Finding Floyd (25 page)

"That's awful," said Vicky.

"I have a more complete email from her," said
Julia, shaking her head. She says even if her mom were better, the
ship can't sail yet because on top of everything else, there's some
sort of mechanical trouble. Sandy doesn't know when she can get
back here. Well, she certainly can't leave her mother alone there,
in any case."

"Talk about the cruise from hell. I'll bet
she wishes she'd gone to the Jersey Shore instead," interjected
Theresa.

Julia turned to Diane. "Don't worry about
staying here any longer. I realize you need to get back home. I'm
sure I can manage." Despite her words, the older woman looked
concerned.

"No way," said Diane. "I can hang out here
for a while longer. We'll take care of things. Right?

"Certainly," said Julia smiling.

"So, don't you need to be getting back to
Pippins Grove and the nursery?" asked Vicky.

"Oh, my brother can take care of the business
for a few more days. He has so many good employees, he really
doesn't need me," said Diane. She looked around the comfortable
room, with its broad stone hearth and crackling fire. "There aren't
any reservations scheduled here for two weeks, but I don't know
anything about taking new reservations, or how to handle payments.
Sandy's web site said she'd be on vacation, but sooner or later,
somebody is going to call and want a room, right?"

"Don't worry. Ralph is helping out and I
believe if I ask him, he'll stay a bit longer. We can handle all
the rest. I'm familiar with how Sandy runs things. We can always
text her if we have a question."

"Thanks Julia. You're an awesome lady and a
good friend."

"Why thank you, Diane." Julia reached down to
stroke Bella. The dog lay sprawled on the floor beside her. She
smiled and lowered her voice. "I'd like to thank all of you for
introducing me to your friend Ralph. He really is very nice. It's a
comfort to have him here, what with everything that's going on."
She glanced back at her email. "Diane, I had no idea you were such
a talented woman. Sandy mentioned that you were designing a
landscape plan for around the house. That poor girl hasn't known
what to do with those overgrown beds."

"Oh my god, I haven't even given the flower
beds a thought since I sent my ideas to my brother. There was the
ice storm, and then so much has happened..." Diane sighed and set
her phone aside. "I did make some sketches with suggestions for
plants and sent them to Joe to make the final decisions. He knows
more than I do about what's appropriate for this area. He's a very
good landscape architect. The plans are probably at the Post Office
waiting for me."

While they talked, Diane's thoughts kept
returning to Chris. Even though she was still furious with him, she
couldn't stop worrying. She knew first hand just how dangerous
Toricello could be. She'd ignored the agent's calls, too angry to
speak with him, and refused to even look at all the messages he'd
left.

How could Chris think I was involved with
that mad man? He knew I could never have anything to do with him.
Those pictures of me driving off with Toricello did look bad, but
for him to lash out at me like he did...after the night we spent
together. And...he's amazing in bed. A shiver of delight went up
her spine at the thought of it. He made love to me for most of the
night, I fell asleep in his arms, and then...wham! He's gone
again!

Absently, she stroked the unfamiliar short
curls and wondered what Chris would think of her hair. The girls
were so sweet, taking me to a stylist to get rid of the duct tape
damage. "Well, who cares if he likes it!" she said aloud.

"Are you referring to Christopher?" asked
Julia.

"Oh!" Diane started, yanked from her reverie.
"Oh, I guess I am. I'm just so mad at him, but I still hope he's
okay. He was nice to me before... Oh, I don't know what to think
any more. Should I forgive him?"

"Forgive him? Like hell!" exclaimed Theresa.
"You need to kick that bastard to the curb! Stay away from him. He
was gonna arrest you and haul your ass off to jail when you were
the one Toricello kidnapped!"

"You're right." Diane sighed. "But I really
liked him. And he did save my life."

Theresa slapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh
my god. Girl, you gotta get a grip."

"That's something you'll have to decide for
yourself dear," said Julia, in a calmer tone. "It's been quite a
while since you heard from him."

"I haven't answered his calls," said Diane
sheepishly.

"Well, I suppose I can't blame you." Julia
reached into a large tote bag and pulled out her knitting.

