The Longest Silence. Debra Webb
Tony watched the sway of her hips for a moment before following. “Nice house.”
“Compliments of my first and only husband.”
The entry hall flowed around the staircase on both sides and then into the center of the home where an enormous kitchen sat to the left. On the right was the great room. A leather sofa flanked by upholstered chairs were nestled around the fireplace, the stacked stone soaring upward to collide with the vaulted ceiling. The rear wall of the house was mostly glass and showed the view of the lake. Behind the stairs a dining room separated the kitchen from the great room.
Tony asked, “Divorce?” The sun was just settling down against the water. The view was breathtaking—the one out the window and the one inside.
She smiled. “Heart attack. Seventy-year-old men shouldn’t take Viagra but his fondest wish was to make me happy.”
Tony acknowledged the comment with a nod. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
She reached for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Thank you.”
He waited until she’d lit up before moving to the next question. “How long have you lived in Macon?”
“I moved here when I was eighteen to attend Mercer University.” She took a long drag from her cigarette and blew out a plume of smoke. “Would you like a drink, Agent LeDoux?”
His throat ached at the offer. “No thanks. I’d like to get to those questions I mentioned, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. Please, sit.” She sashayed over to the bar and poured herself a Scotch on the rocks.
Tony’s mouth watered. He looked away and made himself comfortable on the sofa. “Do you know Tiffany Durand?”
Martin curled up on a chair near the wall of glass. The white silk slid all the way to the tops of her thighs. “I don’t really know her, but I see her at a club I visit occasionally.”
“Are you aware she’s missing?”
She gasped. “Are you serious?”
“You haven’t seen the news?”
She made a scoffing sound. “Honey, I haven’t been up long enough to watch the news. I was in a dead sleep until you showed up at my door.”
“She and another freshman from Georgia College, Vickie Parton, haven’t been seen since Friday afternoon.”
Realization dawned in her gray eyes. “I don’t know the Parton girl, but I saw Tiffany at Wild Things a few days ago. Maybe on Wednesday or Thursday.”
“Did she mention a new boyfriend or any plans to go out of town?”
Martin shook her head. “No. She did seem excited though.” She sighed. “Oh dear. I feel terrible about this. Tiffany is such a sweet girl.”
“Do you know a man named Miles?”
“Miles Conway?”
“Does he frequent Wild Things?”
“Occasionally. He’s—” she shrugged “—a little reclusive. He doesn’t get out much.”
“How can I get in touch with Mr. Conway?”
“I think I have his number.” She finished off her Scotch and got up. The brief glimpse of the Brazilian wax job between her legs had Tony glancing at the floor. Martin went back to the bar. She left her glass and returned to her chair with her cell phone. For a half a minute she scanned her contacts. “Here he is. What’s your number and I’ll send you his contact info?”
Tony gave her his number. A fleeting vibration announced he’d received the number. “What does Mr. Conway do for a living?”
She seemed to consider his question. “I really don’t have any idea. I see him from time to time but we’re not really friends, more acquaintances who share an appreciation for the same things.”
Tony didn’t have to ask what those things were. “So Tiffany never mentioned a boyfriend or anyone new in her life?”
Martin moved her head side to side. “Never. She was a little shy when it came to men. Smart girl but very sheltered. I think she came to Wild Things just to prove she had the nerve to step outside her comfort zone.”
Tony could see Tiffany stretching her boundaries exactly that way. She loved life and wanted to experience it to the fullest. Please don’t let that free spirit attitude have gotten her into something dangerous.
“Do you recall anyone at the lounge watching her? Anyone odd who was new to the crowd who hangs out there?”
Again Martin appeared to consider the question. “I’m afraid not. It’s most always the same crowd. I go once or twice a week just to check on things. The owner is a friend of mine.”
“The owner?” Tony asked as if he didn’t know.
“Kenneth. He lives in Atlanta. He and I had a thing back in college.” She smiled as if remembering. “Back then he was too poor for me. I had my sights set on finding a rich old man with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel, as the saying goes.”
Apparently she’d found one.
“You have my number.” Tony stood. “I hope you’ll call me if you remember anything at all that might help with the search for Tiffany.”
“I will, yes.” She stood. “I’ll check with some of the others who frequent the club. If I learn anything at all I’ll be sure to call it in.”
“Call me. You have my number,” Tony countered. “I don’t want any information you find lost in the storm of calls coming into the hotlines.”
“All right. I’ll call you.” Her lips slid into a smile. “Maybe we can have dinner or something.”
He decided not to touch that one. “Thank you, Ms. Martin.”
“Hailey,” she insisted as she walked back to the front door with him. “The pleasure was all mine.”
Tony felt her eyes on his back as he walked through the dusk to his car. A woman as hot and wealthy as Martin wouldn’t generally be caught dead in a place like Wild Things. Drugs? Maybe. Disposable fresh meat? Probably.
His phone vibrated against the console.
Angie.
Maybe if he gave her an update now she wouldn’t be waiting at his door when he got back to his room.
He would call her, and then he intended to find Miles Conway.
Antebellum Inn, Milledgeville
10:30 p.m.
He’d meant to call Angie but he’d gotten distracted and frustrated with trying to find Miles Conway.
As Tony walked past the pool and through the gate his entire body sagged with dread. His sister waited for him on the covered patio that served as a porch for the cottage. The lamp on the table next to her provided all the illumination necessary to get a good look at the devastation on her face.
He exhaled a big breath. “I’m a jerk.”
Funny how he regressed to their teen years whenever he was with his sister. No matter what he’d done in his life—good or bad—she was still the big sister who was older, smarter and cooler than him. And prettier, no matter that she was an emotional wreck right now.
“You couldn’t call? Your phone is dead?”
That her voice rose and then wobbled tore him apart inside. He sat down in the other chair flanking the table. “I’m sorry, Ang. I’ve been tracking down leads from here to Macon. I was so absorbed in my work, I lost all track of time.”
Her lips trembled before they twisted into a sneer. “I can smell how absorbed you were.”