Page 175 of The Fourth Option
Stanton and J.J. remained standing, their eyes scanning the room. J.J. raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t notice it was gone, ma’am? Didn’t report it?”
“I don’t go out much these days,” Gloria replied smoothly, setting the coffeepot down. “My knees aren’t what they used to be.”
“Anyone else have the keys?” Bates asked.
“Oh, no,” Gloria said, shaking her head. “Just me.”
“Could we see them?” he pressed.
“I don’t know where I put them. At this age things get, well, grayer.”
Stanton’s gaze drifted to the walls decorated with wildlife photos, framed magazine covers, a signed letter fromNational Geographic. The furniture was elegant, Empire-style, with silk cushions and polished wood. He turned back to Gloria.
“Do you live alone, ma’am?”
She hesitated, just a beat, but enough for Stanton to notice. “Yes, I do.”
“Just you and your dog?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your dog,” he said, pointing to the water and food bowls in the corner.
“Oh, those are for my granddaughter’s dog when she stays with me. I just leave them there now.”
“What kind of dog?” J.J. asked.
“Oh dear, I believe it’s more of a mutt.”
“Do you mind if we take a look around?” Bates interjected.
“I don’t see why, but be my guest,” Gloria replied, her voice light. “Might take a minute. I’m not as spry as I used to be.”
She led them through the hallway, pointing out framed photos of her travels: elephants in Botswana, glaciers in Patagonia, a faded snapshot of her late husband beside a fishing boat at a dock. Her stories flowed easily, a practiced rhythm of names and dates.
In the guest room, Stanton paused. The space was tidy but unmistakably lived in. He noted Bates’s careful reaction to the scene too, taking it all in. A denim jacket hung on the back of the chair. A stack of used textbooks on accounting and business management were stacked on a nightstand. A pair of headphones peeked out from under the pillow. The window was cracked; lace curtains moved in the breeze.
“My granddaughter stays with me sometimes,” Gloria said, her voice soft.
J.J. exchanged a glance with Stanton, but neither pressed.
“Why don’t we have some scones?” Gloria asked, turning back toward the kitchen. “Fresh out of the oven. Lemon poppyseed.”
Back at the table, the police officer and FBI agents accepted out of courtesy. Bates asked a few more questions about the Eagle. Gloria answered with the same calm cadence.
Bates’s phone buzzed and he looked at it, his eyes fixed. He stood, brushing crumbs from his slacks. “All right, folks. Best I get on with my day. I’ll make sure we get the auto theft filed. I may have to come back for some details, or it might be another officer from my unit.”
“Thank you, Officer Bates. I should have sold that old thing years ago.”
The front door creaked open and a female voice called from the foyer, “Forgot something for work!”
Stanton raised an eyebrow and looked at Gloria.
“My granddaughter,” the old woman said.
“She’s staying with you now?” Stanton asked.
“We’re both somewhat forgetful,” Gloria said. “Her because she’s young; me because I’m old.”
