by Dana Mentink
She nodded. “Okay. We’re bringing him up now.”
The guys guided the backboard up and over the edge of the ravine.
Ivy’s breath froze.
How could she tell Madge? After all the woman had been through. How could she tell her Moe was dead?
When Ivy saw the bundled victim’s head, she sagged against Tim in relief. Red hair, shocking curly red hair, poked out from the man’s head as it was secured to the backboard. A redhead, it was not Moe.
Denise set to work on the victim immediately, and Ivy grudgingly had to admit the woman was competent. Ivy was further relieved to hear that the man had a pulse. It comforted her to know that someone else’s mother would not receive devastating news.
Her own mother’s face surfaced in her mind. She thought for a moment what she must have felt when she got the news about Sadie. She had to have been broken, crushed by grief, yet she had never once let go of her faith.
Tim reached an arm around her shoulders. “What are you thinking?”
“I was thinking that my mother is a strong woman, much stronger than I could ever be.”
“Mothers are like that.”
She thought, too, about how her own rejection of God for many long years must have further saddened her mother. Her breath caught. “I could have been a much better daughter.”
He brushed a kiss across her temple. “Your mother wouldn’t trade you in for anything, and neither would I.”
She snuggled into his strong chest for a moment, allowing herself to be comforted. Then the firefighters began to clamber up over the edge of the ravine. “Let’s go.”
“Don’t you want to say hi to your guys?”
She shook her head. “They’ve got work to do, and so do we.”
“The search is still on?”
She nodded. “You better believe it.”
She followed him to the truck without a word.
Tim phoned Madge to check on her and listened intently for a few minutes before hanging up. “She’s got a houseful coordinating the next phase of the search. My mom and dad are there.”
“I didn’t know your folks knew Moe.”
“They don’t, but Madge attends our church sometimes so they’ve mobilized to help a fellow member of the flock.”
She laughed. “Your parents are great.”
He was ridiculously pleased that Ivy got along so well with his folks. “Yes, they are. My mother is probably creating a flowchart to track the whole business, and Dad is more than likely whipping up his spaghetti to keep everyone fully carb loaded. Should we go over and pool our info before we continue the search?”
“Absolutely.”
It wasn’t spaghetti but lasagna that Mr. Carnelli was pulling hot from the oven when they arrived. He greeted Ivy with a tight hug, squashing her against his chest hard enough to make her wince. His cheeks were shiny from the oven’s heat, eyes black and sparkling under a mop of unruly hair.
Tim hugged his dad and grabbed a pot holder to help with the food before he and Ivy wandered into command central.
Mrs. Carnelli stood at the table, her slender form bent over maps and pages of computer printouts. She gave Ivy and Tim a peck on the cheek and pointed to the map. “The areas in red are places we’ve covered at least once.” She sighed. “It was a real wake-up call when you told us Moe probably had access to a motorbike.”
Tim looked over the search grids. “We’ve got a plenty big area left to cover.”
She nodded, her freckles vivid against her pale skin. “Yes.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m not sure how much longer the county is going to be able to keep up a full-scale search.”
Tim feared the agency was stretched plenty thin. “Has anyone reported finding a trace of him?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s as if he evaporated into thin air.”
They broke off the conversation as Madge joined them. Tim thought she looked a decade older than she had a few days earlier. Without a word she embraced them with trembling arms. Tim hugged her back and led her to a chair.
“How are you holding up?”
“I don’t know. I feel numb. That’s better than what I feel when I think of him out there, alone.” Her eyes welled up with tears.
Ivy squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll find him.”
Her head sagged forward against her chest. “Every minute, I expect the phone to ring, to hear his voice.” Suddenly her eyes flew open. “Wait a second. I remembered what I wanted to tell you. A man called here the day Moe disappeared. He asked me about some package.”
Tim leaned forward, riveted. “What man? What did he say exactly?”
Madge screwed up her face in thought. “He said he was a friend of Cyril’s and Cyril was taking care of some papers for him. He saw Cyril around town with Moe and wondered if he had given Moe the papers to look after.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him Moe didn’t have any papers. When I tried to ask the man what his name was, he hung up.”
Tim’s skin prickled. “Was his voice distinctive? Did he have an accent or anything?”
“Not that I can remember. Do you think he knows something about my Moe?” Her face drained of color. “Do you think he…did something to Moe?”
Tim hastened to reassure her. “I’m sure he didn’t, but I think you’d better call Detective Greenly and tell him what you just told me.”
When Madge hung up with the police, her face had an even more ghastly pallor. Mrs. Carnelli insisted that she go lie down.
Tim, Ivy and the Carnellis sat at the table, picking at plates of lasagna. Even the robust Mr. Carnelli seemed to have lost his appetite. Tim put his fork down with a clank. “I can’t shake the feeling that this is connected to Medsci somehow. I’ve searched the Internet as thoroughly as I know how and I can’t figure it out. How would Moe get information about an experimental drug?”
His mother cocked her head. “From Cyril, but the question is, how did he get it and why is it significant? Seems to me Roger Smalley’s name and connection to the drug are fairly public information. Not worth killing anyone.”
