Part Three

She Said

After reading Honey’s latest email through for the third time, Di came to the conclusion that Trixie was definitely up to something and that it probably was not good. Honey’s incoherence on the subject had reached new heights and Di was uncertain whether she could make any sense at all out of the short paragraph that referenced Trixie. An attempt at calling Trixie had failed, which left Di wondering just what to do. Her next idea was to call Honey, which only got her as far as leaving a message on voicemail. After a moment’s hesitation, she dialled a different number, which was soon answered.

“Dan! I’m so glad I caught you. You need to tell me right now exactly what’s going on.”

He did not answer immediately. “How did you know to call?”

“Something’s going on. I just know it.” She drew a frustrated breath. “Just tell me, please?”

“Yes, but how do you know?” Dan persisted. “I’ve only known for less than ten minutes and, since Jim tells me that he called me first thing, it must have happened maybe fifteen or twenty minutes ago at most.”

Diana stopped a moment to think. “I get the feeling that we’re talking about two different situations. Tell me everything that Jim said, then we’ll sort out the other thing.”

“He saw the guy that showed up at your place – the same guy who tried blackmailing him.”

“And?” Di prompted.

“And nothing. He just came up to Jim, told him that he’s back and walked away.”

Her eyes squeezed shut. “So, it’s started again. Okay. We were waiting for this.”

“I wish I was right and he was dead,” Dan muttered. “Jim was a mess.”

“Is there anything I can do? I feel so helpless, so far away.”

“I can’t think of anything at the moment. I’ll let you know if there’s anything.”

“Okay.” She turned her mind away from this latest development and onto the matter about which she had called. “Now, tell me about Trixie.”

“Trixie?” He sounded alarmed. “What’s wrong with Trixie?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking, now, would I?” she answered testily.

“I guess not.” He paused. “I don’t know what to tell you. So far as I know, she’s fine. What makes you think she isn’t?”

Diana sighed. “It’s these emails Honey’s sending me, with comments about what Trixie’s doing and how it’s probably not right. I’ve tried calling her to see if she can explain it better, but she’s not answering, and neither is Trixie. And I’ve emailed them at least four times each without any luck at all. Trixie doesn’t even answer hers!”

“I don’t think I understand. What, exactly, do you know?”

She frowned, trying to put her suspicions into words. “I know Honey gets a bit confusing sometimes, and that that’s normal for her, but these are confusing in a different way. It’s like… like she’s trying to tell me something, but doesn’t want to tell me, but is trying to anyway, but not quite, if you see what I mean.”

A long silence ensued. “Was that supposed to be an example of the kind of confusion she’s generating?”

She laughed and some of the tension eased. “So, you don’t know what Trixie’s up to, either? It looks like Honey is the only one who really knows and all I’ve gotten out of her so far is that it’s too much of a coincidence to be true – and not even what the coincidence is – and that Trixie’s on a wild goose chase.”

Dan groaned. “How many times has someone told Trixie that she’s on the wrong track and she just keeps on it – straight into trouble?”

“I’ve lost count,” Di admitted.

“Okay. I’ll get on it.” He sighed. “Let me know if you hear anything else suspicious.”

“I will,” she replied. “And I’ll forward you the emails, too. Maybe you can make more sense of them than I can.”

“I doubt it, but I’ll try.”

“Thanks, Dan. I’m glad you’re close enough to handle this.”

He Said

“Look, Josh! It’s Uncle Jim,” Mart exclaimed, with overstated enthusiasm, as he opened the front door. “You really want to be held by Uncle Jim, don’t you?”

The grumpy baby made no indication that this was true, but Mart dumped him in Jim’s arms regardless. He ushered his brother-in-law inside, inviting him to take a seat, but knowing that his friend would be on his feet again in no time. Josh was making it clear that he wanted to be on the move. As a result, Mart had been walking around the house for over half an hour and was getting tired of it.

“Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes, I think,” Mart continued, slumping bonelessly into an armchair.

Jim smiled and bounced Josh a little. “It smells good.”

“So, what’s new?” Mart asked, not expecting much of an answer; Jim’s life was typically quiet and well-ordered, with few surprises.

