Rest in Peace

by Frances Devine

  Something ricocheted against the blacktop in front of us, and I heard the sound of something that could only be a bullet whiz by my window. Something pinged against the top of the van. In the mirror I saw the car behind us swerve, then straighten.

  “Is he shooting at us?” Miss Georgina screeched. She was as flat on the floor as she could get, and her head was covered with the crocheted afghan she always kept in the van in cold weather. I hoped she didn’t think it would protect her from a bullet.

  “God, help us.” My teeth clenched as the van careened around the curves of the road.

  Miss Georgina began to pray, too.

  “I can’t see his face,” Miss Jane yelled. “He’s wearing a ski mask.”

  “Miss Jane. Please get down before you get hit.”

  The wheels spun out as I turned onto the main road without slowing down.

  “He turned the other way. He’s not chasing us anymore.” Miss Jane flopped back and laid her head on the headrest, breathing hard.

  Miss Georgina popped up and climbed onto the seat. I could hear her heavy breathing.

  “Okay, everyone fasten your seat belts because I’m not slowing down until we get to town.”

  I let out a sigh of relief when we passed the Cedar Chapel city-limit sign. Slowing down, I drove to the square andturned toward the courthouse. I parked, and we all jumped out and speed walked into the building.

  The locked door brought us to our senses.

  “Oh no, it’s Sunday. They’re closed,” Miss Georgina moaned.

  “C’mon.” I led the way around to the back. Sure enough. The sheriff’s car was parked in the back lot.

  I ran up the steps and started pounding on the door. Why didn’t I have the sense to get a cell phone? I could call his office. I pounded harder. “Sheriff, please open up!”

  Tom’s eyes widened as he stuck his head around the corner and saw us. We must have looked pretty scary. He darted back inside. A minute later, the sheriff opened the door.

  “What is it now, Victoria?” he blustered.

  I pushed Miss Jane and Miss Georgina through the door then shoved my way in. Even if the shooter did go the other way on the blacktop road, he could have turned and followed us.

  The three of us stood panting while the sheriff and his deputy stared.

  “What’s wrong?” By now, the sheriff looked concerned.

  “Someone…shot at us out at the Pennington place,” I said, between gasps.

  Sheriff Turner’s lips pressed together in a hard, flat line. “Come on in my office.”

  Gratefully, I accepted the glass of water Tom passed to me after he’d given the elderly ladies theirs. The sheriff hadn’t said anything since we’d sat in the chairs around his desk. For once he seemed truly concerned.

  Finally, my pulse stopped racing, and my breathing slowed to near normal. Miss Jane and Miss Georgina had calmed down as well.

  “Now then.” The sheriff’s calm tone of voice was devoid of the sarcasm it usually held when he spoke to me. “Please start at the beginning, and tell me what happened.”

  “We were…”

  “We went…”

  “The reason…”

  As we all began to speak at once, Sheriff Turner held up his hand. “One at a time, please. Why don’t you go first, Miz Wilder?”

  She looked at him in surprise. In fact, we all did. Everyone in town called Miss Georgina, well, Miss Georgina. She preferred it. I wasn’t sure why.

  “All right.” She folded her hands primly on her lap. “We went to the steak house in Caffee Springs after church. That is, Victoria, Jane, and me. On the way home, we decided to stop at Pennington and search the grounds in case the kidnappers took Aggie there.”

  The sheriff took a deep breath, and his face tightened.

  At the change in his countenance, Miss Georgina’s face reddened. “Oh dear. Jane, you tell him.” She threw me an apologetic look.

  “It’s okay,” I murmured. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Don’t you say a word, Bobby Turner,” Miss Jane said. “We found Aggie there before, and who’s to say she’s not there now?”

  “Dane Pennington searched every inch of the place, Miz Brody. Miz Pennington-Brown’s not there.”

  “But did he search the grounds? Or the riverbank?” she snapped.

  “No, he didn’t, but Tom and I did. She’s nowhere on the Pennington property.” As she started to say something, he added, “Including the caves. We checked them all.”

  “Oh. You should have told us.” She tossed her head.

