Rebecca closed her laptop and jumped up. “Let’s head for Houston, Guys.”
“But we don’t know exactly where he’s going,” said Sandy. “And if he goes to Houston—that’s a big city.”
“Well, at least we know his general direction,” said Greg as he rushed toward the door.
“Yeah,” said Rebecca. “He’s going down.”
18 - THE WOODLANDS
Cathy, the nightshift waitress at Bill’s 24-Hour Coffee Shop, walked to the booth in the back and started cleaning up Larry’s mess. She was not at all surprised by his lousy tip.
He had sat there on his computer for nearly three hours, sucking down three pots of coffee and devouring four apple crumb muffins. The stench of his smoldering pipe tobacco would take hours to dissipate.
She could tell that the redhead didn’t want to be there. Cathy didn’t blame her. And the woman never even had anything to eat or drink. The jerk probably wouldn’t allow it.
There was a napkin on the woman’s side of the table that had been used and neatly refolded. Odd, she thought. She picked it up, opened it, and saw smeared mascara. She had thought the woman might have been crying. Probably being abused. Cathy knew something about that. Leave him, Honey—he’ll never change.
**********
It was 6:02 AM when Greg pulled into the IHop parking lot in The Woodlands. Funny name for a city, he thought: The Woodlands. Why not just Woodlands? But he didn’t really care what the name of the city was. He just wanted to get Cynthia back—safe and sound.
Sandy had called his cell and suggested they get some breakfast. Greg didn’t want to stop, but he was feeling a little weak.
“I’m starving, Man,” said Sandy as he got out of his car. He and Rebecca had kept each other wide awake by exchanging stories about themselves.
“You were driving awfully fast, Greg,” said Rebecca.
“Sorry,” said Greg, even though he really wasn’t.
“No,” she said. “I like to go fast.”
Sandy caught the double meaning, and smiled at Rebecca. She smiled back at him, but he wondered whether she was smiling for the same sexy reason.
Greg saw different smiles than he had seen between them earlier at the hotel. Like two people with a secret. Like two lovers. Lovers? How could they be lovers? They’d been driving down the interstate at 85 mph. Although…he wouldn’t put it past Sandy to attempt it. I must be getting delirious, he thought.
As soon as they had been seated, Greg got up to walk to the bathroom. On the way, he passed a table that had not yet been cleaned, and stopped in his tracks. There was a paper napkin that had obviously been used and then neatly refolded. And the silverware had even been placed back on top of it.
“Did you see who was sitting here last?”
The waitress seemed uneasy with his question.
Why? What did she know that she was not saying? Then he realized the wild look in his eyes was probably scaring her.
He spoke confidentially. “I’m sorry. My girlfriend is missing, and I thought she might have been here.”
“Well, this isn’t my table, but I did notice the woman. She had beautiful red hair.”
“Yeah—that was her. How long ago did they leave?”
“Five or ten minutes.”
Greg rushed to Sandy and Rebecca, who were looking over the menu.
“We’ve gotta go. Now!”
“We were just about to order,” said Sandy.
“They were here. He brought her here.”
“How do you know?” said Rebecca.
“I just do. Come on!”
Greg hustled out of the restaurant, with Sandy and Rebecca close behind.
As they hurrying to their cars, Greg said. “I saw a napkin. It had been used and then refolded—just like Cynthia does it.”
“A napkin?” said Sandy.
“Yes. She always does that. It’s a habit. And the waitress said she had beautiful red hair. I’m telling you—it was Cynthia!”
“But, Greg,” said Rebecca, “we don’t know which way they went.”
Greg looked at the cars and trucks flying by in both directions on I-45. “I know, but we can’t just sit around while he gets away. We were so close. They must have just pulled out when we drove in.” An idea flashed through Greg’s mind. “We can split up and go to every gas station and any other place that’s open and ask if they saw them.”
“Well, it’s only a little after 6:00. Not much is open this early,” said Sandy.
“That’s good,” said Greg. “That should make it easier. I’ll go south and y’all can go north.”
“He might not have even got back on the freeway,” said Rebecca.
Greg waved his arms in the air wildly. “I don’t care. Let’s just go, and hope we get lucky.” He jumped in the Bonneville, cranked up the big V-8 and drove off.
Sandy shook his head. He wanted to help his buddy, but his stomach wanted to go back inside for tall stack of pancakes. “Let’s go.”
He and Rebecca got into Sandy’s silver Impala and took the feeder road to the next street, made a U-turn and headed north.
**********
“May I help you?”
The diminutive elderly woman was startled by the huge man standing over her. It was only 8:00 AM, and the grocery store had just opened. If she cried out for help, would anyone even hear her? But then she realized it was only Crow.
Kroger Bagley, Jr. was the 6’ 2”, 235-pound 29-year-old son of a grocer who was himself the son of a grocer. He had worked for his dad at Bagley’s Food Mart in Sugar Land since he was 16.
“Oh, Crow, you scared me,” she said as she slapped his arm.
