Hidden - Laura Griffin Page 0,35
a few eyebrows.
He rested his hand on the top of her door and looked down at her. A worry line appeared between his brows, and she got the feeling he wanted to tell her something.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“There’s something new with the Dana Smith case, isn’t there? What happened?”
“Who says something happened?”
“Did you make an arrest?”
“No.”
“Do you have a suspect?”
“No.”
Her phone chimed and she pulled it from her pocket.
“I have to grab this.”
“I’ll talk to you later,” he said, looking relieved as he stepped away.
“When later?”
“I’ll call you.”
* * *
* * *
VILLA PALOMA PERCHED on a bluff overlooking Lake Austin. The mansion had once been the home of a wealthy philanthropist but now housed an extensive art collection and a library that included rare books. Several outbuildings around the property had been renovated and turned into an art school.
Bailey passed through the wrought-iron gate and parked in a lot beside a van with rainbow-colored handprints painted on the side. She got out of her car and looked around. After tucking a fresh notebook into the back pocket of her jeans, she walked into a wide courtyard filled with sculptures on concrete pedestals. A line of kids in matching yellow T-shirts tromped through the space, led by a pair of counselors with lanyards around their necks.
Bailey stepped out of the traffic flow and watched the counselors load the kids into the van. Then she turned to check out the courtyard. At the center was a large concrete fountain with a statue of a toga-clad woman holding a dove in her upstretched hand. At the far end of the courtyard was a white stucco mansion with a red-tile roof. Bailey followed signs to a row of low stucco buildings that housed the art school.
The first door was propped open with a green ceramic frog. Inside were four long tables, each with a chunky ceramic mug filled with paintbrushes in the center. A rotating fan circulated the air in the room, making art paper flutter on one of the easels.
“May I help you?”
Bailey turned to see a smiling young woman in a black apron. She had long blond braids and looked to be in her twenties.
“I’m Bailey Rhoads with the Herald.” She smiled and held up her press pass. “Do you work here at the art school?”
Her smile disappeared. “You’re here about Dana.”
“That’s right. I’m writing a profile on her.”
The woman bit her lip. She had a lanyard with an ID badge around her neck, and Bailey stepped closer.
“I’m Tish Brown.” She reached out a hand but seemed to change her mind because her fingers were smeared with paint. She tucked her hand in her pocket. “I teach advanced painting and life drawing.”
“And did you work with Dana?”
“Not a lot.” She blew out a sigh. “She mostly worked with our Rainbow Kids.”
Bailey took out her notepad, and Tish immediately looked uneasy.
“Rainbow Kids?”
“Our after-school program for underprivileged youth. In the summer, it’s a day camp.”
“I see.” Bailey jotted it down. “And you didn’t teach the program?”
“My classes are all adults, so Dana and I didn’t overlap. I actually didn’t know her very well at all. Still, it’s . . .” She seemed to search for a word. “Tragic. Beyond tragic, really. I can’t quite believe what happened to her. You’re not quoting me, are you?”
“This is just background. Do you know who might have known Dana better? Or do you happen to know who hired her?”
“Oh, she was a volunteer.”
“She was?”
“Yeah, there are only three of us on faculty. You could try the volunteer coordinator. Or maybe talk to Alex, our librarian. They were friends. Dana spent a lot of time in there. It’s through the courtyard in the main house. Go under the curved staircase and hang a left.”
Bailey followed her directions, but the front door was locked. She found a cobblestone path shaded by vibrant pink crepe myrtle trees and followed it around to a side courtyard. Branches rustled, and a giant blue bird swooshed down onto a patio table.
Bailey jumped back. The peacock was huge. It turned, sweeping its tail feathers over the table. It stared at Bailey for a long moment and then slowly fanned its shimmery plumage. Bailey held her breath, awestruck. Suddenly, the bird hopped down onto the ground.
“Vile creatures.”
She turned to see a bald man with an armload of books. She looked back at the peacock as he flounced away, dragging his feathers over the cobblestones.
“I was just thinking how beautiful they are,”