by Jennie Marts
“We can’t find her anywhere.” Pat walked into the room. “We’ve checked all the rooms. She must have gotten out of the hospital. Somebody said they thought they heard one of the side door alarms go off. So it’s likely she’s already gone. You have any idea where she might be headed?”
He was fairly certain she would head for Edna or one of the Page Turners. Although how she’d get there with no phone and in only a hospital gown, he had no idea.
Plucking his phone from his pocket, he tried Zoey’s grandfather first.
“Hello.” Johnny picked up on the first ring. Usually when someone gets a call after midnight, it takes them a few minutes to answer and their voices often sounded groggy with sleep. Johnny’s voice was alert and held no hint that he’d just been asleep.
“Hey, John. It’s Mac. Have you heard from Zoey?”
“Heard from her? What do you mean? She’s supposed to be in the hospital, and hopefully sound asleep. Why? Is something going on? Is she all right?”
“I’m not sure. We think she took off. She’s left the hospital. I just wondered if you had any idea where she went or if she’d shown up over there.”
“No, I haven’t heard from her. But why would she leave the hospital? And in the middle of the night? ”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
“Do you think one of Leon’s guys got ahold of her?”
He could hear the panic in Johnny’s voice and tried to calm him down. “Honestly, I don’t know what the hell happened. The last time I saw her, she was running down the hall and got into an elevator. I didn’t see anyone chasing her, so I don’t know what she was running from.”
Unless it was me.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know. How about Edna? Can you check with her? See if she’s heard from Zoey.”
“Um—she’s not here.”
Isn’t that interesting? “Where is she?”
“She said she couldn’t sleep and was going to head back to the hospital to be with Zoey.”
“Well, I haven’t seen her either.”
“Do you want me to come down there?” Johnny offered. “I’m up anyway. Damned heartburn.”
“Nah. I’m gonna head over to the station, check on a few things. Keep me posted if you hear from Zoey. Or Edna.” He had an idea that might at least give him a place to start.
“Will do. Same goes with you.”
Mac clicked off and turned to Pat. “Listen, I’m gonna head over to the station. I want to check on something. Are you good staying here in case she turns up?”
Pat shrugged. “Sure. If I get tired of waiting, I might cruise around, look for a blonde chick running down the road in a hospital gown.”
“Let me know if you find her.”
Fifteen minutes later, Mac walked into the Pleasant Valley Police Department. Only a few people were on the night shift, and the department felt hushed compared to its normal bustling noise.
He checked his desk phone, just in case he had any messages, before winding his way over to the dispatcher. “Hey Rosie, how’s my favorite lady? Can you check to see if I died tonight, cause you sure look like an angel to me.”
Rosie was in her late fifties and had been with the department for over twenty-five years. Not much happened around this town that escaped her notice. She was also used to Mac’s charm and only somewhat immune to it. She waved a hand in his direction. “Oh, stop it. What do you want?”
“I need you to track a cell phone for me.” He was sure it wasn’t a coincidence that no one seemed to know where either Zoey or Edna were, but he was fairly certain they were together. Zoey might not have her phone with her, but if she were with her grandmother, they might be able to get a hit on Edna’s phone. “The name is Edna Allen Collins.”
Rosie arched an eyebrow. “Oh Lord, what’s that woman got herself into this time?”
“I’m hoping she’s with her granddaughter, Zoey Allen. Zoey ripped out her IV and left the hospital tonight, and I have a bad feeling about what could have happened that would have made her run like that.”
“Poor girl.” Rosie shook her head and punched some keys on her computer. “Give me a minute here, and I’ll see what I can find.”
He tried to think through the possibilities of what could have spooked her. Maybe she got a call on the phone in her hospital room. Maybe one of Leon’s guys threatened her that way. “Hey Rosie, you know everybody. What can you tell me about Leon Molloy?”
“The happy grass guy? I know he’s the one who brought that damn recreational marijuana to our town. Opened up a bar in town where people go just to smoke that stuff. His poor mother is so embarrassed, she won’t even talk about him at church anymore. If someone asks her, she just walks away.”
“You go to church with Leon’s mom?”
“Sure. Maybe if you showed up for Mass a little more often, you would know her, too. Although she used to go to Sacred Heart. She’s only been at St. Paul’s for the past five years or so. ”
Mac ignored the barb. “What can you tell me about Leon or his family?”
“Oh, I don’t know. She moved to town in the late eighties, early nineties. Single mom, had just the one boy, Leon. She’d been married to an Italian guy down in Denver, apparently a real schmuck. I think she was his third marriage, because I remember he already had kids with one of his earlier wives.”
“An Italian guy?”
“Yeah, I always forget his name. I know it reminded me of an Italian pasta, like Tortellini, or Cavatelli, maybe.”
“Cavelli?”
Rosie snapped her fingers. “Yep, that’s it.” A look of dawning realization crossed her face. “Isn’t that the name of the finance company that Zoey’s the key witness in? The one with the money-laundering thing?”
He’d been looking for a connection between the Cavellis and Leon Molloy and it had been right under his nose. They had to be half-brothers. “What else do you remember about Leon?”
