The Freelancer – Chapter 41

After circling the small trailer park for the third time, Collin was convinced we’d found the right place. I thought it was obvious from the empty driveway that the trailer’s occupant was not at home, but I humored him by leaning against the truck while he knocked on the door. He gave up after the third knock and returned to the truck.

“Where could she be? Our records don’t indicate that she has a job,” Collin muttered, thumbing through the file.

Of course, had he actually read the file on Henrietta Grace instead of just glancing at the bullet points, he might have realized Blackstone’s maternal grandmother, and only living relative, was heavily involved with her church. I suspected she was there, though I kept that tidbit to myself for the moment. Something told me it would be more fun to see how long it took Collin to arrive at the same conclusion.

It was insane for us to be here. The chances that Blackstone’s grandmother would tell us anything we wanted to know were slim to none. More likely, she would tip him off we’d been here and he’d get real careful, real fast. Unless he got careless. Either way, she was the only lead we had to work at the moment.

Except for Jenna.

Things were steadily heating up between us since I’d met her and it was becoming more unlikely that I’d be able to focus on my case while I was with her. It was rough to feed her the information I had last night when I had no desire to chat about the weather and Blaine’s case. I knew it was my job to stay close to her, but the line was blurring, making it difficult to determine how close was close enough.

And how close was too close.

“You have the attention span of an ant, Caldwell,” Collin growled. “How have you managed to last in this line of work for this long?”

I glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you haven’t heard one word I’ve said since we got here.” He rolled his eyes. “Actually, you haven’t heard anything I’ve said since the chick you’re watching got you all hot and bothered.”

“She has a name, you know.”

“Right. Jenna. She has you so twisted in knots that you’re driving me nuts. You need to hurry up and get laid so we can put this case to bed.”

“I am not discussing this with you, McShae.”

He shrugged. “If you can’t take the heat then get out of the kitchen.”

“We aren’t in the kitchen,” I muttered, knowing full well to what he was referring.

“Stop trying to change the subject. I’m not the one who was nailing her on the kitchen counter.”

“I was not…” I paused to regain control of my voice. “It wasn’t like that. Things just got out of hand.”

“Can I help you boys with something?” a maternal voice asked from behind.

I turned and sized up the woman in front of me. Blackstone’s grandmother looked far older than her seventy years of life should have aged her. At one time, she had been five foot five, but age caused her shoulders to slope at the expense of several inches of height. Her grey eyes were still bright even from behind her thick glasses. Her thin hair had turned the same color as her eyes and was swept back into a tidy bun at the base of her neck.

She could have been on a package of cookies.

“Mrs. Grace,” I began, extending my hand. “I’m special agent Caldwell and this is special agent McShae. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Rather than accept my hand, Henrietta pulled her glasses further down on her nose and regarded me with unabashed skepticism. “Agents, huh? Do you boys have anything to prove that?”

We handed our identification over for inspection.

When she had scrutinized to her satisfaction she said, “Thank you for humoring me. A woman can’t be too careful about letting strange boys into her home nowadays. Can’t be too careful at all.”

We nodded and followed her inside the tiny trailer.

“Can I get you boys something to drink?”

“No, ma’am,” Collin replied. “We’d like to ask you a few questions and we’ll be on our way.”

“I see.” She lowered herself onto the worn sofa. “Have I done something wrong? I know I shouldn’t have parked in the fire lane at the market, but there were no spaces and I had to pick up my pills. It was only supposed to take a quick second, but then I ran into Olivia Marcicolo and she was in a sour mood. Now it seems that Olivia’s husband was at Peter Kawakanski’s drug store and…Let me back up. You have to know Peter Kawakanski to understand what happened. You see…”

“Actually, Mrs. Grace,” Collin interrupted. “We’re here about your grandson.”

“Chad?” She squinted at us. “Why that boy is an angel…a living angel.”

I knew this was going to be tough so I got right to the point. “Have you noticed any strange behavior in him since he came back to town?”

“Good heavens, no. It’s been a blessing…a gift from God to have him back.” She glared at me over the top of her glasses again. “What exactly do you want to know about my little Chad?”

I exchanged looks with Collin. He must have guessed at my thoughts because he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

I cleared my throat. “We’re investigating his employer. Has he mentioned anything to you about that?”

“No, I can’t say he has, but then he has been a touch busy with that woman friend of his.” She hoisted herself up to her feet. “If you boys will excuse me, it’s time for me to take my pills. I’m overly tired from my work at the church and I need to rest a spell.”

…Go Back

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