Fear Collector by Gregg Olsen Read Free Book Online

into the car. “Was it just me or did you get a weird feeling? Maybe something going on between those two?”
    Grace started the car and looked at Paul.
    “Oh yeah,” she said. “Did you notice the shoebox on the kitchen counter? Carhartt boots size thirteen.”
    “No, so?”
    “Marty was wearing brand-new Carhartts,” she said, backing into the street.
    “Didn’t catch that,” he said. “Methinks they’ve been knocking those boots.”
    Grace nodded. “Methinks that, too.”
     
     
    Roger Goodman’s initial report indicated that Naomi worked at the Melting Pot. Since she wasn’t picking up the cell number they had for her, Grace and Paul drove down the hill toward the restaurant in Tacoma’s best stab at urban renewal—a slew of restaurants along Pacific Avenue not far from the Washington State History Museum and the Dale Chihuly–stuffed Museum of Glass. Grace and Shane had been to The Melting Pot a couple times before. It was an expensive fondue restaurant whose price point kept it in the “special occasion” category. On the drive down, Paul complained about Lynnette, his ex-wife, and Grace pretended to agree with everything he said. To disagree just meant more mind-numbing examples of why Lynnette Bateman was a complete bitch and control freak. Since she truly was, there was no point in getting that litany from her pissed-off former husband.
    “You know,” Grace said, “Lynnette is my sergeant.”
    “I know,” he said. “I feel sorry for you.”
    “I appreciate that, Paul. But what I’m trying to say is I just can’t go there conversation-wise. I get what you’re saying. I trust your opinion. Can we just leave it like that?”
    “Okay,” he said, his face a little red. “I just need someone to talk to. You know, she’s really messing up the custody deal.”
    “You’re a good father,” Grace said. “It will work out.”
    He looked out the window. “Hope so. I need my kid.”
    Grace nodded. She pulled into a parking space behind The Melting Pot.
    “Naomi drives a light blue VW,” she said, pulling into park.
    “Yeah. That’s the one. Guess she’s working.”
    Inside the restaurant they found Naomi Carlyle, front and center. She was an attractive young woman with long waves of blond hair and green eyes that flickered in the light of her workstation, the hostess podium.
    After the detectives introduced themselves, the trio went to a quiet space in the back of the restaurant.
    “I told the detective on the phone that I couldn’t think of anyplace Lisa would have gone. I mean, I can think of places she would like to go—Maui, for example. But I doubt that’s where she went. She would never have left that car of hers. She loved it. Plus, when you get right down to it that little bitch would have never gone anywhere good without me.”
    “Little bitch? That’s kind of harsh,” Paul said.
    Naomi laughed. “No. That’s just a nickname we had at Stadium High. We were the little bitches—LBs. We ran that school.”
    “I see. High school was a while ago,” Grace said. “You and Lisa have been close for a long time.”
    “Yeah. Like sisters,” Naomi said. A waitress offered them water, but all three indicated no.
    “Then you probably were around when she was dating Marty Keillor,” Paul said.
    “Party Marty,” Naomi said. “Yeah, I was. The dude was fun but so wrong for her. He kept cheating on her. She’d break up. Go back to him. Break up again. You needed a tally sheet to figure out what their relationship was. Glad that’s over.”
    “Was it a hard breakup?” Grace asked.
    “No. Not really. I mean, look they had a yo-yo relationship. Each breakup and makeup was easy. By the end they were only a booty call anyway. What’s all this about Marty? He’s a dope, but he’d never hurt her. You should follow up on that capper she was talking to before she disappeared.”
    “Capper?”
    Naomi shrugged. “He had a broken leg or something. She was talking to me when she