Two hours later, Loren arrived with the other tractor, pulling another trailer bed of empty bins. They poured one thirty-pound bin after the other into the larger bins until the trailer was brimming with sweet/tart wine berries. He climbed back up to start the tractor and return to the winery.
“Loren, you mind if I hitch a ride back with you?” Margaret called. She handed up her bin and watched it get dumped into the gleaming pile. “I need to check on the sorting and start the press while they’re still cool and crisp.”
“I’ll catch up with you later,” Billie said. “Could you touch base with Adam—make sure everything’s going all right? He’s running the forklift and lifting the bins off the trailers.” She laughed at Margaret’s look of disbelief. “Don’t worry. He shouldn’t take anyone’s head off. He has experience. He worked in a warehouse during college.”
Margaret climbed up on the tractor beside Loren. “I’ll check on him.”
She held on as Loren put the tractor into gear and it jerked into motion, put-putting away down the gravel road toward the winery. The horizon was streaked with threads of pink, the first signs of daylight trying to break through. The winery was ablaze with light, the yard behind alive with motion. Adam had a bin on his forklift and was lifting it to the sorting machine as they approached. Another man watched the grapes fall in. Using a long fork he kept them from jamming up as they went through the machine and were de-stemmed and pushed along for sorting.
Loren pulled up close and shut off the tractor to wait his turn for the trailer to be unloaded. Margaret climbed down and stood looking around, loving the rhythm of harvest. The place was in full gear, everyone doing the job they’d been given. The thump and grind of the machines reminded her of Disneyland without music.
Loren hopped down beside her and adjusted the cap on his head. His hair was long and jet black like the feathers of a crow. He pushed it away from his face. “How’s it feel being chief today?” he asked. “A little nervous about making your first batch of firewater for the Fredrickson label?” Loren bragged that he was full-blood Karok Indian, but he sounded more like Hollywood’s version of an Apache in a 1960’s movie.
“I think I can handle it,” she said. She yawned widely, suddenly feeling her lack of sleep. “I just need a large dose of caffeine in my bloodstream first. When Adam gets the trailer emptied, tell him I went inside to get coffee.”
“Will do, Chief.”
She started for the winery, but stopped and turned around. “Loren, when you were over at the other field, did you happen to see Davy and Pablo?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yep. They were there. At least the first time. I don’t remember seeing Davy the last time I picked up, but he may have still been filling his bin.”
“Thanks.” She shook her head. “I know I shouldn’t worry. There are a dozen people around.” She didn’t add that her father had freaked her out the other night with his nocturnal visit and she hadn’t let Davy out of her sight since.
He raised his arm up to the sky and spread his fingers as though peering through them. “Morning sun race across sky. Boys run home filled with hunger.” He sniffed the air. “Mmm, Sally cooking sausage links and French toast.”
“You are quite the prognosticator.”
“I was taught at my great-grandfather’s campfire, many moons ago.” He grinned and waved her off. “Go. Have coffee with the squaws. Men will take care of things here.”
Sally was busy in the tasting room ordering the caterers around. She saw Margaret come in and waved her over, still speaking to a young blonde woman with a huge metal serving dish in her hands. The woman finally moved past her and set it on the table in a heated compartment. Sally frowned and adjusted the temperature before moving toward her.
“I told them the crew probably wouldn’t be in for another hour, but they want to get out of here. Apparently, they have another gig that pays a heck of a lot more than we do.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll be straggling in here a few at a time any minute now. I need caffeine.”
Sally pointed to the beverage table. “Coffee, tea, or soda. Pick your poison.”
Margaret filled a thermal paper cup with thick, black coffee and snapped a plastic lid on top. She took a careful sip of the steaming liquid. “I think that’s dark enough to grow hair on Davy’s soccer ball.”
Sally laughed. “Want to make sure everybody stays alert.”
“Hey, Loren’s out there,” she said, keeping her tone casual. Everybody knew they belonged together like salsa and chips, but neither would make the first move. “He’s just getting ready to go back out to the field. Maybe you should ride along. Keep him company.”
Sally actually turned pink at the suggestion, clashing with her red hair. “I don’t have time for that. I’ve got to make sure everybody gets fed and the food stays hot,” she said, moving back toward the serving tables.
“Really? Cause if I were you, I’d take a ride on Loren’s tractor and watch the sun come up. You can’t beat a romantic sunrise viewed from the seat of a tractor with a handsome Indian.”
Sally glared at her. “What is going on?” she demanded. “Did he put you up to this?”
“Nope. This was all me. Everybody knows how you feel about him and how he feels about you. Isn’t it about time you two got together and had a powwow?” She took her coffee and went back outside, leaving Sally standing motionless, unable to think of a thing to say for once in her life.
