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  “Still.” I shook my head. “Now I’m aware her husband hasn’t seen her for four days, I feel sort of responsible for not throwing myself on the hood of the car and rescuing her. What if I witnessed her abduction, and all I was worried about was my dress?”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Val leaned over and patted my knee. “She’s probably sowing some wild oats or something. It’s no secret her marriage isn’t the best.” Val let out a little sigh. “I love Carol—y’all know I do—but she adores attention of any kind. Like the time we had Melanie’s birthday party and she threw a hissy fit because of the lack of vegetarian options.”

  “Carol’s a vegetarian?” Amelia refilled her glass. “She never said anything to me. I had her and the judge over last week, and she ate meatloaf with us without saying a single word.”

  “She isn’t.” Val rolled her eyes. “She went on a fad diet, hoping to lose fifteen pounds in a week. It lasted three days, if I recall correctly.”

  “Well, I’m concerned, y’all. It isn’t like Carol to run off. And even if she’s having an affair, like Val suggests, she wouldn’t miss tonight’s meeting. She loves our book club,” I said.

  “I agree with Lyla.” Amelia nodded. “And I bet if Melanie were here, she would too.”

  Melanie would. Amelia was right.

  “I’m sure she’ll turn up.” Patsy shifted in her seat, looking uncomfortable. “Speaking of Melanie, when does she get back?”

  “Tonight, I think. She’s having a great time. She read our club pick on a sandy white beach. She said it really added to the experience.”

  “I bet it did.” Patsy’s head bobbed up and down.

  “She said it was a perfect trip with the exception that the airline lost her luggage during a connecting flight.”

  Everyone appeared horrified. That was a traveler’s worst nightmare. I hoped they’d recovered it because that suitcase contained my belongings. Money wasn’t flowing for me at the moment, and with my car in the shop, I couldn’t afford new clothes. I hated to ask Mother and Daddy for another loan. I’d already had to raid my old closet.

  “I think I saw something about that on Facebook. But on a positive note, she’ll have an excuse to buy a whole new wardrobe.” Patsy grinned, and I could tell she really wanted to lighten the mood and move on to our club’s pick.

  I didn’t want to upset my friends further, but something needed to be done. “Back to Carol. I’m unable to shake this bad feeling. She didn’t seem—I don’t know—right to me.”

  “Well, I, for one, think she’s fine.” Patsy crossed her legs. “And since Lyla insists on discussing this as if it were a real case, allow me to reference all the cases we’ve studied where the person was reported missing only for it to be discovered they were never really missing in the first place. They simply didn’t want to be found.”

  I let Patsy’s reference sink in for a moment. Carol and I were friends, but I supposed that’d only been a recent development—the closeness anyway. Since she’d joined the Jane Does. If she needed to get away, wouldn’t she have felt comfortable confiding in me? I didn’t know.

  “But remember the docuseries we watched last month? The one where foul play was involved on murder mountain and the police didn’t have the manpower or the cooperation of the civilians? It took a few of the neighbors to speak up for them to get anywhere,” Amelia pointed out.

  “Yeah, I’m with Amelia. I can’t shake the uneasiness about the situation. And if y’all had seen her, you’d understand.

  “To be on the safe side, I’ll call her and get to the bottom of things.” Val twisted her long black hair up in a bun.

  Unusual silence filled the space. The tension in the room was palpable. I didn’t want to point out, for the second time, that Carol had left her phone behind.

  Do y’all want to put a pin in this month’s discussion? To wait on Carol, Val offered.

  Patsy made a pouty face. “How about we just postpone it till next week. We could still vote on the next read. I’m eager to dig into a new story, even if this one left me with a little bit of a book hangover.”

  “Sounds good to me.” I stretched my neck. Patsy was right about the book hangover. Mysteries didn’t get any better than the ones penned from the queen of mystery herself.

  Amelia chewed on her bottom lip. “Um, you guys don’t think this has something to do with the e-mail Carol sent?”

  “What e-mail?” Glances were exchanged around the room.

