Final Call

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  I returned to the sitting room as Mrs. Taylor arrived with a tray. I accepted the tea without sweetener since all she had was plain white sugar. The tray also held a delicate array of cookies, which Liam inhaled with gusto, though it couldn’t have been long since he’d eaten dinner.

  “When was the last time you saw Rosemary?” I asked between sips.

  Mrs. Taylor looked startled. “Two years ago before she left town. She hasn’t been back since.”

  “But the company she was with is based here. She was home last year for a while.”

  Mrs. Taylor’s eyes again refused to meet mine. Her voice was soft as she said, “I know.”

  Something had kept Rosemary away, and I was betting it wasn’t her mother. Well, I’d always known it would come to this. I turned to Mr. Taylor. “I understand you went to see Rosemary at the theater on Thursday.”

  Mr. Taylor’s gaze sharpened, but he didn’t respond.

  Still my turn, apparently. “I also know you had a disagreement and that you grabbed her hair.”

  Everyone had gone completely still, though whether it was from surprise that he’d seen his daughter or because I’d suddenly turned into a viper, I couldn’t say.

  “How could you possibly know that?” Mr. Taylor demanded.

  “You didn’t think Rosemary would tell anyone?”

  “Who knows what Rosemary will tell people. She’s an actress. Everything she lives is a fantasy.”

  “But you did see her there. Can you tell me what you talked about?” I tried to remove the accusation from my voice. “It could help my investigation.”

  “Your investigation?” he sneered.

  “At the moment, the police are a bit more concerned with the murder than with your missing daughter.” I pulled Tawnia’s drawing from my pocket. “But I believe Rosemary is hurt, perhaps severely, and if we don’t find her, it might be too late.”

  A gasp from Mrs. Taylor, but nothing from Liam or Mr. Taylor. I hadn’t expected Mr. Taylor to show emotion, but Liam should have been upset with this information.

  Unless he already suspected something equally terrible.

  “Well?” I pressed. “Did she say anything about problems she was having? Any confrontation with anyone?”

  “No.” Mr. Taylor’s voice was clipped. “I offered to help get her back into college. She refused. End of story.”

  “Did she tell you about her new part?”

  “Maybe. The details didn’t interest me.”

  “Is there anything else you remember?”

  “No. Nothing.” His jaw clenched tight. “Our visit had nothing to do with wherever she is now.”

  Clearly I wasn’t getting any more from him.

  “Does anything in this drawing seem familiar?” I passed the picture to Mrs. Taylor, who paled before giving it to her husband.

  Mr. Taylor’s nostrils flared. “Is this supposed to be Rosemary?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “Where’d you get this?”

  “I can’t tell you that. I can only tell you it’s evidence.”

  Mr. Taylor shook his head and gave a grunt of disapproval before thrusting the drawing back at his wife.

  She studied it. “I don’t know,” she said. “It could be Rosemary. The hair is longer, though, than when I last saw her.”

  “Can you identify her clothing?”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t seen her in so long.” She stared straight at me as she spoke, and I had the feeling she was avoiding her husband’s eyes.

  Liam had come to stand at his mother’s elbow, but he, too, shook his head. “Well, maybe her roommates can tell me more.” I reached for the photo. Too bad the roommate closest to her would never talk again.

  “Your coming here has been a waste of time.” Mr. Taylor stood, dismissal in his face and every rigid line of his body.

  “Maybe.” I took a last sip of the warm cinnamon and apple tea and stood as well, but because I hated to let such a disagreeable man win, I added, “I have one more question. Did Rosemary know that Mrs. Taylor’s parents are actors?”

  Mr. Taylor’s face flushed red, and he cast his wife a glare, but she lifted her hands helplessly. Liam stared at his father, one hand shoved in his pocket, perhaps fingering the small photograph.

  “Who told you that?” Mr. Taylor demanded.

  “No one,” I said. “I’m a good observer.” Without another word, I showed myself out of the house, feeling their eyes tracking me to the door.

  I hurried to my car, hoping that whoever I’d felt watching me outside earlier had long gone. Or that it had been Liam, though why I’d have felt dread from him, I couldn’t say.

  I checked the backseat before I got into the car and locked all the doors before turning on the engine.

  I hoped no one followed me home.

  Chapter 11

  Liam came to see me the next day as I was finishing my whole wheat turkey sandwich from Smokey’s. I’d been expecting him because I’d texted him and told him that if he didn’t come in, I would tell the police he was hiding something. When he arrived, he looked like a college student who’d pulled an all-nighter for a final.

  “Hey, are your eyes different colors or is it just the light?” he said a bit weakly.

  Monday afternoons were customarily dead, so we had the shop to ourselves. “You look terrible, Bean Pole.”

  “I’ve been researching on the Internet all night. I found them.”

  “Your grandparents?”

  “They own a little theater in Washington. Have for all their lives. They write plays and cast them and also act. It’s just a little place, apparently, and they close down every now and then because of a lack of funds, but some of their plays have been picked up elsewhere. They seem to be well known, and people have a lot of good things to say about them.” He sat down on the stool behind the counter. “How could my parents keep this a secret for my whole life?”