"Now you're talking," said Theresa. "If he
shows his face here, let John handle him."

While they talked, they could hear Ralph in
the kitchen, happily whistling along with the clatter of pots and
pans. At last, his barrel-chested bulk filled the doorway and he
announced, "I've got something special for you lovely ladies that I
think you're really going to enjoy." Grinning, he presented a tray
of filled glasses and circled the room deftly setting down a napkin
and glass for each of them.

"Anything you've made will be wonderful, I'm
sure." Julia beamed at Ralph and his face lit up.

"What's this Ralph?" asked Theresa, peering
into the squat glass. "It looks like an Italian ice or
something."

"Bourbon Slush," he said proudly. "I found
this recipe, but gave it a little twist of my own. There's some
lemon, orange, black tea, just a hint of mint, and of course,
Bourbon. I'll be right back."

"This is very tasty," said Diane, sipping
tentatively.

"Yum! Slushy, frozen, but you can drink it,"
added Vicky.

"Whoa! Lots of Bourbon! This is good," added
Theresa.

"Oh, that's so nice," murmured Julia, taking
another sip. "His new cocktail is really very refreshing."

Ralph bustled in again bearing another tray.
"Hot cheese straws and stuffed mushrooms," he announced and gave
them each a small plate.

Diane looked at the crisp cheese straws and
mushrooms caps stuffed with fragrant bread crumbs and minced ham.
"This looks wonderful!"

"Ralph dear, you've really outdone yourself,"
said Julia, beaming at him.

The "Ralph dear," did not go unnoticed by the
girls. They giggled and Julia blushed. "He really is a very nice
man," she said quietly.

"I think he misses cooking and tending bar at
the tavern. He's a really great cook," said Vicky.

"I think old Ralph kind of likes you, Julia."
teased Theresa playfully.

"Well, I don't know about that," said Julia,
blushing.

Diane finished her drink and absentmindedly
munched a cheese straw. With her free hand she toyed with her short
hair, missing her long blond curls. I wonder where Chris is now.
What's he doing? I should have taken his calls. Man, I'm so tired.
I don't ever remember feeling so tired.

She looked up to see Ralph balancing a bowl
in one hand, ladling more of the frozen drink into her empty glass.
She smiled her thanks and drank. "This is so good. Really good, but
Ralph," She frowned. "You look sort of funny." Someone was
laughing. "Actually, you all look funny." As the exhaustion of the
last few days caught up with her, Diane's eyes closed and she
drifted off.

Driving slowly, Chris negotiated the winding
gravel road, until it petered out before an old doublewide. The
ramshackle place showed no signs of recent occupancy and there were
no outbuildings. Weeds grew in tall profusion around the house and
in the surrounding clearing. Nothing. He'd spent all morning and
half the afternoon poking into side roads and driveways, hoping to
find where Toricello had taken Diane. So far, he'd found nothing
that remotely fit her description. Defeated, he turned his vehicle
around and made his way back to the main road.

Swallowing the dregs of his cold coffee, he
winced and thrust the empty Styrofoam into the cup holder. Reaching
into the paper bag on the seat, he removed a waxed paper wrapped
ham biscuit. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. The fluffy
biscuit with its thin slices of ham and just the right amount of
honey mustard was delicious. In a moment, he was unwrapping a
second biscuit.

Approaching another side road, he paused and
took in his surroundings. On his left, rose a steep wooded ridge
and on the right were fields bordered by white pines. He hadn't
explored this lane yet, because it hadn't looked particularly
promising. He shrugged and turned up the gravel road. After passing
two or three gravel drives that led to neat homes he decided to go
just a little farther and then turn around. Diane couldn't have run
for more than a mile before making a turn, as she'd described
it.

Alongside the next gravel drive, there was a
tired looking mailbox, canted at an odd angle. He slowed to peer at
the faded letters on its side. Shackelford 4201 was how it read. He
stopped the Suburban and chewed thoughtfully on the biscuit.
Popping the last morsel into his mouth he decided to
investigate.

Glancing at his watch, Chris realized he was
supposed to meet Sam in Floyd in less than an hour. Quickly, he
dialed Sam's number. When there was no answer, he left a message
informing him of his intentions.

