purse. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and stared at her favorite picture. It always calmed her down. Carli’s fifth birthday party. They’d worn hula skirts, even her father. She blinked hard, smiled at the memories of happier days, back when they’d been a family—a real family.
She held the photo to her heart and stared at the hundreds of miles of desert stretched out before her. Why had Carli’s body been buried here and not near Palm Springs where she’d lived? It didn’t make sense. A body could be dumped, and the sand, swept by high winds, would soon cover it. There were remote rocky canyons and isolated roads everywhere. Why choose farmland?
She tapped the photo against her chin. A cop on the main street below directed traffic, another logged in the vehicles allowed entry. Tall wire fencing covered in green mesh cloth enclosed the hotel site. Maybe she could appeal to the local cop for answers. They’d spoken several times after Carli’s murder. He seemed nice.
Her cell phone rang and jarred her out of her daydream. “Hello, Mom.”
“I left you a message.”
“Sorry, I meant to call back. It’s been a busy day.”
“They all are.”
Dena ignored the sarcasm. “I know, I know.”
“These new pills make me dizzy.”
Dena stifled a sigh. “You have to give them a chance. At least ten days is what the doctor said. Lie down and get some rest.”
She provided the necessary treatment, even hired live-in help when her mother started to talk about her life not being worth living without Carli. But she wasn’t good at this. She’d never been close to her mother.
“Where is your caregiver?”
“In the kitchen,” her mother said sharply. “Reading.”
“Mom, listen, the girl is hired to help you and that means she keeps you company—”
“I don’t like her.”
Dena battled the momentary panic that rose in her chest. Not now, Mom, not now. “Don’t do anything rash,” she said, in a soothing tone. “Don’t fire her.”
The agency had complained a week ago about how many women her mother had fired. Dena smoothed a hand over her hair, massaged the back of her neck. “I’ll swing by on Monday, after work. I’m sure the agency will recommend someone else.”
“Okay. Are you in the car?”
“Yes. I’m working.” Hah. Good one. She wouldn’t have a job after she told Steve what she’d attempted.
“Did you hear they found another girl, like my poor Carli?”
Dena froze. Mom seldom watched the news. She should have called but figured they’d have had another endless talk about Carli, and that would have left them both sad and weary.
“I didn’t want to say anything. I thought you’d get upset.”
“Well, of course I’m upset. It’s all over the T.V. and—”
“Don’t watch the news anymore. It’ll make you sad, them rehashing Carli’s case. Put in a movie or read a magazine. Or have the girl take you for a walk. There’s a good idea. You like to walk. We can go to dinner on Monday, okay?”
“Do you have to work all weekend?”
“Yes.” Dena tried to ignore the guilt tickling her insides but it kept nudging. She pulled her eyes away from the steel girders of the hotel. “But like I said, Monday works—”
“Don’t put yourself out.”
The phone clicked off and Dena flinched, despite being used to her mother’s outbursts. Being classified as the bad daughter—the one who chose work over fun—had hardened her, and it had widened the rift between them. She’d loved Carli and never resented that she’d been her Mom’s favorite.
Dena sniffled then blew her nose. They’d both been impulsive kids, but as they’d grown up she’d changed. Carli had pursued acting, without much success, and been married and divorced three times. She’d committed once, divorced once. And she’d become boring.
Puffs of sand blew along the shoulders of the four-lane highway below and stirred the tumbleweeds that lined its edges. She felt close to Carli up here. Her eyes roamed over the fence that separated Zeke’s land from the hotel site. If she followed that fence, she could access the hotel property on the other side of the caution tape.
Years of suppressed impulsiveness filled her. For the sake of her sanity, and her mother’s, she’d continue to follow her instincts. But first she had some questions to ask in town. She had to find anyone who had known her sister. Then maybe she’d find Bobby, Carli’s last love interest.
Bobby who?
“Carli,” she said, and slammed an open hand against the steering wheel. “I’ll search this place for clues before I go home,