Dylan

I AWOKE EARLY the next morning and stared at my phone for a good fifteen minutes before making the call I’d been dreading since yesterday. It was way too early to call him, but in Lakeview, news traveled like a raging STD. Last night Molly had probably called one of my cousins, who called their parents, who called my dad, who was sleeping off a hangover before he dragged himself out of bed and drove over to harass me for not telling him I was coming.

He answered on the fourth ring, sounding hung-over and irritated. I didn’t feel the least bit guilty about waking him up.

“’Mornin’, Dad,” I said, forcing a smile into my voice.

“Oh, hey, sweetie. I heard you were in town. Are you on your way over?”

“No.” I swallowed, wondering why my throat was so dry. I reached for the plastic cup sitting on my nightstand, but stopped just shy of downing the last sip of wine before breakfast. I would not let Dad or this town turn me into his clone. Disgusted with my momentary lapse in willpower, I plunged ahead. “We’re not going to be here long and we have a packed schedule, and—”

“Why are you at the new motel? You should have stayed at the house.”

No, we shouldn’t have, and for so many reasons. “It was late, and Addie’s with me, and we didn’t want to put you out. Since we’re here to investigate we’re gonna be coming and going pretty irregularly and—” And Grade A Bullshit kept spewing from my mouth.

“Your room is exactly as you left it, but I’ll get the bedding all washed and ready and you can stay here tonight. I’ll call the family and we’ll put together a barbecue. Dakota will be so excited to hear you’re back. He keeps asking about you and I’ve been telling him you’re—”

“Whoa there,” I said, knowing I had to put the kibosh on his rambling before he came for my suitcases. “Addie and I are staying in the motel. We are here to work, Dad. No barbecue. And for the love of all that is holy, please do not tell Dakota I’m here to see him.”

“He’s never gotten over you, Dylan.”

I resisted the urge to bash my head against the wall, but only barely. “I have to get to work, Dad. I’ll talk to you later,” I said before disconnecting. I hadn’t seen my father in a couple of years, but I still wasn’t ready to play nice. I knew I’d have to see him before I left town, but planned on keeping that visit as short and sweet as possible.

While Addison slept, I took advantage of the motel’s free breakfast and grabbed a cup of awful black coffee. Then I made some phone calls and jotted down notes about who all we needed to see at the nursing home. By the time Addison joined the land of the living, I had a full-fledged plan for finding our jewelry thief and getting the hell out of Dodge. We got Addison fed and caffeinated, and then we were on our way.

At Addison’s insistence, I drove her through the town, showing her the Chinese restaurant I’d taken my first job in, the community swimming pool where I’d spent the majority of my summers, and the old ballet studio my mom used to take me to for lessons.

“I still can’t believe you were in ballet,” Addison said, giggling.

“Yeah, Mom was bound and determined to make me into her little dancing princess. You should have seen the pink, ruffled dresses she used to put me in.” It had been fifteen years since my mom’s death, and I expected thinking about her to hurt—like it always had—but it didn’t. Instead, I felt numb inside.

“The Polar Bear?” Addison asked, pointing at a little ice cream shop.

More memories flooded me. “My little league team used to go there for treats after games. Whenever we won, the coach would even buy dip sticks and cookie dough cones for everyone.” I stared at the spot I used to stand in, usually alone, while the rest of my team crowded around the tables. It had felt like miles between us, but the entire area couldn’t have been more than ten feet.

“Is it how you remember it?” Addison asked, watching me. “The town, I mean.”

“It’s smaller. Everything is: the buildings, the mountains, the streets, even the sky seems smaller than I remember. The prison is new, but I guess they had to put in something after the sawmills all went belly up. A few of the buildings have different names on them, but for the most part it’s the same.” I shook my head, knowing I wasn’t being entirely truthful. “It feels different, though. Unreal. I have these memories, but they feel like they happened to someone else. Like it was in a movie I watched or some game I played.”

I cut the stroll down memory lane short and headed for the nursing home. We crossed over another new set of train tracks, parked, and went in where we were greeted by none other than Brandy Standke. Of course my old nemesis would be employed at the very place Addison and I needed to go to solve this damn case—because that’s how the universe works—but seeing Brandy didn’t bother me like I thought it would.