Instead of answering, Jim stood up and started pacing back and forth. This did nothing to calm Josh, who escalated from the occasional grizzle to intermittent wails. Mart jumped to his feet and retrieved his son, taking a few moments to calm the boy before turning to his guest.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “What’s happened?”

Jim stopped his pacing and stood still, with his back to Mart. The slightest trembling was evident in his arms, showing just how tense he had become.

“Just before I came… I had another visit,” Jim admitted.

“He’s made a demand this time? Or a threat?”

The other man’s shoulder shifted half an inch. “I guess you could say that.”

“And you sent him packing, right?” Mart’s heart sank, as Jim made no move to agree. “You’ve got to let him know that he’s not getting anything. He’ll just keep bothering you if you don’t.”

“It’s not that simple,” Jim answered, his voice sounding small. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Mart frowned. “Well, let’s see… One, you can tell him where to shove it. Two, you can report him to the police.”

“What, exactly, are they going to do about it?” Jim demanded, turning around. “I don’t know who this guy is, or anything much about him. I can’t identify him in any way. And… well, I don’t want to talk about the threats he’s making. It’s complicated.”

“They wouldn’t be investigating you,” he argued. “What he’s doing is against the law, regardless of the veracity of his accusations – I checked.”

Jim was unmoved. “There has to be another way. I just can’t afford to draw attention to myself by making a complaint.”

Frustrated beyond words, Mart was still trying to word his next point when Honey entered the room.

“Hello, Jim,” she greeted, kissing his cheek. “Are you hungry? Dinner’s on the table.”

He managed a smile. “It smells lovely, Honey.”

She and Mart shared a worried glance for a moment as she guided them all to the table. Mart knew that they would be talking more about this later, but he was at a complete loss as to what they could possibly do to help. Jim’s choice was playing into the blackmailer’s hands.

She Said

“How are you feeling, Brian?” Helen asked, laying a careful hand on his upper arm.

“I’m fine, Moms. You don’t need to keep asking.”

As usual, he sounded rather exasperated by her attention and yet she could not help but to keep on trying. She looked at him critically, seeing the dark shadows under his eyes and the tense line of his shoulders. He was not eating well enough, nor sleeping well enough, nor doing anything to help his employment situation. She was certain that he was in need of some help to get him out of his depression, but he had rebuffed all of her suggestions.

“Would you like a sandwich?” she persisted. “I could make you one. You didn’t really eat any lunch, did you? You must be hungry.”

“Really, Moms, I’m fine,” he answered. “I’m not hungry and I don’t need anything.”

“Well, maybe you should go out for a walk. There’s a nice breeze come up in the last half-hour or so. It’s cooled down enough that it won’t be too bad.” She glanced at the clock. “You’d have time for a nice walk before your father gets home. It would be good for you to get out of the house for a while.”

The frown which had been forming on his face increased. “I’m fine, Moms. I don’t want a walk. I don’t want a sandwich. I don’t want anything.”

“Sometimes it’s good for us to do things we don’t want to do,” she informed him, beginning to feel a little exasperated herself. “This attitude you have isn’t helping you, Brian.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then stood up. “Okay. I’ll go for the walk.”

Helen watched him go, wondering where she was going wrong. She was certain that he had only agreed as a way to make her stop bothering him. She was also certain that he had no intention of walking anywhere and that he would just find somewhere to sit out of her sight. She let out a sigh. It seemed that there was little that she could do to help; she only hoped that Brian would be able to find a solution for himself.

He Said

“I don’t see what you think you can do about it,” Jim muttered, in a defeatist tone.

Dan sighed inwardly. They had been over this ground twice already. He was determined that none of his friends would continue to suffer needlessly at the hands of that selfish, lazy, no-good excuse for a human being. He was even willing to sacrifice his free afternoons, the main redeeming feature of a job that required him to get up in the morning at a time when he would rather be just getting to bed. Jim, it seemed, was equally convinced that the effort was wasted.

“Why don’t you let me at least try,” he asked. “It’s my choice.”

“Fine.” Jim sounded and looked weary. “What do you want from me?”

Dan thought for a moment. “I guess the main thing is for you to tell me everything you can about him – what he’s worn each time you’ve seen him, if he’s been carrying anything; that sort of thing. And have you noticed any patterns to his behaviour?”

His friend frowned. “He was wearing ordinary clothes. Nothing special. He didn’t carry anything. Is that it?”

