by Jane Elzey
Now dizzy, she lay back down and closed her eyes.
A car door slammed, then footfall ground on gravel. A door squeaked open and the shuffle of feet drew closer. Fear gripped her aching chest and flooded her veins with adrenaline as she felt the thud of the floor as the steps grew near. She felt a flashlight beam flood across her face, but she willed her eyes to stay closed. A heavy hand grabbed her ankle and shook.
She groaned but willed herself to remain still and silent.
“Waking up soon,” a male voice muttered. “She’ll be needing this.”
Did she know him? Did she recognize that voice?
She fought the urge to open her eyes. If she did, she would only be looking into the beam of the flashlight, which would blind her, and still she would not know the stalker at the end of the bed. She held still.
The silence was interrupted by the slide of a zipper against its teeth. Her heart flooded again with fear, adrenaline banging against her bruised ribs. How could she defend herself with an injured arm? How could she push free?
The white heat of the flashlight beam moved across her face. With her ears trained on nothing else, she listened like prey for her hunter’s next step, waiting for what would inevitably come next. She tensed, bracing herself against the struggle she was about to face, tightening her legs as she readied herself to kick out. Instead, she felt the prick of a needle near her ankle.
Instantly warmth rose from her ankle and spread up one leg. At first unwelcome, like an alien intruder taking over, then the feeling warmed her. The heat reached her arm, her neck, her head, and then she didn’t care. Soft, warm velvet smoothed over her, and every molecule of every cell relaxed deeply against the bed. The pain in her chest disappeared first. The pain in her arm soon followed. With a smile on her bruised lips, she drifted again to sleep.
Chapter Eighteen
“Amy is missing!” Zelda shouted to Rian and Genna. “She took off in the Hummer to run errands. That was yesterday morning, and she’s not back yet. I can’t reach her by phone. I’ve left a dozen messages.”
Zelda jumped from her chair and paced the floor in the sunroom filled with early morning light. The sunshine streamed through the glass, the beams touching plants, furniture, and frightened faces. Dust motes danced eerily in the sunlight. She stepped in and out of the dust beams as she paced, the eerie illumination following her as she walked the floor in front of them.
“I had the strangest call with her.” She told them about Amy’s call. “It wasn’t an SOS; it was just nonsense. I think she was in a bar. She said she would call me back, but she never did.”
“That’s not like Amy,” Genna said and reached for a cigarette with trembling hands. “Where was she?”
“I don’t know. Amy didn’t tell me where she was going when she borrowed the Hummer. I assumed she was going garage sale-ing. I wish I’d asked what she thought she was doing . . .” Zelda’s voice trailed away to silence. She had been hurt and angry at Amy for breaking into Zack’s office. It was hard to disguise the lingering scent of Amy’s favorite strawberry papaya shampoo, but their conversation had confirmed it was her. Zelda hadn’t had the courage to confront her then.
Amy had lied on the phone. She had lied to Amy. And that one lie proved one thing. She hadn’t told Amy what was in the drawers when she called to complain that someone had broken into Zack’s office. Amy knew there were files in the cabinet. Zelda had said only that the drawers were now empty. They weren’t empty; not then.
Now they were charred pages of ash in the fireplace grate.
She had set fire to the newspapers from Zack’s files, balling each page into a bundle that caught and fueled the flames. She had emptied the drawers of its manila folders and pages and fed them to the fire one by one, watching them curl and brown in the heat. She remembered how the sweat had curled the fine hairs on her bangs as the fire grew, taking with it every reminder of who Zack Carlisle was, really was, as it all went up in smoke.
The truth about Zack hadn’t surprised her as much as it could have. And that surprised her even more.
She had done her own digging in Zack’s files. It was the day he refused to pay for her birthday cruise. Fueled by anger, she had broken into Zack’s desk and then into the file cabinet looking for a hidden stash of cash or a maturing CD she could cash without him knowing.
She found more hidden in that file cabinet than she could ever imagine, and far more than she wanted to know.
Amy had been in those files. No doubt she had read them. And now she was missing. What was Amy trying to do?
“She’ll be home soon,” Rian spoke up. “She’s probably out having a good time. She probably had too much of a good time to drive home last night. Maybe she found a hot something-something she wanted to spend some time with.”
Zelda paced the floor in front of them.
“Zelda,” Rian said. “Sit down. Genna and I need to talk to you about something.”
Zelda spun in mid-step and stopped.
“Uh-oh,” Genna muttered. “This isn’t going to be fun.”
Rian took in a deep breath and exhaled as if steeling her mind against an unpleasant deed.
Zelda sat on the white wicker chair with its plump cushions covered in red poppies on white chintz. On any other morning, the chair would have been a soft little nest to curl up in and read while the geraniums bloomed around her. On any other day, the three friends would be laughing over someone’s faux pas or funny turn of a phrase. Not today. Today the chair was as hard as the truth she had been denying herself for months.