Adam caught Margaret’s eye and strode toward her, a smile lighting his eyes. “There you are.” He took the cup out of her hand and took a drink. “Ow, that’s hot!”
“No kidding.” She took it back and pulled the lid off so it could cool faster. “Has Sammie showed up with another load yet?”
He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s back there now. I emptied his trailer already. He was talking to Mario.”
“Mario’s here?”
“Yeah, he drove up in the pickup. Said he was looking for Pablo. Apparently, the boys took off.” He saw a shadow of fear climb her face like a storm cloud. “Don’t worry. They probably just got bored and thought it would be cool to play tag in the dark or something.”
She shook her head. “He promised me that he would work hard and stay put. He wouldn’t run off without permission.”
“Okay. We’ll find him.” He turned and saw Mario heading toward the sheds. He waved him over. “Mario! Over here.”
The man hesitated, then turned and headed in their direction. A bright yellow bandana was tied around his head and he pulled it off to wipe at his face. “Miss Parker,” he greeted, with a nod of his head.
“Mario, Adam said the boys are missing. How long has it been since anyone saw them?”
He rubbed at his neck. “Maybe…,” he shrugged, “dos horas.”
“Two hours? And no one looked for them?”
The man shook his head. “The men were working.”
“All right,” Adam interrupted. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Mario, go out and round everybody up for breakfast. Margaret and I will search the winery and the outbuildings. I’m sure they’re either hiding in the vineyard somewhere to keep from getting punished, or they’re off playing and don’t realize what time it is.” He put his arm around her and squeezed. “We’ll find them.”
Mario hesitated, whether unsure about following Adam’s lead or confused by the language barrier, she wasn’t sure. Finally he met her eyes. “Pablo’s a good boy. No problema.”
“It’s not your fault, Mario. Go ahead and call everybody in for breakfast. The boys will show up. They’re bound to be hungry,” she said with more confidence than she felt.
*****
Adam couldn’t think of anywhere else to search. Every shed, outbuilding, cellar and barrel room, even Billie’s house had been gone through. Mario had driven one of the pickups around the vineyard and called out their names over and over until his voice was hoarse. No one had noticed the boys since around thr
ee o’clock in the morning when they were seen working together to carry one heaped-to-overflowing bin to the trailer and had gone back down the row for the second. No one remembered if they returned.
“We were still on the backside of the Merlot then,” said a chubby young man with a ring in his nose. “You don’t suppose they would wander back to the canal? That thing can be treacherous. Kids drown in there every year.”
Adam was glad Margaret had gone inside to call Handel, because he didn’t want her hearing that, but as a mother, her thoughts had probably already gone in that direction. He turned around and saw her hurrying out of the winery with Billie following close behind. His sister caught his eye and waved him over.
“Thanks for your help, but there’s nothing more you can do right now, so get back to the field and we’ll let you know when we find the boys,” Adam said to the men who had been pulled from their jobs to help in the search. “Billie needs everyone doing their job right now.”
The men wandered back to the trucks, and prepared to return to the fields. He saw Sammie starting up the tractor and Loren moving toward his.
He hurried over where Billie now stood beside Margaret’s car, leaning over the open door, speaking to her in a quiet voice. Margaret’s face was ashen. She sat in the driver’s seat and gripped the wheel so tight her knuckles had turned white. Billie stepped away when she saw him, and he leaned down beside Margaret, one hand on the roof of the car.
“Meg, where are you going?”
“Maybe he went home.” She looked up, her eyes damp with unshed tears. “He used to hide in his closet and camp out. Maybe he’s there.”
“Let me go with you. I’ll help you look.”
“That’s a good idea, Margaret. Take Adam with you,” Billie said, placing her hand on his shoulder. “When Handel shows up here I’ll let him know where you are.”
Margaret shook her head, her gaze catching the winery returning to full motion in the rearview mirror. “No, you need Adam here. Everyone has a job to do. The winery can’t just shut down because of two wayward boys. I’m sorry that I’m not living up to my job description today. But I don’t want to pull anyone else away.”
“I don’t care about the wine,” Billie said, meeting Margaret’s eye. “I care about Davy and Pablo. Adam will go with you. The sooner you find the boys, the sooner everyone can get back to work.”
She didn’t argue. Adam straightened and kissed Billie on the cheek. “We’ll find them,” he said, and hurried around the car to climb in the other side.