“Patterns of behaviour?” Dan prompted. This time, the question triggered real thought.

“It’s kind of strange,” Jim noted, looking surprised at the deduction he had just made. “I’ve seen him three times, now, and it’s always been at about the same time of day on a Monday or Wednesday. I thought, at first, it was something to do with my schedule, but now I’m wondering if it’s to do with his.”

Dan gave a slow nod. “What time?”

“About a quarter past four.”

“Did you see him on Monday?”

Jim shook his head. The other man’s eyes narrowed, then he smirked. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. Today, before four, I’ll find a vantage point where I can watch. If he turns up, I’ll follow him and we’ll see if we can figure out what’s going on here. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Jim answered. “If you don’t mind.”

The smirk on Dan’s face became positively evil. “I think I’ll enjoy it.”

An hour later, they put the plan into action. Jim continued his routine of walking up to the work site to see the progress and Dan chose a hiding place. His watch read seventeen minutes past four when the man they sought arrived at the bottom of the drive. To Dan’s great interest, he now drove a rather beaten-up twenty-year-old blue Ford. There was little else in his appearance that had changed, but Dan thought there might be a look in the man’s eyes that had not been there before. He hoped to get a closer look at him sometime in future.

For the next few minutes, Dan was forced to wait. His hiding place did not afford a view of the action at this time and it was not until the man returned to his car that he had any chance to watch him. The man’s steps were rapid as he strode down the drive and around to the driver’s door. He threw it open and slammed it behind him, then started the engine and pulled out without looking. Dan waited for a few moments, then mounted his motorcycle and followed along.

The pursuit was easy, which in itself made Dan suspicious. A few times the car slipped away out of sight, but he always managed to find it again. He was almost certain that he was being led on a wild goose chase when the man pulled in near an office building in a neighbouring town. Dan rode straight past and around a corner half a block away. He parked the bike and walked back, certain that the man would be gone. He was surprised to find the car still there and to see what he thought was the back of the man entering the building.

On a hunch, he quickened his steps and entered the building behind the man. It contained a number of government offices, but Dan was certain that he knew which one the man was attending. He smiled to see that he was correct, but did not attempt to enter. As he walked back to his bike, he thought to himself, This might just be the clue we need – and the way to stop him. It certainly explains why he hasn’t been around.

As he walked away from the Parole Office, Dan was busy planning his next move.

She Said

Trixie bounced in the door of her apartment, dumping the pile of things she carried onto a side table. Some of them slid off the already overloaded surface and onto the floor, but she ignored them and kept walking. She spared the answering machine and its blinking red light a guilty glance, but passed it by as well. Her mind flitted to the thought of her email inbox and the seventy-three unread emails it had contained the last time she checked, several days ago. One of those was from Dan and headed ‘OPEN THIS RIGHT NOW TRIXIE I MEAN IT’. This fact, combined with the half-dozen increasingly terse phone messages and texts he had sent her indicated that there was something going on. If she was not somehow certain that the something was connected to Jim, she would have been so curious that the implied threat was unnecessary.

She pushed the thought away as she entered her bedroom, where she kicked her shoes into a corner, dumped her handbag on the bed and began stripping, dropping the articles of clothing onto the floor. A few minutes later, she had redressed in a more casual outfit. Neither the powder blue T-shirt nor the denim shorts she had chosen drew attention to themselves. She looked in the mirror and frowned at her distinctive mop of curls. Running her hands through them, Trixie came to the conclusion that nothing she could do to them would make them less noticeable. What she needed was a wig.

Once, when she and Honey had engaged in a spot of surveillance, Honey had insisted on buying Trixie a straight, light brown wig. It altered her appearance in a most startling manner, to the point where she found it hard to recognise herself in it. Trixie even knew where she had stored it, and found it easily. The problem was, she had always let Honey or Di do the work of making it look natural. Neither of them was handy at the moment, and she doubted her ability to do it for herself.

She thought back to the inspiration for the scheme she was even now hatching. Earlier in the day the target of her investigation had been at his most infuriating, talking on the phone and getting in her way while dropping food scraps over her work area. Trixie had quelled the constant urge to pick up the heavy long-arm stapler and beat the man over the head with it when she picked up on the fact that he was planning to meet someone that evening. She was not certain, but from his reluctant manner she guessed it might be the wayward relative who had sparked her interest in the first place. She felt sure that this was her chance to find out something important.