  “No, ma’am. I shouldn’t have told you, because we don’t advertise our investigating practices to the public.”

  Wow, he actually stood up to her. I decided I’d better interrupt before Miss Jane gave him an earful.

  “Anyway, we pulled up to the house. When we got out, I thought I saw movement at the side of the house, but when I turned and looked, there was nothing.” I licked my lips. “Then a shot rang out. Luckily both car doors were still open, so we managed to stay low and get into the van.”

  “Where were the ladies sitting?” Sheriff asked.

  “Miss Georgina was in the back, down on the floor, and Miss Jane was in the front passenger seat, leaning over. I started the car and took off around the drive and down the road.”

  “And you never did see anyone?”

  “I’m getting to that. Just as I pulled onto the road, a car shot out from around the house and started after us. I stepped on the gas, but he was gaining on me.”

  “So you did see the shooter?”

  “No, but Miss Jane did.”

  He turned to her. “Can you give me a description, Miz Brody?”

  She frowned. “He was wearing a ski mask.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. That’s all I saw.”

  He sighed loudly. “Okay, can anyone describe the car?”

  “I didn’t recognize it,” I said. “And it happened so fast I couldn’t tell what make or model it was. It was dark, maybe dark green, but I can’t be sure. With the overcast sky and the shadows from the trees, it could have been black or dark blue.

  “When we got to the main road, he went the other direction. We didn’t see him after that.”

  “Okay, and you’re sure what you heard was a shot?”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. He started shooting again while he was chasing us. Several bullets hit the van.”

  He jumped up. “Why didn’t you tell me that when you got here? Let’s go take a look.”

  Miss Georgina jumped up, but Miss Jane remained seated. “Sit down, Georgina. Let them go look without us.”

  Miss Georgina sank back onto the chair, a look of relief on her face.

  I trailed after the sheriff and Tom. They were already out the courthouse door. When I got to the van, they were inspecting it carefully.

  “I don’t see any signs of these bullets that were trying to get you,” Tom said, rolling his eyes. It wasn’t the first trace of sarcasm I’d ever heard from him.

  “Lucky for you, your shooter, if there was one, wasn’t very good. But at least you didn’t get killed.” He winked at me. Then his expression changed, and he reached over to the top of the van, running his finger over a tiny area.

  “Hey, Chief,” he called. “I think one of them bullets must have grazed the top here. There’s a dent. No hole, but it’s kinda chewed up.”

  “Tom, go inside and get me an evidence bag.” Sheriff Turner’s voice sounded a little shaky. “Victoria, come over here.”

  He was leaning over the back taillight. I inhaled sharply when I saw it. The red glass was shattered, and something was embedded in the metal behind it.

  “I’m really sorry.” Sheriff Turner’s voice was sincere. “I thought you were exaggerating. But I think you’ve got us a piece of evidence here. A pretty little piece of evidence in the form of a bullet.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I groaned and reached over to turn off the al
arm. It kept ringing. Groggy and disoriented, I stared at the numbers, which read 2:46 a.m. It rang again. No, no, that’s the telephone. I grabbed the receiver. Who would be calling this time of the morning?

  “Hello,” I mumbled.

  “Victoria, Sarah’s run away.” Mabel’s voice bordered on hysteria. “She’s not anywhere in the house, and her suitcase is gone.”

  Wide awake now, I shot up and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

  “Mabel.” Wails from the other end told me she hadn’t heard. I raised my voice. “Mabel, calm down. Have you called the sheriff?”

  She gasped. “Oh my goodness. I’ll do that now. Your number was the only one I could think of.”

  “Okay. Do you have any idea why she left or where she might have gone?”

  “She was upset because her daddy hasn’t called her in over a week. She cried at bedtime and said she wanted to go home. I felt so helpless.”

  “How long has she been gone, and did she have any money with her?” The bus only made pickups in Cedar Chapel at noon and midnight. I shivered at the thought of little Sarah standing in front of the deserted general store in the dark, waiting for the bus.

