Finding Sky (A Nicki Valentine Mystery Book 1) (27 page)

Twenty-Six

Talking with Marcus took some fear out of being home alone. I couldn’t withdraw; I had to take action. First thing, I called Sgt. Dwyer from the gang unit with another bulletin:
Somehow Marcus knows where I live, and he swung by to tell me that, yep, I’m being targeted by Los Reyes. Witness intimidation has been confirmed. I’m a witness, and I’m officially intimidated.
Dwyer’s advice was to stay calm and stick with my relocation plan. He also said Marcus’s sense of justice—choosing to warn me because I’d helped him—was plausible. Gang members aren’t automatically heartless.

“Stay out of trouble,” he reminded me. “Let us do our jobs.”

We hung up, and I got to work leaving Kenna a new message and browsing hotels in the yellow pages, all the while considering how Marcus’s visit related to Beth.

If Marcus doesn’t know where Beth is,
I thought,
who does that leave? Beth. A gang. A stranger. Beth’s family. Maybe even April.

I saw an ad for a decent hotel—complete with restaurants, a pool, and a workout room I wouldn’t use—and called to make sure there were plenty of vacancies. After checking email, I carried Beth’s case file up to my room, where I let my mind drift while packing an overnight bag.
What if Beth had returned home, and I didn’t know it?
I shook my head at that unlikely, but possible, outcome.

After overstuffing the duffel, I sat on my bed and reviewed everything in the folder. Now that I had a few extra moments, it was time to follow up with people I hadn’t talked with in a while.

Instead of calling Beth’s parents, I dialed April’s mom and asked when she’d last talked with them. Although they weren’t friends, Jen said, she called Sonja occasionally out of concern, and they’d talked in the past couple days. It was a short conversation because there was nothing new to report. I wondered if Beth’s parents would even tell her if Beth had been found.

Gina, meanwhile, said she hadn’t heard anything about Beth since we’d canvassed the neighborhood. She said Molly, Beth’s neighbor, would have told her if Beth was home, and she promised to alert me to any developments. She wrapped up by saying she hoped the treadmill was running well, no pun intended.

“I used it this morning,” I was glad to say. “It’s working great.”

I was about to start calling hospitals and shelters when the phone rang. It was April.

“Hi, April. I just talked to your mom.”

“I know.” She sounded out of breath. “Nicki, you’re not going to believe this. I think Beth just called my cell phone.”

“What?!”

“I missed a call, and it’s from her number!”

“Her cell phone?” I asked.

“Yes!”

“But there’s no message?”

“Just a missed call. I got out of the shower and saw it. What should I do?”

“Don’t delete anything related to it. And call the police right away.”

“I can’t believe I missed it,” she wailed. “I should have kept the phone nearby. I’m freaking out.”

“Don’t worry! Just call the police with your mom.” I opened Beth’s file and found the investigator’s number on her missing-person flyer. “Call this number, unless you have another one,” I said, repeating it twice. “Then call me back.”

During the interminable wait for April to get back in touch, I called Edith.

“Hello, dear,” she greeted me. The sound of birds chirping told me she was outside or near a window.

“Hi, Edith. I’m just checking to see if anything has happened over at the Rush house.”

“Other than the police yesterday, no. But you already know about that.”

I uttered my second
What?!
of the day. “No, I don’t know about that! Tell me.”

“Well, I called the police as you suggested, but I thought you were in touch with them too. They visited around, oh, I don’t know...noon?”

“What did they do?”

“I saw them at the door. Then I checked my mailbox to get a better look. They talked with Mrs. Rush, and she let them in. I don’t know if Dr. Rush was home.”

“Did you see the police leave?”

“Oh yes. I wasn’t going to miss that. They were alone—two officers in front seat, no one in the back.”

“Do you think you could ask the Rushes about it without raising suspicion? I mean, it’s natural for neighbors to ask about police activity, right?”

“Well, sure. Especially old ladies who live alone.”

Goosebumps covered my arms. She was joking, but it scared me. I’d involved an innocent elderly woman, and if anything happened to her, I’d blame myself.

“Be careful, Edith,” I warned. “Listen to your instincts and don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable. We don’t know what happened to their granddaughter. I don’t want to involve you in anything dangerous.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said.