“That’s my take, too, but Smalley is involved in something, Mom.”
Ivy nodded. “He wanted to be anywhere but talking to us, that’s for sure.”
Mr. Carnelli frowned. “Maybe the drug is something other companies would love to get their hands on.”
Tim sighed. “That occurred to me also, but there was no crucial information about the chemical formulas in Moe’s message, nothing that would help another company duplicate the compound. I can’t figure out the connection.”
Ivy could not suppress a yawn as the room slipped into predusk shadows.
Mrs. Carnelli smiled. “Look at you two, completely exhausted. You should go home right now and get some rest.”
Ivy shook her head. “We were going to cover more ground today.”
She pressed her lips together. “It’s getting dark. You won’t be any good to anybody if you wear yourselves out completely.”
Tim smiled at his mother. Seeing the weariness on Ivy’s face, he knew it was sound advice. “That’s her ‘I mean business’ voice. We’ll start the search again tomorrow.”
Ivy let Mr. Carnelli ply her with a foil-wrapped plate of lasagna and Tim did the same.
“Better take it, Ivy,” Tim whispered, “or Dad will sneak it into your bag when you’re not looking.”
Mr. Carnelli gave him a fake punch. “You should be so lucky to find my lasagna in your bag.”
“True.” Tim waved goodbye and drove them home, eyeing Ivy as he drove.
“What time do you want to kick things off tomorrow?” she asked around a yawn.
His heart dropped. “I’m sorry to say, I’ve got to work. I took a few days off, but there’s no one to cover for me on Fridays. Can you survive until I get off work at five?” More important, could she stay safe and out of trouble?
She grinned. “It won’t be easy, but I’ll do my best
.”
He walked her to her door and waited until she was safely inside. “Good night, Ivy.” The sight of her there, framed against the soft apartment light, head tilted slightly, was so very beautiful. He wanted to extend the evening for just a little longer, to let his true feelings out of the cage he’d tried to confine them to. He opened his mouth and then closed it again.
“What were you going to say?”
His face warmed. “Oh, never mind. It’s nothing you’d want to hear, I think.”
“Go on, tell me.”
He looked down at his shoe. “I was going to say that even though we didn’t find Moe, I sure am glad I got to spend the day with you.”
“Glad? To go tramping through wilderness parks in the blazing heat?”
His eyes locked on hers. “Yes.” Don’t you know that when I’m with you, everything is better? No matter where we are or what we’re doing. My life is better with you in it.
Even though his brain told him not to, he couldn’t restrain the urge that coursed through him like a fast-moving stream. He kissed her, a long slow kiss that she returned in kind. When he pulled away, they were both speechless.
“Tim, I…”
“I know,” he said, turning down the hallway, ignoring the pounding in his chest. “I told you it wasn’t what you’d want to hear.”
EIGHTEEN
The smoke shrouded Moe in a blanket of darkness. She held her gloved hand out to him, but the sling prevented her from reaching his fingers. His eyes rounded in horror as the smoke closed in on him. He began to rock back and forth, lips wide in a silent scream.
“No, Moe. Come to me. Let me help you,” Ivy shouted.
The blackness increased, enveloping all but Moe’s terrified face.
Again, she reached out, straining against the bandages that imprisoned her. She watched, helpless, as the smoke funneled into his mouth, choking off his scream.
With a jerk, Ivy shot upright in bed, sweat rolling off her forehead. Her breath came in ragged pants. She sucked in air, trying to steady herself. “Just a dream. Just a dream.” Though the nightmare faded away, the urgency it left behind didn’t. She had to find Moe. She had to save him.
She didn’t take time to eat breakfast before she pulled on clothes and headed out into the warm August morning. After she stopped at Mitch’s to pick up her car, she sped out of town. A thick blanket of clouds covered the sky, promising a much-needed summer rain.
In spite of the approaching storm, the campground she’d been assigned to search by Mrs. Carnelli was full to overflowing with kids and parents enjoying the last few weeks of summer vacation. She showed Moe’s picture to every camp employee she could find, as well as many guests, with no luck. Stomach hollow with hunger, she finally headed back to the car.
Pieces of glass littered the ground around the driver-side window. Ivy gasped and glanced wildly around, looking for anyone suspicious. There was no one.
Avoiding the glass, she gingerly eased the door open and checked the interior. The contents of the glove box were spilled onto the floor. The upholstery was pulled up from the bucket seats as if someone had been looking for something underneath.
She looked more closely and found the trunk had been popped open, her first-aid kit rifled through, as well.
Desperation swelled inside her. “What do you want from me?” she screamed to no one.
A chilling thought struck her. Maybe whoever had done it was watching her right now, hidden behind the leafy screen of trees. She started to tremble.
“Keep calm, Ivy.” She wrapped a jacket around her hand and brushed the glass from the front seat before she jumped inside and revved the engine. She knew she shouldn’t move the vehicle until after the police had examined it, but the fear inside filled her with a desperate need to escape.
Only after she was on the road back home did she begin to breathe more easily. She made it back to town and left a message for the detective. Unwilling to go home to her empty apartment, Ivy parked along Main Street and sat on a shaded bench to sip a bottle of water.
