Page 36 of Jasmine Street Blues

“You’re saying this Loran Teller killed your mother.”

“Yes.” Henry was getting spun up. “It had to be her. She made it look like a robbery gone wrong, and I don’t know how she did it, but… how else… it never made any sense…”

A portrait was involved, he assumed.

“I’ll be happy to contact the authorities who are looking for her, if you’ll tell me who and where.” He kept his voice even, all business. It wasn’t easy. “We can share information, if it’s appropriate.”

Henry shook his head. “There’s no one for you to call. The police never believed me, but I know Loran was involved. Somehow.”

“Do you have a picture of this Loran Teller?”

Henry shook his head. “I should, but when she disappeared I was so angry I wasn’t thinking straight. I deleted everything of her off my phone, and burned the few physical pictures I had of her. She’s not on social media, never has been, so…”

“Describe her,” Mac demanded.

“Gorgeous,” Stanton whispered. “She had really short hair and liked to dress like it was the sixties. Faded jeans, tie-dye, big hoop earrings.”

“Doesn’t sound familiar.”

“She could change her look, though, right?”

Mac spotted Helen walking toward them briskly, a square white box in her hand.

He nodded in her direction, as he made a split-second decision. “That’s the Loran Raine I know. Is that your Loran? Doesn’t sound like your description, unless you knew her thirty years ago.”

Stanton’s face fell. “No, that’s not her. Shit, I was so sure I’d finally found her.”

“The woman who killed your mother.”

“Yeah. I’ve been looking for her for years, whenever I have the extra time. The cops won’t listen to me, they think I’m… well, like I said, they don’t believe me. Almost found her twice. Both times I ran into people who… who…”

“Who what?” Mac snapped.

“My mom isn’t the only person Loran killed. She’s a beautiful, talented, cold-blooded serial killer.”

* * *

Anna and Colt had been busy with plans to put the finishing touches on their new house when Olive called, so Helen had run over a couple of sandwiches, complete with individual bags of chips and two freshly baked cookies. Chocolate chip. Olive took hers to go; Loran waited until the flow of customers slowed to sit down and eat her late lunch. She was almost finished with the sandwich when Mac walked in.

She smiled at him.

He did not smile back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. With his job, anything was possible.

“Where do I start?”

“You can either start at the beginning or you can forget it all and kiss me.” She stood and walked toward him, a smile still on her face. He continued to look serious, tense, absolutely pissed. “Oh no, is it Bubbles?”

“Bubbles is fine,” he said.

“You just look… not yourself.”

He glared at her, and she stopped in her tracks. This was not the face of a kissable man.

Her stomach churned, as the possibilities flitted through her mind. Was his anger related to his job or to her? Had she done something wrong? Did he regret… She didn’t have time for this. “Either tell me what’s wrong or get out and don’t come back until you’re in a better mood.”

He didn’t leave; he didn’t offer explanations, either. She waited, as patiently as she could.