The door slammed behind us. I sighed and climbed back into Richard’s car. I was despondent by this point, my thoughts bouncing between different versions of disasters that could have befallen Sunny, each one worse than the last.
Richard slid into the driver’s seat, but before starting up the car, he tapped my arm and pointed to a nearby historical marker. “Merritt’s Crossing?”
I shook off my morose silence to explain that the crossroads had been named after the Union leader who had opposed the famous Confederate unit Mosby’s Rangers.
“Interesting,” Richard said. “So this area wasn’t totally under Confederate control?”
“Oh, no, not at all. It was really a mix. Parts of this and surrounding counties supported the South, and other parts supported the North. Side by side, really. It must have been very confusing. And then there were the Quakers. They didn’t fight for either army, although they gave medical aid to injured soldiers.”
“From either side?”
“Yes, or so they say.” I stared out the window as we turned around and headed back toward Taylorsford. “Still no sign of Sunny’s car.”
“It’s possible she drove into the city, although that would be a little odd after spending all day at the protest. But we don’t know.”
I dropped my head into my hands. “I’m so worried.”
“We’ll find her,” Richard said firmly. “Sunny’s such a bright spirit, I can’t imagine her light being extinguished so soon.”
I lifted my head and peeked at him through splayed fingers. “Are you secretly a poet as well as a dancer?”
He laughed. “Hardly. Now while we keep searching for that very yellow car, tell me about your life before Taylorsford. Did you grow up in this area?”
I peered out my window, still hoping to catch a flash of canary yellow. “No, I grew up farther east. Still in Virginia, but closer to the ocean than the mountains. Not on the beach, though. Nothing so glamorous. We lived in the suburbs in a very typical house. Just an ordinary family.” I pressed my forehead against the glass, mulling those last words. “Well, maybe not that ordinary.”
“What does your dad do?”
“He’s in computers. Programmer since back in the days of COBOL and BASIC. His name’s Nicholas, but everyone calls him Nick. He’s a sweetheart. Not much for talking, but he listens really well.”
“Great skill to have.” Richard drove the car down one of the few side streets in the historic section of town. “And your mom?”
“Debbie. Well, Deborah, of course. She’s a marine biologist. Studies crabs. For real.” I tapped my finger against the car window. “They’re actually out of the country right now. Traveling around Europe on a second honeymoon. Hopefully having a blast. They’ve been planning this trip for ages.”
“And you have a brother?” Richard focused on the road with occasional glances out his side window. Like me, he was obviously still hoping to spy Sunny’s car.
“One brother—Scott. He’s two years younger than me and works in computers like my dad.”
“Also a programmer?”
“Nope. Cyber security. Yeah,” I said when I spied Richard’s surprised expression, “Scott works for the government. Has top security clearance and all that.”
“So a family of scientists. Not sure how well I’ll fit in.”
I sneaked a glance at him. If he wasn’t seriously interested, he wouldn’t be planning to meet the family. That’s not something Charles ever mentioned.
My cotton shorts stuck to the leather as I nervously shifted in my seat. I discreetly tugged the material free and concentrated on keeping my voice steady. “Oh, they’re not that intimidating. Except when Scott and Dad discuss computer stuff. That’s like trying to decipher a foreign language. I use computers in my work, but I’m nowhere near their level. When they get going, I just sit back, smile, and nod.”
“That would be me too. So I’m curious—Lydia said your mom wouldn’t visit Taylorsford. Or was it just the family home?”
“No, although that’s a big part of it.” I slouched against the passenger door. “As you heard from my aunt, my mom didn’t get along with Rose. Says her grandmother was mean. Quite a dictator, according to Mom.”
“So your mother left home as soon as possible?”
“Yeah, Mom couldn’t get away fast enough. Once she went off to college, she never came back. Which wasn’t fair, if you ask me. Pretty much left Aunt Lydia in the lurch, especially after Rose fell ill and succumbed to dementia.” I allowed my temple to rest against the cool window glass. “It was weird when I was a kid. Aunt Lydia would visit us, and everything would be great, but then near the end of her visit, there’d always be an argument between my mom and her about Great-Grandma Rose. Mom would never budge, though.”
