Sawyer nodded.
“Great. I’ll drive. Meet me in the parking lot in fifteen minutes.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Sawyer and Lexi were seated at a small table in the center of the main dining room. No privacy and little elbow room. Lexi snapped her fingers, though, and complained just enough to get them moved to a coveted booth.
Sawyer had never been to the steakhouse before. The Blue Fox was touted as being a high-class and memorable experience. But a quick look at the menu told Sawyer it was, first and foremost, hideously expensive.
“If Brad Vicente brought his dates here,” Lexi said, “he has very nice taste.”
“Have you been here before?”
“Many times.”
Sawyer didn’t know much about Lexi. Now seemed like a good time to ask a few questions. “Are you married?”
“No. No children either.”
Sawyer moved aside the napkin covering the basket of warm bread, grabbed a slice of sourdough, and slathered on the garlic butter.
“Like you, I had an abusive parent.”
Sawyer knew never to assume anything about anyone. Everybody had a story. But Lexi? The question floating through her mind should have been, why not Lexi? “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My father left my mom and his three children at a young age. I didn’t blame him. My mother was abusive, verbally and physically. I had two younger brothers, which made for a loud and angry household. I can’t remember a time when my mother wasn’t screaming and yelling at us. She was always calling me names, telling me I was worthless, throwing shoes at me, or smacking me with a serving spoon, whatever was closest.” Lexi sipped her water. “If Mother announced suddenly that she was going to the store, that meant we were all supposed to join her. If I didn’t have my shoes on—wasn’t ready to go—she’d slap me, hard. If I hurried to the car without shoes, she’d slap me, hard. It was always a lose-lose situation.”
The server brought their food, setting the lobster bisque in front of Sawyer. Lexi got the salmon with asparagus.
When the server walked away, Lexi continued her sad story. “My psychiatrist has taught me that it wasn’t about me. It was about my mother’s inability to express her anger and frustration. If I had found help sooner, my youngest brother might not have taken his own life. And I might not have turned to drugs and alcohol.” She smiled. “Thankfully, I got help. I have been in and out of therapy and on and off medication for years. Instead of drinking and drugs, I take antidepressants and antianxiety medication. Every day is a struggle with self-esteem. Every day, I look in the mirror and tell myself I am a good person.”
Sawyer was no longer hungry. She had no words. Not of comfort or sympathy or anything at all.
“There’s a reason I’m telling you all of this.”
Sawyer waited.
“When I first heard about you and your sisters, I tried to find out more about you. I paid attention. And I saw how brave you were.”
“I’m not brave.”
Lexi blew air out of her mouth, almost a whistle but not quite. “You are. You just don’t realize it yet. I’m not saying that you’re not afraid. But your determination and resolve seem to take over, and I believe it’s those qualities that enabled you to find that missing girl last month.” She pointed a finger at Sawyer. “You know what needs to be done, and you go after it. You’re not afraid to take risks or ask for help. That’s bravery.”
“I’ll tell you what I’m not good at,” Sawyer said.
Lexi arched an eyebrow.
“Compliments. They make my palms sweat. I think my inability to receive any sort of praise without cringing is a sure sign of low self-esteem.”
“Sounds like this is something you’ve thought about.”
Sawyer nodded and then picked up her spoon and tasted her soup. It was divine.
They talked and ate, and when the waitress brought their check, Sawyer showed the woman a picture of Brad Vicente and asked if he’d ever eaten at the establishment. The young woman wrinkled her nose. “Unfortunately, yes. He was a regular before—you know—”
“Before he was arrested,” Lexi provided.
“Yes.” The waitress looked around as if to make sure no one was listening. “He was good friends with Ian Farley. Ian mostly worked on weekends since he was taking classes at California State University Sacramento. He used to be a popular server here at the Blue Fox. But he quit the same day Brad Vicente was arrested. Rumors floated around for weeks about Ian helping Brad Vicente spike his victims’ drinks.”
Sawyer exchanged a what-the-hell look with Lexi.
The waitress visibly stiffened. “I said too much.”
“No,” Lexi told her in a gentle voice. “Brad Vicente is appealing the court’s decision. If he finds a way to get out of jail, he could ruin the lives of many more women. Nothing you’ve told us will be repeated after we leave.”
“Thank you,” the server said. “You might want to talk to Tina on your way out.” She pointed to the woman standing behind a podium near the entrance. “She’s the hostess who was working the last time Brad Vicente was here.”
“Thank you,” Sawyer said. “You’ve been a big help.” Since it had been Sawyer’s idea to go to the Blue Fox for lunch, it seemed only fair that she pay the bill. Sawyer reached inside her purse for her wallet and pulled out the only credit card that wasn’t maxed out and put it on the tray. After the bill was paid, they stopped to chat with the hostess.
“All I know,” Tina said, “is that the woman with Brad Vicente appeared to be tipsy. She was wobbling as she made her exit. I kept watching because I thought for sure she was going to fall over. She was about to get into her car when I saw her date—Brad Vicente—help her walk to his car instead. To tell you the truth, I was sort of relieved that he wasn’t going to let her drive. Later, though, when I heard what happened, I couldn’t help but wonder if that woman had a black wig shoved inside her purse.” Her eyes got wide. “Maybe she was faking the whole tipsy thing, you know?”
“Are there security cameras in the parking lot?” Sawyer asked.
“No. But management has talked about having them installed.”
“You wouldn’t happen to recall what kind of car the woman was driving, would you?”
“It was small and mint green. That’s all I know.”
Sawyer instantly thought of the car that had been following her for days now. There was no way it could be a coincidence. No point in saying anything to Lexi until she had more information.
An older couple walked in, cutting their talk short. Sawyer thanked Tina before she and Lexi headed out to the parking lot. A few minutes later, they were climbing into Lexi’s car.
“I wonder if the woman was faking it?” Sawyer asked. “Maybe she planned the whole thing and wanted to get into Brad Vicente’s car. All her friends in black wigs could have been waiting at the house.”
“Anything’s possible.” Lexi buckled her seatbelt and then looked at Sawyer for longer than was necessary or comfortable.
“What?”
“We’re not investigators. It’s not our job to investigate a crime, examine the scene, interview witnesses, and pursue suspects. It’s up to law enforcement to piece it all together. You do realize that, don’t you?”