The Bookstore on the Beach - Brenda Novak Page 0,33
she was in such a hurry to get up. She didn’t want to give Sierra any reason to continue arguing with him. She was too afraid it might land her friend in serious trouble. “I’ll go, Sierra. No worries. Just...call me later, okay?”
Sierra didn’t look scared like a normal girl would. She looked angry, the way she tilted up her chin and glared at her father.
“Don’t. Please,” Taylor whispered, but it didn’t do any good.
“You’re a drunken ass,” Sierra told him. “A poor excuse for a father.”
Mr. Lambert’s eyes narrowed until they were barely slits as they slid to Taylor. “What are you waiting for?” he ground out, but now Taylor was afraid to leave. She was terrified Sierra had pushed her father too far.
“I—I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, trying to make it better. “Sierra didn’t mean that. I know she didn’t. What if...what if we cook you something to eat? Are you hungry? Because I know how to make the best spaghetti you’ve ever tasted.” Taylor swallowed against a dry throat as her mind cast about for something she could say that might defuse the situation. “My—my mom, she makes this incredible spaghetti sauce. I swear she could be a millionaire, if only she started selling it in stores.” She laughed, but it was too high and shaky to be believable.
“Get out of here. Now!” he shouted, unfazed.
“Go,” Sierra said without looking at her. “I’ll call you later.”
Taylor couldn’t move. It was almost as if her feet were glued to the floor. If she didn’t go, she might only make matters worse. But if she did go, she was afraid something terrible would happen to her new friend, and she wouldn’t be around to help. “I shouldn’t have stayed so long. It’s my fault. Please don’t be mad at Sierra,” she said to Mr. Lambert, but he ignored her and so did Sierra. Their eyes were locked in what looked like a laser beam of hatred; it was chilling and almost as if she didn’t exist, except as a nuisance.
“I can’t believe you’d embarrass me in front of my friend,” Sierra bit out.
“Your friend?” he echoed. “Does she know what you are?”
“Shut up, Dad!”
Taylor was afraid he’d strike her right then, but he grabbed hold of her arm instead and started dragging her over to the kitchen sink, saying, “You think you can talk to your father that way? Huh? Maybe you’ll learn your lesson if I wash your mouth out with soap.”
“Sierra...” Taylor said, but Sierra shoved her as she passed and yelled, “Go!” and Taylor ran out the door.
* * *
What did that private investigator want?
Mary sat in her car, which she’d parked in the small lot behind the bookstore, running her thumb over the embossed letters on Mr. Owens’s card. She needed to go inside and close up. Laurie was gone. When she pulled in and didn’t see her best friend’s car, she’d texted Laurie and learned that she was at the dentist—an appointment she might’ve mentioned but Mary forgot. Autumn had to be running the store on her own at the moment. But the sudden intrusion of her past—especially in such an up close and physical way—left Mary too stunned. She couldn’t bring herself to get out of the car.
It’d been so long since she’d been held captive in the multimillion-dollar Atlanta mansion of Jeff and Nora Skinner. Even the press seemed to have forgotten the sad story that had once generated such morbid interest. If word got out that she’d been located, Mary had no doubt a bevy of reporters would be banging on her door again, or reaching out to her in other ways, requesting a follow-up story. After all, they’d hounded her for months after she escaped, which was partly why she’d changed her name from Bailey to Mary.
But she couldn’t imagine a reporter had gone to the trouble and expense of hiring a private investigator thirty-five years after the fact. That would be far too speculative an endeavor, especially for the sake of a story that wouldn’t be nearly as sensational as when it was fresh. Only someone who had more than a casual interest in her would go to such great lengths.
Was it her mother? After how sloppy and unconcerned RaeLynn had been with her care before the abduction, why would she suddenly be that desperate to reconnect? And would RaeLynn be able to afford an investigator? If so, how? Her mother had never had a lot of money—at least she