“Maybe we go in easy on this,” Tony said, as he followed me through the picket fence and past the Matchbox sales lot. 

“We don’t have enough time for that,” I replied. My thoughts were fully on catching Lorna off guard with a wild allegation, in hopes of busting the necessary information out of her.

Stagnant overgrowth emitted a musty, earthy smell. I hopped the two steps onto the small porch. It gave a creaking protest under my weight. The weathercock announced our arrival with an obnoxious, screeching cry.

Lorna met us at the door in an indulgent terry cloth robe that gave off the scent of freshly cleaned linens. 

“Oh, it’s you,” she said.

As she led us into her fastidiously organized kitchen, the soft fabric swished against the floor like gentle waves lapping the shore of a mountain lake. Sunlight filtered through the windows, casting long shadows that distorted the scene into an ominous Norman Rockwell painting. The woman’s every step tugged us along in the perfumed wake of intoxicating sensuality, an expertly blended marriage of flowers and spice.

“Have a seat,” she said.

“I’ll stand.” Which I did, leaning a shoulder against the door jamb after my friend passed inside.

Tony sneezed.

“Bless you.” Lorna leaned forward to grab a tissue, letting the robe drift partially open. “Here.”

Tony thanked her, his eyes considering her tantalizing curves, as any artist, or detective, worth his salt would do. “I’d say it’s allergy season but that’s obviously not true,” he told her as he settled in for the mini-burlesque show.

Lorna chuckled. “You’re funny. I like funny men.” Her voice held all the depth and richness required of an inamorata.

Tony grinned, apparently enjoying his role as chuckleheaded cop. I knew better, hopeful that his modification on good cop would accelerate rather than hinder the conversation.

“Is your daughter in?” I asked, steeling myself against the flirtatious banter. We’d gone a round with that before, Lorna and I, with me on the mat trying to catch my breath.

“I let her sleep when there’s no school.”

“That’s thoughtful. I was actually looking for Vicky.”

“I stopped keeping tabs on that one years ago.” She turned to the counter. “Would you like some coffee?”

My mouth was open to say, Hell no I’m on a mission, when Tony piped in.

“Sure. That would be great. Nothing like a good cup of joe to get the day rolling.” He winked at me.

“I’ll take mine with no sugar, please,” I said. This woman served everything with sweets and we didn’t have time for that. “Any thoughts on where Vicky might be at this hour? I stopped by earlier and she didn’t seem all that ready to go anywhere.”

“You stopped by?” Lorna asked the cupboard. “She didn’t mention.”

“She didn’t mention that I accused her of abducting Kayla?”

“Damn it!” Lorna hollered as she jumped clear of the counter. The thick robe swung open wide, providing a breathtaking vantage of sensual distraction. In sharp contrast, a puddle of coffee pooled at the edge before dripping onto the floor. Lorna turned to the sink, seemingly oblivious of the immodest display her attire permitted, and grabbed a dish cloth. “Sorry. I spilled. No she didn’t say a thing about you coming by.”

Tony was scowling. “At least wait until I get my coffee,” he mouthed. His level of urgency fell far short of mine.

“Why would you say something like that to her, anyway?” Lorna asked in a tone nearing indifference as she swiveled to hand us the mugs. The movement of air against her exposed skin must have clued her, because she clutched the robe at its front, taking the show into an intermission. “She loves her little sister.”

Her words hit me like a punch in the gut. When Faye revealed that it was Vicky who had delivered Kayla to them for trafficking, I’d generated a partially formed theory about the wounded daughter of a lunatic. This additional idea, that Vicky loved her baby sister and meant to protect her, shaped the impression into a more complete psychological profile. A swirl of schemes about how she might protect her little sister morphed into a new theory. 

Vicky’s true motives had been hidden behind the grudge I held against my mother. I’d assumed we were the same disappointed, angry children begrudgingly putting up with childish parents. Only, Vicky had an additional genetic component, the predisposition for delusional thoughts. 

Shame spread over me like fire, scorching my pride. My nails dug into my palms as a wave of anger surged through me.

My heart twisted into a jumble of stupidity, betrayal and self-blame.

I clamped down on my internal fury. “Does that mean she wouldn’t try to get her away from her father?” I asked.

“By stealing her from me?” Lorna’s finely plucked eyebrows reached for the sky. “Why in God’s green earth would she do that to me?” She clutched the robe tightly across her chest.

“Why, Lorna, would she do that? What could make her steal the child away from family?”

