I started to walk away.
“Hold on, Miss Winston.” Dr. Jackson extended a business card. “Call me immediately if you should hear from Miss Ashbrook.”
“I will.” I tucked his card in my purse, wandered a few feet away, and parked next to the sound board—where I could listen without being obvious. Many of the students displayed worried expressions as they gathered in groups, whispering and glancing around. Others were simply preoccupied with their phones. Since not a single chorale member wore jeans, I assumed Dr. Jackson must’ve implemented a strict dress code.
“Did Quincy show any strange or unusual behaviors lately?” Cal asked.
“Not that I’m aware of, though you’ll want to speak with her boyfriend Jonas when he arrives.” Dr. Jackson smoothed the lapel on his jacket. “Miss Ashbrook is flighty, but I never imagined she’d do something like this.”
“What do you know about her background?”
“She’s from Indianapolis. The elder Miss Ashbrook attended Brenneman and sang with my chorale. She’s very steady and dependable—nothing like her younger sister.” He bristled.
“Anything else?” Cal asked.
“Miss Ashbrook is a junior music major. She sings alto. She took my composition class last semester and my music theory class as a freshman.” He adjusted his musical-note tie. “I don’t mean to appear insensitive, but I have fifty-nine other students in my group, and while I take a professional interest in my students, I don’t delve into their personal lives. It simply isn’t prudent in this day and age.”
“I understand.” Cal typed some notes in his phone.
I assumed Dr. Jackson was referring to inappropriate relationships between students and faculty or fear of false accusations from female students, but he didn’t appear to be the type young women would flock after. Maybe a British accent covered a multitude of sins.
I wasn’t so sure.
“I’d like to talk to her boyfriend Jonas,” Cal said.
“Mr. Dawes is arriving now.” Dr. Jackson pointed at the young man with the sparse beard who’d helped Brandi and me the night before. “Do you have any other questions?”
“Not at this time.”
“Then please excuse me while I phone Quincy’s parents.” He adjusted his messenger bag strap and slipped down the hallway.
I trailed Cal as he walked toward Jonas, but Makayla and Sammi blocked my path.
“I need to tell you something.” Makayla tugged her sweater sleeves over her hands.
I was only ten years older than her, but I was starting to feel like a surrogate parent and wondered how to address the fact that she’d lied earlier. “Go ahead.” I mentally braced myself.
“I’ll give you a minute.” Sammi joined a group of girls sitting in the pews.
Makayla leaned against the wall. “Last night when I was upset, it was because Quincy and I haven’t been getting along, and I wasn’t thrilled that we’re tour roommates. I’d been hoping to have a break from her.”
“I’m sorry. Why aren’t you getting along?”
“She’s been staying out until like three in the morning. We don’t have a curfew, so it’s not against the rules. It’s just super annoying because she wakes me up when she comes in.”
“Is she sneaking around with Jonas?”
“I don’t know. Every time I asked where she’d been, she wouldn’t tell me.” She looked around and lowered her voice. “But Jonas is here now, so I’m not sure he’s involved in what went down last night—and I haven’t had a chance to ask why he hasn’t been communicating with Quincy.”
Was Quincy entangled in something bigger—and more sinister—than an illicit meet up with her boyfriend? “Anything else?”
“I’m sorry I lied this morning. I don’t know why I covered for Quincy. Especially when she’s always doing her own thing.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I guess I’m too loyal for my own good.”
“Maybe—but loyalty is generally a positive trait.” What kind of hold did Quincy have over Makayla?
Cal finished talking to Jonas and moved on to a group of girls that circled him. Jonas stood alone, staring into space. I nudged Makayla and motioned toward Jonas. “Do you think he’ll talk to me?”
“Let’s try.” She appeared relieved about the subject change and hurried over to him while I followed. Makayla hugged Jonas. “It’ll be okay. Quincy’s probably just being Quincy, and she’ll turn up in a few days.”
