Page 27 of Secrets Along the Shore

I wasn’t sure I liked this new, aware version of myself. I needed to return to closed off and emotionless. I answered him because he stood there waiting for my explanation.

“Last time it was a cat smoking a cigar, this time it’s a beer can with an awful pun. You don’t strike me as a guy who wears corny T-shirts, and yet, here you are.”

“Levity, Miss Lorne.” Reuben stood to the side and waved me into his place. “We all need it.”

And that was the only explanation I was going to get. I wondered how many more ridiculous T-shirts the guy had.

“So if it’s not my supper, then what brings you here withyoursupper in hand?” Reuben wove his way toward his kitchen. Tacos were on the menu in his house. I could smell them. Sure enough, he had a half-made taco on plate on the kitchen island.

“I have questions.” I slid onto a stool and set my food on the countertop.

Reuben snagged a plate from the cupboard, letting the door slam into place. He slid it toward me. “Questions about?”

I proceeded to unpack my dinner. “The other missing women.”

Reuben raised his brows and waited.

I reached into the bag and pulled out French fries. “So—what ties them to Sophia. Besides each of them being taken from their rooms and a dead snake left behind.”

“Ahh.” Understanding flashed across Reuben’s face. He turned his back to me after grabbing his plate and taco shell and moved to the stove where he scooped meat from a pan. “You want to be a detective, huh?”

Sometimes I really didn’t like Reuben Walker’s sense of humor.

“No. I—want to help.”

“And I appreciate that. But, I’m not in a position to discuss?—”

“Fine.” I interrupted. “Don’t discuss what you can’t discuss. But what is public knowledge that youcanshare with me?” It’s not like I’d been following the missing women cases until a few days ago when Sophia upended my life.

“Ok.” Reuben added toppings. Really? Who put green olives on tacos? “Three women vanish over the course of the last several months. One of whom, was Sophia. She was the latest to disappear, but the only one to wind up dead.”

“Who were the other two?” I bit off a French fry.

Reuben slopped a spoonful of sour cream on his taco. “Lilian Thomas, age sixty-four, abducted from her bedroom last November. She is widowed and at the time she was taken, she lived alone. The second was this April. Rosalie Fiends. She is forty-eight, married, but her husband was out of town on a business trip when her abduction went down.”

“Now it’s August, four months later, and Sophia went missing.”

“Correct.” Reuben folded his soft taco shell.

“Four months between each of them.”

“You noticed that, huh?” He widened his mouth and moved in for a bite.

“Is it significant?” I asked.

“You tell me.” He replied around his mouthful. He chewed and then swallowed. “I haven’t found anything significant per se, but then, it feels calculated.”

“Three different women,” I ventured, “of three totally different age groups.”

“Right.” Reuben nodded and leaned back against the counter behind him, balancing his taco in his hand. “The only similarity indemographics is that they were all female, all between 5’6 and 5’7, and all under 150 lbs.”

“Easier to carry,” I muttered to myself, more than to Reuben.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Eat cake. That’s the conclusion I drew.”

I glared at him. Heartless idiot.

He seemed to realize his flippant remark and its insensitivity. At least he had the good sense to mumble an apology.