Tony interrupted the flow by saying, “This coffee is surprisingly good, Mrs. Peale. Is it a special blend?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, confused by the question. “What’s that?”

“There’s a resort up the road where I attended an art retreat a couple of years ago. They had coffee this good up there. I can’t recall what it was, though.” 

His technique was extremely disarming. It even put me off. Why he wanted to temper the confusion I hoped to engender defied me. I tried to give him a look of disdain, but his focus stayed with Lorna.

“I’m not sure, actually. Vicky found it somewhere. That could be it. She worked at Wilderness Club Resort for a summer.”

“Well now,” Tony said with an emphatic nod. “That’s got to be it. I have to give it to you, though, you’ve brewed it to perfection.”

Lorna’s confused smile mirrored my personal state of mind. “Thank you?” she said.

“Isn’t the Wilderness owned by a mobster?” I asked. “Seems like that kid, Officer Gerulis’s nephew, Timmy, mentioned it was mob owned.”

“Vicky would never—” Lorna’s abrupt stop indicated she was suddenly recalling contradictory information. “Oh my Lord.”

“I’m pretty sure she killed your husband, Mrs. Peale.” I laid it out in even tones.

Tony rested his cup on the table.

Lorna wobbled, reaching for a chair back. Her eyes took on a glassy shine of quality taxidermy and her body stiffened. As I was questioning the wisdom of my ploy, the robe slid fully open, and her physical exposure shifted from one of carnal exhibition to a display of abject vulnerability. The gape in her mouth emitted a barely discernible, “No, I—” 

Tony had jumped to his feet in an instant and held a hand on her elbow and another around her back. He sat her in the chair, shaping her rigid frame to fit. “Easy does it, Mrs. Peale. Take a deep breath. You can rest your head for a moment.”

She took his advice literally, the stiffness flowing out of her. “It isn’t so, it isn’t so, it isn’t…,” her words trailed away as she rocked her head forward onto the table.

Tony looked at me with uncertainty and mouthed, “Are you sure about this, bro?”

I leaned in closer, making sure he could see my lips. “We need to find this woman,” I mouthed carefully, punctuating my words with a wide-eyed stare and open palms.

“Lorna,” I said, turning a chair around and sitting with my folded arms over the back. 

She lolled her head toward my face.

“There’s something going on with Vicky,” I said. “She’s a very angry young woman. Wherever that anger comes from, it drove her to this. You’ve got to help us find her.”

“There’s no way,” she mumbled.

“There’s a way,” I said. “And it happened.”

Tony kept a hand on her upper back, holding her steady.

“It was so long ago,” she muttered.

“Some things stay stuck inside, building energy until they boil over.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe. It matters what happened.”

“She tried to tell me but I ignored her.”

“She told you she was going to hurt her father?”

“No. She would never.”

“I believe she did.”

“She was angry, but that doesn’t mean she would kill.”

“I think Aidan found out what she’d done with Kayla. I think he confronted her and her rage exploded.”

She laid her head back down. “Oh no, oh no, oh no….”

“We have to find her, Lorna. We don’t know how far this will take her. Where would she go?”

“She might go up there. It’s just the weather. It’s not a good time.”

“Where, Lorna? Where is the weather bad?”

“The two of them used to go, before Aidan got real bad. She might go up there.”

“They had a special place? Her and her dad?”

Lorna lifted her head. “Vicky believed the cave on Ksanka Peak was the location of the Glass Castle her father dreamed of. Only she was wrong. He told me he was buying a piece of land from Hugh Jenkins to build that stupid castle. He wanted me to take him back. To live all together as a family, like the old days.” She began to sob. “I told him, I said I couldn’t.” Her sobs turned into blubbering with barely recognizable words. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, what have I done.”

I shook her by the shoulders. “Where is this, Lorna? Ksanka Peak. She believed Aidan was building his castle up there?”

“Yes. There’s a cave. But she was wrong.”

“How do you get there?”

“I don’t know. Those things didn’t interest me. Aidan was the outdoorsy one.”

“Who does know, Lorna?

“I can’t think.” Her hands covered her face.

I tugged them away. “Someone must know.”

“He didn’t want anyone to know where they went. It was their secret place.” Her eyes cleared for a brief moment and she looked at me. “I think Ollie Gerulis went with them a couple of times when they were younger.”

Tony reassured her while I bolted out of there. He barely made it into the truck before we were rolling. “You’ve got the heart of a 1940s private dick, Connor,” he said.

“You must have really wanted that coffee,” I said, as the Tacoma skidded around a corner in search of Ollie.