Richard glanced at me, curiosity gleaming in his gray eyes. “You never met her—Rose, I mean? Because, if I’m doing the math right, she must have lived until you were in your early teens.”
“I was fourteen when she died. But no, never met her. My mom wouldn’t even let me visit Aunt Lydia until after Rose passed. I think Mom worried about exposing me to someone with dementia. And apparently my great-grandmother got pretty mean at times. Not that it was her fault, of course. But anyway, Mom claims the house always creeped her out, especially after Rose died.” As I spoke these words, I gasped and straightened in my seat.
My mother had returned to Aunt Lydia’s house. Once. How could I have forgotten that?
Richard shot me a concerned glance. “What is it? You’ve gone white as a sheet.”
I turned to look at him. “I was wrong. Mom did go back. We were all there, once. For Rose’s funeral.” I clasped my hands in my lap. “Haven’t thought about that in forever. Blocked it out, I guess. Which is really odd ’cause it was the first time I ever visited the house. You’d think I’d remember that clearly, but”—I tipped my head back so I could look up through the sunroof—“I don’t. It’s all hazy. I vividly remember visiting Aunt Lydia every summer after but not much about that first visit.”
Richard placed his right hand on my left leg. “Well, funerals can be traumatic sometimes. For kids in particular. Especially if there was an open casket and lots of distraught adults.”
“No, it wasn’t that.” I searched my memory. “It was after the actual funeral. A day or two later. Something happened, and I remember someone screaming. My mother. She was yelling and crying and tossing things in suitcases. I can’t remember why—only, I think something happened to her, or she found out something, or . . .” I pressed my hand against my forehead, forcing back some other memory. Something cold, something dark. “I don’t know. It’s all hazy. I just remember my dad and my aunt tried to calm Mom down, and she”—I blinked rapidly as tears welled in my eyes—“she struck out and hit Aunt Lydia in the face. So hard it left a red mark. And then we left. We just left, Dad and Mom and Scott and me. And my parents never came back.”
Richard stroked my bare knee before placing his hand back on the steering wheel. “Well, that’s pretty traumatic, I’d say. You visited, though, so it couldn’t have been anything too terrible. Or your mother wouldn’t have allowed you to come back.”
“No, I guess not,” I said, staring at my clenched fingers. “Mom said it had nothing to do with me, I remember that much. Whatever it was.” I lifted my head and offered a weak smile. “She claimed it was just something that affected her. Not sure what that means or why I never questioned her about it, to tell you the truth. Guess I was secretly afraid it would lead to a discussion that would prevent me from visiting Aunt Lydia again.”
“Now that you’re an adult, maybe you should talk to your mom again. Figure it out. It’s not good keeping secrets like that in a family. Now”—Richard shared a comforting smile—“on a lighter note, any nieces or nephews? Sadly, that’s something I’ll never have, since I’m an only child. Unless I marry a girl with siblings, of course.”
“No.” Something bright caught my eye, and I
snapped my head to the right, but it was just a bank of yellow flowers. I slumped in my seat, focusing on the dashboard. “Anyway, Scott is gay. Not that he can’t get married, or even have a child through adoption or surrogacy or something, but he’s between partners right now.”
Richard cast me a questioning glance. “Your parents are okay with it? Him being gay, I mean.”
“Oh, sure. They’re very open-minded about stuff like that.”
“Good.” Richard said this so forcefully, I turned to stare at him.
“Your parents wouldn’t be okay with it?”
“God, no.” He rubbed at his chin. “And so many of my dancers have a hell of a time. Thrown out of the house, financial support cut off, and so on. I’ve seen too many wonderful people break down during rehearsals or studio because they aren’t accepted by those who supposedly love them.” He frowned. “Always worse after holidays.”
