when Ann Marie put on a perfunctory smile, said, âThank you, Agent Hughes,â and faced the camera again. âThatâs the latest word we have on this story. To repeat, we are waiting word from West Eames, New Hampshire, where a hearing is now under way to determine the immediate fate of Heather Malone . . .â
Griffin turned off the television and pushed a hand through his hair. Hughes was a common enough last name. If Poppy had been watching just now, she might not make the connection.
Wishful thinking, he thought sourly. Randyâs hair was a deep auburn that could translate to brown in many lights, but there was the jaw they had in common. No getting around that square jaw. Put the name with the jaw and add the whole thing to the timing of Griffinâs visits, and Poppy would know. She was quick. He had learned that from their phone calls during the mess involving her sister. She hadnât let him get away with a thing. For all he knew, she had already guessed he was the one whoâd tipped off the law.
A fast phone call would tell him one way or the otherâand a fast phone call was about all he had time for. He was behind in the Hayden biography. A deadline loomed. He had writing to do.
But he didnât want to find out what Poppy did or did not know in a phone call. Far better, he decided as he began pushing together the papers strewn on the coffee table, to drive on up and press his case in person.
* * *
Poppy missed the interview with Randall Hughes. She didnât hear the name, didnât see the face, because she was on the phone with her sister Lily at the time. Though Lily was two years older than she, Poppy was the protective one, because Lily had a painful stutter. It had been better lately, and in general, things were looking up for Lily. Not only was she in love, but, as she talked with Poppy now, she was driving back from Portsmouth, where she taught a class in music appreciation at a private high school. It was one of three such positions sheâd won since losing two jobs in Boston the fall before. Adding her relationship with John to the picture, Lily had definitely come out ahead.
That didnât mean Poppy could stop feeling protective. Lily had been through a rough stretch. Now Heatherâs being in the news for no cause, much as Lily had been, was bound to affect her.
âItâs like a rerun,â Lily said through the static of a poor cell phone connection. âHeather is the only thing the local stations are talking about. I understand that Iâm in New Hampshire and that this is New Hampshire news, but what facts do they have? I donât hear any, Poppy. Certainly none that make sense to those of us who know Heather. Has the press been calling?â
âHere? No. John was right. They know how we feel, so theyâre steering clear. Vivian Abbott called a little while ago.â Vivian was the town clerk and had a view out the window of the Town Hall. âShe said she could see two crews filming in town, but she said they were state, not national. Maybe national doesnât dare.â
âMaybe they just havenât arrived yet,â Lily said, sounding worried. âHave you talked with Micah?â
âHe called during the lunch break. He said Cassieâs trying to find out what evidence the government has, but theyâre making her file motions for everything, and motions take days. Heatherâs a wreck. Heâs a wreck.â
âDo the girls know whatâs going on?â
âThe school principal says noââPoppy had talked with the man twiceââbut that may change once the bell rings and the kids hit the streets. Hold on a sec, Lily. Someoneâs calling John.â She punched in another button. âLake News.â
âItâs Charlie,â said a voice that was robust in its anger. âKipâs not there?â
âHeâs in Concord.â
âChrist, I hope