I followed the winding drive out of the parking lot and turned onto the rural highway. Only an occasional house, barn, or grove of trees broke up the flat, fertile land crisscrossed by grids of roads.
Awkward silence paid us a visit, and all three girls kept their faces buried in their phones. Good grief. Though I didn’t live too far from the church, it’d sure seem like a long trip if someone didn’t talk.
Fortunately, babbling was my specialty.
“You all did such a nice job tonight. I loved singing in my college choir, and we took some of the best tours. We went to New York, and I even got to go to England one spring break. Oh, the stories I could tell. One time we were singing in this cathedral, and as we were walking in, my foot hit the prayer railing, and it echoed so badly through that old building. That made me want to laugh, which is the worst feeling in the world when you can’t because everyone is so serious and quiet.” I took a breath.
“I definitely know the feeling.” Sammi giggled.
At least one of them had listened to my yammering. “Are you excited about the tour?” I glanced in the rearview mirror.
“No.” Quincy didn’t bother to look up from her phone. “I’d rather be going to the beach in Florida. I’ve already been to Colorado like a hundred times.”
Must be rough. “Do you, like, have family there?” Bad Georgia. Bad, bad Georgia.
“No, but I know a great resort in Miami Beach.” Her thumbs flew over the phone.
“Sammi? Makayla? What about you?”
In the back seat, Makayla shrugged. “A beach would’ve been my choice too, but whatev.”
“I’ve never been to Colorado.” Sammi rested her phone in her lap. “I’m excited to see the mountains. They’ve even scheduled a day for us to snow ski, and I’ve never done that either, even though I’m from Michigan. My family’s into water skiing.” She smiled as if she were trying to compensate for her friends’ surly attitudes.
Okay, then. Frankly, I was puzzled. Brenneman University was a Christian college, and Quincy—and even Makayla—had a little more edge than I’d been expecting. Maybe I was being naïve. After all, Quincy could’ve been on the let’s-fix-our-kid-by-sending-her-to-a-Christian-school plan.
Because that was so effective.
“Fun fact about my stepsister,” Makayla said. “She’s a detective.”
Now she was talking me up? Where in the world did that come from?
“Wait, what?” Quincy looked up from her phone. “I thought she’s, like, a farmer.”
“Well, that’s how she makes money, but she’s solved several murder cases in her spare time.”
“Cool.” Sammi’s eyes lit up. “Are you a consultant like Shawn Spencer on Psych?”
A woman after my own heart. “I love that show, but no.” I kneaded the steering wheel. “Mostly, I’ve been in the right places at the right times. Plus, I enjoy talking to people, and sometimes they give me information—without realizing it.” I turned off the highway onto a much narrower—but paved—county road.
“It all started when somebody killed her dad and his case went cold,” Makayla said.
Really? Why’d she bring that up? Didn’t she realize that was a painful topic? She should’ve. She’d been ten when her mom had died.
Quincy leaned forward. “Did you find your dad’s killer?”
“I had help, but yes. Last month the person was finally caught after nine years.” I winced at the memory.
Sammi shook her head. “I’m sorry. That had to have been hard—losing him and not knowing what happened all that time.”
“Thank you.” It’d been excruciating.
I furrowed my brow as we approached my neighbor’s white, two-story house. Why were there lights on? Beverly had passed away last month. Her daughter must be cleaning it out to sell.
My throat thickened at the memory of my dear friend who’d always had a kind word and wise advice. Then I smothered a smile. Cal had adopted Beverly’s black schnauzer Miss Peacock. How were they getting along? Did Taryn like yippy dogs? If not, she’d better get used to it.
As I turned into my driveway, gravel crunched under the tires. I’d purchased the one-hundred-year-old farmhouse and surrounding five-acre property from my mom when she’d remarried. Right now, it was a bigger home than I needed, but I hoped someday there’d be kids to bring life into the place.
“I’ve never stayed on a farm before, but I went on a field trip to one in preschool.” Sammi peered out the window in the direction of my old red barn, pole barn, and grain bins. “This is awesome.”