The mental review was enough to firm her resolve. She set about trying to pin up her own hair and settle the wig on top. It took some time and she was not quite sure she had carried it off, but came to the conclusion that it was good enough and that nothing she could do herself would improve it. A glance at her watch told her that her time was almost up. She put on some comfortable shoes, shoved some money and her keys into the pockets of her shorts and headed for the door.

Ten minutes later, she neared the meeting point and began circling around for a good vantage point. She selected a spot and settled down to wait. Before long, her target appeared. She watched his reflection in a nearby shop window as he fidgeted and looked at his watch. She saw him take his phone from his pocket and answer it. Trixie stood up and wandered in his direction, getting close enough to hear a few words of the conversation.

“Okay. I’ll see you there,” he told the caller, before hanging up.

Trixie was not certain, but she thought he might have turned and stared at her before standing and walking away. She followed at a distance, saw him get into his car and drive off. Her car was parked too far away to continue the chase. Scowling at her bad luck, she started for home.

He Said

A small amount of searching on the internet told Dan that he could get information on the man he was after, if only he could find out the man’s name. Since they had never had a clue as to what it might be, this seemed to bring him back to the very beginning of the problem. After a few minutes of thinking, he decided to turn the problem over to Trixie and see how she would handle it. This would kill two birds with one stone, as he had not yet managed to pin her down over Di’s suspicions. With those two ends in mind, he decided to drop in on her, even if he had to wait on her doorstep until she returned from wherever it was that she kept going these days. A quick call told him that she was, by some miracle, at home and would be waiting for him.

“I need some help,” he told her, as soon as the door was closed behind him. “There’s a man and I need to get his name – his surname at the very least – and maybe the year he was born. I’m not sure how I can get that, especially when I’m sure he doesn’t want me to know them.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you need them?”

Dan smiled. “I want to get the name of his parole officer… and to try to get some information on what he was inside for.”

“And you think I can get closer to this guy that you can?”

His smile winked out. “No, he’d know you even better than he’d know me. He’s the guy that Englefield had spying on us.”

She looked astonished. “He’s on parole?”

Dan nodded. “I think so. I followed him to a Parole Office and watched him go inside. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a social visit, if you get what I mean, and I’m pretty damn sure he doesn’t work there.”

“But that makes so much more sense!” she cried, confusing him greatly. “With what I overheard, and this… I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before!”

“Hold on,” Dan ordered. “What’s this about?”

She waved away the interruption to her thoughts. “Whoever the caller was, they were trying to get the slob to help this guy get back on his feet after he gets out of jail.”

“The slob? Hold on, Trix. I’m not following.”

“Maybe he was trying to get him to help the guy get a job,” she continued, regardless.

At last, something began to make sense for Dan. “I’ve heard that’s a common condition of parole.” He laughed. “He must hate that, if it’s true.”

Trixie smiled. “Yeah, I bet he does.”

“So, can I have this story in order, please?” he asked. “I knew from Di that something was going on with you, but she was a bit short on details.”

Guilt flooded Trixie’s face. “I still haven’t gotten back to her.”

“So, how about if you tell me,” Dan offered, “and I’ll let her know?”

Trixie nodded. “It started one day when I was trying to do my job,” she began. In a few minutes, she had repeated the conversation she had overheard, the deductions she had made and outlined the attempts she had made to find out more, including that evening’s attempt at following the slob.

“If they ever let me get away from those stupid files for two minutes,” she concluded, “I might be able to get us a clue.”

“Or, not,” Dan added. “They might have completely separate surnames, which won’t help us at all.”

“Spoilsport,” she grumbled.

“So, in case your method doesn’t work out, any ideas on how we might get the guy’s name?”

Trixie frowned, thinking. “We don’t know where he lives… what he does with his time… where he shops…”

“And we just have a suspicion that he might have a job,” Dan added, thinking hard.

“Any clues to where, or doing what?” she asked.

Dan frowned. “Maybe… assuming he was coming from work when I saw him… but nothing concrete. No uniform. He wasn’t dirty, so probably some indoor kind of job. I saw which direction he arrived from and the time he arrived where I saw him, but that doesn’t tell me much.”