  “You mean, none of you guys have read it yet? I thought it would be part of this meeting’s discussion. That Carol herself would lead it. She mentioned to me that she’d be e-mailing me and asked me to print it for the group. She, um, didn’t want the judge to see it.”

  Everyone began digging through their bags for their phone.

  “I’ve kind of had my hands full with the twins, so I haven’t.”

  Amelia pulled a folder from her bag, and I sat forward. “Now I’m concerned. At first I thought she didn’t want to involve her husband because he made fun of our club and didn’t care for her interest in crime.” She let out a loud sigh. “In hindsight,” Amelia gripped the papers, “she wasn’t quite herself. She’d had several glasses of wine—more than usual—and to Val’s point regarding their marriage, she and the judge didn’t seem to be on the best terms. He kept making snide remarks during dinner.”

  “Like what?” Patsy scooted closer to Amelia.

  “I shouldn’t be gossiping.” Amelia covered her face with her hands.

  “You’re not. We’re all friends. Carol would tell us herself if she were here,” Patsy encouraged, and it was the truth. “And now I feel bad. I want to help her too.”

  Carol shared everything, even things we would rather she didn’t.

  Amelia dropped her hands. “Okay, but I’m only confiding in the group because I agree with you—she’d tell you guys herself. I mean, she cc’d all of us on this e-mail.”

  Everyone nodded as if to say, “Go on.” I scanned the terse e-mail that read, I think I know who this Jane Doe is. There were links to a Facebook page and attachments.

  “A lot happened at my house. She was already in a bad mood because the judge scolded her during dinner, saying she was a poor example of what a Southern lady ought to be. And he used finger quotes when he said ‘lady.’”

  We each sucked in a breath.

  Poor Carol.

  “Appalling is what it was, though I think he was joking. I mean, he laughed and all.”

  “How on this earth can Carol stand him? I understand he’s accustomed to everyone bowing to his whims in his courtroom, but rudeness like that is inexcusable.” Patsy shook her head with wide eyes. “What else did he say?”

  “He peppered in his digs throughout the meal. Called her ‘the mouth of the South’ and said that’d she’d make a whore blush with her language. Things like that. We were so uncomfortable.”

  We all nodded sympathetically. Maybe Carol just needed some time. Especially having to deal with that jerk day in and day out.

  “David’s all talk. Carol knows that. Not that I’m happy about him defaming her character in such a manner.” Val sipped from her glass, looking irritated. “He thinks he’s a big shot. And he’s merely a small-time court judge in our little ole town. Carol gives it right back. She does have a mouth on her, not to mention she’s stubborn when she gets something in her head.” Val sounded as if she more than approved of Carol’s ability to hold her own.

  Carol did get a little loose-lipped when she’d had a few. Still, that gave him no right to berate her in such a fashion. And I had to agree with Val on one point: the man did seem to think too much of himself.

  “Oddly, now that I think about it, I might’ve been more upset about it than she was. Carol rolled her eyes at him but didn’t seem all that bothered. I asked her if she was okay later, when we were alone, and she said he was an idiot. Nothing he said mattered to her anymore. But why I’m really worried is what’s in this e-
mail.” She took a breath. “Here—the copies will make it easier to read.”

  With her dark brows furrowed, she handed out stapled printouts entitled “Do You Know This Jane Doe?” Everyone sat up straighter after digesting the material.

  The article was compelling, describing a woman with long, spiraled black hair swept away from her dark face, and it gave a figurative account of her last day. The writer did a splendid job of humanizing the Jane Doe, whose identity had been stripped away by years of exposure to nature’s elements. There were three other similar articles, and by the end, I was both intrigued and shaken.

  “All these bodies were located up I-85.” I was aghast as I thumbed through the papers.

  Amelia nodded. “And there are about thirty Jane Doe cases to date that have gone cold. They call the area that runs along the interstate, mostly near the northern tip of the state, the dumping grounds. Carol said she recognized something linked to this one.” She pointed to the case that described the woman with spiraled hair.

  “We should definitely look into this,” I said. “If Carol knew the Jane, maybe we all do. Or those of us who grew up here.”

