Free Time and Trouble by Gillian Roberts Page A

women I baby-sit told me. They both said they once had things that were just like it. When they were younger. We aren ’ t talking Cartier ’ s. Or original crafted jewelry. We ’ re talking teen-aged souvenirs. ” She suddenly looked uncomfortable, embarrassed. “ They were love tokens. That ’ s what the woman — those women — told me. Somebody gave you his heart. Or maybe just your parents, you know? It was just … a thing. You couldn ’ t track ownership or sales records, if that ’ s what you ’ re thinking. ”
    “ Well, who knows? ” Luke asked. “ Maybe your baby-sitting clients would remember where they got them. Maybe it ’ d be significant. You could at least ask. ”
    “ One ’ s my neighbor, she ’ d know me, my voice. They are so Brady-bunch they ’ d get hung up on why I ’ m not home, why I left. They ’ d trace the call or get me to say something I didn ’ t mean to. No. ”
    She folded her arms across her breast like an angry teacher, and the hope that had surfaced in him took a nosedive.
    What he couldn ’ t stand was her bullheaded stubborn streak. She was like that about everything. No logic, just stubbornness. “ How about the other one? ” he asked patiently. “ Would the other one be safe to talk to? ”
    She looked at him blankly.
    “ The other person you baby-sit for who had one of those hearts. You said there were two. ”
    “ Oh. Right. ” Her gaze fluttered up the wall, and she puckered her mouth. “ I think … I think she said she got it as a ‘ secret Santa ’ gift at her office. And it doesn ’ t matter, see? All I ’ m saying is that this kind of heart was as common as houseflies. You couldn ’ t identify a skeleton through it. It would be like, like trying to trace the baby through its diapers, or a plastic rattle if they ’ d found one. ” She looked down at the amulet. “ It has symbolic value. To me. Why can ’ t you understand? ”
    “ It looks like the design — it looks like a word, ” Toto said. “ See? VUX. ” He passed it around and everyone nodded and Luke, who ’ d only glanced at the cleaned heart once or twice, realized that the delicate tracings did seem to spell those letters. “ But what could VUX mean? ” he asked. “ It sounds like a detergent. Or a vacuum cleaner. ”
    “ It isn ’ t Vux! There ’ s no such word, and it just looks almost like that, ” Penny said. “ It ’ s just a design, that ’ s all. ”
    “ Vux, ” Gary said. “ Vux. ” He shook his head. “ Doesn ’ t sound like anything — not even like a foreign language. Vux. Uh-uh. ”
    “ I hope that means you understand, now, ” Penny said.
    Luke took two deep breaths. “ It could be the name of an organization, ” he said. “ Something that could help the police. The ‘ X ’ could be for ten. The Tenth Anniversary or something. Bet if you looked on the net under Vux there ’ d be something — we don ’ t know all the possible —”
    Penny grabbed the chain and charm from his hand. Her skin, always fair, looked drained. “ Listen, ” she said, her voice rough. “ I ’ m sick of having my things taken away for no good reason. I ’ m sick of — there is no reason for me to turn this over to the cops. They ’ ll keep it forever, don ’ t you understand? And nothing will come of it, nothing can. Get real — think about it. Two bodies are found five years after they ’ re buried. Nobody saw a car there back then, nobody filed a missing persons report back then, nobody ’ s been hunting for them since then. So why, suddenly, could they be identified?
    “ What happened? A woman decides to pick up a hitchhiker, or her car breaks down in West Marin where there ’ s nothing except grazing land for miles and some stranger decides to kill her and the baby and take the car. I ’ m sure it was something insane like that. No reason, no clues. No family waiting, missing her. The two of them are just gone. And the killer — what would he do?