  “I don’t know when she left. I woke up a few minutes ago, thirsty. I got up for a glass of water and noticed her door open, so I went in. Her piggy bank was on the floor…broken, but it only had two or three dollars in change.”

  “All right. Call the sheriff and report this, and I’ll go look for her. If I find her, I’ll bring her home. If not, I’ll be over anyway.”

  I threw on jeans and a sweater, grabbed my down coat and ran downstairs, hoping I didn’t wake the seniors.

  I had no idea if Sarah had been gone for several hours or just a few minutes. Deciding to search the road leading from town to Mabel’s farm first, I headed that way. As I turned onto the dark, rutted road, my chest tightened within me. “God, please let her be all right, and help me to find her.”

  There was no sign of her on the road, so I went back into town. On a hunch, I drove through town to the blacktop road that led to Branson.

  I’d gone about a mile when I saw a small, dark form, a little ways down the road. She was hunched against the wind, her heavy suitcase bouncing against the road, as she dragged it behind her.

  She turned as I pulled up beside her. When she saw it was me, she turned back and began to trudge down the road. I drove slowly beside her until she stopped. Dropping thesuitcase, she stormed around to my window and glared at me, her hands on her tiny hips.

  “Leave me alone! I’m going home to see Dad.” She lifted her hand and wiped it against her eyes, leaving a smudge of dirt. I looked at her hands and saw they were dirty and scraped up. She must have fallen.

  “Sarah, would you get in please, so we can talk?”

  “No, you’ll take me straight back to Grandma’s, and I told you I’m going home.”

  “Sweetheart, I just want to talk to you. And it’s cold with the window down.”

  A shiver went through her small body as uncertainty filled her eyes. “Okay, but you’re not gonna change my mind.”

  She walked around and yanked open the door, then climbed up onto the seat. “Man, this seat is almost as high as my dad’s truck seat.”

  “I know. It’s old, and I really need to replace it soon.”

  Another shiver passed over her body. I grabbed a crocheted afghan from the backseat, thankful that Miss Georgina always kept one in the van in cold weather.

  “Here, you may as well warm up some while we talk, okay?” She didn’t protest, so I tucked it around her.

  “Sweetie, do you want to tell me about it?”

  “I’m worried about my daddy. She gave a little sighing hiccup. “He promised he’d call me every few days, and it’s been way longer than that.”

  “Maybe he’s been busy.” The minute the words were out of my mouth, I knew the excuse wouldn’t fly with her.

  Sure enough, a scowl wrinkled her face. “Day and night? Too busy to call and just say hi to me?”

  “What do you think the reason is?” Maybe it would work best if I let her do the talking. I seemed to be putting my foot in my mouth more than anything.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’s hurt or something. He could be in the hospital and too sick to ask anyone to call me or Grandma.” Her lips trembled, and she scrunched her nose against the tears that threatened to spill.

  Déjà vu hit me hard, and memories assailed me. Grandma, rocking me while I cried heart-wrenching sobs. Then, when I was a little older, excuses I made because Mom and Dad hadn’t written or called in what seemed to me like weeks. I swallowed and tried to focus on Sarah. I’d survived the heartache. She would, too, if that’s the way it had to be. But maybe there really was a satisfactory reason that Sarah’s father hadn’t called.

  “Sweetheart, has your grandma tried to call him?”

  “Yes. Twice, but he didn’t answer his phone.”

  I leaned forward. “I tell you what. If you’ll come back to your grandma’s house, I promise to try to find your dad for you.”

  “Tonight?”

  I grinned. “Do you realize what time it is?”

  “Late?”

  “Almost 3:30. But I’ll get on it tomorrow. And I’ll find out why your dad hasn’t called. I promise. Deal?”

  She studied my face, then nodded. She stuck out a grimy little paw. “Deal.”

  I shook her hand. “How about I help you with that suitcase?”

  “Nah. I can get it.” She hopped out and grabbed the longhandle on the suitcase. She pushed and shoved it into the backseat, then got back in, breathing hard.

  I reached over and squeezed her hand. “Okay, I guess we’re ready.”