I eyed him, noticing the lines bracketing his mouth. There was obviously more to this, but I didn’t want to pry. “That stinks.”
“It does. But fortunately, the dance world is pretty accepting. Most of the arts are. It’s one thing a place like Clarion really has going for it, at least in its conservatory programs. A refuge for some.”
“Some,” I said, recalling my self-imposed banishment. But that was my own fault. My temper, driving me to act like a two-year-old.
And your insecurity, Amy. Making you overreact when Charles showed his true colors.
Insecurity, just like I told Aunt Lydia. That’s what was hounding me, making me question any new relationship. Even though Richard had given me no reason to doubt his intentions. I straightened and turned my body toward him as much as I could while still strapped in. “I need to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly.”
Richard’s eyebrows rose up to the fall of his dark hair. “Just so you know, I try to always speak truthfully.”
“I’m sure you do, but”—I gripped my hands together—“this might be a sticky subject.”
Richard shot me a sharp glance. “Are you about to tell me you’re already married or something?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s more about how I look.”
“Oh? What’s sticky about that? I like how you look.”
“I mean, you’re a dancer.”
“True.”
“So you’re very athletic and physically fit and all.”
“Goes with the territory.”
“Yes, but”—I twisted my hands until my nails bit into my palms—“I’m not.”
Richard glanced at me again, his expression surprisingly serious. “Oh, is that what this is about?” He refocused his gaze on the road. “I guess you haven’t seen much of my work, have you?”
“No,” I mumbled, scuffing my sneaker against the car mat. No, I hadn’t bothered to look him up online. Which told me something about myself.
More concerned with your own hang-ups than finding out about someone else, aren’t you, Amy? Now who’s the narcissist?
Richard placed his hand back on my leg. “You might want to do that. There are some videos online. Check out a dance performance called Dimensions. It’s my most famous piece of choreography. So far, anyway.”
“All right. But I don’t see what that has to do . . .”
“Check it out, then we’ll talk.” He gave my bare knee a squeeze before lifting his hand. “Why don’t we head back to your aunt’s house? I think we’ve exhausted our options, at least for now, and I need something to eat, or at least some water, before I attempt to drive farther afield.”
“Okay, makes sense.” I settled back against the smooth leather of the seat and stared up through the sunroof at the clear sky. Depression washed over me again. There was a murderer loose in Taylorsford, and I couldn’t figure out whether to focus my suspicions on Don Virts, Bob Blackstone, or Kurt Kendrick. Or maybe I was just spinning theories and none of them were involved. Maybe it was some stranger. I shivered. In a way, that would be worse because it would mean Sunny’s disappearance might be something entirely unpredictable.
I glanced at Richard. “I don’t have a sister, you know. But I felt Sunny filled that spot.”
“She still will,” Richard replied, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “Nothing is going to happen to her. I won’t allow it.”
“And you can control such things?”
Richard flashed me a grim smile. “Maybe not, but I will certainly try.”
I settled back in the passenger seat. “And I will certainly let you.”
* * *
I apologized to Aunt Lydia for leaving for hours without really telling her where I was, but she waved off my words.
“You had more important things to worry about.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t find any trace of Sunny.” I handed Richard a glass of water before pouring one for myself.
“The news is all over town now.” Aunt Lydia sat across from Richard at the kitchen table. “Walt and Zelda headed out to take a look around a little while ago, and I heard even the mayor has joined the search. All volunteer, of course, since the sheriff’s office can’t do anything official yet.”
I flung up the hand holding my glass, slinging water across the floor. “The mayor? Bob Blackstone is out looking for Sunny?”
“Why, yes. Zelda said he found out she was missing when he saw Walt and Zelda searching the old Lutheran cemetery. You know, the one where Daniel Cooper is buried, across from the library. Bob stopped and asked them what they were doing, and they filled him in.”
“Damn, damn, damn.” I yanked paper towels off the roll so hard the standing metal holder fell onto the butcher-block counter.
