Key Lime Pie (16 page)

“As Megan got older, she reminded me of Layla in some ways—Layla after the accident, I mean. She wouldn’t share her feelings, wouldn’t react to things the way you’d expect someone too. It was like, because she had spent so many years trying to be inconspicuous, she didn’t know how to be . . . normal anymore. When she decided to go to Virginia for school, I was optimistic that she was going to make her own way in the world. Seven months later, she was gone.”

“How old was she when she disappeared?” Sadie asked.

“Twenty-two, but it was her first year of college, her first year living away from home. And she’d just broken up with her first boyfriend.” Sadie wondered if he was the boy in the picture she’d seen in the box. Eric kept talking. “She didn’t tell me that she and her roommate, Shay, were going to Key West for spring break. I thought she was staying in Richmond to catch up on some schoolwork. But, honestly, I’d have probably encouraged her to go just because it was the normal thing to do in college.” Sadie wasn’t so sure of that—she hadn’t partied in college, and it certainly hadn’t hurt her. He kept talking. “They’d gone to a club of some kind on Friday, and Megan left early. I don’t think she’d ever been to a bar in her life, so it was probably pretty overwhelming. She told Shay she was going back to the motel. No one saw her after that.”

“No one?” Sadie said.

Eric shook his head. “It was spring break, with thousands of college kids overrunning Key West. Megan had never been one to stand out. By the time Shay dared tell anyone, it had been two full days since she’d seen her. She said she’d kept waiting for Megan to show up, and she didn’t want to tell me or her parents for fear she’d get in trouble for going to Key West in the first place. Because of the delay, we lost precious time. The media didn’t cover the story for very long. Megan was too old to garner the same attention a teenager would get, and there was literally nothing to go on.”

“That’s so horrible,” Sadie said, realizing she’d learned more about Eric in the last five minutes than she had in the three months since she’d met him. She wished there was time to ask more questions—there was a kind of . . . abruptness to the way he told the story, but she was sure that was simply because he had to condense events.

“It has been horrible,” Eric said. “I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

Sadie looked at the freeway ahead of them while trying to think of what she could say next. It all looked so different from Colorado, with unbroken sky and almost as much tropical greenery as there were concrete buildings that rose up on every side.

“I assume the police investigated Shay and the boyfriend?” Sadie asked.

“Extensively,” Eric said with a nod. “In the beginning I was convinced they knew something, but they both agreed to take lie detector tests and passed with flying colors. I honestly believe they told us everything they knew.”

“But there have to be suspects,” Sadie said. Every murder she’d been involved with had suspects. Without someone to look at, there was nowhere to look for answers. “Someone with a secret, a motive that, even if you can’t prove it, is there and slowly unravels the more you pick at it.”

Eric shook his head.

“And there were no other clues?” Sadie said, still wanting suspects. “I mean, did it look like she’d taken anything with her? How much money did she have?”

Eric glanced at her quickly. “You mean, like she left on purpose?” There was no mistaking the edge in his voice. He continued before Sadie could answer. “That’s the police’s favorite theory too, that she was depressed and struggling and just moved on. She wouldn’t have done that. And no, she didn’t take anything with her—nothing.”

“Except the bracelet,” Sadie said quietly.

Eric heard her anyway. He clenched his jaw. “The bracelet, her purse, and the clothes she was wearing,” he clarified, then leaned forward and grabbed the stack of papers he’d thrown on the dash, swerving slightly to the left. Sadie hurried to take the papers from him so he’d get back to driving in a straight line. “She had almost two thousand dollars in a bank account that hasn’t been touched.”

He nodded toward the papers in Sadie’s hands. “There’s a copy of the official police report in there,” he said. “Shay listed everything Megan was wearing, and the police did an extensive search of Megan’s apartment and car, which was in the motel parking lot.”

Sadie thumbed through the papers until she came to one that looked official, with Megan’s name broken into first, middle, and last name, followed by her physical description. Five foot two inches, a hundred and forty pounds, brown hair, blue eyes, no noticeable scars, tattoos, or piercings. She’d been wearing a green tank top, a denim skirt, and sandals, a hemp necklace with a shell on it, and one diamond tennis bracelet.

“Diamond?” Sadie questioned. “It was a diamond bracelet?”

“Kind of,” Eric said. “Cubic zirconium, but still pretty pricey.”

“Maybe someone thought it was real and tried to steal it,” Sadie suggested.

“The police worked that angle,” Eric said, “but it didn’t lead anywhere. Nothing showed up in pawn shops, and now we know why.”

Sadie thought about the body the police had found with the bracelet as she turned to another page. It was full of handwritten notes. She focused on one line. “‘Body moved’?” she read out loud.

Eric nodded. “The grave they found the . . . woman in yesterday was fresh; they’re pretty sure it was moved to that location, but it’s been buried somewhere else for awhile. They don’t know how long exactly, but things . . . break down pretty fast in Florida.”

Sadie nodded, not wanting to get into details. Thinking about decomposition while discussing Eric’s daughter—his Sweetie Pie—made her feel a little ill.

“Maybe Megan sold the bracelet,” Sadie said, leafing through the other papers but not finding anything of interest. “If she had left on her own, and not taken anything, she might have needed the money.”

Eric didn’t answer for a moment so she looked over at him to see him staring straight ahead. Oh yeah, he didn’t like the theory that Megan left on purpose.

“She didn’t say good-bye,” Eric said, his voice stubborn. “Not to me, or Larry, or Shay. If she had planned to leave, she’d have said something, or emptied her bank account, or taken something with her and, quite frankly, even at twenty-two, she struggled to simply get to class on time.”

Sadie paused for a moment, but couldn’t
not
say what she had in her mind. “But you
do
think she’s alive.”

