To her credit, Rachel didn’t act flustered. “Who are you?”
“Jeannette Winters. I live in the apartment next door.”
“I’m afraid Martha isn’t home right now, Jeannette.”
“She’s not back?”
“No.”
She’d left the door open. The way she glanced back at it implied that she’d noticed the slight damage he’d done when he jimmied the lock. “But…she’s okay, isn’t she?”
“Why wouldn’t she be okay?” Rachel asked.
“It’s been a while since she went out.” Worry clouded the neighbor’s face. “Are you…a friend of hers, or—”
“I’m not a friend, no.”
Where was Rachel going with “no”? Nate wondered. But he had confidence in the self-assured tone of her voice.
“I’m a professional acquaintance of her attorney’s,” she continued. “I have some experience counseling abused women, so he asked me to stop by and look in on her, see how she’s doing. He told me she never leaves the apartment, so when I got here and she didn’t answer, I was concerned enough to enter on my own. You came right after I did.”
Nate silently applauded her. Rachel hadn’t volunteered a name with that story, but she’d spun the lie so well the other woman didn’t ask for one.
“You’re a social worker, then?”
“A psychologist.”
“Oh, I’m sure the poor thing could use a good psychologist.”
“You two have become close?”
“Not close, really. I just feel sorry for her so I’ve tried to reach out a little. But I’m afraid I might’ve done the wrong thing—with the best of intentions, of course, but still…”
Rachel moved closer. “What did you do?”
Jeannette’s expression was sheepish as she gnawed on her lip. “I told her about the woman at the grocery store, and…maybe I shouldn’t have.”
“What woman?”
“I don’t know her name. She was wearing a wrinkled brown skirt and a beige blouse with a pair of sandals, and she had wispy brown hair. She was maybe this tall—” she brought her hand up to her shoulder, indicating someone about five foot five inches tall “—and twenty to thirty pounds thinner than me.”
A quick calculation from her description put this woman at around one hundred and twenty-five pounds.
“I’d never seen her before,” she was saying. “I’d recognize her if I had because she had all these…scars on her face. You know, from burns.”
The image Nate was building in his mind immediately came into sharp focus. Sarah.
“Did this woman speak to you?” Rachel asked.
“No. She kept her head down, wouldn’t look at anyone. But she was standing at the entrance handing out a flyer that said, Don’t Be Deceived. When she gave me one I realized it was denouncing the Covenanters in Paradise, so I got one for Martha.”
Had Sarah left the Covenanters? Nate supposed that was possible, but it seemed too sudden and a bit odd that she’d go from defending the religion one night to attacking it the next day.
“I brought the flyer home to show her she wasn’t the only one who’d become disenchanted with those people,” Jean went on. “I thought it might comfort her to see she wasn’t alone. I also thought she might know the burn victim and be able to get some emotional support from someone who really understands.”
“And how did she react?”
“She got very excited and wanted to go there right away, but I couldn’t take her. I was expecting a repairman to fix my washing machine at two-thirty. I have three kids and couldn’t survive another day without it,” she added in an exasperated aside. “I told her I’d take her as soon as he was finished, but she said she couldn’t wait.”
“So…she left?”
“Yep.”
“When was this?”
“About three hours ago.”
“How’d she get there?”
“Walked, I guess. I’ve been watching for her ever since. I would’ve driven over to the store by now but my baby’s down for a nap, and…I keep telling myself there’s no need to wake him, that I’m worrying about nothing. Martha’s scared of the Covenanters, but I know very little about them. Maybe she’s afraid for no reason. Besides, it sounded like the burned lady was an old friend. They’re probably catching up or having a meal together or…or something, right?” She ended on a hopeful note.
“Anything’s possible.”
She glanced back at the door. “Was the knob broken when you arrived?”
“You’re saying the damage is recent?” Rachel asked.
“I’m pretty sure it is. I would’ve noticed it otherwise.”
“I’ll look into it. But for now, maybe it’d be best if I drove to the grocery store to see if Martha’s still there or if someone knows where she went.”
“That’d be great.” The woman sagged in relief. “And once you find out what’s going on, will you call me?”
“Of course. Which store was it?”
“Safeway. It’s just a few blocks away, on Bisbee Avenue.”
“I’ve seen it.”
“Thanks a lot.” Jean gave Rachel her number, which Rachel stored in her phone.
After the neighbor left, Nate came out of the bedroom. “What would Sarah be doing here in Willcox?”
“I’m almost afraid to guess. But something’s wrong. I know Sarah’s committed to the Covenanters. So why would she be passing out flyers criticizing their beliefs?”
“And how did she get down here? The Covenanters don’t have any vehicles for personal use, only the Jeeps they use for the Guides and to bring in supplies. I saw that for myself when we were there yesterday.”
Rachel scowled. “Even more to the point, why Willcox? Why would she come here to pass out flyers unless—”
“Unless Ethan was using her as bait.”
With a curse, Rachel shook her head. “She told us they’d be looking for her. We should’ve come sooner.”
Instead, they’d been making love in that tin can of a trailer. His attraction to Rachel had made him lose focus—but he hadn’t realized they were up against a deadline.
“Maybe it’s not too late,” he said, and they hurried from the apartment. Whether the next-door neighbor saw him as they were leaving, Nate didn’t know and he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered now was getting to the grocery store before Martha could disappear—possibly forever.