“You did a good deed. That’s for sure,” Lauren said. “But that doesn’t mean you should date him. Didn’t you tell me he’s interested in a woman detective?”

  “Yes. But she may get back together with her ex-husband in Oklahoma.”

  “Okay,” Lauren said slowly. “I’m listening.”

  Gracie continued. “The way Buddy and I have been able to talk since the other night is what I want in a relationship. We have more in common than you might think.”

  “Like what?”

  Gracie hesitated. She’d spoken too quickly. “Uh, we both grew up in Milton County and work with the law.”

  “That’s true,” Lauren said with a nod. “And I can imagine your conversation around the dinner table about the members of the jury pool for the next term of court. You can share stories about the people you each know.”

  Gracie bit her lower lip. They watched the boys in silence for a few moments.

  “But seriously, your heart doesn’t have to explain everything to your brain,” Lauren said. “I hear what you’re saying about communication with Buddy, especially about his new faith. You can ditch all men whose names start with ‘D’ so long as you realize you’re setting yourself up for a huge hurt if Buddy doesn’t share your feelings.”

  “Right now I have no solid reason to believe he does.”

  “But you have hope?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hope isn’t a bad thing,” Lauren said, patting Gracie on the arm. “Buddy Smith may be a smart lawyer, but he’s an idiot if he doesn’t realize you’re the best eligible female in Milton County.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Gracie woke up early Saturday morning. After getting dressed, she inspected herself in the mirror. Trying to look ten years younger might be a common goal for some women, but it had never been part of her mind-set. Her mother didn’t look her age even after having four children, and Gracie relied on genetics, a healthy diet, and exercise to slow the advance of the years. After discussing options with Mayleah, she was wearing a contemporary pair of jeans, a casual top, and sandals. The trickiest part was her hair. Long hair was the sign of the times, and Gracie’s short haircut was an exception. They decided to address it by using a ball cap. She struck a teenage pose in front of the mirror and immediately abandoned it as totally fake. The girls on her team wouldn’t come across like that. Neither would she.

  Gracie, Mayleah, and Buddy had agreed to meet for breakfast at the Crossroads and then take two cars to Atlanta. Buddy was already at the restaurant when Gracie arrived. He saw her and did a double take. Buddy was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and running shoes. There was no sign of Mayleah. Gracie walked over to the table and removed her sunglasses.

  “Our waitress is going to ask for your ID before serving you a glass of orange juice,” Buddy said.

  “I feel silly,” Gracie said, glancing around to see if anyone else who knew her was in the restaurant.

  A woman who worked for a local insurance company saw her and hesitantly raised her hand in greeting. Gracie responded.

  “There’s Nancy Monroe,” Gracie said as she slouched down. “Whose idea was it to meet here?”

  “Mine,” Buddy replied. “I swear you don’t look a day over twenty-one.”

  “Do you think I look old the rest of the time?”

  “No, you don’t look your age. It’s just that—”

  Buddy stopped and stared. Gracie turned in her chair as Mayleah approached. The detective had gone completely Western: boots, jeans, shirt, and hat, with her hair captured in a ponytail. Her makeup captured a youthful appearance.

  “You two are amazing,” Buddy said when Mayleah joined them. “I feel like a chaperone.”

  “That describes your role accurately as far as I’m concerned,” Mayleah responded with a smile.

  They ordered coffee.

  “I talked with Patricia Nichols last night,” Mayleah continued. “There’s a change in plans. We’re going to meet with the dog breeder at five o’clock this afternoon, then go to the apartment complex for a cookout with some of her friends.”

  Gracie felt anxious at the thought of having to be Pixie Carpenter for more than five minutes. “I’m not going to say anything,” she said.

  “Which is the way I’ve set it up with Nichols,” Mayleah said. “She knows you’re shy around new people and understands that’s one reason I’m coming with you today. I suspect in her mind this is a time for her to check us out.”

  Gracie hated the prospect of being evaluated like a piece of meat. The waitress came and took their food orders.

  “Before we do anything else, I want to pray,” Buddy said.