“Just take care,” I said. “And please call me right away if you talk with them. I’ll be eager to hear from you.”

“I’ll do all of the above,” she promised.

April hadn’t returned my call yet, but I didn’t want to interrupt whatever conversation she might be having with the police, so I emailed George and worked up the courage to call Dean.

“Do you have any connections with law enforcement in West Virginia?” I asked him.

“Not personally,” he said. “Why?”

I relayed the latest developments. “I’d like to know what they found when they talked with the Rushes,” I said.

“Let me talk to some people and call you back,” he said. I told him how many calls I was expecting and encouraged him to leave a detailed message if I didn’t answer.

“I hope you make it to class tomorrow,” he said. “Nighttime surveillance—video and photography—remember? It’s gonna be interesting.”

“I can’t wait,” I said, ready to hang up.

“Hey, Nicki?”

“Yeah?”

“I admire what you’re doing. Kenna’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

“I’m the lucky one,” I said. It was strange to say that in the midst of so much stress. But I meant it.

I frittered around the kitchen, so anxious I hardly noticed I’d swept and mopped the floor, scrubbed the stove and started a job I’d only done once in memory—washing the cabinet doors. My self-imposed distraction was interrupted by the sound of a car pulling into Kenna’s driveway. I peeked out and saw her Solara. Before I could get out the back door to see her, she was at the front. I disabled the alarm and let her in.

“I just got your message,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, pulling her inside. “Can you stay? I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

She looked at her cell. “I have half an hour before Andy gets home. I’m making his favorite burgers tonight.”

We sat at my kitchen table with glasses of water. As I described the day’s events, starting with Megan’s party, I was startled by how much had happened—all before dinnertime. I also realized I should be hungry. I hadn’t eaten—or thought about food—since breakfast. I grabbed random items out of the refrigerator while we talked. Multigrain bread, almond butter, honey and blueberries. Everything looked good.

“What are you making?” Kenna asked.

“I don’t know. I think I’m going to combine all this.” I piled everything into a sandwich that looked amazing and filling. I’d just finished a bite when the phone rang.

“Hello?” I answered.

It was April, and before I heard anything significant, Edith called on the other line. I asked April to hang on. Edith hadn’t learned anything yet, she told me, so I asked to return her call. Then I switched back to April.

“Beth’s call came from West Virginia!” she told me. “The police are totally jumping on it. She must be with her grandparents!”

Now I really needed to talk with Dean. I prayed his contact would have information.

“Beth’s call came from West Virginia?” I repeated aloud for Kenna’s benefit. “That’s amazing!”

“I know!”

“I’m so glad you called. Thank you. Is there anything else you can tell me? Did the police say anything else?”

“No. They just thanked me. I bet they’re going to find her today. I can’t believe this.”

Her joy was infectious. It also reinforced my sense that April wouldn’t hurt Beth. But I couldn’t get carried away.

“I’m happy too, April,” I said. “But I’ll really celebrate when I know she’s safe. Let’s stay in touch if either of us hears anything, okay?”

“Of course!”

We said goodbye, and I looked at Kenna, who was crying softly.

“Oh my gosh, Kenna,” I said. How could I tell her not to be happy or sad? We hadn’t found Beth yet. All we had was another clue. There could be countless explanations for a call—especially an incomplete one from West Virginia, and some might not mean anything about Beth. Maybe her family found her cell phone and checked out her contacts. Or maybe she’d visited her grandparents and left it there. Or maybe... I stopped thinking and wrapped my arms around Kenna.

“We don’t know what this means yet,” I said. “What are you thinking?”

She cried harder and rested her cheek on my shoulder. Her arms were around me, limp.

“I’m so selfish,” she said.

“What?” I pulled back to read her expression. She bit her lip, looked down, and fiddled with her wedding ring.

“I just realized I’m hoping for a happy ending for me as much as Beth,” she said. “Maybe more. That’s horrible.”

“You’re human,” I said.

“You know how much I care about Beth, right?” she asked, lifting her head.

“Kenna. I absolutely know,” I said, meeting her gaze. “This search wasn’t about you. I remember how it started. It was more about her than anything else. You
knew
something was wrong.”