  “I don’t like this one bit.” Patsy flipped through the pages. Her face paled.

  Val’s wide-eyed gaze roamed the room. “It’s one thing when we’re reading a mystery or watching those docuseries about cold cases. It’s a whole other thing when it’s right here in our backyard.”

  We all nodded.

  “True, but maybe we could help. You know, do some good with what we’ve learned. No matter what’s going on with Carol, she planned on introducing this in tonight’s meeting.” I fiddled with the printouts on my lap. “We can wait on her before really digging in, though.”

  I continued to scan the pages. “Wow. It makes sense. There are so many rural areas with vegetation off I-85. And if no one reports the victims as missing, the bodies could only be found by happenstance.” As I flipped to the last page, I picked up my wineglass. So many cold cases. I wondered if Uncle Calvin would be interested in delving into any of these. But, with the requirement of being pro bono, I highly doubted it.

  “I Googled and found an old news broadcast where the investigator in charge of these cast-offs”—Amelia showed us her palms—“their words, not mine, pleaded with the public for help.”

  “That’s probably the reason they’ve taken to social media. How better to reach large masses of people? I mean, it’s what I’d do.”

  “What is Carol thinking? My God, that’s nuts.” Patsy cast a shocked glance my way. “I’m sorry, but it is. I understand why you would be interested, Lyla. Since you started working for your uncle and all.” She redirected her attention toward Amelia. “You, of all people, can’t seriously be suggesting you agree with Carol and want us to actually investigate these crimes?” Patsy appeared appalled. “Like Val said, it’s one thing having a bit of fun guessing whodunit with these well-known cases and fiction.” She continued to shake her head as if it would shake the notion right out of the room.

  “We understand, Patsy. No one will force you to take part in anything you’re uncomfortable with.” Val sounded sympathetic to our friend’s plight.

  Amelia sighed and sat back against the overstuffed sofa, her lips thinned to a flat line.

  “Does anyone mind if we move on?” Patsy asked sweetly.

  We all agreed to take a step back and wait until we found out more. It was highly possible that, with our heads filled with all those murders and mysteries, we might be overreacting.

  When no one added more, Val said, “It’s either Patsy or Lyla’s turn to suggest our next read.”

  Patsy looked relieved, and I felt bad. The twins kept her up late, and her hormones were still in overdrive. It wasn’t fair to stress her out when she came out for a little girl talk and book discussion. Amelia seemed to be on the same page as me when she sat back and put her folder back into her bag.

  “You go ahead, Patsy.” I forced a smile.

  We voted and Turn Of The Key, by Ruth Ware, became our next read, ending our meeting. I drove home in Mother’s Cadillac, which had plush leather seats that felt like a hug, with a sense of foreboding. Preoccupied, I hadn’t minded not suggesting the last book in The Kinsey Millhone series to my club. I hoped Carol would return home. The situation was disconcerting, to say the least. Our club started out with more than a dozen members. Then life got in the way, and the group dwindled to half that. The intimate crowd gave us a sense of closeness.

  I pulled up to the gated complex, punched in the code, and pulled through, waving at the security guard as I drove by. I swayed to Beethoven’s “Für Elise” as I pulled into the small space in front of my house. Each of the townhouses had a designated parking space. I cast a glance at Melanie’s vacant space.

  To my left sat a moving van. The movers were unloading into a neighboring townhouse. The building catty-cornered to Mel’s and mine.

  I had a smile pasted on my face to greet my new neighbors. Moodys prided ourselves on common politeness. I’d have to get a welcome basket together and take it over. I’d probably wait until Mel got back and we could go over together.

  A man with wavy dark-brown hair came out of the townhouse to hold the door open for the movers. My advance slowed as I got closer and recognition hit. He saw me at the exact same time and smiled. Smiled!

  “’Evening, neighbor.”

  I nearly choked. “Kevin, what on earth are you doing here? You can’t possibly be moving in near me.”

  Before Kevin and I broke up six months ago, he and I been an item for about a year. Most of the time we fought like cats and dogs. But when it was good, it was mind-blowing.