To him, her slap felt like the brush of a feather. “I’m sorry, Mrs. uh…Jacobs. You need something off the top shelf?” He jumped into a karate stance, and looked like he was about to attack the shelves at any moment. Then he squinted as he surveyed the upper rows of cereal boxes.
Mrs. Jacobs watched him for a few seconds. It was as though he might be able to figure out what she wanted if he just studied them long enough. Such a nice boy, she thought. Not too bright though.
“The Nabisco Shredded Wheat,” she said.
“Oh!” He snapped his fingers as though he almost had it.
“You’ll get it next time, Dear.”
“Here you go. Have a great day, Mrs. Jacobs.” He grinned at her and waved broadly as she ambled down the aisle.
Then he heard something hit the floor and break on the next aisle.
“Zachary, I told you not to touch anything.”
“I’m sorry, Mommy,” said the young boy, with no hint of sincerity.
“Well, you’re gonna be sorry when I get you home, Mister.”
Crow ran around the end of the aisle and up toward the scene of the accident.
Zachary started crying when he saw the big man barreling toward him at full speed.
His mother said, “I’m sorry about this. Look, just at it to my bill.”
“Oh, no, that’s not necessary, Ma’am,” he said as he tried to catch his breath. “I just don’t want anybody to slip and fall down.”
He took the walkie-talkie from his belt and held it to his mouth. “I need a cleanup on aisle seven, Johnny.”
“Thanks.” The young lady rolled her cart down the aisle, fussing at her son all the way.
The pretty lady reminded Crow of his girlfriend. Well, she wasn’t really his girlfriend yet. But he could tell she liked him a lot.
It had been about a year since he had told everybody at the dinner table that he was moving out. His dad was shocked and his mother started sobbing. He later realized she was crying because she didn’t think he could make it on his own. His 79-year old grandfather had said, “Well, it’s about time, boy.” They were all impressed that he had already located and signed paperwork for an apartment. It was only a few blocks away—but still.
At first his mom and dad took turns dropping by his place to check on him. But after a
couple of months it sunk in: he could actually survive on his own. Although, his mom was still not convinced he was eating well enough. Did a grocery store mom spend more time worrying about her children eating vegetables than a typical mom? He didn’t know. She was the only mom he’d ever had.
On the very first day at his new place, he had bumped into his girlfriend. Of course, she was not his girlfriend then. They hadn’t even met yet.
She was standing at the mail boxes when he drove up. And just as he was approaching, she turned to walk away with her mail. He had accidentally caught her with his right shoulder and knocked her backward, sending her mail into the air. He grabbed her just before she could hit the ground.
He had apologized like crazy. But she had seemed more amused than upset.
Later that night he had heard a knock and thought someone was at his door. So he opened it and saw a pizza delivery guy standing across the hallway. When the door opened—it was her again.
He just stood there watching like a puppy as she paid the delivery guy and he walked off.
“You like pepperoni?” she said.
“Sure.”
And that was how it all started. Pizza and TV. Or Chinese takeout and a movie.
They were great friends. And to him, much more.
She laughed at him a lot—sometimes when he wasn’t even trying to be funny. But he didn’t care. He loved to make her laugh. But he did wonder why she never wanted to go out to eat or go out to a movie. Or out anywhere.
So, she wasn’t his girlfriend yet. But he was already her boyfriend—even if she didn’t know it.
Someday, the Food Mart would be all his…and so would she.
Mr. and Mrs. Kroger Bagley, Jr.
Crow and Chaucey.
19 - SEARCHING
“Hello?”
“Hey, Sandy. Where are you guys?”
“I was just about to call you, Buddy. We just stopped at Starbucks. Why don’t you come join us? We’re on the corner of Grogan’s Mill and Sawdust.”
“Yeah, I think I passed it a while ago. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Sandy hung up and looked at Rebecca. “I can’t believe we drove around for three hours looking for them.”
Rebecca was working at her laptop. “I just hope Larry has posted another chapter.”
“He might have done it in a coffee shop.” Sandy looked around for a table with a refolded napkin.
“Well, I don’t know where he did it from, but—“
“—he posted a new chapter?”
“Yep.”
“What does it say?”
“Give me just a minute. You want to get us some coffee?”
“Sure.”
By the time Sandy came back with three coffees and three big blueberry muffins, Greg had walked in.
“Okay,” said Rebecca, “this is good news.”
Greg perked up. “What?”
“He leased an apartment.”
“Here in The Woodlands?” said Sandy.
“He’s kinda vague on that. But it’s got to be somewhere close. Leasing offices wouldn’t open before 8:00 or 9:00. And it’s just 9:15.”
“What does he say about Cynthia?” said Greg.
“I don’t know if you really want to hear this,” she said.
“What? Tell me?”
“He says he will make love to her every hour of the night—”
“—I’m gonna kill him,” said Greg.
“And that in the morning she will still be begging for more.”
“He really thinks he’s hot stuff, doesn’t he?” said Sandy.
“We’ve got to hurry and find them,” said Greg. “Surely he gives some hint about where they are.”
“Not in the chapter posting. Let me check the comments,” she said. “There’s another one from this woman named Chaucey who propositioned him earlier. She is so weird.”