Saying that was like dropping a weight into my stomach. Kenna
had
known something was wrong. Something beyond running away. And I trusted that. If she was right, the explanation for Beth’s call might not be good.

Dean was successful in gaining some information. The West Virginia police had, in fact, visited the Rushes and determined Beth didn’t appear to be living there. There was no sign of her, and the Rushes were cooperative.

Beth’s call added a twist Dean couldn’t explain any better than I could. We could only speculate and hope George’s team and the police would make progress.

While Kenna went home to freshen up and make Andy’s burgers, I worried about his arriving home to find her a teary, splotchy mess, thanks to being with me. Hopefully he’d take comfort in recent developments.

Meanwhile, I set the house alarm, put my bag in the van, and dialed Edith before starting the engine. When she didn’t answer, I left a message and turned the ignition, mentally preparing to back out of the garage. I’d been in a quandary about where to park. Inside, I couldn’t see much before leaving. I could unknowingly back into a barrage of gunfire. But I liked the privacy and protection of the garage. Next time, maybe I’d back in, facing out, although I didn’t like the idea of staring into trouble, either.

The street was busy with commuters returning from work, so I entered the fray when there was a break in the action, scanning oncoming cars from both directions. Feeling relatively secure since no one was in close range, I sped toward the hotel where I’d meet Mom and the kids, constantly checking for anyone suspicious.

The hotel garage was like any other. Deserted, dim, and devoid of cell phone reception. I parked and stalled for a few minutes, hoping to see someone friendly, especially a woman, who would ride in the elevator with me. How could there be so many cars and so few people?

When my patience wore out, I gripped my keys like a weapon and marched toward the elevator, feigning confidence. Knowing I was headed for the kids gave me an extra shot of courage. Unfortunately, that didn’t help when I heard a male voice call out, “Lady?”

Fight or flight kicked in, and instead of turning around to see who’d spoken, I bolted toward the elevator, punched the “up” button, and hopped in. Then I pressed the symbol for “close these frickin’ doors!” and watched them slide together—only then noticing an attendant by my car. Apparently I’d parked in a valet zone. Oops. My nerves had gotten to me. I let the doors close anyway.

On the main floor, I saw Mom and the kids in the lobby before they saw me. Normally I’d sneak up on them in surprise, but that seemed wrong today. Instead, I strolled up and called lightly, “Hi, guys!” The kids turned and ran toward me, arms outstretched.
Ahhhh.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Mom said. “Have you checked in?”

“Not yet. Why don’t you guys have a seat and I’ll take care of it?” I motioned to maroon loveseats and a huge TV. I knew it would mesmerize Jack and Sophie even though it was tuned to a stock market report.

While they sat, I paid cash for a room with two queen-size beds. I didn’t think Mom would mind bunking together. I also apologized to the clerk about my parking error and wrote down my license plate number, requesting a few minutes to settle in before braving the garage again.

“If you like, you can give me your key, and I’ll have the valet guys park properly for you,” the clerk offered. In my state of fear, that sounded great.

“Super,” I said, detaching the key from my chain. “Thank you.”

“Here are the keys to your room, Ms. Baker.” He handed me two cards tucked into an envelope with our room number—311—written on it. It was awkward to hear him use the fake name I’d chosen for the reservation.
Sharon Baker.
“Would you like help with your luggage?”

“No thanks.”

We carried our bags—one each—to the elevator. This time it was a calm trip, filled with talk about what to order from room service for dinner. The only consensus was on dessert. The kids agreed it shouldn’t be delivered to the room. We should get it from the most awesome source around. The vending machines.

The next hour felt like a mini vacation. We ordered food, perused TV channels, poked around the minibar, and jumped from bed to bed. Mom sat that part out, but I spotted the kids, desperate to burn off tension myself. The whole time, I kept my phone in earshot, hoping to get news from George or anyone else.

After dinner arrived (broccoli, breadsticks, and pasta), my phone rang, and I took it into the bathroom. Thankfully, the kids were relatively quiet with food in their mouths.

“George?” I answered based on caller ID.

“Nicki. I’ve got a little news. Are you sitting?”

I glanced at the toilet and stayed upright.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“My guy’s at Beth’s grandparents’ house, and there’s an ambulance at a nearby home.”