“I suppose.” He didn’t sound convinced. “I can’t believe she went to a cemetery in the middle of the night.” He shuddered.
“I know, right?” She turned to me. “My stepsister Georgia has assisted the sheriff’s department with some tough cases. She’s helping us figure out what’s going on.”
“Really?” Distress lingered in his eyes.
I needed to tell Makayla to stop talking me up, especially when we weren’t sure there was a case. “I’ll do my best to help—if something’s wrong.”
“Thanks.” He twisted a button on his wrinkled shirt. “I don’t know much except Quincy wasn’t meeting me at that cemetery.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t spread this around, but I have . . . coimetrophobia.”
Oh boy. Do not roll your eyes. Do not roll your eyes. “Fear of cemeteries?” I whispered and tried to look sympathetic, even though I was about three seconds away from a giggle attack of epic proportions.
“Yes,” he said. “When I was ten, I had to have counseling after my grandma’s funeral because I was so freaked out.” He looked around again. “I admit Quincy and I don’t have the best track record when it comes to sneaking out on chorale tour, but I’m not willing to take that risk any more. I’ve been working way too hard for my degree to get kicked out of school. I’m graduating in May.”
Makayla and I glanced at each other.
“Has Quincy been staying out late with you the last few weeks?” Makayla asked.
“No.” He flinched. “Didn’t she tell you we broke up?”
“Uh—no. Why were you sitting together on the bus yesterday?” Makayla put her hands on her hips.
His posture stiffened. “Because the breakup was mutual, and we’re still friends.”
“How long ago did you end things?” I asked.
“About three weeks ago. We decided there was no spark between us anymore. Plus, I’m moving to Nashville after graduation, and Quincy has another year of school.”
Jonas’s coimetrophobia excuse was too convenient and made me suspect he was hiding something, but it was time to take some heat off him before he shut down. “Was Quincy dating someone else?”
“I don’t know. She might’ve been if she was staying out late.” His shoulders relaxed—ever so slightly. “All I know is things were cool between us—as friends.”
“Did Quincy ever indicate she was in danger?” I asked.
“No.” He shook his head. “Believe me, if I knew something, I’d tell you—and that detective. But I’m thinking this whole thing is Quincy following her own agenda. I care about her, but she can be pretty narcissistic sometimes.”
Narcissism would certainly kill a romantic spark.
He looked at Makayla, and then his gaze rested on me. “If I think of something, could I contact you through Makayla?”
“Sure, but first, you should reach out to Detective Perkins,” I said. “Thanks for your help, Jonas.”
“No problem.” He walked away and joined a few guys who were engrossed in a card game.
Makayla and I found an empty pew and people-watched in silence until Sammi approached us a few minutes later. “I have some news.” She sat next to Makayla and looked at me. “My cousin Trevor is married to Quincy’s oldest sister, Caroline.”
“I see.” That was a helpful connection.
“I’d forgotten that,” Makayla said.
“A few minutes ago, I called Trevor to see if he or Caroline has heard from Quincy. They haven’t, and his in-laws are freaking out. Anyway, Trev told me an i
nteresting story.” She traced the embroidery on her top. “Back when Quincy was in high school, she dated this older guy who was a musician. She ran away from church camp to be with him and his band for two weeks the summer between her junior and senior years. After the relationship went bad, she came crawling back home.”
“Wow,” I said.
“I know, right? But it makes me feel better,” Sammi said. “Like, this whole thing is just Quincy being Quincy, and she’s really okay.”
I wasn’t convinced okay was the right word. “Is that what Trevor and Caroline think?”
“Yeah. Trev said Caroline’s super ticked Quincy pulled this stunt again.”
Dr. Jackson clapped his hands. “Attention.”