“Thanks. Where do you live in Michigan?” I asked.
“Novi—Detroit area.”
I opened the garage door and parked next to the old, silver Grand Prix I’d owned for years. I drove the old girl I’d nicknamed Gretel once in a while when I didn’t want to feel big and bad in my truck. “I have a very friendly yellow lab named Gus. He’s harmless and loves company, so I won’t let him out of his crate until you change out of your dresses.”
“I love dogs. My family has a golden retriever,” Sammi said.
We tromped inside to my 1980s-style kitchen that begged daily for a renovation to be free from flower-basket-print wallpaper and linoleum. Gus howled from his crate in the utility room. “I’ll let you out in a minute, buddy.”
I led the girls upstairs where I assigned rooms and pointed out the bathrooms and where they could find towels. “If you’re hungry, I’ll make popcorn, and you can pick a movie.” It wasn’t that late—at least not what college students would consider late.
“That’s perfect. Thank you. I’ll be down after I change.” Sammi hurried into my brother Dakota’s old room.
“I’m gonna crash. What’s your Wi-Fi password?” Quincy tapped her phone. “Wait—you have that, right?”
“No. Here in the sticks, we don’t depend much on that newfangled technology.” My mouth twitched. Somebody find Nice Georgia, because she’s gone on the lam.
“Oh.” Her gazed darted to Makayla.
Makayla rolled her eyes. “She’s messing with you.”
Quincy let loose a sarcastic chuckle that clearly communicated she was not amused.
She’d obviously forgotten to pack her sense of humor. “There’s a card with the password on the nightstand.”
She escaped into the guestroom and shut the door.
“You’re welcome.” I turned to my stepsister. “Well? What about you?”
“I’ll be down in a sec.” She trudged toward my childhood room.
“Mak?”
“Yeah?” She faced me.
“Are you okay?”
“Yep.” She sagged against the door frame.
“Look, I’m sorry you have to stay here instead of—”
“That’s not it. Thanks for hosting us.”
“No problem.” I tried to read her expression but couldn’t. Even though her brothers could be supremely annoying, I never had to wonder what they were thinking.
“I need to get out of this dress.” She tugged on her skirt and then closed the door.
I headed downstairs to make microwave popcorn—my specialty.
A lone soprano sang an a capella version of “Give Me Jesus” while a spotlight illuminated her golden hair. Where was I? My surroundings came into focus as the song ended and the house lights came up.
A man wearing a tuxedo stood at the front of my church, but his face was obscured by a paper bag that had Georgia Rae written in red block letters. “Why does he have a paper bag on his head?” I muttered.
My stepdad appeared at my side and took my arm.
“Dan? What’re you doing here?”
“It’s your big day, Georgia.” Confusion spread over his handsome face.
My big . . . I glanced down and gasped. Where had I gotten this wedding dress? And why was the skirt made of tulle? The fabric invaded half the aisle. Why had my friends let me buy this monstrosity?
Princess material I was not.
&nbs
p; “It’s time.” Dan patted my arm.
Brandi, in a fuchsia, puffy-sleeved gown straight from the 1980s, materialized and handed me a bouquet of limp white roses, the petals browned and curled. A crowd filled the auditorium, and I inspected the room, hoping to find a familiar face.
“Who’s the groom?” I tried to move my feet, but they remained anchored to the floor.
Dan dragged me forward. “Don’t be silly. He’s right there.” He pointed toward the altar where Pastor Mark waited next to the mystery man.
“Who’s right there?” My heart thudded, and I couldn’t get my feet to work. I stumbled along, clutching Dan’s arm.
When we were halfway to the altar, a man in a cowboy hat and bandana burst out of the empty baptistry. He waived an antique silver pistol in the air. “I object!”
Screams rang out when he leveled the gun at Dan and me.
Bang! Bang!
I fell as a bloodstain bloomed over my gown’s beaded bodice.
A shrill alarm pulsed.
