There was one behind me on the way to Pico’s,” he said. “He almost rear-ended me when I slowed down to pull in.”
I bit my lip, not wanting to upset him. He was fully recovered, but I still worried about a relapse.
“Spill it,” he said.
I gave him a quick overview of what had happened at the kitchen and outside the house. Mira looked embarrassed.
He pointed a finger at her. “This is not your fault,” he said emphatically. “They’re a bunch of…jackasses.”
We both laughed at his obvious change from what he wanted to call them.
“As soon as lunch is over, you’re calling Norma,” he said.
“No,” Mira said. “You can’t tell the police about the Franklins.”
My dad jutted out his chin, ready to argue.
“How about if I tell her about the guy taking photos?” I said. “I’ll hold off on the other thing.”
My dad and Mira looked at each other for a moment.
“Okay,” Mira said and my dad nodded.
* * * *
While my dad and Mira cleaned up after lunch, I went into the living room to call Detective Norma Chiron. She didn’t pick up, so I left a message. I decided not to text Mira’s photos or the license number until I talked to her. She was such a rule follower that I had to be careful not to put anything in writing.
Mira stuck her head in while I was hanging up. “Thank you for lunch. I’m off to the farm.” She smiled. “You coming with me?”
“You should go with her and make sure the Honda Guy isn’t out there,” my dad yelled from the kitchen.
He might’ve just been matchmaking but I decided to follow his advice.
My