The Ruth Valley Missing (3 page)

There was no picture,
just a description. The same description that caught my eye on the internet.

Home for rent. 2/1.
Updated interior and furnished. Non smokers only, pets ok. Appointment
   only. Ask for Jack. $450

I had an appointment
to see the place tomorrow afternoon, and I hoped it wasn’t a dump. There didn’t
seem to be much else available in this tiny town, and I didn’t really want to
spend my days living out of a suitcase in the Bed and Breakfast.

Emma came to the table
as I polished off the last forkful of mashed potatoes. “How was it?”

“So good. Thank you.”
As she picked up the plate I pointed to the ad in the paper. “Emma, do you know
this place?”

She held the plate in
one hand as she rested the other on her hip, leaning over my shoulder to see
the ad.

“Oh yeah, cute place.
Old renter up and left a few weeks ago. I think you might be too late, though.
Jack has a guy lookin’ at the place tomorrow.”

“I have an appointment
tomorrow afternoon, too. Hopefully I get to look at it first, I guess.”

“Hmph,” said Emma,
scrunching up her face, “Jack didn’t mention he had two people lookin’.” She
must have noticed the look of disappointment on mine, as she quickly added, “I
haven’t seen anyone I don’t know in here other than you, though, so maybe this
other guy won’t show.”

I smiled, grateful for
her attempt to put my worries at ease.

Emma winked. “Can I
get you some dessert?”

“Tempting, but I’m
afraid you might have to roll me to my car if I eat another bite.”

She laughed and laid
the ticket on the table. “Whenever you’re ready then.”

I pulled some cash out
of my pocket and smiled when I saw my bill only came to $5.95. I could barely
grab fast food in the city for that much. I laid a ten on the table and headed
out. Walking to my car, I stared up at the end of the long road and spotted
what looked like a church steeple. The church looked big, even from this far,
especially for what seemed like such a tiny town.

“Look out!”

I felt a hand grab my
arm and pull me backwards as I started to step onto the sidewalk. A second
later a kid on skates went whizzing past. I turned to see the hand that grabbed
me attached to a broad-shouldered man in a grey t-shirt, jeans, and baseball
cap.

“Careful there. The
Johnson kid is small but fast. Would have given you a good bump if I hadn’t
been here.”

I looked up as he
returned my stare with blue eyes and a boyish grin.

“I’m so sorry, I
wasn’t paying attention. Obviously. Thanks.”

“No problem, miss.
Have a good one.”

He tipped his hat and
turned towards the diner as I walked to my car. Once in, I turned my key in the
ignition, backed out, and noticed him watching as I drove off.

I rang the bell on the
counter and started to wander around the foyer of the bed and breakfast. The
shelves were full of Hummel figurines, collectible Elvis plates, and more
doilies than I could count. Eclectic didn’t quite cover the decor of the place.

“Hi there. What can I
do for you?”

I turned to see an old
man make his way to the counter with the aid of a polished wooden cane. His movements
were slow, deliberate, but steady.
 

“I need a room for a
couple of nights.”

“Sure. We have several
available. Name?”

“Jameson Quinn.”

He looked down as he
added my name to a leather bound ledger, cracked with age. “Jameson? Like the
Whiskey?”

I nodded.

“Would you like your
own bathroom?”

“Uh...yeah. That would
be good.”

“Tub, shower, or
both?”

“Both.”

He nodded, rummaged
through a drawer and fished out an old key.

“You’ll be in the Orchid
room, last door on your left, upstairs. Do you need help with your bags?”

I was wearing a
backpack filled with clothes and toiletries and had my camera bag slung over
one shoulder. Everything else was in suitcases in the car.
Looking at the old man, I doubted he
would be able to help much, even if his intention was to try.

“I think I’m ok. Is it
safe to leave a few things in my car for the night?”

The old man smiled.
“You’ve never been here before. Couldn’t be any safer if it was locked away in
Fort Knox. Breakfast is served at seven o’ clock. If you want to eat later than
that, there will a few things left out on the buffet until nine.”

I tried not to visibly
cringe at the idea of getting up at seven as I handed him a credit card to pay
for the room. He shook his head.

“I know it’s a little
old fashioned, but we only take cash from people we don’t know. There’s a bank
in town where you can get some tomorrow.”

It did seem backwards,
but since he didn’t insist I run out for cash that minute, I didn’t balk at the
odd rule.

“Thanks. I’ll be sure
to do that in the morning.”

“That’s fine. If you
need anything, you can always ring the bell. There are extra towels and linens
in your room. Name’s Gordon by the way, and you’ll see my wife around in the morning,
Maria. She’ll be happy to gab with you about the town and shopping and all
that.”

His tone was rough,
but he wore a smile as he spoke. I decided I liked the old man and would let
him get back to relaxing for the evening.

“Great. I’ll head up
then. Have a good night.”

“You do the same, Miss
Quinn.”

Key in hand, I made my
way up the creaky stairs, surrounded by old pictures of people I could only
assume were family of the owners, or one-time guests of the Inn.

Walking down the hall,
I passed the doors, each hand painted with a different flower. When I reached
the last door on the left, there was a single white orchid painted on the door.
After jiggling the key back and forth, I managed to open it and make my way
inside. The room was simple: more lace than I’d ever seen in one place, but no
kitschy figurines or famous people grinning from serving dishes.

I set my bags on the
floor next to the bed, kicked off my shoes, and collapsed in the sea of purple
and white pillows. I knew it wasn’t very late, but the long day mixed with a
heavy dinner was the perfect recipe for dozing off in the embrace of the thick
comforter.