  “I get the feeling your father doesn’t approve of acting in general, and your mother, well, according to the imprints on the photograph, she had a falling out with them. For what it’s worth, she regrets all that now, and she’s kept track of them for years. From a distance, apparently. They may not even know you exist.”

  Liam raked his hands through his hair. “It’s so . . . so hypocritical. My father gave Rosemary such a terrible time about what she wanted to do, but it was in her blood, you know? Something she had to do. She lives for it. And she’s really good. Whenever I watch her, I really feel the part, you know?”

  Though acting wouldn’t be my first choice for any child of mine, Winter had always taught me to let life be the dream-killer instead of mocking or being too realistic in regards to others’ dreams. Support them, help them, encourage them, show them options, and if for some reason they didn’t make it, you stepped in to help pick up the pieces, keeping your relationship intact. If you did what Rosemary’s father did, you lost every chance of a relationship with the child. Perhaps that was why Winter had helped me start my antiques shop instead of insisting I take over his herb store.

  “Maybe he was trying to protect her from disappointment.” I didn’t believe it, but I wanted to soothe the pain on Liam’s face.

  “It’s her life. If she doesn’t at least try, she’ll always regret and wonder. Besides, she could always do something with her talent, like my grandparents. She doesn’t have to end up in New York.” He grimaced. “Do you think my mother gave up her dreams because of my father? I don’t even know if she ever had any.”

  “You’d have to ask her.”

  He put his elbows on the counter and let his head drop to his hands in apparent misery.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been hiding from me?” I prompted. “You knew your father went to
see Rosemary, didn’t you?”

  His head rose slowly. “She told me she was calling him. Then after their meeting, she was just gone. No more texting, and she didn’t show up for our lunch. Nothing. And my dad was stalking around the house when I went over to snoop around. You know, to see if my parents knew where Rosemary was.”

  “Do you think your father did something to Rosemary?”

  His reddened eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know.”

  “Has he hurt any of you before?”

  “Not physically. But you saw how it was last night. He’s always had a temper, and all my life I’ve been afraid he’s going to explode if I don’t do what I’m supposed to. What if that’s what happened with my sister? What if he finally exploded?” He let his head drop again and groaned.

  “You should have told me on Friday what you suspected. I told your parents last night that I suspected Rosemary was hurt. What I didn’t tell them was that in an imprint I saw someone hit a girl with brown hair like Rosemary in the back of the head with a hammer. Hit her hard. That drawing I showed you last night looked like the girl I saw.”

  He grimaced. “It’s Rosemary. I’m sure she was wearing that same blouse in a picture she sent me. Do you think my father might have done something to her?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to have to tell the police.”

  “Will they take him into custody?”

  “Not unless they find proof, but they may have enough for a search warrant on any properties your parents own. I’d like to see the picture of Rosemary with the blouse, and I’d also like to see the info you have on your grandparents. If Rosemary learned about them, they might know something.”

  “Could she be with them?” he asked, sounding like a lost child.

  “If that was the case, don’t you think she would have contacted you by now?”

  He shoved himself to his feet, looking worse than ever. “I’ll send everything to your phone during my next class. I can’t miss it.” He sniffed hard. “You will find her, won’t you, Autumn? Please?”

  “I’ll try.”

  I watched him leave, feeling helpless. Time was ticking away for Rosemary, and I was no closer to finding her. If her father had some role in her disappearance, how did that fit in with the murder? Were they not connected after all?

  I was concentrating so hard on my thoughts that I didn’t notice Jake come through the connecting doors until he put an arm around me. “Was that Bean Pole who just left?”

  “Yeah.”

  When he saw my expression, he removed his arm and leaned against the counter to get a better look at my face. “What’s wrong?”

  “He thinks his father did something to Rosemary. He might be right.”

  “So that’s why you were so quiet last night.” He’d come over to watch a DVD, and I’d been grateful for his presence, but I knew I hadn’t been good company. Even so, it was fun being with him, though we’d lost the ease between us. In a strange way, the added tension was exciting in and of itself. I had to be careful I didn’t do something I would regret—one way or the other. I loved Jake and didn’t want to lead him on.

  I sighed.

  The bells over my door tinkled as a woman came into the shop—Liam’s mother, her blue eyes looking bright in her thin face. Just when I thought things were winding down, or at least heading for a breather, they grew more complicated.

  Jake, thinking she was a customer, thumbed toward his store. “I’d better get back. We can talk later. Holler if you need me.” I nodded, and Mrs. Taylor and I both watched him leave. He cut an impressive figure. Watching him made me wish I had taken more steps toward him last night.

  Maybe.

  “Hello,” I said to Mrs. Taylor, walking around the counter to greet her. “How are you?”

  “I know how you helped Liam, and I want you to know I’m grateful. You helped give him direction in those months before he graduated from high school. He’d been different since Rosemary left, and you made a difference.”

  “He’s a good kid, and he was a good help to me.”

