He spread the map on the carpet and examined it in more detail. "Five towns have been circled. I don't see any obvious connection between them. They're scattered all over the western side of the state."
"Louise used a yellow felt marker to circle three of them." Charlotte leaned over the map. "But the other two are marked in red. I wonder if that's significant."
He reached into the carry-on and removed one of the envelopes. The initials on the outside were J.K. The flap was sealed. He opened it carefully and removed a couple of sheets of folded paper. Charlotte watched him intently.
"Well?" she prompted.
"First page is a computer printout," he said. He unfolded it. "It's a copy of an obituary notice for a woman named Jennifer Kingsley, age twenty-one. Date of death is about three months ago." He paused and glanced at the map. "According to this, she was living in one of those towns marked in red on the map."
Charlotte looked at the road map. "Does the notice list cause of death?"
"No. Which often means it was suicide or an overdose or some other cause that the family wanted to keep quiet."
"What's on the second sheet of paper?" Charlotte asked.
He unfolded it and studied it. "A note that says the victim worked nights and that the cause of death was a suspected drug overdose. Looks like Louise Flint's handwriting."
Charlotte plucked the next envelope out of the suitcase and opened it. There was only one page inside.
"Another obituary notice," she said. "A woman named Karen Ralston, age twenty. No cause of death listed, but Louise jotted down a note at the bottom of the page. It says, OD'd. Body found in apartment. Neighbors suspect it was suicide.'"
Max looked at her. "Two women dead, evidently because they overdosed on drugs. The bodies were found in the victims' homes. Now Louise is dead, apparently by a drug overdose. Body found in her own condo."
Charlotte looked at him, her eyes shadowed with anxiety. "What in the world is going on here?"
"I have no idea." He took out the third envelope. It contained several printouts. "These are newspaper clippings and police blotter reports."
"More mysterious drug overdoses?"
"No. These are reports of assaults. Suspected rapes." He read through the details, looking for similarities, searching for a pattern. "All of the victims were about the same age as the two dead women. The locations match the three towns on the map that are circled in yellow."
"Anyone arrested?"
"Not according to these reports. Louise wrote another note: No descriptions of assailants. Drugs involved.'"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I'll do some research and see what I can find."
Charlotte sat back on her heels and looked at the items that had come out of the carry-on. "Louise was involved in something dangerous, wasn't she?"
"I think so, yes. The only thing that links these five women is drugs."
Charlotte shook her head. "I was so sure Louise wasn't involved with drugs. Well, I guess we can be certain of one thing: whatever the intruder was looking for, it wasn't the map and those obituaries and crime reports. He didn't even bother to open the envelopes."
"No."
"He was after something else, then. Drugs or cash, just like the police said."
"Probably."
He looked around the gloom-filled condo suite and then he refolded the map and tossed it into the suitcase. He stuffed the last of the printouts into the third envelope and put it on top of the map.
"I've had enough of this place for one day," he said. He closed the carry-on. "I need some time to process what we found. Have you got your car?"
"No," she said. "I walked."
"I'm parked on the street. I'll take you home." It struck him that she might not want to be alone with him in a car. But night had fallen. He did not want her walking back through the rainy streets alone. "Unless you'd rather take a cab?"
She appeared to give that some close thought. He told himself not to take it personally. Then she gave him a small but very real smile.
"I appreciate the offer," she said. "Thanks."
It wasn't a huge leap forward in terms of establishing a level of trust, he thought, but it was definitely a step.
He immediately wondered why he was worried about trust levels. In his business, success was based on the assumption that everyone, including the client, usually lied. Everyone had secrets to protect.
Outside on the wet street Charlotte pulled up the hood of her anorak. He pulled up the collar of his windbreaker. It was all the protection he had. There was a baseball cap on the backseat of his car, but he hadn't thought to take it with him earlier when he met Daniel Flint at Louise's condo. He wondered if that made him look like a poorly prepared investigator. Image was everything in his new line, according to his family.
The vehicle he had used that afternoon was the nondescript gray compact that he kept for in-city work. It didn't stand out on the street, which, of course, was why he liked it. Then again, it didn't make much of an impression, either.
Not that he was trying to make an impression on Charlotte.
She didn't say anything when he opened the passenger-side door for her. She probably figured he wasn't doing all that well in the private investigation business. If so, she would be right.
He closed the door and hurried around the front of the car. By the time he got behind the wheel, his hair was plastered to his head and his jacket was soaked. He stripped it off and tossed it into the rear seat. The jacket would survive, but all in all he was not doing a good imitation of an ace detective.
And just why the hell did that seem important? he wondered.
He fired up the engine and pulled away from the curb.
"You're wondering if Louise had something to do with the deaths of those two women, aren't you?" he asked. "Maybe sold them the drugs?"
"No, I really can't see her as a dealer."
"You said yourself, you didn't know her that well."
Out of the corner of his eye he saw her tighten her grip on the strap of her bag.
"That's true, but I do know Jocelyn well," she said. "I can't imagine that she would have become close friends with a drug dealer."
"Take it easy. The trick to finding answers is not to get too far ahead of yourself. At this point all we've got are questions. Start making assumptions and we'll end up going down a blind alley."
Charlotte released her death grip on the strap of the bag and folded her arms very tightly beneath her breasts. She gazed straight ahead through the windshield.
"We?" she said.
He slowed for a stoplight and took the opportunity to get a closer look at her. She turned her head and met his eyes.
"You said at this point all we've got are questions," she said.
He flexed his hands on the wheel. The light changed. He eased his foot down on the throttle.
"Figure of speech," he said. "I'm working for Daniel Flint. I have certain obligations to my client. There's the little matter of client confidentiality."
"Does that mean you can't work for me, too?"
He glanced at her again. "What, exactly, do you want me to do?"
"Isn't it obvious? I want you to find out if Jocelyn's sudden decision to go off the grid is in any way connected to Louise's death."
He thought about that for a minute. "I'll talk to my client about it. See if he has a problem with sharing information."
"Yes, please do that. Because if you don't want to take my case, I'll find someone who will."
"Wow. I sense blackmail."
"Leverage."
"You're tough."
She glanced at him, clearly surprised. "No. Jocelyn is the tough one."
"Not saying she isn't tough. Just saying you are."
Charlotte concentrated on the view of the wet street. "You've only known me for about an hour."
"Sometimes that's all it takes."
"I'm not tough," she said. "What I am is the one-foot-in-front-of-the-other type."
"You just keep on doing what you think you have to do until you can't do it anymore."
"I suppose so. I'm definitely not the spontaneous type. Just ask my ex-fiancé."
He told himself not to get too excited just because she had labeled the fiancé an ex. Probably someone else in the picture by now, he thought.
"I've got a problem taking you on as a client," he said. "It could set up some conflicts of interest. But I'll talk to Daniel Flint this evening and explain that you and he both have a mutual interest in finding out what happened to his cousin. I'll see if he's on board with me using my judgment about sharing information with you."
"All right," she said. She hesitated a beat. "That one-foot-in-front-of-the-other thing?"
"What about it?"
"My therapist told me that it's not always a great strategy. She said I need to cultivate spontaneity and open myself up to new possibilities."
"You see a therapist?"
"I went to one for a while after my fiancé, aka the asshole, dumped me five days before the wedding. Not that I'm bitter."
"Of course not," he said, deadpan. "Holding a grudge against the guy who walked out just before the wedding would be way beneath you."