The room grew quiet as the students faced Dr. Jackson.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the unfortunate news that Quincy Ashbrook sneaked out last night and has disappeared. Though she left a note indicating she’s fine, we’re nonetheless concerned for her safety due to the unexpected nature of her departure. After consulting with university administration and Miss Ashbrook’s parents, we’ve decided to continue with our tour because we have obligations to fulfill. Miss Ashbrook’s parents will arrive shortly to assist with the investigation. If any of you know anything about Miss Ashbrook that could be helpful, I encourage you to speak with Detective Perkins immediately, as we will be leaving as soon as the busses are loaded.”
Silence throbbed as the students looked around the room, murmuring to each other. Jonas stepped forward. “We need to pray for Quincy—in case something bad happened.”
“Yes. Wonderful idea. Thank you,” Dr. Jackson said. “Let’s form a circle.”
The group spread around the pews, and Makayla grabbed my hand and towed me into the formation. Across the room, one of the cute girls who’d gathered around Cal smiled and coaxed him into the circle.
Great excuse to hold his hand. Nice Georgia.
Jonas led the prayer, and a few other students chimed in and added petitions for her safety and for her family. When they were finished, the boys began dragging luggage out to the busses in the parking lot while the girls followed behind.
Cal was finally free, so I moseyed over. Something about his early morning visit was bugging me. Though he frequently ran three to four miles at a time, he usually didn’t venture all the way out to my farm. “How’d you happen to be out running in my neck of the woods?”
He arched an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard.”
“Are you training for a marathon?”
“I bought Aunt Beverly’s house.”
Chapter Four
Neighbors. Cal and I were going to be neighbors. I grabbed the back of a pew for support and tried hard not to look—How should I look? Shocked? Dismayed? Thrilled?
Merciful heavens.
I decided on casually interested. “What happened to the other house you were buying?” I asked.
“The inspection showed it had major foundation issues, so I withdrew my offer,” Cal said.
Ever since moving to Wildcat Springs from the Cleveland area, he’d wanted a small hobby farm. When we were dating, he’d stopped looking—for a while. Then, out of the blue, he’d put in an offer on a place, just when things were going well between us.
“I’m sure Denise will be glad to keep the house in the family.” I forced a smile. “Good for you.”
“Thanks.”
I twisted my amethyst birthstone ring as silence mocked us.
“Take care.” I spun and made a quick getaway to the parking lot where the girls were filing onto the busses and the guys were stowing luggage in the compartments.
Makayla raced over to me. “I’m sorry this happened. Let me know if you hear anything.” Tears welled in her eyes as she brushed her wind-whipped hair out of her face.
“Will do. Call if you need me.”
She hugged me and boarded the bus. Sammi and Makayla waved as the busses wound through the parking lot and out to the highway.
I zipped my coat and hoofed it to my truck. What a morning, and it wasn’t even nine o’clock. I needed a caffeine fix—badly.
I hadn’t set foot in Latte Conspiracies for several weeks, but it was time to stop avoiding my favorite place. I breathed in the life-giving aroma of freshly brewed coffee as I entered the shop. The Saturday morning crowd occupied the tables scattered next to the exposed brick wall.
On the opposite side of the room, French doors led to a bookstore. The coffee shop’s owner, Bobbi Sue Miller, and her sixteen-year-old son Holden worked behind the counter.
Her older son Hamlet was nowhere in sight.
With a sigh of relief, I moved into line and studied the individual clipboard menus that held the drink descriptions and tried to decide between a Crop Circle Cappuccino and a Loch Ness Latte.
I approached the stainless-steel counter and smiled at the middle-aged woman wearing an alien-print T-shirt. Bobbi Sue had always been an excellent source during my past investigations, thanks to her legendary paranoia. “Hey! How’s it going?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”
Oh boy. I’d been so focused on avoiding Hamlet that I hadn’t anticipated his mother’s reaction. “Loch Ness Latte please.” Why had I thought it was a good idea to get coffee here?
“Large?”
“Yes, please.” For the first time ever, I sensed she was judging my higher-than-average coffee consumption. “How was your cruise?” I handed her money and my loyalty card.
Bobbi Sue and her husband had recently traveled to the Caribbean.