I shot up in my bed. With my heart thudding, I clutched my sheets and fanned my pajamas away from my sweaty body. It was just a nightmare.
But the blaring alarm wasn’t.
I leaped out of bed.
Gus barked and howled as I sprinted across the living room to the back door and punched in the code for my security system. The shrieking stopped, and I comforted Gus, who rattled and whined in his metal crate.
When Gus calmed down, I entered the kitchen as Quincy, Makayla, and Sammi raced in. All three of them wore short pajama sets.
“I’m so sorry.” Quincy smoothed her short hair. “This is totally my fault. I got hot and opened a window.”
“No, no.” I shook my head. “I didn’t think about it being too warm.” I wasn’t exactly a tightwad, but turning on the air conditioning in March seemed downright ridiculous. “I should’ve told you I set the alarm every night. I’m sorry.”
“Some bad guys came after her, so our parents made her get a system,” Makayla said.
Sammi froze. “Are we safe here?”
“I’m not in the middle of a case,” I said. “So no one should be after me.” I cringed. That didn’t sound as comforting as I’d hoped.
“We’ll be fine,” Makayla murmured.
My phone rang.
“Wait, you still have a landline?” Makayla’s eyes widened as she whipped her head toward the cordless phone on the kitchen counter.
Yep. Stick me in a museum next to the dinosaur skeletons.
“She’s not into newfangled technology, remember?” Quincy didn’t wrench her gaze from her phone.
“Welcome to the sticks.” I answered and reassured my security system company that they didn’t need to send someone from the sheriff’s department to check on the house.
When I hung up, I glanced at the microwave clock. 12:08. After Sammi, Makayla, and I had eaten popcorn and watched Psych: The Musical—Sammi’s choice—we’d gone to bed a little before eleven.
“Let’s try to get some sleep.” Though, with the adrenaline rush I’d experienced, I’d have to swallow a couple of Tylenol PM to even come close to snoozing.
My guests trudged back upstairs, and I took two pills before heading to my room. As I climbed in bed, the memory of my nightmare came roaring back, but I didn’t want to think about what that awful dream meant.
“Georgia! Wake up!”
Persistent tapping needled my shoulder. I rolled over and opened my eyes. A wet-haired Makayla hovered over my bed, and I looked at my clock. 6:17. Plenty of time to get the girls breakfast and take them to the church.
“I set my alarm for 6:45,” I mumbled as I rubbed my eyes. “If you’re hungry, I bought muffins yesterday, and the coffee maker is set to—”
“That’s not it.” Makayla shook her head, flipping water droplets in my face.
I brushed away the water and blinked. With her arms wrapped around her waist and the same frantic expression on her face, Sammi hovered at my bedroom door. I sat up. “What’s wrong, then?”
Distress clouded Makayla’s pretty face. “Quincy’s gone.”
Chapter Two
“What do you mean Quincy’s gone?” I studied my stepsister and Sammi. “This is a prank, right? You got me good. Now let’s—”
“This isn’t a joke.” Sammi launched herself toward the foot of my bed.
“Georgia, I’m like a hundred times more mature than my idiot brothers. There’s no way I’d mess with you like that.” Makayla’s eyes flashed as she crossed her arms.
I blinked. “Right. Sorry. Reflex, I guess.” I drew a deep breath, and my eyes fell on my pile of clothes in the corner. I hadn’t exactly been expecting guests in my bedroom. Oh well. I had a much bigger issue than my lack of housekeeping skills. “Are you sure she didn’t just go out for a run?” Why hadn’t I reset the security system?
Because it was unseasonably warm, I’d wanted to let her leave the window open, and I’d thought I could trust three college students.
“Quincy doesn’t run,” Makayla said.
“A walk in the fresh air? A self-guided tour of my farm?” Though there wasn’t much to see since I didn’t keep animals—except for cats who controlled the barn’s rodent population and ducks that resided in my pond.
“We’ve tried texting—and calling.” Sammi plucked a thread from her purple, cat-print pajamas. “But she’s not answering.”