“What does she say?” said Greg.
Rebecca tried to read it aloud.
And she obeyed hym in every thing
That myghte doon hym plesance or likyng.
Greg and Sandy responded in unison. “What?”
“I think it’s Old English or Middle English.” Rebecca turned the laptop around so they could read it for themselves.
“Well, look at his response,” said Greg. “They seem to be speaking the same language—whatever it is.”
Of vitaille and of oother purveiaunce,
They goon and pleye hem al the longe day.
“And he says his heart is near,” said Sandy, “—whatever that means.”
“Wonder if it means he’s physically near?” said Rebecca.
“What if he is?” said Sandy. “How does that help us? We don’t know where she is.”
Rebecca turned her laptop back around and started typing.
“And how can we possibly find her?” said Sandy. “We don’t even know her last name.”
“We don’t even know that her first name is real,” said Greg.
“I got a hit,” said Rebecca. “I googled ‘Chaucey Houston’ and got the website of a graphic designer named Chaucey Reed.”
“Where does she live?” said Greg.
“It doesn’t say. Just gives her email address,” she said.
“Well, we could email her and ask her where she lives,” said Sandy.
“And you think she’d tell you?” she said.
“Yeah—if she wants to do business with me,” said Sandy.
“Let’s just start searching apartment complexes,” said Greg. “Rebecca, you said he’s probably driving a dark green Jaguar.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I think he passed me as I was turning on to his street. But at the time I didn’t know what kind of car he drove. I should have thought to ask about all his cars when I called my friend at the DMV the first time. That was stupid. I could have had him.”
“No need to beat yourself up over it,” said Sandy.
“I should have known better,” she said.
“So, we can just go around to all the parking lots looking for that car,” said Greg.
“It’s a 2007 XK with black interior,” she said.
“Whoa,” said Sandy. “Those things go for like 90K.”
“Well then it should be easy to find,” said Greg.
“Actually,” said Rebecca, “The Woodlands has a pretty high per capita income from what I’ve read. So, you might see several of them around town.”
“We can write down all the apartment names and addresses and split up,” said Greg.
“Okay, fine,” said Sandy.
**********
“Well, how do you like it?” said Larry.
“Very nice. Looks more like a house than an apartment.” Cynthia was still playing along, hoping for an opportunity to get away. She had not given him the least bit of trouble since trying to leave a message in the bathroom stall. She had sat patiently and pleasantly in a Starbucks for two hours while he worked at his laptop.
But she wondered if he was lying about the watch. Was it even possible to put enough explosive material in it to do any damage? Maybe it was fake. But she couldn’t afford to call his bluff. If she could just get the remote away from him somehow…
“It’s nearly 1,600 sq. feet—not including the garage,” he said. “Look at that widescreen flat-panel. It’ll be great for movies. You like movies, don’t you?”
“Oh, sure.”
“And the two spare bedrooms are in there. They share a bathroom. But the most important room of the house is over there—the master bedroom. You and I need to make up for a lot of lost time, Honey.”
Cynthia felt a surge of vomit at the back of her throat.
“So, why don’t we get to it?” he said.
“No.”
He frowned.
She smiled. “I mean…let’s not rush it, Baby. I’m so tired, and I want the first time to be special.”
“Well, okay. Me too. Why don’t you go take a little nap? Just let me know when you�
��re ready for me.”
“Okay.”
He took her in his arms and kissed her hard on the lips. “That’s just a preview, Baby.”
She wanted to gouge his eyes out. “Can’t wait.” She walked to the master bedroom.
“Yeah, me either. Can’t wait to bone you.” He laughed.
How romantic, she thought, as she closed the door and stretched out on the bed. She’d like to de-bone him.
**********
Cynthia pretended to still be asleep when she felt him unhooking the front of her bra. While sleeping, she had been stripped to her underwear.
He gently lifted each cup, laid them to the sides and admired her perky breasts.
She wanted to peek, but did not. She was under his control.
He slipped his fingers under the waist of her panties and carefully slid them down her toned legs, and off her feet.
She still dared not look. Would he eventually quit and go away if she kept pretending to sleep?
He took her left leg in his warm hands and moved it slightly to the left. Then he moved her right leg to the right.
She could feel his naked body sliding into place between her smooth legs. She couldn’t stop him, could she?
She felt him begin to kiss her right breast and then circle the nipple with his warm, moist tongue.
She suddenly felt herself getting wet for him and realize she had no control over her own body.
He moved up higher on her and she knew entry was imminent. Then he slid a hand under each butt cheek.
“Oh, Greg…” She wanted him so badly.
“Uh, let’s get the names straight.”
She jerked herself free, and jumped up from the bed. Larry was standing on the other side. He was wearing clothes. So was she. Thank God.
“What were you doing?” she said.
“Just waking you up with a nice butt massage.”
Gross, she thought. Her head was still spinning.
“I’m sorry. I thought you’d like it,” he said.
Time to get back into character, she thought. “I was just having a weird dream. That’s all.”
“So, are you all rested now and ready to go?”
Greg Tenorly Suspense Series Boxed Set Page 48