  Gracie knew she shouldn’t be shocked, but it was still so new for Buddy to say something like that. He bowed his head and prayed a short prayer, asking God for help and safety.

  “And success,” Mayleah added after he said the amen.

  While Mayleah and Buddy discussed other aspects of the day, Gracie nibbled her eggs and bacon in silence. She was so completely out of her comfort zone that she didn’t have anything to contribute.

  “You’re being quiet,” Buddy said to her. “What do you think?”

  “That I’d rather be on my way to a softball tournament.”

  “Understood,” Mayleah replied. “But don’t underestimate the power of your innocence. When you feel weak, you’ll come across as vulnerable. If there’s a point at which Nichols wants to talk to you alone, go for it so long as you stay in the same room with me.”

  “I’m not leaving your sight,” Gracie said.

  “And I’ll be close by,” Buddy added. “Cue up a text message, and I’ll be there in seconds.”

  Gracie left to go to the restroom. As soon as she was out of earshot, Buddy turned to Mayleah. “Are you sure Gracie should be going with us? She is really uptight.”

  “I’m concerned about her too,” Mayleah said. “But at this point she’s such a big part of the plan that I don’t see how I could cut her out.”

  “You could tell Nichols that she asked you to pick out a puppy and bring it back,” Buddy suggested.

  “Maybe, but it was clear to me from our communications on social media and my phone calls that she really wants to meet Gracie, not me.”

  “Why?”

  “For whatever reason, she probably sees Gracie as an easier or better target. I’m the one in boots and a hat. Gracie comes across as more innocent and vulnerable.”

  “Which is true.”

  “And has helped sell the story.”

  “I’m not sure Gracie can sell anything.”

  “I’ll talk to her during the drive,” Mayleah said. “She’s not going to have to act. I want her to be herself, only fifteen years younger.”

  “Twenty-year-old Gracie Blaylock wouldn’t have wanted to run away from home in search of adventure in Atlanta.”

  “I’m sure that’s true, but after what you told me about the encounter at the pharmacy, I think Gracie may be the best person to talk to Reagan if we’re able to make contact.”

  “That’s true,” Buddy agreed.

  “Do you have the cash in case we need to show it to Nichols or the dog breeder?”

  “Yes.” Buddy tapped the front pocket of his jeans. “Do you want it now?”

  “Keep it until we see how things unfold.”

  Gracie returned. Most of the food remained on her plate.

  “Finish up,” Mayleah said. “We need to leave soon.”

  “I’m done,” Gracie replied. “No appetite.”

  Gracie and Mayleah rode in silence over the same stretch of road where Gracie prayed fervently when she and Buddy drove to Atlanta. Today she felt dry and empty, which made her wonder if she’d stepped out of the will of God at some point in the process.

  They were barely outside the city limits of Clarksburg when the detective turned to Gracie and asked a question: “Do you remember the first time we ate dinner together at the Southside Grill, and I asked if you’d ever dated Buddy when you were in high school?”

  “Yes, and I told you no. Why?”

  “Because I could really see the two of you as a couple.”

  Gracie was so surprised she didn’t know what to say.

  Mayleah continued, “It crossed my mind when we first met, and that’s why I asked you about him. But once my ex-husband and I started talking again, I told Buddy right away that’s where I wanted to focus my attention. The only date Buddy and I had was to the softball game, and that didn’t really count. Since then we’ve just been working together trying to find Reagan and Elise.”

  For the next twenty miles, Gracie listened to the story of Mayleah’s marriage and the recent changes in Clay’s life. Gracie told Mayleah about David and Missy Whitaker. Unlike Buddy, the detective wasn’t skeptical.

  “That’s encouraging,” she said.

  “I hope it works out for you and Clay,” she said. Then she quickly added, “But not because I’m interested in Buddy.”

  “Thanks. I know you’ll be praying for us.”

  They slowed for a line of cars caused by a traffic accident farther up the road. Buddy was directly behind them.