“Oh, he was a pretty quiet kid. A little pudgy. Kept to himself. I remember he had one kid that he hung out with sometimes, a neighbor or something.” She thrummed her fingers on the desk as she tried to recall the name. She looked up and grinned. “Oh, I know who it was. So do you. He worked in this department several years ago, and I think you knew him from St. Paul’s. It was Callahan. Patrick Callahan. As a matter of fact, he was here—yesterday, I think—I’m pretty sure I saw him talking to Royce.”
Patrick Callahan? His heart stopped in his chest. Pat couldn’t be mixed up in all of this. That didn’t make sense.
He fought the notion, but a few things started to click into place. The only two people who knew where he’d taken Zoey was her grandfather and his partner, Royce. There was no way Royce would have said anything. Unless he’d been talking to another cop, one that had known Mac since high school.
Pat would have known exactly where to find the cabin and how to go down the back roads to avoid the police coming up the pass.
This couldn’t be right. Pat couldn’t be involved. He’d just been with him, helping him to stand guard in front of Zoey’s room.
Oh, no. What if that was it? What if Zoey had recognized Pat’s voice and that’s what made her run? And if she had heard them together, that might have been enough to spook her.
“I got a hit on that phone,” Rosie said, breaking into his thoughts. “But it’s weird. It says she’s at the Community Theatre downtown. I know that Edna Collins is kind of kooky, but there’s no way she’s trying to see a play in the middle of the night.”
Chapter Seventeen
Zoey looked around the deserted parking lot as she and Edna pulled up in front of the Pleasant Valley Community Theatre. “What are we doing here?”
“Hiding.” Edna pulled a can of Mace from her purse and slipped out of the car. “Come on. It’s easy enough to figure out where I live—I’m still in the phone book for goodness sake—so it’s not safe for us to go back there. And I don’t want to
put any of the other Page Turners at risk by going to them. This was the best place I could think of.”
Zoey followed her grandmother. “How are we going to get inside? Don’t they lock this place up?”
“Yeah, but it’s still summer, and someone’s always leaving a window open.”
They made their way along the side of the building checking for open or unlatched windows.
“Bingo. Found one.” Edna pointed at a basement window that was open a crack. Popping the screen off, she tugged the window all the way open. “All right. In you go.”
Zoey peered through the glass. It looked like the room was an office and had a credenza against the wall under the window. If she could squeeze through, she should be able to stand on it instead of having to drop straight into the room.
The window was barely above ground level, and she sank down and poked her legs into the open window. Wiggling through, the opening was snug on her hips, and she figured she was about one cheeseburger away from not fitting.
Worried she was going to have to ask Edna if she had any Vaseline in her purse, she twisted sideways then made it through. Thank goodness. Turning onto her stomach, she tried to locate the credenza with her feet.
Finding it with her toe, she gave another push through and found herself standing on the cabinet. She looked through the window at her grandmother. “Okay, I’ll go find a door and let you in.”
“I’m not coming in with you.”
“What? Why not?”
“I’m going home to get Johnny. I’m worried that someone might show up at our house. So I’ll get Johnny and come right back, then we’ll figure out what to do from there.”
Zoey looked around the office, her eyes trying to adjust in the dark. “Do you want me to wait here?”
“No, I wouldn’t. I’d go up to the theatre. Just go left in the hallway and take the stairs up. It’s in the back so you could probably turn on a light, and there’s more comfy furniture up there. Why don’t you try to rest until we get back?”
“Maybe I’ll just stay here.” The thought of stumbling around in the darkened theatre was less appealing than waiting in the sparse office. She peered up at her grandmother, knowing that she usually prepared for any situation. “Do you happen to have a flashlight?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure I’ve got one in here somewhere.” She dug through her large purse then passed the whole thing through the window. “Here, just take my whole bag. You should be able to find anything you need in there.”
She reached for the purse. “Thanks.”
“Okay, honey. I’ll get back as soon as I can.” Edna waved and disappeared into the darkness.
Zoey took a deep breath. She dug through Edna’s bag and found the flashlight. Switching it on, she shone it toward the door and followed the beam out of the room. Turning left, she followed the hallway to the stairs.
Images of axe-murderers filled her head as she peered up the bare stairwell. She swallowed her fear and ran up the stairs as quickly as possible.
Gasping for breath, she pushed through the door and into the foyer. Wow, she needed to up her cardio routine—that run up the steps had almost killed her. It probably didn’t help that she was in a creepy building in the middle of the night and scared that someone actually did want to kill her.
The theatre was to the left, and she stepped through the heavy velvet curtains. Shadows filled the dark theatre, and her pulse raced as she swung the flashlight over the row of seats.
The soft sound of her footsteps were absorbed into the thick carpet as she moved down the aisle toward the stage. Her imagination ran wild with thoughts of ghosts or spirits that could be haunting the old theatre. Every creak and groan of the building had her spooked and jumpy as she stumbled up the steps of the stage.
Thankfully the curtain was open, and she walked behind the stage and found a panel of light switches. She released her breath as she flicked the switches and found one that lit up the backstage area. She left the lights off in the auditorium area just in case they could somehow be seen from outside.
