Gone (12 page)

“You didn’t wonder why she didn’t show up?” Clare’s tone was sharp. “Didn’t find her to ask?”

“Hey. Not my business if she decided not to go.”

“Not your business? According to what I’ve heard, you and Beth were lovers.”

“Lovers? Who in blazes told you that?”

“It’s all over town, Mr. Hoag.”

Hoag cleared his throat. “Lady, I was going to give Beth a ride out of town, and that’s it.”

Clare’s stomach clenched at the news that Beth wasn’t with Hoag. “I want to know just what plans you and Beth made.”

“You sound like a cop.
Just who are you, lady?
If Beth’s mixed up in something involving cops, I don’t know anything about it.”

“I am an agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation but I’m also Beth’s sister. Just answer my questions, Mr. Hoag. Now, I’ll ask you again, what plans did you and Beth make?”

“I don’t need to tell you a damn thing. I don’t want nothing to do with cops.”

He was right. At this point she couldn’t force him to talk to her about anything. She needed his cooperation. Clare released a breath. She softened her tone.

“Mr. Hoag,” Clare said. “I’ve contacted you unofficially. I’m not speaking with you as a federal agent, but as Beth’s sister. She isn’t in Farley. As far as everyone here knows she left with you. I’m trying to find her. I would appreciate any information you could give me.”

“What do you want to know?”

His tone was wary. Clare reminded herself not to push or she’d lose him. “You said that you were meeting Beth. Where?”

“She was going to meet me out on County Road Nineteen at five o’clock, but like I said, she never showed.”

“Who picked the time, you or Beth?”

Clare heard Hoag exhale sharply, like he was releasing cigarette smoke. “She did. I drove the same route going on fifteen years. I usually pulled into town around ten in the morning and made my delivery to Dawson’s then pulled out again around four thirty. She asked me to wait the extra half hour, said she couldn’t get off work before then without someone wondering about it. She really seemed like she wanted the ride, and hey it wasn’t going to be more than thirty minutes, likely less, so I said I’d wait.”

“How did you meet Beth?”

“She works at the inn. I’ve spent some nights there. Hey, I got to know a lot of people from Farley. Ask around.”

There was an edge to the comment that Clare didn’t understand, but she decided to let it go for the moment. “Where did Beth say she was going?”

“Didn’t say.”

“Where were you headed from Farley?”

“Next stop was Bradley County. I drove the same route from Florida to North Carolina, making my deliveries and pickups.” He named the towns and cities he went to. “Once I hit Raleigh, I just turned around and went back to do it all over again.”

From what Gladys Linney had said about Beth wanting to see the world, Clare thought it was likely she would head for a big city. Though which one? There were a lot of cities between Florida and North Carolina. The theory had merit, except, according to Hoag, Beth hadn’t left town with him.

“When did Beth ask you for the ride?”

“Same day she wanted to leave. Friday.”

“What time did you and she make these arrangements?”

“Going on eight in the a.m., I’d say. I spent the night before at Connie’s place and was making my way from my room, on my way to grab some breakfast, when Beth come up to me and asked what she did. She asked me not to say nothing to nobody. Wasn’t my business, I said, and told her so.”

“Sounds like a spur of the moment decision?” Clare prodded.

“I don’t know about that. She didn’t say why she wanted to leave, only seemed real anxious to get gone.”

“You pulled out of Farley at four-thirty that day, Mr. Hoag?”

“No lady, it was after five o’clock. I told you that I waited a bit, just in case she was running late.”

“Did you drive straight through to Bradley?”

“Yeah. Straight through. Had a pickup early the next morning and I had to be on time. Fruits and vegetables lose their freshness real fast.”

“Where was that pickup?”

Clare took a tube of lipstick from her cosmetics bag on the vanity counter and scrawled the information in Beige Bisque on the mirror.

“I made the rest of my stops,” Hoag said. “Then I turned around and went back home to Jacksonville.”

“You’re not delivering to Farley anymore. Why is that, Mr. Hoag?”

Hoag’s response came out in a rush. “I’m in a new relationship and my long route keeps me away for a couple of weeks at a time. It’s causing problems. I want to be close to home.”

“I may need to speak with you again, Mr. Hoag. Where can I contact you directly?”