“Fine.” She shoved my money in the cash register, jammed my loyalty card into the hole punch, and gave it a vigorous squeeze.
Apparently, that’s what she wanted to do to my neck, which wasn’t entirely fair. I couldn’t help it Hamlet had feelings for me—and that until twenty days ago I’d been in a relationship with a man I’d thought I’d marry.
“Hi, Georgia!” Holden grinned and waved from behind the counter.
“Hey!” I moved aside to wait for my drink.
“Hamlet’s working on his house today,” Holden said. “He’s installing bathroom tile.”
“Good for him.” Hamlet had recently returned home to flip houses after ending his theater career.
“He’d like it if you stopped in.”
“I don’t think so.” Bobbi Sue’s eyes flashed as she hovered over her son’s shoulder. “You’ve done enough damage already.”
“I—”
“Save your excuses.” She put her hands on her hips.
Holden shoved my coffee cup toward me and appeared as if he’d like to teleport to any available location.
Let me hitch a ride, buddy.
“Thanks. Have a nice day.” I spun toward the door and caught sight of a thin, dark-haired woman sizing me up. Why’d she look familiar? I’d likely seen her around town, but most folks around here at least gave a friendly nod when you made eye contact.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Bobbi Sue screeched. “Stop right there!”
I jumped and winced as scorching coffee sloshed through the lid hole onto my hand.
Bobbi Sue burst out from behind the counter, and I was firmly convinced that if she’d been younger and more limber, she would’ve leaped over the counter and tackled me. She blocked my path to freedom. “You’re not leaving without a piece of my mind.”
Take it like a woman, Georgia Rae. I clamped my jaw and met her eyes while trying not to notice the patrons’ curious stares.
“Do you know how long I waited for Hamlet to move home?”
Four, maybe five years? “No, ma’am.”
She scowled. “You don’t have any idea what it’s like knowing your baby is moving around from place to place. Then he decides to settle down and use those construction skills my dad taught him.”
The chattering customers grew quiet. When people had come in for coffee this morning, they hadn’t realized they’d be getting a free show as well. My caus
ing two scenes in the span of less than two hours had to be a town record.
She jabbed her pointer finger at me. “Now, because of you, he’s moving again.”
“He doesn’t need to do that. I never asked him to leave. I don’t want him to move. Besides, I bro—”
“Well, he’s got it in his head that he needs to get out of Dodge, and you can’t deny it’s because of you.” She folded her arms across her chest.
No, I couldn’t, though to be fair, Hamlet had always known about Cal but had chosen to pursue me anyway. We hadn’t even spoken since the night of my grandpa’s wedding because Hamlet had been avoiding our Bible study group.
And how on earth had Bobbi Sue not heard that I’d broken up with Cal? She usually knew everything that went on in this town. Had people been afraid to mention me in her presence? “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” She waved a hand and stomped back behind the counter. “You’re no longer welcome here.”
My stomach somersaulted. For half a second, I wanted to believe Bobbi Sue was messing with me. But her fierce scowl made it clear this was no joke.
With my chin up like the tough Winston I was, I stared straight ahead at the door and marched out of the shop.
“Bobbi Sue did what?” My other best friend Ashley Choi turned from the cornfield mural she was painting.
I’d walked directly from Latte Conspiracies to Ashley’s new art studio and told her what’d happened.
“I’m officially banned.” I sipped my final drink from the shop and surveyed the expansive room Ashley was renovating. It spanned the entire second floor of the historic brick building, and tall, narrow windows provided a view onto the streets of downtown Wildcat Springs.
“I’m sorry, hon. Maybe she’ll get over it.” Ashley pushed her black hair over her shoulder. She wore a pink, oversized button-down shirt adorned with multicolored paint spatters and streaks. She’d recently quit her job as an engineer to open a studio where she’d teach art classes for people of all ages.
I sat on the wood floor and stretched out my legs. “Do you think I should talk to Hamlet?”
Deadly Harmony Page 4