“Agreed.” She’d make sure she became invaluable to him. After all, she knew both Lenny and Mike, to say nothing of Meg. “I’ll change and be right with you.” With that, she hurried down the hall to the farthest room and closed the door behind her.
Curious, Kincaid strolled to the other open bedroom door next to Sara’s. Typical boy’s room—maple wagon-wheel bed, dresser and desk, a small television set on a shelf with a Playstation alongside it and a bookcase brimming with paperbacks, comics and all the Harry Potter books. On a stand under the window was an aquarium where two turtles dozed on rocks. Thanks to Aunt Sara, the kid had all the bells and whistles here, if not at home. Small wonder he liked to spend weekends with her.
Kincaid strolled back to the neat living room. He wondered if he’d just made a huge mistake in letting Sara come along. Of course, he’d probably discover in the first interview or two that there really was no missing boy, just some family problems. Still, the fact that Lenny had been suspended from the police department under a cloud of suspicion made Kincaid decide to look into the case before casually dismissing it.
And spending time with the boy’s lovely blond aunt wouldn’t exactly be a hardship.
Meg Nelson looked very little like her sister, Kincaid thought as she opened the front door of a two-story stucco house that badly needed painting, situated on a quiet residential street in Mesa. She was about the same height as Sara, but there the resemblance ended, since even the color of her blond hair was washed-out. She’d managed to pick up about fifty extra pounds, visible even in her loose-fitting dress.
Her pale-blue eyes skimmed over Kincaid, then settled on Sara. “You didn’t say you were bringing someone,” she said, her tone suspicious as she stood blocking the entrance.
“Kincaid’s a specialist in finding lost children,” Sara said.
Her annoyed gaze returned to Kincaid. “Are you a cop? Lenny’s going to be real upset if you called the cops on him, Sara. I mean, he’s an officer himself.”
It would seem that she didn’t know about Lenny’s suspension. Sara jumped in before Kincaid could answer. “We’ve got to find them, Meg, and we can’t do it alone. You do want to get Mike back, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” she snapped, then stepped back. Bristling, she walked over to a gold lounge chair and picked up her needlework.
Irritated with her sister, Sara led the way into the sunny living room. They sat down on the couch opposite Meg.
Kincaid knew he had to placate the frowning woman. “I appreciate your hesitation, Mrs. Nelson, but I assure you that with your cooperation, we have a better chance of finding your son and husband.”
Meg sighed, then seemed to relax fractionally. “What do you want to know?”
“I’d like you to tell me just how this situation developed.”
“Hasn’t Sara told you already?”
“I’d like to hear it from you. After all, you’re the wife and mother.”
Letting out a heavy sigh, Meg began her story, which matched what Sara had told him. As Meg spoke, eyes on her needlework, Kincaid glanced around. The place was clean, but the hardwood floors needed sanding and polishing. The faded Persian rug could almost be labeled shabby, and the old-fashioned furniture had probably been there when her parents had been alive nearly twenty years ago. But there was a huge television set on the opposite wall, and through the archway a state-of-the-art pool table dominated the dining room. His hands itched to pick up a cue stick and try it out. It would seem the Nelsons had a fair number of grown-up toys, but the house and its furnishings seemed neglected. Interesting.
He took a moment to study the woman as she dribbled the facts to him slowly, almost dispassionately. Odd how she was far less emotional than Sara about Mike’s disappearance. She could have been reciting the plot of a book she’d read. Perhaps she didn’t feel her son was in danger.
When Meg finished, she didn’t look up, but drew in a deep, quivery breath and waited.
“Mrs. Nelson, do you feel your son is in imminent danger, even though he’s with his father?” Kincaid asked.
Again Meg glanced at Sara, obviously irritated at the question. “Lenny wouldn’t hurt Mike. That I know.” Her voice had a defensive tone as she went back to her sewing.
“Has Lenny done this before, taken Mike on unexpected trips?”
“Not exactly, but they’ve gone fishing without me.”
Sara watched and listened, wondering why her sister was being so difficult and almost evasive. However, since she’d moved out, she and Meg were no longer close. They never had been really, given nearly a decade’s age difference
Meg looked up, meeting Kincaid’s questioning gaze. “Lenny likes to do things on the spur of the moment. He says life is more fun if you don’t have every minute planned. I’ve always liked that about him. Some people get stuck in ruts, always working, never enjoying life.” She bent to her sewing, but not before sending Sara a sharp look.
Kincaid caught the accusatory glance Meg aimed at her sister. Was there animosity between the two, and what, if anything, did that have to do with the missing boy?
“I understand Lenny left a note. Could we see it?” Kincaid asked.
Meg huffed, but she got up and walked to a small desk in the corner, then came back with the note, which she handed to Sara, not Kincaid.
Sara unfolded the single sheet and held it so that Kincaid could read it, as well.
It was terse and to the point. “Meg—Mike and I decided to go on a little trip. Don’t know how long we’ll be gone. I’ll be in touch. Don’t worry about us. Lenny.”
The handwriting was sloppy and uneven, as if the writer had been in a hurry. “Why do you suppose Lenny didn’t tell you before they left?” Kincaid watched her closely.
Meg’s lips became a thin line, as if she was annoyed. Or was it embarrassed? “Mike had been pestering Lenny to go on a vacation like Disneyland or camping since school let out, even though we don’t have the money for that sort of thing. Maybe Lenny thought it was time for some father-son quality time.”
“I see,” he said, though he didn’t. From what Sara had indicated, Lenny didn’t strike him as father of the year. “So then, you don’t think there’s any reason to be worried about Mike being gone like this? I mean, you did call Sara, expressing concern, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I called her, but I had no idea she’d call in the cops. That wasn’t necessary, not at all.”
“Can we look through Mike’s room, see what he packed, maybe get an idea of where they went?” Kincaid asked.
“No. I’m not having a stranger prowling through my son’s things. Sara already did that.”
Seated on the couch, Kincaid looked at Sara beside him, at a loss over Meg’s cool acceptance of the situation and her almost belligerent attitude in contrast to her sister’s heartfelt plea. Raising his brows, he invited Sara’s response.
Taking her cue, Sara cleared her throat. Maybe she could get through to her sister. “Meg, how are you and Lenny getting along these days?”
Meg looked up, her expression suddenly hostile. “Fine. We have an occasional disagreement. Husbands and wives quarrel now and then, Sara. If you were able to keep a man interested in you long enough to have a real relationship, you’d know that. All you do is work, work, work. And spoil Mike so he sasses me.” She stood, abruptly clutching her needlework as she glared at her sister. “I asked you to help find my son, not to analyze my marriage. And I’m not happy that you brought a stranger, a detective, in on our troubles. I should think you’d remember that you owe me. You owe me plenty.”
Running out of