Makayla shook her head. “She took your Grand Prix.”
“What?” I croaked. When was the last time I’d driven that old car? Did it even have enough gas? “I can’t believe she stole Gretel,” I mumbled. Though I did leave the keys hanging on a hook next to the back door. At least she hadn’t run off with my truck that was less than a year old.
“I don’t know why she didn’t use a ride share,” Makayla said.
Because she’d been up to no good and didn’t want a witness—or a trail. Not to mention, there couldn’t possibly have been many drivers available to make the trip to my farm in the middle of the night.
“We asked ourselves the same questions you’re going through now.” Sammi plopped on the edge of my bed.
I had to find Quincy because there was no way I was going back to church without three girls. The last thing I wanted was to tell Dr. Jackson we’d lost one of his students, even if she was an adult. “Walk me through everything that’s happened since you woke up.”
“I’m a morning person, so I volunteered to make sure everybody was awake on time,” Sammi said.
“Quincy sometimes sleeps through her alarm.” Makayla sat on the bed next to Sammi. “Once in a while I do too.”
“Are you and Quincy roommates?” I needed to pay more attention to Makayla’s life.
“Yep.”
I turned to Sammi. “Quincy was gone when you went to wake her up.”
“Right. I thought she was in one of the bathrooms, but they were empty. I figured she’d gone to the kitchen to get a drink, so I went to wake up Makayla. She got in the shower, and I went downstairs to make sure Quincy was okay, but she wasn’t around.”
“By the time I got out of the shower, Sammi was worried, so after she filled me in, I checked your garage.”
Interesting how Makayla had immediately thought it was possible Quincy had left. “Makayla, does Quincy have a history of sneaking out?”
“No.” She nibbled a hangnail.
I leaned back against my headboard. “Then why check the garage?”
“It was the logical next step,” she mumbled.
Uh-huh. “Does Quincy have a history of borrowing without asking?”
“Yes. Last week she took that vintage cardigan you got me for Christmas.” She huffed. “It’s one of my favorites, but she stretched it out because her shoulders are broader than mine.”
Llama-print sweater for the win. I shoved the thought aside. “Have you texted your friends to see if they know anything?”
“Yeah.” Makayla glanced at her phone. “Her boyfri
end Jonas hasn’t answered.”
“Quincy isn’t tight with a lot of people in chorale—except Jonas.” Sammi checked her phone. “She hangs out with Ava once in a while, so I’ll try her.” Her fingers flew across the device.
I chewed my lip as I considered my options. The last thing I wanted to do was to report a missing person and stolen vehicle only to have Quincy come bebopping back with an excuse for why she’d needed to borrow my car. “Is her luggage still in the room?”
“Yes.” Sammi turned her phone so we could see the screen. “And Ava hasn’t heard from her either.”
I sighed. “Tell you what. Finish getting ready, because I have to get you to the church. Maybe Quincy needed to run an errand, and she’ll be back before it’s time to leave.”
Makayla and Sammi exchanged glances.
“Okay.” Sammi’s voice wobbled as she trudged out of my room.
Makayla started to follow but turned back. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” I drilled her with a stare. “None of this is your fault, unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I guess not.” She plodded out.
I hopped out of bed, grabbed my cellphone from my nightstand, and tapped Brandi’s number. “I lost a kid,” I said as soon as she answered.
“What?”
“One of the girls snuck out, stole my car, and no one’s heard from her.”
“Oh my word. What’re you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I thought you might have an idea.”
“Because I’m a teacher?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never lost a student, but if I did, I’d contact the parents—and the principal—right away.”
“I don’t know her parents.” I paced in front of my bed. “I’m still in the hoping-she’ll-return phase. Will you please ask your guests if they know anything?”
“Are you sure you want word getting out before you talk to the director?”
“It’s already out. Makayla and Sammi have been texting their friends.”
“Right. Give me a minute. They’re eating breakfast.”
Breakfast.
Deadly Harmony Page 2