I drifted off with
images of the handsome blue eyed man watching me leave the diner flashing in my
head, wishing I hadn’t left my bat in the car.

The early morning
autumn air was crisp and felt good on my skin as I started to run. It was
cooler than I expected, burning my lungs as I got further into the run and started
breathing heavier. My headphones were in, but I kept the music off for a while,
enjoying the sounds of nothing but my feet pounding against the pavement.

I turned down a side
street that led to Oak Lane. I had memorized the map of town over a quiet
breakfast and decided I would check out the property before my afternoon
appointment. If this place was nice, I didn’t want to lose it. I’d check it
out, then find a way to get a hold of Jack before he met with anyone else.

The street leading to
Oak was lined with well-spaced out houses, some big, some small, all different,
yet somehow complementary to each other. The faces varied, but were always
wood, brick, or stone. No stucco or vinyl siding in sight. The yards weren’t
manicured, but were well kept.

As I veered left onto
Oak Lane, I slowed down to a jog, then a walk so I could watch for the right
address. There were fewer houses, and I could see the Lane end up ahead. There,
on the left, was a large tree stump, with tarnished numbers nailed to it. 1212.
The address Jack emailed me when I scheduled the appointment.

I walked up the long
gravel driveway, following it as it wound deeper and further to the left. Trees
lined the whole drive, as if someone had tried to disturb the wooded lot as
little as possible when putting in the house. Just when I had walked far enough
down the drive that the street was completely out of view, there it was.

Or at least, there it
was supposed to be.

Where I was expecting
to see a tiny two bedroom home, I was greeted by a two story house, dark red
wood and brick, with green ivy climbing up one side. There was a porch that
wrapped around the entire place front to back, of a slightly different color,
as if it was newer than the rest of the place. I looked around and didn’t see
any cars or signs of life. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to confirm I had
the right address.

I did.

There was no fence, so
I wandered around the side of the property. As I got closer to the rear of the
house I saw a barn to the far left and a small A frame building to the right.
It looked as if someone chopped the roof of a large log cabin and dropped it
there.
 

Maybe that was the
rental?

I had come this far
and figured I may as well peek in the windows, so I wandered back. I leaned against
a tall window next to the door, cupping my hands around my eyes to block out
the glare of the early morning sun in hopes of seeing into the dark house. I
squinted, but couldn’t see much through the tiny gap in the sheers covering the
window.

“You know, wandering
around on someone’s property unannounced around here can get a person in a heap
a’ trouble.”

I leapt away from the
window, tripping awkwardly across my own feet. I regained my balance and looked
up to see the same man from outside the diner standing behind me. He towered
over me, one hand on his hip, his other hand resting on an unhooked holster,
complete with gun.

“I’m so sorry. I
didn’t think anyone was home.”

He raised an eyebrow.
“That doesn’t make you sound less suspicious you know.”

“Right. Sorry, sorry.
I was looking for the house for rent and didn’t think it would hurt to sneak a
peek through the windows. I would have knocked, but it didn’t look like anyone
was home and I didn’t even know if I had the right house and it’s so early...”

Between being startled
and neglecting a jacket for the run, I could feel myself starting to tremble,
and knew I was rambling. I took a deep breath. The man with the gun grinned.

“It’s ok. Why don’t we
walk up to the house and grab a cup of coffee. Then I’ll show you around the
house.” He held out his hand, “I’m Jack.”

I grabbed his hand and
shook it, squeezing tighter than normal to control the shaking. “I’m Jameson.”

He paused before
grinning again. “Nice grip, Jameson.”

I followed him as he
walked up through the yard to the big house, glancing at the gun in its holster
and wondering if following this guy was such a good idea. If I was still in the
city I’d have mace on my keychain, but out here all I had was my phone. Somehow
I couldn’t picture beating someone down with the butt of a smartphone.

Coffee did sound
awfully good, though.

Jack slowed his pace
so we were walking side by side. “So, you’re from New York, eh?”

“Yeah. I mean, no, I’m
not from there originally, but I just came from there. I lived there for about
five years.”

“What part?”

“Brooklyn, mostly, but
I moved around here and there.”

He nodded. “Nice
place.”

“It has its moments.”

We reached the porch
and stepped up to a screen door. Jack swung it open and held it wide, waiting
for me to go in. I stood frozen for a second, not so sure I wanted to enter. I
glanced at the gun again.

“I’m sorry, is this
making you nervous?” Jack pat the holster on his hip, noticing my glance.

“Honestly? Yeah. A
little bit.”

“You didn’t see the car
in the barn, did you?”

I wasn’t sure why a
car was going to put my mind at ease. “No...”

“The car with the red
and blue lights on the top?”

He stood there waiting
for me to make the connection. I kicked myself for having to think about it for
more than a second.

“You’re a cop?”

“Sheriff.”

“Ah. That would
explain the gun so early in the morning.”

He smiled, still
holding the door open. “Yes it would. At least this one. So...” He nodded
towards the doorway.

“Right. Coffee.”

I stepped inside, unsure
of whether or not I should be relieved about the news that I was about to have
coffee with the town Sheriff, particularly after being caught trespassing on
his land.

As we stepped in we
were standing in the kitchen, a more modern one than I was expecting. The
counters were dark granite, the cabinets deep mahogany, and the vintage red
refrigerator matched the stove. Jack walked over to the coffee maker and filled
two mugs.