“I can’t. This thing I’m tangled up in … It’s complicated.” It was wrong of me to drag him into this. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called—”
“Why did you?” he asked before I could hang up.
The question pulled me up short. I picked at the fraying knee of my jeans. “I guess I just wanted you to know that I’m not a terrible person. And I never wanted to mislead you. If things weren’t so screwed up right now, I would tell you my name. I’d take you up on that offer to go out for pizza and tell you everything over a beer. But…”
“It’s complicated,” he said softly. “I know.”
“Do you believe me?” I closed my eyes and braced for his answer, surprised by the wash of relief I felt when he finally spoke.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Why?”
“Ever heard of Hanlon’s razor?” I tipped my head back and closed my eyes. The low timbre of his voice was even and calm, a balm on my frazzled nerves. “There’s an old saying that goes something like … ‘Let us not attribute to malice and cruelty what may be referred to less criminal motives.’ I make it a point never to assume the worst about people.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Sometimes people just make mistakes.”
We both fell quiet. I wondered if he would feel the same way if he knew the depths of the mistakes we were talking about. If he knew Harris Mickler’s body was buried at the bottom of them. “I should probably get rid of this phone and never call you again.”
“Is that what you want?”
“No.”
“Then keep it.” It was the voice of a lawyer giving counsel. There was something reassuring in it, something solid I could hold on to. “I still don’t know your name,” he reminded me. “This could be anyone’s number in my phone. The detective’s only interested in some woman named Theresa, and since your name isn’t Theresa, there’s no reason for me to tell him about you. Is there?”
I swallowed the painful lump in my throat. “No.”
“Promise me if you need help, you’ll call.”
I wished I could tell him this wasn’t as simple as a bad alternator. That I was in way over my head, and it was going to take more than a set of jumper cables and a wet wipe to fix the mess I’d made.
“I’ll be okay,” I said as I disconnected the call. I only wished I believed it.
CHAPTER 33
According to her engagement announcement in the local paper seven years ago, Aimee Shapiro had married a young entrepreneur who owned a chain of car washes. His name was Daniel Reynolds. According to a white pages search, Aimee and Daniel Reynolds now lived in a town house in Potomac Falls, about fourteen miles away. And according to the name tag pinned to the dress suit she’d been wearing when she left home that morning, Aimee Reynolds, aka Aimee R, was on her way to work.
Vero and I tailed her to a parking lot at Fair Oaks Mall, then into the cosmetics department at Macy’s. We huddled in the dress racks, watching her organize the displays under the glass counter.
“Go talk to her.” Vero nudged me with her elbow.
I pulled Zach from her arms. “I can’t be the one to talk to her. She might recognize me from the photos in Steven’s house.”
Vero rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Like Theresa’s got your face hanging all over her hall of fame.”
Point taken. “If Aimee was there the night I brought Harris to the house, she might have gotten a look at my face. You have to do it.” I watched Aimee surreptitiously as I slid dresses down the metal racks. “Dial my number and leave your phone on in your pocket. I’ll listen from here. And put your ear thingy on so you can hear me.”
“What am I supposed to say?” she argued as she stuffed the Bluetooth in her ear.
“I don’t know.” I angled Zach out of reach of a designer silk bustier before he could stuff it in his mouth and use it as a teether. “Make small talk. Find out if she was working here the night Harris disappeared.”
Vero held out her hand. “Give me your credit card.”
“You can’t use my credit card! My name is on it!”
“Then give me some cash. I can’t just loiter at the counter and not spend anything.”
I fished a few bills from my purse, stuffed them in her hand, and pushed her toward the makeup counter. Propping my phone under my ear, I hoisted Zach on my other hip and pretended to be on a call. Using the tall dress racks as camouflage, I wandered to the edge of the cosmetics department until I was near enough to eavesdrop.