“I don’t know what more you’d have to ask me, but hey, I got nothing to hide.” He recited his home telephone number. “To tell the truth, I was surprised when Beth didn’t show up. Like I said, she seemed real anxious to get gone.”

“If you think of anything else, I’d appreciate if you’d call me. Day or night.”

“Okay,” Hoag said.

Clare ended the call reluctantly. Her heart was pounding. When she’d asked Hoag why he was no longer delivering to Farley, the trucker had lied to her, she was sure of it. He’d answered too quickly, as if he’d been anticipating the question or had rehearsed the answer.

Believing that, it had been a monumental effort for her to say goodbye to him.

Was it a coincidence that Hoag’s last day delivering to Farley was also Beth’s last day in town?

Earlier Jake had believed that Cal Dawson knew the driver, but had chosen not to reveal that information. Clare chewed the inside of her cheek. Both men were holding something back. Did that something have to do with Beth?

She’d check Hoag for any priors, but that was all she could do about him for the moment. Cal Dawson was local though. Clare dressed quickly in jeans and a cotton top and finger-combed her damp hair.

In the kitchen, she retrieved the phone directory then looked up Dawson’s home address. Three Dawsons were listed, but only one Calvin Dawson.

She scooped her car keys from the table in the hall and left the house.

Ten minutes later, Clare was at Cal Dawson’s front door.

Dawson’s house was a modest two-story. A sprinkler set to low watered the clipped lawn that looked black as ink, except for the occasional flash of a Lightning Bug. Intermittent bulbs on posts staked into the ground lit the faces of gnome statues scattered about.

Clare rang the bell. A porch light came on. Cal Dawson opened the door.

His eyebrows arched at seeing her. Clare expected that his eyes would narrow now in a show of the same hostility she’d received so far from Farley’s residents.

It wasn’t hostility that filled his gaze, but fear. Clare’s heartbeat already pounding too hard, kicked up another notch.

“Good evening, Mr. Dawson,” Clare said. “I don’t believe I have to introduce myself. By the expression on your face, I’d say you know who I am. I need to speak with you. May I come inside?”

Dawson, a small-boned man, set himself squarely in the doorway, doing his best with the little bulk he had to block the entrance. He glanced over his shoulder then stepped onto the wooden porch with her, closing the door behind himself.

He glanced to his left, to the neighboring house, Clare thought. The porch was dark. No way to tell if someone was out there. In any case, if someone were there, the distance was great enough to prevent eavesdropping. And as she thought that, she wondered what Dawson feared that someone might overhear.

“What are you doing here?” Dawson whispered. His voice was hoarse with tension.

Clare decided to try a bluff. “Gil Hoag says hey.”

Dawson’s face paled. His eyes fixed on her in a deer caught in the headlights stare.

Clare’s stomach tightened as she wondered what was causing Dawson’s panic. “I just had a talk with Gil about why he’s no longer delivering to Farley.”

Dawson’s shoulders slumped. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat, and then rubbed a hand up the column of his neck. He left the hand there, clutching his Adam’s apple.

“Please. None of that has anything to do with you,” he said. “What do you want to go and stir up my life for? I got a wife—kids. If word of me and Gil got out, I’d be finished in this town.” Tears welled in Dawson’s eyes. “It’s over now. I called it off.”

Clare believed she’d just learned what Dawson had hidden from Jake. Why he hadn’t wanted to name Gil Hoag . . .

“Did you see Beth Ryder on Gil’s last day in town?” Clare asked.

Dawson squinted in confusion. “Ah, I don’t know. Maybe.” He shrugged.

Clearly, Dawson had no clue where she was going with this.

“Does Gil know Beth?” Clare asked.

Dawson shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. Can’t say we ever talked about Beth Ryder.”

“Did you know that Beth had arranged to leave town with Gil on that same day?”

“Heard talk of it. Around town. After.”

“Gil didn’t mention it?”

Dawson swallowed a couple of times. “Had other things to talk about.”

She turned to leave, then glanced back at the man. He appeared to have shrunk in his time on the porch. “You know, Mr. Dawson, Dean Ryder may believe that his wife left him for another man.” Clare let that hang in the still air.

Dawson shrugged. “I know it. I feel sorry for Dean, thinking that, but I can’t do anything about it.”