Gone without a Trace

by Patricia Bradley

  What was he doing? He dropped his hand and took a step back. His last relationship had moved too quickly and ended in disaster when his girlfriend had wanted the whole package—a ring and a house and children, and all he could see was the disaster his parents’ marriage had been. Their breakup had been bitter, even though he’d warned her up front he wasn’t marriage material.

  He hadn’t even given Livy that speech, and it was a little late now. “Livy. Short for Olivia.”

  Her eyes darkened, and she narrowed them. “Don’t ever call me that.”

  “That’s a beautiful name. Why don’t you like it?”

  “It’s what my father calls me.”

  13

  Robyn parted the curtains of her window. Snow covered the grass. She didn’t remember hearing anyone mention it was going to snow. Surely her mother hadn’t let Abby ride that four-wheeler home. It’d been all she could do to keep from going downstairs while her daughter was there. She was so fearful of doing something that Abby would recognize. No, it was better to stay away from everyone until they caught the man who had kidnapped her . . . and probably that other poor girl.

  Her stomach rumbled, and she wished she hadn’t told her mom not to bring a tray up. She checked her watch. It was after nine. She’d heard Alex and Livy come up an hour ago, and her mom not long afterward. Perhaps she could ease down the stairs and get a bowl of soup, maybe even a piece of corn bread. No. She might run into her dad. But her stomach growled again. “Okay, okay,” she muttered.

  The second step from the top creaked when she put her weight on it. How many times had that board gotten her caught as a teenager coming in late from a date with Chase? She should have remembered it.

  The kitchen light was on, surprising her. Dad must not be in yet. Robyn pulled the soup from the refrigerator and ladled a cup into a bowl. She debated whether to warm it or not. She didn’t want to run into her dad tonight. She was too tired to be on guard. Surely one minute wouldn’t matter.

  The microwave dinged just as the back door scraped open. And she froze as her dad entered the kitchen.

  “You must be one of Kate’s guests.” Dad’s raspy voice hadn’t changed.

  His face, leathery from years on the ocean, was the same, and tears sprang to her eyes. Thank goodness she hadn’t taken her contacts out—her blue eyes were the only thing about her that hadn’t changed. She ducked her head so he couldn’t get a full view of her face. “Yes, and you must be her husband,” she said, careful to stay in her Virginia accent.

  “Do you think there’s any more of that soup, Charlie?”

  Her heart stilled. Chase was on Charlie’s heels. Who was staying with Abby? She almost blurted the words out. But then, Abby was almost eleven, and only a quarter of a mile away. Besides, she could be with his mother, Allison. She nodded toward the refrigerator. “Plenty in there.”

  “Oh, I thought you were Livy.”

  “No, not Livy.” Robyn softened her voice, hoping he would not catch any nuance of her former accent. She glanced at him and caught him staring at her. Red crept up his neck. She had to do something that was totally un-Robyn-like. She touched her finger to the side of her chin and cocked her head to the side and smiled. “And you are . . . ?”

  A sheepish grin crossed his face. “Chase Martin. Did you say there was soup in the fridge?”

  “Yes, and it’s quite good.” Robyn glanced at the bowl in her hand. The soup hadn’t heated through and through, and now that she’d been caught, she might as well get it hot. She put it back in the microwave for another minute. While she waited, she studied Chase. Her husband had lost weight, and he had a few streaks of gray in his dark hair, but other than that, he looked good. Too good.

  She took the bowl out and turned around, almost bumping into him. Their eyes locked, and a tingle went through Robyn. His intense blue eyes had been a stumbling block for her since the day she realized she was in love with him way back in the seventh grade. “I guess you’re waiting for the microwave.” She stepped out of his way.

  “What did you say your name was?”

  She hooked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t, but it’s Sharon Arnold.”

  A frown flickered in his eyes. “Are you staying here long?”

  “Not too long. I hope to be moving into my own place soon.” She looked down at the soup. “I think I’ll take this upstairs. It was nice meeting you.”

  She escaped from the kitchen and hurried up the stairs. He hadn’t recognized her. The thought chased through her head. This plan actually might work. Now, if only whoever abducted her took the bait. What if it was someone who wasn’t in town? He had to be. She just couldn’t consider that he wasn’t.

  Livy plugged her phone in to charge it and then climbed into bed with a yellow legal pad and a pencil. Tonight had been magical in the snow. They’d been like kids until . . . Alex had meant to kiss her, she knew he had. She wondered what happened to make him drop his hand like her skin had burned it.

  It was just as well. Not that she went around kissing men anyway—since she’d become a cop, she hadn’t had time for relationships. They took too much energy. Besides, there was no need to break her eight-year losing streak.

  Eight years? Had it really been that long? It wasn’t that she didn’t have opportunities. When she first became a cop, several of the men she worked with had asked her out, but dating someone she worked with hadn’t seemed like a good idea. She’d known the relationship wouldn’t go anywhere—they never did, and then working alongside someone she’d maybe kissed would have been awkward. Being a female detective was difficult enough without complicating matters.

