Darla looked around frantically, as though searching for a doorman or some local muscle, but this was a small diner in Eagle Rock, so there was none. Just a waitress, taking orders from old folks and families at the far end of the room. Probably a chef out back in the kitchen too. Jessica wasn’t worried about the waitress or the chef. She was going nowhere.

She pulled her wallet from her bag and flipped it open to a photo tucked behind a rectangle of milky plastic. Jessica and Tony Shaw, taken around a year before he died. Another rare picture, just like the one at the art gallery in Williamsburg.

“If you won’t look at my face, take a look at this photo.”

Jessica threw the wallet in front of Darla, who gave the picture a cursory glance. Then she picked up the wallet slowly. She looked up at Jessica. Her face was the same color as the white Formica tabletop.

“This is Robbie.”

Jessica nodded. “My father. Eleanor Lavelle was my mother.”

Darla’s gaze returned to the photo, then back to Jessica’s face. She stared hard at her for what felt like a long time but was probably only a few seconds.

“Alicia?” Darla looked stunned. Her voice wasn’t much louder than a whisper.

Jessica nodded again. “I only found out myself a few days ago.”

The waitress appeared with a coffee pot and two mugs. “You guys both want coffee?”

“No,” Darla said.

“Yes,” Jessica said. “I think we could both do with one. With plenty of sugar.”

Darla just nodded.

The waitress poured the drinks. “I’ll come back in a few minutes and take your food orders.”

“How is this even possible?” Darla asked, once the waitress was out of earshot.

“If you’re finding all of this hard to take in, imagine how I felt.” Jessica drank some of the coffee. It was good. “Less than a week ago, I was sitting in a diner a little like this one when I came across Alicia Lavelle’s missing persons profile online. I knew immediately the kid in the photo was me, although I was sure it was a mistake at first. I’m a private investigator, so I came to Eagle Rock to try to get some answers.”

Darla slowly stirred sugar into her coffee but made no move to drink it. “You’re really a private investigator?”

“Yes, I am,” Jessica said. “And I intend to find out who killed my mother.”

Darla dropped the spoon on the table and put her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes. Fat tears spilled down her plump cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? Why?”

Darla opened her eyes and looked at Jessica. “Eleanor is dead because of me. It’s all my fault.”

30 JESSICA

30

JESSICA

The waitress was back at the booth. “Have you decided what you want to order yet?”