“I think we need more to go on,” she told him.

Dan winced. “I was hoping you’d have some brilliant idea. I didn’t really want to spend my afternoons on surveillance.”

“You keep watching him and I’ll keep working on getting the slob’s name,” she suggested. A thought seemed to occur to her. “If he’s working somewhere and you can find out where it is, Honey or Di might be better sources of information. Maybe one of their fathers has some connections there.”

“That’s a good thought,” he told her, while sighing inwardly at the work ahead of him. “Okay, thanks, Trix. I’m glad I ran this past you.”

She Said

“Hello! Anyone home?” Honey called through the kitchen door of Crabapple Farm. She had her son on one hip and a bag of his belongings on her opposite shoulder, hoping fervently that the open door meant that a welcome would be forthcoming.

“What a lovely surprise,” her mother-in-law answered only a moment later. “Come in, come in. I was just making Brian and myself a cup of coffee. Would you like one?”

Honey thanked her and asked for a decaf. She noticed Brian standing in the doorway to the dining room and smiled at him. He responded in kind, if only for a fraction of a second. Helen, in the meantime, had handed the baby a cookie. A slight frown crossed Honey’s face.

“Don’t worry so much,” Helen urged her, placing a mug on the table nearby. “I somehow got distracted and left them in the oven too long. They’re as hard as bricks, but they’ll be fine for Joshie to chew on.”

As Helen took the baby from her arms, Honey noticed that he was enthusiastically chewing, but with little effect. With an inward sigh, she decided to let the matter go. In all things to do with her baby, Honey was much more uptight than her mother-in-law. She picked up her coffee and took a sip in the hope that it would help calm her down.

“Sit, both of you,” Helen urged, placing a plate of more edible cookies on the kitchen table.

Brian looked as if he would rather take his coffee and leave, but did as he was told. He sat in silence as the two women chatted, ate and drank. On a few occasions, his mother tried to draw him into the conversation, but his replies were monosyllabic.

“Are you sure you don’t want a cookie, Brian? I’m about to put them away,” she asked, as she cleared away the empty mugs.

“Moms.” The warning in his voice was clear.

She turned away for a moment and Honey gave him a sympathetic look. He pretended not to notice.

“There’s no need to be rude,” Helen answered, after a pause. “I was only offering. Are you sure you don’t want one.”

He waved the plate away without a word.

Helen returned the leftovers to their container and snapped the lid closed. She cast an eye across the kitchen and seemed satisfied with what she saw.

“I’ll just go and make sure that the living room floor is clear and then we can put Joshie down to play there,” she decided. “Honey, would you mind…”

Honey took the child onto her lap, where he wriggled to be let down. As Helen left the room, Honey turned to Brian.

“I’m sorry if my being here is making things worse,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “If anything, she hovers less when Joshua is here.”

Honey cringed. “That bad? We need to do something about this. I just don’t know what to suggest.”

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do,” he answered, looking dejected and rather sour. “I’m stuck here, indefinitely, while my mother fusses and hovers.”

“I’ll think of something,” she promised. To herself, she added, I have no idea what, but we have to help somehow.

He Said

As Brian was not physically able, Jim volunteered to go and pack his things. The original plan was for them to go together, but that morning Brian awoke with a splitting headache and begged off. As time was short, Jim decided to go alone. He arrived on the doorstep at the appointed time and rang the bell. The door opened and Indira stood there, wearing a yellow and turquoise tunic with leopard print leggings. Some of her short hair was pulled into two little tails, which stuck out from either side of her head.

“Hey, Indira,” Jim greeted. “How are you?”

She shrugged elaborately and the silver coin-like discs on her bracelet jingled. “How am I supposed to feel in this situation?”

He hesitated. “Is there something I don’t know? I didn’t think there was anything for you to be upset about.”

“You don’t feel sad when you lose touch with a friend?” she asked, frowning.

Understanding dawned and Jim nodded. “I didn’t think of it that way. You have lost touch with him, haven’t you?”

She nodded. “Even when he was still here, he wasn’t.”

“Well, maybe when he’s sorted himself out you’ll get back in touch with him.” He glanced over her shoulder. “So, can I get to work?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” She waved him past. “I’ll keep you company, if you like.”