“I guess you may know by now that we—Genna and I—each own a third of Carlisle Industries LLC. I’m guessing that if the police know, you know. The plan was for Genna and me to capitalize on the company as a cell tower lease provider. The goal was to buy land prime for a tower, bid for rights, and then lease to the highest bidders. We thought it was going to be a moneymaker.”
“We each put in fifty thousand dollars,” Genna added, picking up when Rian fell silent. “Zack had a plan for how we would triple our investment in less than five years. We were going to make a lot of money.”
“And now that Zack’s . . . gone?” Zelda asked.
“I assume if all your papers are in order, that legally you own Zack’s third,” Rian said quietly, “unless we buy you out. Or we dissolve the partnership. We have the right to choose. And Genna had the business sense to buy partnership insurance.”
“We took out a policy in trust for each of the partners,” Genna added. “On the death of any of us, the policy pays out while the company is intact.” Genna leaned forward and touched Zelda lightly on her arm. “We didn’t tell you because, well—honestly, sugar, Zack said not to. He thought it would be a fun surprise when we all started making a boatload of money. But your share isn’t worth much because the company isn’t worth much,” she added.
“Anything,” Rian corrected. “Your share isn’t worth anything. We’ve just discovered the company is operating in the red. Genna and I may be liable for leases and agreements we don’t even know about. It looks like the capital we invested has been spent. I’m not sure what we own and what we don’t. Zack handled all of the real estate transactions.”
Genna glanced at Rian for comfort.
“Maybe we can still make money on the leases if we can find someone who knows about that kind of business. Someone we can trust,” Genna said. “But the money’s gone, and I don’t know where the deeds and leases are, or even if we have deeds and leases. Rian and I can walk away free and clear with the money from the insurance policy. We could also reinvest it. It’s still a big blinking question mark in my mind.”
“I see,” said Zelda, her tone distant.
“I’m truly sorry,” Rian added.
“Ditto,” Genna agreed.
Rian grabbed a curled lock of hair and twisted it between her fingers. S
he glanced at Genna. “The devil is in the details,” Rian said. “What you didn’t know you can’t testify to in court. What isn’t shared out loud cannot be repeated to anyone,” she said and stuffed her fingers in her pocket. “You know, dodging the truth is one of the things I do best.”
Zelda and Genna nodded
“Here’s the devil,” Rian added. She tugged a curl. “Zack was also going to use those sites to grow and dry weed.”
Genna took in a sharp breath of surprise.
“He was purchasing FEMA trailers at auction and was going to turn them into growing houses, out of sight and downwind. He wanted me to get him started with a crop, and then he was going to take it over once he learned the trade. That’s probably where the money went.
“I hated the idea of the FEMA trailers. They outgas formaldehyde that could leach into the crop. I wouldn’t want my enemies ingesting that.”
Rian chuckled. “But growing a cash crop on FCC-approved land, that made me smile. It’s almost as good as my ‘dealer’ car tag I had to buy for delivering vintage cars.” She sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Zelda. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, either, Genna.”
Zelda’s jaw clenched. “Why are you telling me now?”
“Because it’s been tumbling around in my head like laundry in the dryer. I can see the truth peeking through the glass every time I close my eyes. I can’t sleep, and I don’t think I can be your friend and keep these secrets any longer. I know it’s bad luck to speak ill of the dead, and I had plenty bad to say about him, but he coerced me into that agreement. He badgered me and then threatened me until I gave in. He scared me, Zelda, and I was afraid for you, too.”
She paused and looked from Zelda to Genna and then down at her feet. “I’m not proud of myself,” Rian said finally. “I didn’t do the right thing. He took fifty grand from me and Genna, and I thought maybe I could get it back in the end.”
“I guess you will,” Zelda said quietly.
The ceiling fan whirred above them, the only sound left cutting into the silence. Three friends suddenly felt like strangers in a room full of sunshine. Three women who thought they knew everything about each other were learning otherwise.
And Amy Sparks was still missing.
Chapter Nineteen
“I know I don’t have a favor to call in,” Rian was saying on the phone. “But I need to call one in, anyway.”
On the other end, Officer Ben Albright was listening.
“I have a friend I can’t find,” she said. “And I think she might be in danger.”
“This has something to do with Granny?” he asked.
“No,” Rian answered quickly. “But it might have something to do with Zack Carlisle.”
“I heard about that,” he said.
She told him about Amy borrowing Zack’s Hummer, and about the strange phone call Zelda had from Amy, and the silence since.
“Something is not right.”
“Why not call the police?” Ben asked. “You should file a missing person’s report.”
Rian was silent for a moment. If she was going to get Ben’s help, she had to give him details. Just enough but not too much.
“That’s the thing. I’m one of the persons of interest in Zack’s death, along with Amy, Zelda, and Genna. We were interviewed—no, we were interrogated—by the Hot Springs detectives because they think we were involved in the accident in some way. They think we were the accident,” she added with a bit of sarcasm. “We aren’t guilty of anything more heinous than not wearing seat belts,” Rian added quickly. “But we don’t exactly have the clout to walk in and say that one of our own is missing. I’m not one to walk into a police station and say much of anything. You know me. I need your help to find her. She was driving Zack’s Hummer, last we know.”