  “I’m sorry about how my husband treated you yesterday.”

  “Did you ask him about going to see Rosemary?”

  She nodded. “He says she called him and asked him to meet her. He was upset when he arrived and found it was a theater.”

  “What did he expect? She is an actress.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he hoped that she wanted to come back. Return to college.” She sighed and let her watery eyes drop to the floor, blinking twice at my bare feet. “Barry doesn’t understand what it’s like. The drive. I never had it, but my parents did. They lived for the theater. They would never leave it.”

  “You had a falling out?”

  She nodded. “I wanted a part in one of their plays. I was often in them, but I wasn’t very good, so it was just the little parts. The acting gene skipped me, I guess. The first year I was in college, I badly wanted this certain part, but they gave it to someone else. To someone a lot better, I realize now. At the time, all I saw was that she was a girl I hated, someone who’d given me trouble in high school. It was right about then that I met Barry. He was so smooth and romantic and so different. He hated the theater, and I was glad. Glad to have another world to live in that didn’t revolve around my parents or make-believe. Needless to say, they didn’t get along with Barry, and since I’d pretty much cut myself off from them, I didn’t care. I haven’t seen them since my wedding, which they nearly destroyed by coming in costume, by the way. Barry was mortified, and his parents, who paid for everything, were even more so.”

  “You never got together with them in all these years?”

  She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, her eyes flitting to the door as though at any minute expecting her husband to appear. “I talked to my mother once on the phone, after Rosemary was born, but Barry was worried they’d influence her. Like I said, he doesn’t understand that sometimes these things are in the blood.”

  In the blood. Like my eyes and my odd gift. Someone had given both to me and to my twin. I wondered if Tawnia had found out anything about our biological grandmother.

  “I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, but now, because of Rosemary, I think I was wrong.” Her eyes met mine, pleading with me. “Do you really think she’s hurt?”

  “I’m afraid so. Liam says it’s not like her to stay out of contact so long.”

  “They were always close.” Tears started down her cheeks. “I failed her. I’ve really failed her.”

  “Mrs. Taylor, when your husband went to see Rosemary, they argued. She turned away, and he grabbed her by the hair. Rosemary was frightened.”

  “How do you know this? Did she tell you?”

  “Not directly. There was a sort of witness.” This wasn’t the time to explain about imprints. “What matters is that Rosemary went missing right after talking to your husband. He might have been the last person to see her. Do you think he’s capable of violence?”

  Mrs. Taylor’s tears were falling faster now, and her voice was a whisper when she said, “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

  “Is there anywhere he might keep her if he didn’t want her to leave?” Or if he was trying to hide a body, I amended silently.

  “Just the house. We do have a cabin, but it’s an hour’s drive. We don’t go there much.”

  “Would he have had time on Thursday evening to go there?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. He always works late.”

  She wasn’t much help, but if she allowed the police to search the cabin, it would save time getting a search warrant—provided a judge would even let us have one. “Will you let the police search the place?”

  She nodded. “I just want my daughter back.”

  “I’ll
talk to the police. You can expect someone to contact you today, hopefully right away. Do you have a cell number where I can reach you?”

  As I took down the number, Mrs. Taylor gazed around the shop, though it was apparent she wasn’t seeing anything. “Thanks for your help. I . . . if you talk to my parents, will you tell them I’m sorry?” She turned toward the door without waiting for a response.

  How sad to have purposely walked away from your own parents. I felt a moment of panic, of remembering when I was on the bridge before it collapsed, Winter in the car at my side. I would give anything for him not to have gone with me that day, but one thing I’ve learned is there is no going back where death is concerned. Not ever.

  “Mrs. Taylor,” I said to her retreating back.

  “Yes.”

  “Both your parents are alive. It’s not too late.”

  She nodded, but I could see it made no difference. Not now. She was too far under her husband’s spell. Maybe if I found Rosemary alive that would change. Rosemary would insist on knowing her grandparents, and her mother would have the support she needed to break free.

  I’d have to go back to the theater. Somehow everything connected there. I’d get Liam to send me a picture of Mr. Taylor and ask if anyone had seen him. Someone had to remember his visit, maybe even overheard something. If not, I’d touch everything there, searching for the one imprint I needed to find Rosemary.

  I dialed Shannon’s number, but this time his partner, Tracy, picked up. “Hey,” I said. “Where’ve you been?”

  “Missing all the excitement, apparently. But I had a lovely weekend.” Her voice lowered. “I met someone.” We had reached the point in our relationship where she confided such things, and I listened. I was glad for her.

  “So help me if he turns out to be an attorney . . .”

  “No, I had enough with the last one. This one’s a doctor.”

  “That’s good in your line of business.”

  She laughed. “He’s hot, too.”

  “I hope he holds up to Shannon’s background check.”

  “Are you kidding? That’ll be nothing compared to the grilling my dad and brother will put him through. Even my grandfather will pull strings.” I’d forgotten for a moment that hers was a family of police officers and detectives. “That’s exactly why none of them are going to know for as long as possible. No spilling to Shannon.”