  We pulled up in front of Mabel’s house ten minutes later. She and Bob Turner stood by the patrol car. When she saw Sarah, she threw her hands up and came running.

  Sarah let her grandmother hug her tightly. “Oh Sarah, baby. What were you thinking? I was worried ‘bout to death.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you, Grandma.” She reached up a finger and wiped the tears from Mabel’s cheek. “I really am sorry. Please don’t cry.”

  “Okay, my angel, I won’t cry anymore.” She threw me a look that held fathoms of gratitude. “How can I thank you?”

  “Oh, you don’t need to thank me. Sarah made the decision to come home. All I did was give her a ride.” I winked, then turned to the sheriff, who’d walked over and stood beside me.

  “Good work.” His eyes held a glimmer of respect in which I sort of basked. Most of the time he let me know, in his eyes, I was a big pain in the neck.

  “Thanks, Sheriff. But I didn’t do much. It was logical she’d head in that direction.”

  “My thoughts, too. Was just getting ready to head that way myself.” He grinned. “I guess we were on the same wavelength.”

  “Uh-huh. As they say, great minds think alike.”

  He chortled. “I guess that’s right. Okay, guess I’m not needed here.” He got in his car and pulled away.

  “Won’t you come in for coffee?” Mabel called to me. “I’ve got donuts, too.”

  “No, thanks. I’d better get back to the lodge.” I leaned over and looked in Sarah’s eyes. “I won’t forget.”

  She nodded. “Okay. Guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “I’ll look forward to that. Maybe I’ll even have news for you by the time you get home from school. But don’t be disappointed if it takes a little longer than that.”

  I got the phone number from Mabel and the name of the plant where her son worked.

  When I got to the lodge, I tiptoed in and up the stairs. Not a sound came from any of the rooms, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I went up to my apartment.

  I crawled into bed without changing. “Thank You, Lord, that Sarah is safe and in her own bed. I need Your help to keep my promise about her dad.”

  The alarm clock woke me. I stretched and yawned, wishing I could turn over and go
back to sleep. A quick shower revived me.

  When I got downstairs, the sound of singing came from the kitchen, and I walked in to see a smiling Mabel. Sarah was finishing her oatmeal and toast. She ran to brush her teeth, and before she headed out the door with her backpack snugly against her back, she turned and gave me a wink, then mouthed, “Don’t forget.”

  I stood on the front porch and waved as Miss Jane’s Cadillac backed out into the street. Miss Georgina waved back, and then Miss Jane followed Frank’s truck down the street. I went back inside and straight to my office. I wanted to call the college, but I knew I needed to keep my promise to Sarah first.

  I punched in the number of the plant where Mabel’s son worked. A friendly voice answered, “Mason’s Metal Works.”

  “Hello, my name is Victoria Storm. I’m trying to locate Bobby Carey. He is an employee there.”

  “One moment, please. I’ll transfer you to his department.”

  Country music screamed into my ear, and I jerked the receiver away. Good grief. I liked country music sometimes. After all, it was Grandpa’s favorite. Hillbilly music, he’d called it. But it was ridiculous the way they had it turned up.

  “Hello, this is Dave,” the deep voice boomed, and I quickly put the receiver back to my ear.

  “Hello, I’m trying to locate Bobby Carey. Is he there? And may I speak to him please?”

  “Who’s calling?” Was that belligerence? Or something else? Wariness, maybe?

  “My name is Victoria Storm, and I’m calling for his mother and daughter. They haven’t heard from him in a while and are getting worried.”

  “Sorry, we haven’t heard from him either. He ain’t been to work for days and isn’t answering his phone. If you find him, tell him if he wants his job he needs to call in.”

  “Yes, I will. And if you hear from him, will you please ask him to call his mother?”

  “Sure. What’s the phone number?”

  “He knows the number. Thank you.”

  I put the receiver down and leaned back, my fingers drumming the wooden arm of my desk chair. I hadn’t expected this. Now what?

  I toyed with the idea of calling Benjamin. But the very fact that he hadn’t yet called made me hesitate. I didn’t want to interrupt if he was on the verge of finding answers.