“That would be nice,” he answered, smiling, “but you don’t have to, if you have better things to do.”

Indira followed him into Brian’s old room and perched herself on the desk. “So, I’ve been wanting to ask, have you known Brian long?”

Jim nodded as he assembled the first few packing boxes he had brought. “Since we were fifteen.”

“Has he always been so… closed off?”

For a moment, Jim paused. “No, he wasn’t. But some things happened to him that have made him less willing to share personal things.”

She looked thoughtful. “He’s disappointed in himself.”

The statement caused Jim to stop what he was doing. “You could be right. In fact, I know you’re right, even if he hasn’t said anything like that to me.”

“He won’t say it. He’ll just keep on becoming more and more closed off.” She began piling together the items on the desk. “You need to stop him.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Jim wondered. “I don’t think I have much influence now. I’m not sure that I ever did.”

She shook her head. “You have a lot more influence than you think. You need to try, Jim. He’s relying on you.”

Jim looked away, feeling sick inside. “I’ll do what I can.”

Indira smiled. “You’ll help him. I know you will.”

Jim nodded, but made no verbal reply.

She Said

“You’re going to have to lift your game,” Maralin snapped. “Filing doesn’t… Oh.”

“Are you okay?” Trixie asked, in concern, and in spite of her deep dislike for the woman. “Here. Sit down for a minute. Can I get you a drink of water, or something?”

“I’m fine,” her supervisor grumbled. “Don’t baby me.”

A moment later, Trixie was catching her as she nearly fell. With an effort, she snagged the chair she had indicated and guided the taller and larger woman into it.

“I might be a little dizzy,” Maralin conceded. “I’ll be fine in a minute. Get back to work.”

Trixie gave her a dubious look, unnoticed since the other woman’s eyes were closed, then did as she was told. Only moments later, someone else entered the area with a pile of filing.

“What are you doing?” this third woman demanded of Trixie. “She’s obviously sick and you keep on working?”

“She ordered me to,” Trixie answered, exasperated. “She wouldn’t even let me get her a glass of water.”

At once, the woman smiled. “Maralin! That’s ridiculous. If you’re going to give out orders, at least make them something sensible. How about, ‘Drive me home,’ or ‘Get me a painkiller’?”

Maralin muttered something about not getting in a car with such a scatterbrain.

“Well, then, I’ll drive you home,” the woman offered. “I’ll just go and clear it with the boss.”

A few minutes later, Maralin was gone and Trixie was left with the vague instruction to “Just do what you usually do.”

The filing tray steadily emptied as she worked. No one came to put anything more in it. Just as it was empty, Trixie’s assigned lunchtime arrived. She went out for something to eat. She returned to find the tray still empty. This had never happened before. She began to look around for someone who could tell her what to do next.

“Oh, you’re the new girl, aren’t you?” the first woman she approached answered, distractedly. “I don’t have time to teach you anything new just now. How about if you just wait for something else to file?”

“There’s really nothing I can do?” Trixie asked.

The woman shook her head and hurried away. The next person, an older man, patted her shoulder and told her to enjoy the reprieve. Trixie smiled at that, went back to check the tray and found it to still be empty. She was just contemplating whether to go off in search of information on the man she had dubbed the slob when someone popped into the room behind her.

“Still nothing to do here? Come and help us! The envelope-stuffing machine is broken – again.”

Trixie nodded and followed the young woman to another nearby office, where several people were already stuffing envelopes. After a few brief instructions, she joined in. The group kept up a lively conversation as they worked, ranging over a variety of topics. As the pile to be processed dwindled, the object of Trixie’s curiosity sauntered past, talking on his phone and eating a sandwich at the same time. He picked up something from one of the desks and left again. The woman next to Trixie scowled at his retreating back.

“Is he always eating?” Trixie asked. “I’m pretty sure he’s the one who made a mess in my area a little while back, and I got the blame.”

“He’s a pig,” the woman replied. “He’s always doing something disgusting.”

“Who is he?” Trixie wondered, her heart beating faster.

“Just one of the consultants,” was the answer. “He’s no one special, no matter what he tries to tell you.”

“But what’s his name?” Trixie persisted.

The woman frowned in the direction the man had gone. “Jeremy Smith.”

Trixie’s heart sank.

Continue to part four.