  “I’ve known for a while that you viewed Buddy as more than a friend,” Mayleah said when they were able to pick up speed. “Whenever his name came up in conversation you gave it away.”

  “My mom says I’m an open book,” Gracie sighed. “I guess I’d rather have an honest face than a lying one. Do you think Buddy is interested in me?”

  “He respects you, but I’m not sure if there’s anything else there. You’re friends with his mother, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, and she’s dropped hints that she would like to see us together.”

  “If she’s said that to you, I bet she’s done the same thing with Buddy.”

  Thinking about Beatrice as her champion encouraged Gracie. “I already love his mother,” she said.

  Airing out the situation with Buddy caused Gracie to relax and realize how uptight she’d been at times around Mayleah. She told Mayleah about the shift.

  “I wish we’d talked about this earlier,” Mayleah said with a smile. “Even though we’re trying to be young today, we’re too old for that sort of stuff.”

  On Saturday morning it was slightly over a two-hour drive to the east side of Atlanta where the apartment complex was located. Shortly after 10:30 a.m. they exited the interstate onto a four-lane highway with a lot of residential and commercial development. It wasn’t a part of the city familiar to Buddy. They then passed neighborhoods of smaller homes built in the 1950s, which now commanded prices that would have shocked the original owners. Mayleah slowed and turned into the apartment property. There were ten two-story buildings that didn’t appear to be modernized. Buddy guessed there were at least twenty apartments in each building. It was the kind of development his father would have loved—buy it cheap, do minimal repairs, and collect rent. They passed the common area with park benches surrounding the green space. Buddy recognized it from the pictures Mayleah took. There were people with their dogs enjoying the morning but no sign of Patricia Nichols or her little white dog. Mayleah parked her car, and Buddy pulled in beside her. They got out to stretch.

  “You can’t see the building where Nichols lives or hangs out from here,” Mayleah said.

  The parking lot was filled with a wide range of cars and trucks, from old and worn-out to brand-new and expensive.

  “Let’s get in position so we can watch the apartment and see who comes and goes,” Mayleah continued. “It would be great if we could intercept Reagan without having to go to the dog breeder.”

  “What if I’ve decided that I want a dog?” Buddy asked. “Gracie doesn’t need one, but now that I have the money in my pocket, it feels like I’ve already paid for it.”

  “Everyone needs a dog,” Gracie replied with a smile. “They make life richer in so many ways.”

  “Or a parrot,” Buddy answered. “I haven’t made up my mind.”

  “Listening to the two of you has made my first decision easier,” Mayleah said. “You two sit in Buddy’s car and talk about dogs and parrots. I’ll be in mine.”

  They took up positions so they could observe the building linked to Nichols while Mayleah conducted surveillance. Buddy and Gracie were closer, with Mayleah in a spot where she could easily follow anyone who left. Gracie and Mayleah decided to make a quick trip to the apartment complex clubhouse to find a restroom.

  “People on a stakeout never have to go to the restroom in the movies,” Buddy said.

  “You can pretend you’re in a movie if you want to,” Gracie said. “This is real life for me.”

  Buddy reclined his seat so he could relax. Gracie returned and slipped into the passenger seat. Buddy had brought several bottles of water and offered her one.

  “Thanks,” she said, unscrewing the top.

  “What did you and Mayleah talk about during the drive?” he asked.

  Before Gracie answered, someone came out of Nichols’s apartment. It was a blond-haired young woman wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Buddy sat up. The woman leaned against a metal railing and looked up and down the parking lot.

  “Look!” Buddy said.

  Gracie leaned forward. “She’s not the woman we saw at the pharmacy, but it looks like she’s waiting for someone to arrive.”

  Buddy’s cell phone vibrated. It was Mayleah. “Is that the woman from the pharmacy?” the detective asked.

  Buddy put the phone on speaker. “Gracie says no,” he said.

  The woman turned sideways. She was clearly heavier than the blonde they’d encountered earlier in the week.

  “And she’s right,” Buddy added. “It’s not her.”