Having the lights on scattered most of her spooky notions, and she forgot her fears as she wandered through the props and costumes of the latest production of the theatre. It was evident from the costumes and the ruby slippers that they were putting on The Wizard of Oz.
She ran her hands along the costumes of the Cowardly Lion and the Scarecrow, and she marveled at the beautiful gossamer blue dress of Glenda the Good Witch. Layers of sparkling tulle and satin made up the gorgeous gown.
The backstage was full of painted and decorated sets that could be easily rolled on and off the stage. She dropped onto a patchwork quilt covered bed that appeared to be in Dorothy’s bedroom and grunted as she realized the ‘bed’ was actually a piece of plywood. She wouldn’t be resting on that.
Looking through the sets, she wandered past the yellow brick road, the Tinman’s cottage, and a tiny village that she assumed was where the Munchkins lived. The sets were beautifully painted, and she admired the detailed artwork. Caught up in the aspects of the production, she roamed the backstage area, entranced with the sets and the props of the play.
Sinking into a chair in front of a makeup table, she rested Edna’s big purse on her lap. She felt wired, her senses on overload from the mixtures of running through the hospital and landing in the city of Oz.
There was no way she was going to rest. Even if Dorothy’s bed had turned out to be made of feathers and down.
She opened Edna’s purse, glancing through the jumbled assortment of things that her grandmother felt she needed to carry around with her. Edna had some pretty good stuff in there—a couple of candy bars, tissues, mints, a romance novel, a first aid kit, a notebook with pen, antacids, a makeup bag, dental floss, lipsticks, her high-heeled stapler, assorted medications and her wallet were some of the more normal items one might find in a purse.
But Zoey didn’t know how many other old ladies carried brass knuckles, a can of Mace, a can of Pepper spray (what? In case she ran out of Mace?), a switchblade (seriously, Grandma?), plus a Swiss army pocketknife, a blood pressure cuff, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer.
She grabbed one of the candy bars, unwrapped the top, and took a bite. Pulling out the romance novel, she settled back in the chair and checked out the story.
But the words on the page couldn’t hold her attention. She was too antsy, too keyed up. Plus, she didn’t really want to read about a romance when her own love-life was currently in such terrific shambles.
Her gaze kept coming back to the beautiful blue dress, with its sparkling bodice and glimmering skirt. Wouldn’t it be great to click her heels together three times and have all of this over? Or better yet, to have never had it happen in the first place?
But if it had never happened, she would have missed out on one of the best nights of her life. The night with Mac. She wished the Wizard were here now so she could ask him if what had happened with Mac had been real or just an act. Except the Wizard himself had actually turned out to be just an act as well.
Wasn’t anything in her life real anymore? What could she even count on?
Was it too much to ask to have a good witch or even a fairy godmother float down in a sparkly blue dress and help a sister out?
She set Edna’s things on the counter and crossed to the dress, as if the sparkles were pulling her forward. Brushing her fingers across the satin, she had the sudden insane urge to try the dress on.
What could it hurt? Edna would take at least twenty minutes to get back, and she was driving herself crazy with thoughts of Mac. Maybe trying on the dress would take her mind off her troubles, just for a minute or two.
She pulled off the scrubs and stepped into the blue gown. It fit perfectly. Smoothing the front of the dress across her waist, she caught a glimpse of herself in the makeup mirror. The gown was gorgeous. She glanced at the glittering ruby red shoes on the prop shelf.
Did she dare?
In for a penny—in for a
pound her grandma liked to say. Although what the heck that actually meant, she wasn’t exactly sure.
Right now, it meant she was trying on the shoes.
She got them down and stepped into them. They were a tad too small, but she didn’t care. Pinched toes were the least of her concerns. She turned in a circle, letting the magic of the costume fill her.
Except she didn’t believe in magic. That was her mom’s department. Moon believed in magic and the stars and spells and potions. Not her. She was too practical for all that nonsense.
She was the sensible one, level-headed and rational. She certainly didn’t believe in charms and magic.
But what if she did? Just this once.
What if she let go of all that sensible logic and just let herself believe? Believe in shooting stars, in good witches and fairies, in magic.
Just this once.
She took a deep breath, looked down at the ruby red slippers, and clicked her heels together three times. Her voice was soft, barely a whisper. “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.”
“What the hell are you doing?”
She jumped as a male voice spoke out from the darkness.
It was Mac.
But how? It couldn’t be. How could he possibly have found her?
Maybe magic was real after all.
Chapter Eighteen
Mac blinked at the beautiful vision in blue and tried to make sense of what he was seeing.
The parking lot had been empty when he’d arrived, but it hadn’t taken too much skilled detective work to track the movements of two people and discover the recently scuffed dirt in front of the open basement window.
He’d crawled through and after a few minutes of searching the theatre, discovered the lights on in the backstage area. He’d expected to find Edna and her granddaughter behind the curtain, but the surprise was on him.
He sure as hell hadn’t expected to find Zoey wearing ruby red slippers and a sparkling blue gown. The dim lights shimmered off the sparkles in the dress and she looked—well, magical. That was the only word for it.