“Uh huh.” Was this the kind conversation where someone starts with “There’s been an accident” and then drops a verbal bomb? I was familiar with that approach. If so, I had no idea what was coming next.

“It’s there for your source, Edith. Apparently she took a fall. She was temporarily unconscious but managed to call 911.”

“Oh no! Is she okay?” Edith was more than a source. She felt like a friend. I kept my voice down to avoid worrying Mom or the kids. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, eyes wide, pale.

“We don’t know. They took her out on a stretcher. We’ll find out where she’s going and let you know.”

“Okay,” I said. “George, this doesn’t feel like a coincidence, does it?”

“It’s odd,” he admitted, “given what we know. I suggest that if possible, you get down here and visit Edith while you can.”

While I can?
Did he mean she might not make it? Or before it got too late at night? I opted for late at night.

“Call me when you know where she is, and I’ll be there.” Now I felt rushed to eat a few bites and take the kids to the vending machines. I’d never make progress unless I knew they were tucked in for the night, tummies full, doors locked. I felt awful about leaving Mom again, but if the past was any indication, she’d understand. I guess that’s what moms do best.

With more leeway than I usually allowed at vending machines, each kid got to pick a dessert, pay for it, and press the corresponding button. My priorities were keeping them safe and getting to West Virginia. I could live with a one-time nougat bonanza.

Mom and I walked the kids back to our room and discussed my plans. I’d keep in touch by cell phone, and she’d brush the kids’ teeth, read them stories, and tuck them in. Then she’d watch TV. I gave her a thankful squeeze.

After painfully rejecting requests for teeth-brushing by the Crazy Babysitter, I peed, grabbed my purse, and left, suddenly remembering I no longer had my car key. I’d have to wait for the valet. At least I wouldn’t be alone in the garage. And I’d tip him well for the trouble I caused.

Ten dollars later, I was cruising to West Virginia with the navigation system on. George had texted me the address of a local hospital, and I imagined what I might find there. Edith in the emergency room? Admitted? Sent home? Since she’d arrived by ambulance, hopefully she’d gotten immediate treatment and skipped the waiting room.

Jumbled thoughts collided as I considered what might have happened to her. Edith was shaky when I met her, yes, but I didn’t buy that after investigating a little, she happened to fall and get knocked unconscious. If she’d learned something sinister—something that would endanger her life, maybe she’d told the 911 operator or someone else. Most of all I prayed she was okay.

By the time I arrived at the hospital, my mind was weary but still racing. An ER nursing assistant brought me to see Edith, who was propped up with an IV in her arm and a monitor on her thumb. She was perfectly still and much paler than I remembered. Her blue eyes had lost some of their sparkle.

“Hi, Edith,” I said softly. “It’s Nicki. I hear you’ve had some trouble. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, dear,” she said unconvincingly. I wanted to ask someone how she was really doing, but everyone was bustling around too quickly to be interrupted.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “They tell me I fell.”

“Who tells you that?”

“These people,” she said, gesturing vaguely at no one.

“Do you remember who I am?” I asked.

She shook her head back and forth.
No.

“Well, how about if I keep you company here for a while?” I asked. “I’m a friend.”

Even if Edith couldn’t say much about her fall, hopefully I’d be a reassuring presence, and maybe I’d learn more about her medical condition.

I also wanted to reach her family. Her daughter was in Cleveland, I remembered, but surely she had friends or family closer to home. No one should be in the hospital alone.

Gentle quizzing didn’t reveal anything about loved ones, except her daughter’s name—Meredith Hall. I didn’t have a phone number, so I asked what church Edith attended, hoping a pastor might fill in some gaps.
St. Francis
, she told me.

We sat in silence for a bit, and I reached out to hold her hand until a doctor introduced himself so enthusiastically it jolted Edith out of a restful state.

“Hi, Dr. Swanson,” I responded, standing to shake his hand. “I’m a friend of Edith’s. She seems to be having trouble remembering things. But she does know the name of her church and her daughter.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll get right on that.” I hoped he wasn’t kidding. But since he might have a coronary patient or worse in the next room, I wasn’t sure.

“I can call if you’d like,” I offered. “If it’s okay to use my cell phone in here.”