Rian gave him a description of the Hummer.
“What’s the license plate number?”
“I don’t know. I can ask Zelda.”
“Never mind. I can find it. Don’t you have any idea where Amy went?” Ben asked.
“No.”
“Come on, Rian. She’s your friend. What is she up to? What are you not telling me?”
Rian fell quiet again.
“Rian,” he said finally. “Was Amy involved with Zack Carlisle intimately? Were they having an affair?”
“Oh, no. No. No. No.”
“What then? Tell me.”
He listened to the silence.
“If you want my help, you have to talk to me,” Ben said sharply. “If you want my help, you need to trust me.”
“I trust you,” Rian said. “It’s—well, I was thinking about what you said.” She lowered her voice as if hiding it from someone nearby. “What if Zelda thought Zack was having an affair? What if Zack was? Zelda said Amy borrowed the Hummer to run errands, but what if she sent Amy off to find out who Zack was having an affair with?”
“Would she do that? Why use the Hummer?”
“Maybe they thought it would draw this person out of hiding. Hummers are not a common sight—especially that one.”
“Why would Amy do that?”
“Because Amy would do anything for Zelda.”
“Do you think she is trying to cover up something? Something Zelda doesn’t want the authorities to know?”
“Whoa, Ben, your imagination is getting way ahead of me.”
“Amy could be in grave danger. If Zack Carlisle got himself involved with the wrong people down in Hot Springs, there’s no telling what’s happened if she got caught up in it. Hot Springs is a beautiful city with a crooked past, and it’s still a hotbed for shady dealings. Trust me, I know. I gather Carlisle was that kind of a man. And I’m surprised you would have any business with a man like that, Rian.”
“Why would you say that?” She felt her defenses rising, like fists in a fight. “I never said a word about Granny.”
“No, you didn’t,” said Ben, “but I can hear it in your voice. The pitch changes when you talk about Granny. What do you think you are doing, Rian?”
“Are you finished scolding me?” she asked, her tone hard as flint.
“Maybe not.”
“Maybe you need to focus on the important things.”
“Maybe I should focus more attention on you. Special attention. Really special attention.”
She caught his drift. “That could be arranged,” she said, smiling into the phone. “But I need your help first.”
“What can I do?”
“I don’t know. Help me find Amy without raising red flags and shrieking sirens. Help me find her if she needs us to find her without any more questions from anyone who wears a uniform and carries a big stick.”
Ben chuckled under his breath. “I carry a big stick.”
“Stop!” she yelled, but she couldn’t keep the smile from her voice.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“I owe you.”
“Yep,” he said brightly. “And I will collect.”
Chapter Twenty
Officer Ben Albright glanced at the clock, then picked up the phone, then set it back in the cradle. He straightened the papers on his desk and blew at the crumbs on its surface. He dialed the first five digits of Rian’s number and then hung up. Delaying the call he needed to make wouldn’t change anything. No officer wanted to make that call, ever. He walked to the break room and poured a cup of coffee he didn’t need or want, wincing at the bitter bite of the overheated brew on his tongue.
Arkansas State Police found the Hummer hung up in the trees off Highway 7 in Yell County not long after daybreak. The Hummer had already been identified as being owned by Zack Carlisle, deceased, his last known address in Bluff Springs, Arkansas. The report indicated the Hummer was headed north, left the road near Blind Bat Pass, and traveled 157 feet down the hillside until it stopped at a sta
nd of pine and an outcropping of rock.
It had subsequently caught on fire.
Ben didn’t see any mention in the report of what made the car leave the road, but a supposition was natural to make. A car going too fast on that stretch of highway was destined to crash. Ben found the forensics section of the report just as brief. The interior of the vehicle had burned with such intensity that the materials had fused, including two cell phones that had melted into the fibers of the floor. The origination of the fire was still to be determined, of course, and he knew it would be months before they had facts beyond these details.
“Rian,” Ben said as the call connected, “the Hummer’s been found. But no driver.” He relayed the information he had to offer her. “Authorities are checking hospitals in the area, but there’s no record of an emergency rescue called to this wreck. It looks like she left the road at high speed on a curve.”
He waited silently for her response, his fingertips absently twirling the paper on the surface of his desk. Looking at a copy of the photograph of the Hummer, he paused as something caught his eye. He brought the fuzzy black-and-white picture closer and then pulled a magnifying glass from his desk drawer.
The driver’s side door of the Hummer was open, and the photo was shot through the window from behind the door. It was an odd angle, but he could see part of the steering wheel and most of the driver’s seat. The metal buckle was still engaged.
“Wait a minute,” he said out loud as the idea took him.
“What?” Rian asked. “What is it?”
“I have a hunch I want to follow up on,” he said cautiously. He didn’t want to give Rian false hope or gruesome details, but something didn’t fit. If the driver burned when the car burned, there would have been human remains. There were none, according to the report. That meant Amy left the vehicle before the car burned.