  And the same held true with Alex. Besides the fact that he was a private investigator, which until recently equaled not quite good enough to be a cop, he was from Texas. She didn’t do relationships well, let alone long-distance relationships. She tapped the pencil against the notepad. Knowing a relationship between them could never work was kind of freeing. She could enjoy being around him without getting her heart broken. She just had to make sure she didn’t lose sight of the could-never-work factor.

  Livy couldn’t believe she was wasting time thinking about a non-relationship with Alex; she focused on the legal pad. She liked to freewrite sometimes about a case, but with no more information than she had, it was a little early for this case. What she could do was list a few things they needed to watch for after Robyn went to work at Johnny B’s. Livy assumed she’d apply for a job tomorrow.

  Mannerisms. Livy had noticed a few that her cousin used in the past two days, like hooking a strand of hair behind her ear and chewing on the inside of her mouth. These two things in particular reminded her of the old Robyn. Livy needed to caution her again to be aware of every movement she made. Livy tapped the pencil on the yellow pad, and her thoughts went to the banana pudding in the refrigerator. Maybe there was some left. She slipped on a housecoat and went to the kitchen.

  Voices reached her at the foot of the stairs. Charlie must be home. She pushed the swinging door open. Chase looked up from the table and squinted at her.

  She frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

  “Just making sure this time it really is you. Last time you were someone named Sharon.”

  She almost stopped breathing. Chase had seen Robyn? “You think Sharon and I look alike?” She hadn’t considered the possibility of them being confused with one another.

  “I just saw a woman that wasn’t Kate in her kitchen and assumed it was you. Once I really looked at her, I knew it wasn’t. She reminded me of someone, though.”

  She swallowed. “Anyone I know?”

  Chase drained the glass of milk he was drinking and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I don’t know. If I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

  Livy removed the banana pudding. “Oh, she probably has one of those familiar faces. Want some?” She held the bowl out, and he took it. “I thought I heard two people in here.”

  “You did. Charlie
just went up the back stairs.” He spooned a healthy portion on his plate. “Nobody makes banana pudding like Kate.”

  Livy glanced around the room. “Where’s Abby?”

  “Mom came home, and she’s spending the night with her.”

  Livy filled her bowl, then returned the pudding to the refrigerator and sat at the table across from Chase. “How’s it going with you?”

  “So-so.” He waved his hand back and forth then placed his spoon on the table and sat back in his chair. “I’m thinking of filing for divorce.”

  Livy stopped with her spoon halfway to her mouth and returned it to the bowl. She searched for something to say. “How soon?”

  “Probably next week. The papers are already drawn up. I know you don’t approve, but I have to get on with my life.”

  “I don’t approve, but I do understand how you feel. Would you consider waiting a month?”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve taken a leave of absence, and I plan to focus on finding out exactly what happened to Robyn.” They had to find the guy who kidnapped her soon. Livy didn’t know how much longer she could keep the truth from everyone.

  “Even if you find my wife, I don’t think there’s anything you can tell me that would keep me from going through with the divorce.”

  “That will be up to you.” She knew Chase. Once he knew the whole story, he would never follow through with it. “Deal?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”

  A little past noon on Saturday, Robyn straightened her shoulders and followed Livy inside Johnny B’s Grill and Coffee Shoppe. Inside the building, familiar smells vied for her attention. The oiled wooden floors, roasted peanuts, a steak sizzling on the grill, garlic biscuits from the oven. And the sounds. Plinking noises from the video games in a side room could barely be heard over the twang of a guitar from overhead speakers. Ice clinked in glasses, and beneath it all, vibrancy hummed throughout the room. It was a whole other world, and overlooking it all was a portrait of Johnny B’s mother, dressed in a pink waitress uniform. She spotted Johnny B at his usual place at the end of the counter.

  Livy made her way through the tables, and Robyn followed. She stood back a little as her cousin spoke to him. He glanced her way and nodded, then motioned her over.

  “It’s all yours,” Livy said as she passed her. “I’ll be outside. Ben called while I was talking to Johnny B. I need to call him back.”

  “Thanks.” She smoothed her hands on her pants, just in case they were sweaty.

  Johnny B shook her hand, then looked her over. “So, you’re looking for a job? Ever do this kind of work before?” His expression said he doubted it.

  “Yep,” she said. “Waitressing helped put me through college.”

  He peered over his glasses at her. “If you have a college degree, what are you doing here?”

  “Can’t find a job.”

  “What’s your degree in?”

  She had expected the third degree and decided the truth would serve her best. “Psychology.”

  He snorted. “That and a buck and a half will get you a cup of coffee here. You gotta have a master’s to do anything with it.”

  “I know. I’m planning on getting a master’s in social work.”

  He tilted his head toward her. “I like you. Can you start this afternoon?”

  From what Livy had said about him being shorthanded, she’d expected that. “What time?”

  “Three, so you’ll have a couple of hours to train before it starts getting busy. I have enough help tomorrow, but on Monday, be here at four. By the way, where are you staying?”

  “At Kate Adams’s bed and breakfast.”

  His eyes widened. “Pricey.”

  Robyn gave a shrug. “She’s not charging me anything. Livy put in a word for me, told her what a hard time I’ve been having.”