Eric said nothing for several seconds. “She would have contacted me if she could.” There was finality in his tone, and Sadie decided to let it go. It
was
hard to believe Megan would disappear on purpose—or, rather, the better explanation was that Sadie could see why it was hard for
Eric
to believe Megan would disappear on purpose.

“So, where are we going?” Sadie asked after they drove several minutes in silence.

“Miami,” Eric said.

Sadie scowled; she’d been afraid of that. If she’d taken her own car then she could have headed right over to the airport when she was ready to go. But then she wouldn’t have had this time to talk to Eric. Still, she could feel the circumstances pulling her in little by little, and although she was definitely intrigued, she was anxious about getting too involved.

“Why Miami?” she asked. “What’s this meeting all about?”

Eric shifted in his seat, which Sadie chose to interpret as anticipation rather than nerves. “The short answer is that I’ll be able to learn more about where Megan is.”

“And the long answer?”

Eric paused for a few seconds and changed lanes. “Did Mathews tell you how they found the body?”

“No,” Sadie admitted, wishing she’d thought to ask. “He didn’t.”

“They received an anonymous tip,” Eric began. “I guess it would have been Wednesday morning. All the tip said was that there was a woman buried at some GPS coordinates near Redland. Megan disappeared in Key West, which is where the missing person’s case was filed, so there was no immediate connection when the police went out on the tip. When they found the bracelet with the body, though, Mathews immediately thought about Megan. He read up on the case, the forensics team studied the purse found with the body, and then he called me.”

“Okay,” Sadie said. “That explains what the police know, but not why you’re going to this meeting.”

Eric let out a long, tortured breath. “I’m getting to that,” he said. “I didn’t get to Layla’s until early Thursday morning, and I immediately crashed. Around 7:30 that morning I got a call from a man who gave me the same GPS coordinates he claimed to have given the police. He told me that he’d be calling me later with more information, but if I told the police, I’d get nothing.”

“You didn’t tell Mathews?”

Eric shook his head. “I met with him a little while later and, without telling him about the call, was able to verify the GPS coordinates. I was back at Layla’s by ten, and the guy called me at 10:30. He told me the body wasn’t Megan, but that she would lead me to my daughter.”

“She?” Sadie said. “The . . . body?”

“I assume that’s what he meant. I don’t know. He said he had information the police would never find, but that it would cost me ten thousand dollars. If I did as he said, and didn’t tell the police, he’d prove himself reliable. If I
didn’t
do as he said, I’d never see Megan again.”

“That’s why you’re selling the trailer,” Sadie summarized, realizing this was the part where she’d become involved. “That’s when you called me.”

Eric nodded. “I called my neighbor Brian first. We’d taken the trailer hunting together once, and I hoped he’d want to buy it, but he thinks he’s got a lay-off coming up and couldn’t do it, although he offered to show it for me. Then I called you.”

“Why did you need the box?”

“Mathews wanted it,” he said with a shrug. “For things like hair and handwriting samples.”

Sadie took a breath. If he’d told her even that much, she wouldn’t have been as motivated to open the box at all, but he’d kept his reasons to himself, refusing to answer her questions and therefore allowing her mind to run wild.

Let it go,
she told herself. Eric hadn’t earned all the fault she wanted to heap upon his shoulders, and she was staying of her own volition. “Okay, so you started working on getting the money for the information this tipster offered you. And you kept working with Mathews in order to learn everything he knew as well.”

“Yes,” he said with a quick nod, devoid of any shame at working both sides.

“And you didn’t tell Mathews any of this?” Sadie said for clarification.

“No,” he said with an equally quick shake of his head. “Last night, the guy called back. After I assured him I was raising the money and was ready to work with him, he gave me another set of GPS coordinates. They weren’t the same ones where the body had been found, but I could tell it was close by. When Larry came over, I told—”

“Wait,” Sadie said, putting up her hand to halt the conversation for a minute. “I just remembered I was supposed to tell you that Larry came to the police station, but then had to go back to work. Now, in one hundred words or less, explain why Layla lives in Larry’s house if they’re divorced.” They’d been talking about Larry as if Sadie knew everything about him, but she knew very little and needed a bigger picture.

Eric took a moment to collect his thoughts and then sighed. “Larry,” he said as though it was a title for what he would say next. “Larry married Layla shortly after she and I divorced. He made it work for about three years before he threw in the towel, but instead of paying alimony, he purchased the house for Layla and agreed to maintain it. Layla is horrible with money, and this way she’d have somewhere to live for the rest of her life.”

“Okay,” Sadie said. “I should have given you two hundred words. Why did he marry her?”

Eric let out a breath. “Larry, Layla, and I have been friends since high school. He was always around; he’s Megan’s godfather and was pretty angry with me when I left.” He glanced at Sadie quickly before turning his attention back to the road. “A few months after I left, he moved to Homestead, and a few months after that, they were married. He said it was so she could be on his insurance—he worked for the state and had great benefits—and he could take her to some new doctors. Bottom line, he wanted to fix her; it didn’t work. For whatever reason, the nicer he was to Layla, the meaner she was toward him. He finally gave up, just like me.”

“Oh,” Sadie said. She pictured the timeline in her mind. “Was that . . . hard for you when he married her?”

Eric shrugged. “At first, I guess, but he had always been great with Megan, and then he took really good care of Layla—even though he didn’t find any miracle to heal her—so I got over it for the sake of them, and he forgave me for leaving for the same reasons, and we’ve been okay ever since.”

Men!
Sadie thought. How did they deal with things so logically?

“And he works at the Speedway? Is that a grocery store?”

“No,” Eric said, looking at her with genuine surprise. “The Homestead-Miami Speedway. NASCAR?”