“What’s wrong?” Aunt Lydia pushed back her chair. “Why shouldn’t Bob Blackstone join the search?”
“I think Amy’s concerned that Blackstone could be involved in Sunny’s disappearance.” Richard knelt beside me as I mopped up the spilt water. “Let me get this. Grab some more towels and toss them this way.” He patted my hand and slid the damp wad of paper from my fingers.
I stood and righted the towel holder before tearing off more sheets.
“I can’t believe that,” Aunt Lydia said. “Bob may be something of an opportunist, but he’s surely no kidnapper.”
“How do you know?” I tossed the extra towels to Richard. “He’s the one with the best motive to harm Sunny, isn’t he? She and her friends stand between him and a lot of money if they succeed in stopping his development plans.”
Richard rose to his feet, balling up the wet towels. He threw them across the room and they sailed into the trash can like a perfect three-pointer. “It does make sense, unfortunately. Blackstone seems to be connected to all of this. He had that altercation with Clark in the diner. Maybe he decided to silence him permanently.”
I crossed to Richard’s side. “And if Doris Virts did know about the iron problem on his property, he could’ve killed her too.”
Lines crinkled Aunt Lydia’s forehead as she gazed up at both of us. “He does have motive, but I just don’t see it. He doesn’t have the temperament. Now Karl . . . I mean, Kurt Kendrick, on the other hand, is exactly the sort of person I would suspect.”
You and me both, I thought. Brad and the rest of the sheriff’s office might be convinced that Kendrick’s black Jaguar was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time, but I wasn’t so sure. But Kurt Kendrick is in Europe right now, Amy. Well, that’s what he’d told me, but I had no guarantee it was the truth. What if he’d only said that so no one would consider him a suspect in Sunny’s disappearance?
“I don’t know,” Richard said. “Kendrick isn’t hurting for cash, but maybe Bob Blackstone needs that development project more than we know. People will do a lot of horrible things where money is concerned. No matter their temperament.”
I lifted my cell phone from the counter. “I’m calling Brad Tucker and telling him to find Bob Blackstone right now.”
“Amy, think for a minute.” Aunt Lydia g
rabbed her cane to steady herself as she rose to her feet. “You’ve already implicated the mayor once, and he produced a solid alibi. What if this is another false accusation? You could be fired. He is your boss, after all.”
I punched in the numbers to the chief deputy’s line. “I don’t care. I’m not taking any chances.”
I reached Brad, who assured me that he would locate Bob Blackstone as soon as possible. “Doubt he’s involved,” he said, “but it won’t hurt to make sure.”
I tapped the phone against my palm as I met Aunt Lydia’s expectant gaze. “He said he would check on the mayor. But he also said he’d found no trace of Sunny or her car.” I lowered my head.
Richard put his arm around my waist and pulled me close. “At least Deputy Tucker is taking this seriously.”
“He’s in love with Sunny.” Aunt Lydia lifted her shoulders. “No need to look so surprised, Amy. I have eyes, you know.”
“And your informant, Zelda.”
Her lips twitched. “Yes, and Zelda. So are you two going out again? I’d advise against that. It’s getting late, and you’ve been running around since the early morning. Might be best to allow Brad and the others to continue the search. I’m sure we’ll get a call if anyone has news.” She crossed to the counter before turning to address Richard. “I can throw together something if you’d like to stay for dinner.”
“Oh, Richard can’t stay,” I said before he could reply.
He released his hold and spun on his heel to face me. “I can’t?”
“No, remember you said you had to get back home? Some business call?” I met his questioning gaze with a lift of my chin.
His eyes blazed with something that looked like anger. “Strange, I’d forgotten.” Richard turned to Aunt Lydia. “Sorry, apparently I have to run. But thanks for the invite.”
Aunt Lydia frowned and examined me. “Another time, then.”
“Of course. And I expect one of you to call with any news of Sunny.” Richard touched my arm. “Amy, would you mind walking me out? I want to make sure you lock your door immediately behind me. Can’t be too careful these days.”
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