Her hips had gotten a little wider (probably from cracking people’s hopes and dreams with her bare thighs), and her boobs were much bigger (because why, universe, why?). I mean seriously, she already had flawless skin and silky brown hair, why did her boobs have to inflate as well? Her bigger and better double-Ds were showcased in pink camouflage scrubs and accentuated by the condescending sneer I’d often fantasized about punching off her face. But my hand no longer ached to rearrange her cute little button nose.

Brandy stood in the entryway with her hands on her hips like she’d been waiting for me, which she probably had. “Dylan James,” she spat. “Carol mentioned you’d be in this morning to interview a couple of my clients. What are you now, some kind of rent-a-cop?”

Addison tensed up beside me. I put a hand on her shoulder and beamed a smile at Brandy, surprised by how authentic it felt. “Addie, this is Brandy. Brandy...you became a nurse. That’s so great.” I honestly couldn’t reconcile the Brandy in my memories with the woman in front of me who went to school to help people, but maybe she’d changed? I sure had.

Brandy eyed me like she was waiting for the punchline, but I only smiled wider.

“Brandy?” Addison looked at me, and understanding ignited in her eyes. She turned to take in my old nemesis and her eyes narrowed.

Before Addison could unleash her rage and possibly ruin our chances of seeing the women we needed to interview in order to solve the case and go home, I stepped between them and pulled out my badge.

“Addison and I are private investigators and we’re here to interview Mrs. Rogers, Ms. Samuelson, Ms. Long, and Grandma about the thefts.”

Brandy eyed my badge before turning toward Addison, who dutifully showed hers as well.

“We may need to interview some of the staff as well,” Addison said, still glaring. “If you could get us a list of who was on duty when the jewelry disappeared, that’d be most helpful.”

Brandy gave a curt nod before turning on her heel. “Right this way, please.”

The nursing home had been recently renovated, so the smell of fresh paint mingled with old-people fragrance and hospital-grade cleaner. Brandy escorted us under an archway—which was new—through a common area with a piano, and then past several more rooms before stopping to knock on a door. A strained female voice bid us to come in, and Brandy opened the door and peeked her head in.

“Hello, Mrs. Rogers, you have guests. Are you decent?”

“Depends,” she responded. “Is it a man or a woman?”

“Ah, it’s two women,” Brandy said.

“Well, damn it! I’m gonna have to put on panties now.”

I glanced at Addison, who appeared to be attempting not to laugh.

“Mrs. Rogers, why wouldn’t you have panties on to begin with?” Brandy asked, still peeking in the partially closed door.

“Not that it’s any of your business, young lady, but I was hopin’ to get lucky.”

Shaking her head, Brandy stepped into the room. She was inside for a few minutes before calling, “You can come in now.”

“If that old lady is naked, I’m going to hurl,” Addison whispered.

“You’re not interested in seeing how far your boobs will hang down when you’re her age?”

“Hello, Pot,” she said.

“I’m at least a cup size smaller than you.”

“And you’re a really bad liar,” Addison retorted.

Mrs. Rogers sat in a chair beside her bed reading a book and wearing a floral print moomoo. With her glasses perched on the tip of her nose, she was bent over the pages, her lips moving as she read.

“Have fun,” Brandy said as she walked past us and back into the hall.

Fun, right. Only Mrs. Rogers didn’t appear to be aware of our presence. I found this strange considering she’d just carried on a seemingly coherent conversation with Brandy seconds before.

I cleared my throat, but she didn’t look up. “Hello, Mrs. Rogers,” I said.

Still no response.

Addison rolled her eyes. “We don’t have all day, Dylan. I need to go find some Wrangler butts and more coffee.”

“Mrs. Rogers,” I said louder.

Addison stomped hard on the floor, clapping her hands.

