Getting Away Is Deadly Read Free

Since she couldn’t get any details out of anyone in the family, she used to make up stories about what happened to him, like that he died rescuing a family from a fire, stuff like that. Once, she told me that she used to pretend that he wasn’t really dead, that he’d somehow escaped death and was a spy and it was too dangerous for him to return home.”
    “That is sad, but I still don’t see why this guy who knew her dad doesn’t just e-mail her or call her,” Abby said.
    “I know. I don’t understand it either, but I’m doing it as a favor for Debbie. She used to babysit me when I was a kid. I idolized her. She was my cool older cousin. She was nice to me at family get-togethers. She didn’t make a big deal about me following her around and asking her a thousand questions. She even sat at the little kids’ table with me and my brother when she could have sat with the grown-ups.” I popped the Hershey’s Kiss in my mouth.
    “Okay, okay. But don’t you think you’re taking on too much? This is supposed to be a vacation, remember? Well, a vacation for us, even if Jeff and Mitch are working during the day,” Abby said.
    I swallowed the chocolate and said, “No. I have to see Summer. It would be rude not to stop in and see her while we’re so close. And the thing with Debbie—that won’t take long—a couple of hours. Just a quick meeting. Besides, it means a lot to her. It’s the least I can do for someone who endured the rickety card table with me at Thanksgiving when she didn’t have to.”
    My phone rang in my hand. It was the same Texas area code as my parents’ house, but not their number.
    “Ellie! It’s Debbie. Did you meet him yet?” A mixture of expectation and fear mingled in my cousin’s voice.
    “No. It’s tomorrow,” I said as I watched Wellesley’s approach. I raised my hand to wave at her. She’d almost reached the Reflecting Pool when a man joined her. He was shorter than her and had black hair and heavy dark eyebrows. I lowered my arm and said to Debbie, “I’m going to meet MacInally in the hotel lobby tomorrow for breakfast. I promise I’ll call you as soon as I talk to him.”
    “Okay.” Debbie’s voice was strained. “I’ve waited thirty-plus years to find out what happened. I guess I can wait one more day.”
    “How’s Morgan?” I asked as I watched the man and Wellesley. He pulled at the neck of his thin white T-shirt, which distorted the logo of a tree and the outline of the Capitol above the words Capitol Landscaping. His dark green pants were paint-splattered and had muddy patches on the knees. He shifted his weight from one heavy work boot to the other as he talked rapidly to Wellesley. She shook her head and stepped away. He caught her arm and spun her back toward him.
    Debbie said, “Itchy and mortified. Thirteen is a difficult age without the chicken pox. I still can’t believe she got it even after she’d had the shot. I’m so—ugh—so disappointed I can’t be there, but I can’t leave Morgan right now and I can’t wait any longer. I have to know what MacInally has to say.”
    I divided my attention between Debbie’s voice and Wellesley’s encounter with the man. The rough way he’d jerked her arm worried me a bit, but she didn’t seem to be bothered by it. She tugged her arm away, said a few terse words, and strode away from him.
    I tuned into the silence on the phone line and said cautiously, “Debbie, MacInally may not know anything.” Debbie had such high hopes for this meeting, but I was afraid I might not bring much more back than photos of her dad’s war buddy.
    The dark-headed man on the other side of the Reflecting Pool watched Wellesley walk away, his face under his heavy eyebrows expressionless. After a long moment, he turned and walked in the other direction. I expected him to join a landscape crew that was trimming bushes, but he passed them and continued on toward the Washington Monument. “Debbie, I’ve got to go. Our