  He nodded. “Kate’s like that. How do you know Olivia Reynolds?”

  Livy would toast his buns if she heard him use her given name. “We connected on Facebook. She’s the one who talked me into coming to this area.”

  He nodded. “I hope you’re up to the job. This is a busy place.”

  “I see that.” She turned and scanned the restaurant. Most of the tables were filled, and with truckers coming in all hours of the day and night, the restaurant would stay busy. She was glad he’d given her the same shift she’d worked before. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

  “Save your thanks until eleven. See if you still feel the same way. Oh, and uniforms are simple. Black slacks, white blouse—you furnish your own.” He glanced down at her high-heeled boots. “And you better wear some good walking shoes.”

  She walked to the door, releasing a pent-up breath. First step accomplished. She didn’t see Livy and continued to the car, where her cousin sat with her cell phone pressed against her ear.

  Robyn slid in on the passenger side and waited for her to get off the phone. From the look on Livy’s face, something had happened.

  “How’d it go?” Livy asked as she ended the call.

  “Hired me. You look as though you just got bad news.”

  Livy drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Samantha Jo’s wallet showed up in Nashville at a bus stop.”

  “So she’s not missing any longer?”

  “No, she’s still missing, just not from here. The police think it dropped out of her purse, but I don’t buy that she lost it.”

  What if the girl’s disappearance wasn’t linked to her own abduction? Robyn flexed her fingers. Would Alex pull out and go to Nashville? She liked the idea that he would be at the diner while she was working.

  Three hours later, Robyn adjusted her apron and glanced through the opening to the kitchen, where Alex flipped a burger. His presence reassured her, and she turned her attention back to the young waitress training her. It was so hard to not tell Callie that she knew how to enter her order into the computer. Johnny B hadn’t changed anything since she’d been gone. But Callie was nice, and even though Robyn had been waiting tables when the girl was in grade school, she held her tongue.

  Callie patted her arm. “If you run into anything you don’t understand, just let me know. It’ll just be me and you until four. If you’d like, you can work the cash register and counter. That way you won’t have to keep up with so many orders at one time. But if someone comes in and I’m busy, I’d appreciate it if you could catch them.”

  “Sure thing.” A customer slid onto one of the stools at the counter.

  “Do you want me to stick around for your first order?”

  “I think I can do it.” Robyn took out her pad, not that she needed one. Jason Fremont would order a ham on rye bread and a cup of their strongest coffee and then find his regular table. She wiped the counter in front of him. “Hi, I’m Sharon. What can I get you today?”

  He looked her over. “You’re new.”

  Give the guy a Kewpie doll. She smiled. “But only today.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll only be new today. Tomorrow I’ll be a seasoned pro.”

  He laughed. “Oh yeah. I see what you mean. You’ll fit in just fine around here.”

  She set a glass of water in front of him. “Do you need a menu?”

  “No, I’ll have a ham on rye bread with a cup of your strongest coffee.”

  “Coming right up.” She entered the order into the computer and picked up the pot of coffee. After she’d filled his cup, she walked to the end of the counter, where another regular waited for his cup to be refilled. Bobby Cook drank dark roast as well. “Fill your cup, sir?”

  “Well, howdy, little lady. What kind of coffee you got there?”

  “Colombian dark roast.”

  He shoved his cup toward the edge of the counter. “Appreciate that. Saw Callie training you. Been in town long?”

  She filled his cup. “No.”

  “You married?”

  She was glad she’d taken off her wedding band. “Not anym
ore.”

  “You have any children?”

  Bobby hadn’t changed either. “A little girl, but she’s with her grandmother. I’m hoping we can be together real soon.”

  The door opened, and two men came in and sat at a table. Cowboy boots, vests, phones on their belts. Truckers, she’d bet. She looked around for Callie but didn’t see her. Robyn picked up menus and two sets of silverware and walked around the counter to their tables. More remarks about her being new that she responded to with a smile. “What can I get you?”

  The older of the two men handed her the menu back. “Same thing I get every time. The daily special and a cup of joe.”

  Robyn jotted the order down. She rarely heard coffee called a cup of joe except from the older drivers.

  The other driver handed her his menu. “I’ll take the same thing.”

  Callie came from the back, and Robyn gave her the truckers’ orders.

  “Thanks. I see we’re getting busy.”

  Robyn turned around as the door opened and several more people entered, one or two she remembered. “Yeah.”

  An hour later as she filled water glasses and set them on a tray, the sense of someone watching her made her skin prickle. She glanced up and surveyed the room. Could he be here? She scanned each customer, seeking . . . she didn’t know what she expected to find, maybe something that would shout this is the one, but no. Everyone looked normal.

  She picked up the tray of glasses and took it to her station. She’d moved out onto the floor after another waitress came on duty, and had three tables she needed to take orders from. She set a water glass on the first table, recognizing Timothy Nolan. In fact, she had recognized several people from when she’d worked here before, and some of them were truck drivers who had been regulars. After she delivered the other waters, she came back to Timothy. When she worked here before, he usually ordered a hamburger in the evenings. “Are you ready to order?”

  He gave her a curious look. “Is your name Sharon?”