Table For Five. Susan Wiggs
Another pause. Sean could hear the tap of a keyboard. “Do either of them have any type of medical problem or impairment that—”
“I answered all this before,” Sean said, fighting to keep his voice down. “They’re both in perfect health, sound of mind and body. Which is why it’s completely unlike them to disappear.”
“Sir, at this time, it’s not an emergent situation and we can’t give it airtime or attempt to locate missing adults.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re never missing,” the cop said wryly. “I’ll put the info out on the city channel for now.”
“What’s that?”
“Dispatchers’ network.”
“There are three children involved,” Sean reminded him. “Do you have that in your notes?”
“Are they in any danger?” the cop asked.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Then I can’t—” There was a pause on the line. “Is your brother Derek Holloway, the golfer?”
Celebrity had its perks, Sean thought. “The very same.”
“Well, we can’t do an attempt-to-locate at this time, but I’ll send someone out,” said Henley. “What’s the address?”
Sean looked up at Lily. “Address?” he mouthed.
She handed him an envelope from the pile of mail on the table.
Good thinking. At least one of them could still think. He read the address into the phone.
“Someone will be right out,” he reported to Lily after he hung up.
“When?”
“He said right away. I assume that means immediately.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
Sean felt a tic leap in his jaw. “Look, right away means right away. Like now.”
“You don’t have to snap at me.”
“I didn’t snap at you.”
“Yes, you did. And you’re still doing it.”
“Hey, I don’t need a scolding here.”
“I wasn’t scolding.” She sniffed. “I just don’t like being snapped at.”
“I didn’t—” Sean forced himself to stop. It was idiotic, bickering with this woman while Derek was God-knows-where. “Okay,” he said, getting up to pace some more. “All right, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”
She turned to the sink and started rinsing the dishes. “I’m every bit as worried as you are, Mr. Maguire.”
“Sean. Call me Sean.”
She opened the dishwasher and rolled out the rack. “Why should I do that?”
“Because I’m sure as hell not going to call you Miss Robinson, Lily.”
She pivoted away sharply and began to load the dishwasher. He checked messages on his cell phone, finding nothing new there. Lily lined up the plates in the rack and separated the silverware into baskets according to category—all the forks in one, the spoons in another. She was stymied by a spatula until she laid it carefully in the top rack. Then she put in the glasses, upending each one according to height. Finally she picked up the box of soap powder and appeared to be reading the directions.
“You need some help with that?” he asked, putting away his phone.
“No. It’s just that I’ve never used this brand before. It says ‘super concentrated’ so I think I might need less. Ah, here we go. Two ounces for the normal cycle.” She opened a drawer and rummaged around inside it. “Now, two ounces. I believe that’s the equivalent of two level tablespoons….”
Sean couldn’t help it. He snatched the box of detergent from her, dumped some of it into the trap until it overflowed, then snapped the thing shut. Finally, he closed the dishwasher and gave the knob a twist until he heard the shudder of running water.
When he straightened up, he saw her staring at him as though he’d crossed some line with her. Hell, maybe he had.
He spied a stray coffee mug on the counter. Its rim bore a half moon of lipstick. Without taking his eyes off her, he opened the dishwasher and stuck it in haphazardly, then shut the machine again, pushing the door with his hip.
“There,” he said. “That’s done.”
“Thank you,” she said faintly.
“I guess I could take out the trash,” he said, gesturing at the overflowing receptacle.
“I believe the cans are in the garage. You’ll want to make sure the lid’s on tight to discourage raccoons.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with exaggerated courtesy. He picked up the kitchen garbage and headed out the back door. When he turned to close it, he saw Lily Robinson open the dishwasher and carefully put the coffee mug in its proper place.
chapter 10
Friday
9:25 p.m.
In a way, thought Lily, Sean Maguire was a blessing. He was so incredibly obnoxious that he distracted her from worrying herself to the point of despair. So she supposed he was good for something.
When he came in from taking out the trash, she didn’t acknowledge him. She was busy clearing off the countertops in order to give them a good cleaning.
It wasn’t like this was a social situation, anyway, she thought, feeling unaccountably defensive. They wouldn’t have a thing to do with each other if not for the bizarre situation they found themselves in.
“I’m going to go check on Cameron,” he said.
“That’s probably a good idea.” She set down the bottle of Windex. “So how worried is he?”
“Plenty. It’s completely unlike Derek to just take off without explanation.”
“Crystal would never do that, either.”
“Oh, no?” He lifted one eyebrow. “She left them overnight at Derek’s two weeks ago.”
“That’s different. She missed a flight and she was completely in touch by phone the whole time. Listen, Crystal’s my best friend. I’ve known her since I was Charlie’s age. She’s a good mother, and I’m sure there’s an explanation for whatever’s going on.”
He studied her hard, with a blue-eyed gaze that probed almost insultingly. “Have we met before?”
She went back to cleaning the countertops. “Why do you ask?”
“You seem familiar to me.”
She finished the counter and moved on to the range top. She found plenty of spattered grease to attack there. Crystal had never been the world’s greatest housekeeper. When she was married to Derek, it hadn’t mattered because they employed full-time help. Now Crystal was on her own.
“We were both in their wedding,” she told Sean.
“Oh.” He looked blank.
“Sixteen years ago,” she reminded him. “I was just a kid,” she added. “You wouldn’t remember me.”
He snapped his fingers. “As a matter of fact, I do. I made fun of your glasses and braces. ‘When do train tracks have four eyes?’ Remember? I thought that was so hilarious.”
She scrubbed furiously around a knob. “You were a real charmer.”
“I was a punk,” he said easily. “You should