  “It’s a free country. Besides, Ellen and I needed a fresh start. Her lease was up at her apartment, and she fell in love with it here, with the swimming pools, tennis courts, and gym.”

  My gorgeous dark-haired, hour-glass-shaped, thrice-divorced cousin walked out of the house and snuggled up next to Kevin. “Hi, Lyla. Do you want to come in and see the lovely housewarming gift Val gave us?”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Val should have forewarned me about this invasion. I was just with her, for heaven’s sake.

  “A little birdie told me you had an embarrassing encounter at the Fast Trip this morning,” Ellen grated on, “and you were wearing white and everything.” She smirked in the same annoying, “whatcha-gonna-do-about-it” way she had as a child. The one I always lost my temper over and smacked her for. Ellen was one of those people who always managed to push my buttons and draw out the rebellious child who, I believed, lay dormant within each of us.

  “I have no idea what you’re referring to.” My face blistered. “We … welcome to the community.” Before I did something to disparage my character, I walked up the driveway, keeping my stroll even and confident as I moved onto my slabbed front stoop.

  “Why thank you, cuz. Stop by anytime,” Ellen called across the parking lot.

  There wasn’t anything to obstruct their view of me, and I wouldn’t make a scene. A piece of luggage leaned against my front door as I rammed the key into the lock and twisted. The airline must have delivered Mel’s bag to my house by mistake. I grabbed the handle and gave it a tug, shocked with the weight of the thing. It took effort to roll the bag inside, and I closed the door on my humiliation.

  How could they do this to me?

  Kevin had an apartment. They could have lived there. Why move to be near me? And Mother must know about this. The devil’s spawn was her sister’s child, after all. Like myself, Ellen had been an only child, except her mother spoiled her rotten. Mine insisted I apologize for everything under the sun. Aunt Elizabeth believed her child could do no wrong. No wonder Ellen grew into a monstrous creature.

  Well, I certainly wasn’t moving. My fifteen-hundred-square-foot, two-story, cookie-cutter, white-washed brick townhouse had an open floorplan, a living room, a kitchen, and a dining room, with a powder room on the first floor and two bedrooms and
a full bath on the second floor. It wasn’t my dream home or anything, but the house represented my independence. I’d made it my own with tasteful pieces I’d picked up here and there. My favorite acquisition stood next to the flat screen. The antique bookshelf displayed all my irreplaceable beauties. Just seeing the full mahogany shelves with true crime novels, mysteries, and thrillers usually brought me joy. Sadly, it didn’t have the same effect tonight. After I placed the Y is for Yesterday on the shelf, organized in alphabetical order, I moved into the living room and slunk down into my cream-tufted group sofa. I pulled my cell phone out of my bag and scrolled through my favorites until the appropriate icon appeared.

  “Lyla Jane.” Mother always answered my calls that way.

  “Mother. Guess who I ran into?”

  “Ellen and Kevin.”

  She did know! “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Lyla, my ears.” I could envision Mother massaging her ear as if I’d ruptured her eardrum.

  I rubbed my forehead. “Sorry.” I lowered my tone. “But you can’t even imagine how blindsided I was when I came home tonight. They were unloading a moving van in the building near mine.”

  “I made an attempt to discuss it with you this morning.” So that’s what she’d wanted to tell me. “However, I had no idea they’d be moving in that close to you. That is uncouth.” Mother started whispering something to Daddy. “Your father says they called him from the mechanic shop, and the value of your car isn’t worth investing in the repairs.”

  I’d specifically told them at our family mechanic shop to stop calling Daddy when I brought Bessie in.

  “He’ll drive you over to the Chevrolet dealership to pick out a new one next week.”

  Daddy only bought American-made cars and would insist I do the same.

  “Tell him I appreciate it, but I can manage.” I loved my daddy to bits and knew he would give me the moon without a blink. But I needed to be my own person and stand on my own two feet.

  “How are you going to manage on what Calvin pays you? You’ll never be able to make payments on anything decent.” Mother meant well.