He started up the rutted drive that wound
around with woods along one side and an empty field on the other.
It took a few turns before ending in a level clearing that forked
sharply. One way led to an ancient weather beaten barn, and the
other went directly to a garage. In between was a graying farmhouse
with a sagging porch. He studied the open garage, where a red
pickup faced outward. Above was a second story with two windows
overlooking the house and driveway.

Could this be Granny Shackelford's home? The
puzzle piece that had eluded him that morning snapped neatly into
place. "Ham biscuits," he muttered. Preston had mentioned taking
them to Sarah's grandmother. Diane said that Toricello brought back
a plate of ham and biscuits and ate them while she was tied up in
the small second floor room. I don't believe in coincidences. This
could possibly be the Blowtorch's hideout!

Slipping his handgun from its shoulder
holster, he chambered a round and, out of habit, started to call
for backup. What backup? Rodriguez wasn't answering his calls.
Nobody was. Now what do I do?

I'll just take a quick look. Resolutely, he
strode toward the garage door as silently as possible on the
gravel, both arms extended, gripping the gun as he scanned his
surroundings. Slipping alongside the pickup, he peered into the
empty truck bed.

Then from behind came the slightest sound,
like a soft sigh. He spun halfway around, but wasn't quite quick
enough. He heard the crack on his head before the pain exploded
inside his skull, blinding him. With one hand he groped for the
truck to steady himself before crumpling helplessly in a heap on
the cement floor. Intense pain was the last thing he remembered
before everything went black.

"I want another one of these slushy things."
Theresa looked around and frowned. "Where is that FBI asshole,
anyway?" She shifted her position on the couch, gesturing with her
empty glass as a substantial belch slipped from between her pretty
rosebud lips. "Oh my god. Did I say asshole?"

"Well, you're absolutely right! Don't
apologize, Terry." Vicky slammed her glass down on the coffee table
harder then she'd intended. Jumping at the sharp report she frowned
at it suspiciously before she continued angrily, "Diane, he treated
you like a criminal." She reached over and jabbed her sleeping
friend sharply in the side. "He was going to arrest you."

Diane's tell tail empty glass was nestled in
crumbs and crumpled napkins on the plate in front of her. She woke
up and began to cry, tears running unnoticed down her cheeks. "I
love him," she murmured. "I love him. He's incredible in bed.
Amazing. But I never want to see him again." She looked up,
anxiously. "Do you think he's good, Julia?"

Julia looked up from her knitting and smiled.
She took a tiny sip from her glass. "I certainly wouldn't know
that, but I trust your judgment, dear." She paused, sipped and
blushed. "About bed I mean."

"You mean you and the FBI guy? You did it
with him and then he gives you all that shit! What a lousy bastard.
Oh my god! What the hell did he think he was doing?" Italian
wedding music signaled a call from her mother and she glanced at
her phone. "He comes down here, threatens everybody, and then
he..." Theresa paused.

"What am I going to do, Terry?" Diane swiped
ineffectually at her tears. "I love him so much!"

"Sorry, hold on a minute. I gotta take this."
Theresa put the phone to her ear. "Ma? What now?"

At this, Vicky began to giggle softly.

"Ma! Listen, I don't want ten bridesmaids. I
don't even want the six I've got! It's too much!" Sobered, Theresa
hopped up and began to pace the room waving her glass.

"I'm in love with him," Diane wailed, sobbing
into her tissues. Blowing her nose, she cried, "Oh my god, I wish
he'd come back. If he'd just call or something. Anything."

"Diane," Julia whispered, still slowly
sipping her drink. "Sweetheart, you haven't spoken with him because
you haven't answered his calls, remember?"

"But I never want to speak to him again."

Theresa moaned, "Ma. Please. Of course I love
my cousins. I just can't have them all in my wedding party."

"Hey, you girls having a party in here?"
asked John, materializing in the doorway with Jack behind him. They
eased into the room, studying the four tipsy ladies. Vicky still
giggled hysterically at some private joke, Julia smiled benignly,
while Diane sniffed and wiped her eyes.

"I think they're shit-faced," mumbled John
under his breath.