Mitch appeared, slouching onto the bench next to her. “Any luck?”
“No, and my car got broken into.”
He gasped and went over to take a look at the shattered window. “What is up with that?” he said. “Maybe some punk kids?”
“I don’t know.” Ivy felt too tired to think about it anymore. “Did you have any luck searching?”
He shook his head. “Charlie and I stayed up for a few hours yesterday. I thought I’d join you on foot today. Where’s Tim?”
“Working. Isn’t that where you’re supposed to be?”
“I took the morning off to help with the search. I have to be back this afternoon.”
“That was nice of you.”
His gaze wandered down the street.
“Are you meeting someone?”
“Me? No, no.” He turned his attention back to her. “So did you give any more thought to those clues? Did you remember anything Moe gave you or anything you saw him carrying around?”
“No, Mitch. I told you that before.”
“I know. I’m being thorough, is all.”
Ivy’s cell phone let out a reminder beep. She checked the display and gasped. “Oh, man. I completely forgot my doctor’s appointment. I’m supposed to have the shoulder looked at. I’ve gotta go. See you later.”
Figuring it would be safe to walk down a public street in broad daylight, she hurried the six blocks as quickly as she could, slipping the sling on to impress the doctor. Hope swelled inside with each step. She had been able to use her shoulder and go without the sling for the better part of a day. Things were improving all the time.
Soon it would be back to work.
An image of Tim rose in her mind. Would he feel abandoned again? The thought made her sad. She shook it away. Her work was the most important thing in her life. Wasn’t it? She wouldn’t lose focus for anyone. Not even Tim.
She scurried up the steps to the clinic past a man sitting in a chair on the cement patio, reading a magazine held tightly against the quickening wind. His blond crew-cut hair was almost the same shade as his pale skin. Something about him seemed familiar.
Her phone rang before she made it inside. “Hey, Mom. I’m going into the doctor’s office. No, no luck yet with the search. Look, can I come by and fill you in later? I’ve got to go now.”
As she tried to pocket the phone, a sudden pain in her shoulder made her lose her grip. The cell skittered across the cement, near the man with the magazine. He fished it out from between his feet and handed it to her.
“Thanks so much.” She took the phone and he tucked the issue under his arm and rose to hold the door.
Face flushed, she hurried by, glancing at the magazine folded to reveal an article on digital cameras. Inside the office she composed herself and waited for the nurse to lead her to a room.
The doctor did a thorough examination of the burns. “I’m happy with your progress, Ivy. It’s definitely healing. I think we’ll get out of this with minimal scarring, too.”
“Great. How much longer before I can go back on the line?”
His eyebrow lifted. “I was about to say, this is the dangerous time. Your shoulder is feeling better and you’ve got some mobility back so your tendency will be to overdo it. You’ve seen the physical therapist, I assume?”
“Yes. She’s going to check me out again in a month. But I think I’ll be ready before then. You said the burns are healing up nicely, right?”
“Right. So that means when the therapist clears you for rehab, you can start on that shoulder.”
“I was hoping, maybe, you could speed things along.”
His round face wore an exasperated look. “Give it time, Ivy. The body’s power to heal is miraculous, but you’ve got to let it do the work.” He patted her arm and said goodbye.
Ivy left the clinic. Her rumbling stomach demanded attention so she stopped at the bakery for a snack. She was about to find
a spot on the bench to enjoy the soft peanut-butter cookie when she noticed the same crew-cut blond-haired man sipping tea. She half smiled at him. He looked up from his magazine, his gray eyes luminous in his pale face. He did not smile, and there was a look to him, an intangible something that made her gut turn to ice.
The chill grabbed hold of her spine. The magazine was still turned to the very same page it had been an hour ago. Though he looked away, she could feel his eyes burning into her as she left. Was it him? Was he the one who tried to take her purse, broke into her house and smashed her car window?
With fear circling her gut, she checked over her shoulder. The man was standing now, discarding his drink and turning in her direction. She dropped the cookie into a trash can and walked as fast as possible away from him, trying to decide how to escape, when a familiar car pulled up at the curb.
Charlie reached over and opened the door to his sports car. “Need a lift?”
She hesitated only a moment before she jumped in and pulled the door closed.
“Where you headed?”
“I was going to visit my mother. She’s off Main Street.”
“All right, then. Looks like a good storm coming in.” He pulled the car smoothly away from the curb, turning on the wipers to catch the first drops of rain. Ivy looked in the sideview mirror at the man with the magazine, who stared at the vehicle as it drove away.
“You okay, Ivy? You look a shade pale.”
She tried to control her breathing. Was her imagination making her see villains everywhere? In the safety of Charlie’s car, her fears seemed less logical. The guy was probably completely harmless. It had to be a mistake. “I’m fine. Thanks for the ride. What brings you to town?”
“Errands, mostly.”
He looked straight ahead and Ivy could make out lines in his face that she hadn’t noticed before. He seemed old all of a sudden. “Charlie, I think I owe you an apology.”
He started. “You do?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes. It was indiscreet of me to bring Mitch’s problem up to a colleague and just plain rude to blame you. I’m sorry.”