  Leaving the call open, they watched in silence for a few moments. A white van drove past and backed into a parking spot across from the apartment building. Seconds later four young women and a young man got out. The girl on the landing waved to them. The girls from the van moved together in a tight group, making it hard for Buddy to distinguish among them. They separated as they approached the stairway leading up to the landing.

  “That’s her!” Gracie said excitedly. “The girl from the pharmacy is the last in line!”

  “Are you sure?” Mayleah asked.

  “Yes,” Buddy said. “It’s her. No doubt.”

  They watched as the group climbed the stairs.

  “Does it look to you like the girls in front are moving slowly and having to be pushed along?” he asked.

  “Maybe,” Gracie replied.

  The group reached the top of the landing and, with the man leading them, entered the apartment. The door closed behind them.

  “Did they go into the apartment?” Mayleah asked. “I can’t tell from where I’m parked.”

  “Yes,” Buddy replied.

  “Then we’re in the right spot at the correct time,” Mayleah said.

  When nothing happened for several minutes, Buddy decided it was his turn to go to the clubhouse for a bathroom break.

  Gracie adjusted the rearview mirror so she could check her makeup. Her attempt at eternal youth would definitely require a significant touch-up before late in the afternoon. She turned the air-conditioning vent so that it didn’t blow directly in her face. The outside temperature was in the eighties and would reach ninety by midafternoon. The arrival of the girls had given her an excuse not to answer Buddy’s question about what she and Mayleah discussed during the drive to Atlanta. He returned to the car.

  “Did I miss anything?” he asked, sliding in behind the wheel.

  “No. Do you want to listen to a podcast? Mayleah told me about one on the way down that I think you’ll like.”

  Several uneventful hours passed. Breakfast seemed as distant as the Milton County line, and Buddy was hungry. Gracie had stepped over to spend a few minutes with Mayleah, leaving him alone. Normally, Buddy didn’t mind sitting in his car, but after several hours he was uncomfortable. He opened the glove box, hoping to find a spare energy bar tucked away in a corner. No luck. He closed the lid and glanced out the windshield. Two women and a man were descending the stairs. Buddy didn’t know which apartment they came from. He quickly phoned Mayleah.

  “Are you watching the people who just came down the steps?” he asked.

  “Yes, one of them is Patricia Nichols.”

  The group got in a black car and backed out of the parking spot.

  “Gracie needs to get over here,” Buddy said.

  “No time,” Mayleah responded. “We’re going to follow the car and see where she goes.”

  The black car passed. Buddy stepped on the gas and shot out of the parking space faster than he wanted. Concerned he might have attracted attention, he slammed on the brakes.

  “What’s wrong?” Mayleah asked through the still-open phone call.

  “I’ve been sitting here so long I forgot how to drive. Do you want me to be in the lead or follow up?”

  “You stay close to Nichols until we’re on a major street, then I’ll pass you.”

  They turned left out of the apartment complex in the direction of downtown Atlanta, which was about fifteen miles away. Within a half mile Buddy ran through two orange lights that then turned red as Mayleah passed beneath them. They turned onto a different four-lane road.

  “I’m coming around you now,” the detective said.

  “Good. That was a bad sequence of lights.”

  Buddy slowed as Mayleah passed him. It was interesting to see how Mayleah tailed the vehicle. She didn’t stay directly behind it but drove to the side, seemingly without trying to block any car from getting between them. However, when two vehicles tried to squeeze in, she smoothly prevented it. They entered an aging industrial zone interspersed with self-service laundries, fast-food restaurants, pawnshops, and other low-rent commercial businesses. The Nichols vehicle slowed and turned into the parking lot for a large commercial building with neon signs not currently lit up. At this time of day, the lot was empty. It was a strip club.

  Mayleah continued past the building and turned into a convenience store lot. She parked in front of the gas pumps so that her car faced the roadway with a clear view of the club. The Nichols car was behind the building and out of sight. Buddy pulled in beside Mayleah. Turning off the engine, he got out and joined the two women. Gracie had a tissue in her right hand. Buddy slipped into the rear seat.