Mrs. Rogers startled and then looked up at us. “Oh, hello there. I didn’t hear you come in. It’s a bit early for lunch orders, isn’t it? Oh well, I’ll take a pastrami sandwich on rye with a pickle, and be sure you slather enough mayo on there to soften the bread up good. My chompers ain’t what they used to be.” She pointed to the teeth sitting in a cup of liquid on top of the counter.

Addison’s eyes bugged out.

I stifled a laugh and drew closer to the elderly woman. “I see that, but we’re not here from the kitchen. We came to talk to you about the thefts.”

“The thefts?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am. I’m Dylan James and this is my partner Addison Allen. We’re private investigators. My dad said you were recently burglarized and some jewelry was stolen. Can you tell us more about that?”

She set her book down on the nightstand. I made the mistake of glancing at the cover, which showed some scantily clad couple bending uncomfortably over a rock formation as they made out in the wilderness. We were in my home town, but clearly this was someone Addison could relate better to. I took a step back and motioned my friend forward.

“I don’t have any jewelry, hon.” Mrs. Rogers eyed her hand longingly. “I used to wear a wedding ring, but I came down with the gout a few years back and my hands swelled up somethin’ fierce. The doc had to cut it off.”

“So you didn’t have any jewelry stolen recently?” Addison asked, looking over the notes I’d taken this morning. The tightness around her mouth told me her patience was wearing thin. “A necklace, maybe?”

Mrs. Rogers’s hand went to her breastbone and her eyes turned sorrowful. “I forgot all about that old thing. It was a cameo...came from my momma, passed down from her momma. The thing’s been in my family for years. I didn’t have any daughters to pass it down to, just a son, and I don’t much care for his wife. No granddaughters either. But my first great-granddaughter is due any day now, and my momma’s necklace has gone missing. I never take it off, so I don’t know what could have happened to it.”

Addison’s expression softened as she listened to the tale. “Can we help you search for it?” she asked.

Mrs. Rogers shrugged, looking helpless. “I don’t know what good it will do, hon. I threw such a fit when it first disappeared that the entire staff was in here turning the place upside down. No luck.”

“Do you think someone stole it?” I asked.

“That’s what one of the nurses asked. She said jewelry has been coming up missing lately. She had me file a police report, but these cops don’t do a dang thing but sit up at Jerry’s, drinking coffee.”

“Jerry’s?” Addison asked.

“The restaurant next to Safeway. It’s been closed for a few years now,” I replied.

“I’m sure those lazy good-for-nothings have found a new watering hole,” Mrs. Rogers grumbled.

I was shocked by her indignant behavior, but Addison giggled. “Forget those cops,” she said, pulling a small notebook and pen from her purse. “We’re gonna figure out who took your necklace and get it back to you, Mrs. Rogers. Now, can you tell us who all was in your room on the day it disappeared?”

“Oh, hon, I can barely remember what I ate for breakfast,” Mrs. Rogers admitted. “But there was a gentleman here to look at the swamp cooler that day. I remember on account of him being a real looker.”

“Did you get his name?” I asked.

“I was far too busy inspecting what his jeans did to his rear end every time he bent over. I ain’t never seen a butt that tight before.”

I covered my face and turned away, unable to handle the situation. Thankfully, I had Addison. She stepped up to the plate and said, “So...nice firm butt. What else can you tell me about him?”

We got the details about the blond cowboy wearing a wife-beater, jeans, and boots, who tinkered with the AC unit and took off.

“He wasn’t close enough to touch you?” I asked, wondering how anyone could have gotten the necklace off her without her noticing.

“Are you kidding me?” she asked. “Think I’d let a young buck like that come into my room and not ask him for a little shoulder massage? Shoot, I haven’t worn underwear in days, just waiting for him to come back.”

That was about all I could handle. I thanked Mrs. Rogers for her time and headed out, dragging the giggling Addison behind me.

“Ohmigod,” I said once we were out of earshot.

“Right?” Addison asked. “I totally want to be her when I get old. I can’t wait to see who we get to interview next!”

I sighed, knowing this was gonna be a long day. “Let’s head to Grandma’s room. I think I’ll let you take the lead on this, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Addison assured me. “I got your back.”

I grimaced. “Thanks, buddy.”