Cry No More Read online

  Brian did obtuse really well. “What?” he said, looking bewildered. “I’m just trying to help. You know, give you some pointers and stuff.”

  “Really. I didn’t know Neanderthals were fashion experts.”

  He grinned. “A little fur goes a long way.”

  “I’m sure you’d know.”

  Joann caught Milla’s eye and gestured toward Milla’s office. Milla looked and almost groaned aloud when she saw who was waiting for her. Mrs. Roberta Hatcher was searching for her missing husband, who had disappeared one weekend several weeks ago while she was in Austin visiting her sister. Since Mr. Hatcher’s clothing was also missing, as well as his car and half the money in their checking account, the police had correctly concluded foul play wasn’t involved, that Mr. Hatcher had left of his own free will, and there was nothing they could do. She had then turned to Finders for help, and refused to take no for an answer.

  Casting a cautious look at Brian and Olivia—Milla hoped Olivia’s antiviolence philosophy would continue to hold—she stepped into her office and smiled at Mrs. Hatcher. “Good morning, Roberta. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  Roberta shook her head. She was a pleasant, graying dumpling of a woman, in her late fifties, with the kind of round, cheerful face that looked most natural when wreathed in a smile. Since Benny Hatcher had disappeared one sunny afternoon, however, her eyes were often red-rimmed from weeping and Milla had yet to see the woman smile.

  If she could get her hands on Mr. Hatcher, Milla thought, she would gladly strangle him. How dare he put his wife through this? If he wanted to leave, he should at least have had the guts and the courtesy to tell her, instead of leaving her twisting in the wind like this. Her heart would still be broken, of course, but at least she would know what was going on, that he was alive, and what her legal status was. She was in limbo, she was suffering, and Mr. Hatcher needed to have his ass kicked.

  “Please help me,” Roberta said in a low, scratchy voice, as if she had cried so much her throat was raw and swollen. Milla knew all too well how that felt. “I know you said he isn’t a missing person, that he walked away under his own power and of his own accord, but don’t you see, I don’t know that, not for certain. What if some con man talked him into something, and now he’s lost all his money and he’s ashamed to come home, or he’s hurt or even dead? I checked into a few private detective agencies like you told me to do, but I can’t afford them. Even the cheapest one is way out of my budget. Please.”

  “I can’t,” Milla said, just as upset as Mrs. Hatcher. “We’re in the same boat you’re in. We don’t have unlimited funding; we pinch every penny and make do with what we have or we do without. Look at this office. You can see we save most of our funds for our searches. The odds are that Mr. Hatcher left you and didn’t have the courage to tell you. How can I justify using our resources to locate someone who almost certainly left of his own free will?”

  “But can’t you check his social security records to find out if he’s working somewhere?”

  “That takes a special subscription service, and we don’t have it. The people we track are lost, not hiding.” She rubbed her forehead, trying to think of a solution. “Have you tried the Salvation Army? They locate lost relatives. I believe it’s a one-time-only free service and I don’t know if they do it under these circumstances, but perhaps they can help.”

  “The Salvation Army?” Roberta murmured. “I didn’t know they did things like that.”

  “They do, but as I said, I don’t know their requirements. If they can’t help you, then please see a lawyer. Do what you can to protect yourself legally.”

  A single tear dripped down Roberta’s cheek. “I haven’t told the children,” she said raggedly. “How do I tell them their father just walked away?”

  She had two sons, both married and with their own children. “You just tell them,” Milla said. “You have to, rather than letting them find out some other way. What if he calls them? Then they’ll be angry at you for not telling them what was going on.”

  “I suppose.” She wiped her cheek. “I guess I keep hoping he’ll come home and they’ll never have to know.”

  “It’s been almost three weeks,” Milla said gently. “Even if he did come back now, would you take him back? Do you still want him?”

  Another tear rolled down. “He doesn’t love me, does he? If he did, he wouldn’t have done this. He couldn’t have. I know I’ve let myself go a tad, but I’m almost sixty and it’s all right to be gray-haired when you’re sixty, isn’t it? Benny always kept himself in good shape, though. And he has only a little gray in his hair.”

  “Could he have a girlfriend?” Milla hated to say it, even though she knew the police had already asked Roberta the same question. At the time, in shock, worried out of her mind and terrified that her life was falling apart, Roberta had automatically rejected the idea.

  Now, however, her face crumpled and she put her hand over her eyes. “I don’t know,” she sobbed. “He could have. He played golf almost every day. I never checked up on him. I trusted him.”

  Milla supposed there were people who willingly played golf even in the most searing heat, but every day? She doubted it. And so did Roberta, now that she was seeing things from a different perspective.

  “Please, see a lawyer,” Milla said again. “And change your bank account. I bet you haven’t done that, have you? His name is still on the account. What if he empties it out? What will you do then?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know,” Roberta moaned, rocking back and forth a little in her distress. She began blindly pawing through her purse. Guessing what she needed, Milla pulled a tissue from the box on her desk and pressed it into Roberta’s hand.

  After a few moments of wiping and blowing, Roberta took a deep breath. “I guess I’ve been acting like an old fool these past few weeks. I need to wake up and see what’s what. He left me. I might try the Salvation Army thing, but you’re right: first off, I need to change the bank account and protect what’s left.” Her chin quivered. “I’ll call the boys tonight and tell them what’s happening. I can’t believe he’s done this. Leaving me is one thing, but what about the boys? He’s always had such a good relationship with them. He has to know this will change everything, so I guess he doesn’t care about that, either.”

  Milla didn’t say anything to that, though she suspected that eventually Mr. Hatcher would contact his sons, say he was sorry and so on, and expect everything to be as it was before. Some people simply didn’t see the consequences of their actions, or they figured they could work things out. She didn’t think this could ever be worked out, but it wasn’t her call.

  Roberta’s eyes were red and swollen but her head was up and her stride brisk as she left the office. The door was barely closed behind her when Milla’s phone rang. She punched the button and sank into her chair, feeling exhausted already.

  “This is Milla.”

  “Hi, sweetie. Are you free for lunch today?”

  It was Susanna Kosper, the obstetrician who had delivered Justin at the tiny free clinic in Mexico. Life was funny sometimes; Susanna and Rip, her husband, had liked the Mexican people so much that they had settled in El Paso to practice. That way they were still in the United States but close to the culture they enjoyed. They still made at least two trips a year into different parts of Mexico.

  Susanna made an effort to stay in touch with Milla, and considering an obstetrician’s busy schedule, that was saying something. There was a link between them because Susanna had been in the clinic that awful day, and she and Rip had been part of David’s desperate struggle to save Milla’s life. Sometimes a couple of months would slip by without contact between the two women, because of their hectic schedules, but whenever they could they’d have lunch together. Such plans had to be spur-of-the-moment, but somehow they usually made it work.

  “Unless something comes up,” Milla said. “Where and when?”

  “Twelve-thirty. Dolly’s.”