Margaret put the car into gear and drove down the long gravel drive to the highway. An indigo blue sky stretched cloudless above them, the sun already warm enough to negate the need of a sweatshirt. Adam shrugged out of his and threw it into the backseat. He rested his hand on her shoulder, but didn’t say anything until they pulled up before the Parker house. The shades were still drawn since they’d risen in the middle of the night. Margaret reached up to the visor to press the garage door remote.
“My remote’s gone,” she said, looking at him as though the world suddenly turned upside down and nothing made sense.
He looked around on the floor of the car and under the seats, then opened the glove box, but found nothing. “Okay, I guess you’ll have to go in the front door.”
“But where is my remote?”
He shrugged and climbed out of the car. “Why don’t you check out the house and I’ll look around outside. Is your shed locked?”
She shook her head. “No. It doesn’t have a lock. Davy never goes in there. It’s full of cobwebs and old equipment,” she said, moving up the steps to the front door.
She selected the key on her keychain and stuck it in the lock. The door moved inward before she even turned the key. She jumped back as though she’d seen a ghost. “Adam…”
He hurried up the steps and moved past her to go in first, glancing down the hallway and into the living room, before inching his way toward the kitchen, his ears attuned to the slightest sound. The tennis shoes he wore made a slight scritching sound against the ceramic tile. He must have a piece of gravel lodged in a groove. The lights were still off in the house and with the drapes pulled the sun wasn’t able to chase away the gloom. He neared the sliding door and heard the crunch of glass beneath his shoes before he noticed a jagged hole in the glass panel of the slider.
She was right behind him. “Someone broke my door!”
“This is where they got in. Must have gone out the front. Someone knew you would be gone to the winery and decided to do a little breaking and entering. You better check to see what’s missing,” he said, looking around for whatever was thrown through the window. He didn’t find anything.
“The gun!” she suddenly yelled and went flying from the room.
He followed her to the kitchen and flipped on the light. She grabbed a chair, dragged it over to the refrigerator, stepped up on it, and reached over the decorative edge of the upper cupboards. She pulled the box closer and lifted it down. “Thank God, it’s still here,” she said, her face relaxing into a smile as she turned to face him.
“Glad to hear it.”
She stepped off the chair and carried the box to the table. She lifted the lid and her face fell. “It’s gone.”
“What?” He looked inside. There was a jagged, fist-sized rock placed in the box where the gun once resided. “Well, we’ve found the break-in tool. Someone is playing games with us.”
She met his gaze. “My father. He’s the only one that would know about the hidden ledge above the cupboard.”
“Would he take Davy as well?” he asked. The circumstances were too coincidental. The boys disappeared around the same time that Margaret’s house was broken into and her gun stolen. What were the chances of that happening unless it was all part of some sick plan by Sean Parker to get even?
They both heard the sound of a car pull up outside and a door slam shut. A moment later Handel hurried through the open front door and into the kitchen, but stopped at sight of the box. “Why are you getting out the gun?” he said, looking from Margaret to Adam and back again. His face was tense, either from driving at break-neck speed to get home or at the knowledge that Davy was missing—probably both.
“It’s gone. He took it,” she said.
“Who took it?”
Adam felt a little awkward being in the room while they discussed their father, so he moved toward the garage. “I’ll go check the shed and around the house for signs of the boys.”
He didn’t wait for an answer but went through the access door and pushed the button for the garage door to open. The door slowly lifted in a jerky fashion, the hinges groaning like they were in pain. Or was it the hinges? He turned around. The cellar door was propped open. Splintered wood lay scattered like matchsticks over the cement floor. He bent down and inspected the door. The wood was splintered and cracked along the edge. The padlock Margaret used to secure it was still attached to the latch, but the latch was no longer attached to the broken wood. It lay useless at his feet.
He peered down the stone steps and listened. There it was again. A low moan. Someone in pain. “Handel! Meg! Come quick!” he called, and stepped cautiously downward, pressing one hand against the wall as he descended.
They appeared at the top of the stairs behind him, silhouetted by daylight spilling through the garage door. “There’s somebody down here,” he said in a low voice. He moved slowly into the darkness, and still managed to trip on something. He caught his balance and reached down, grasped a long handle that was attached to a weighted head. A sledgehammer. It was heavy enough to smash a wooden door. He hoped it wasn’t used for anything more.
He looked up. Handel was right behind him. He set the tool upright in the corner and searched for a light. Margaret called from the head of the stairs, “Is it Davy?”
Handel reached out and found the light switch. The barrels, machines, and table were as they were before. Margaret hurried down the steps, unable to wait any longer for an
answer. Another moan. This time they knew it came from the direction of the wine storage cellar. Handel went in first.
“It’s Pablo!” he called out seconds later.
They followed him through the narrow doorway. The boy was propped in the corner, beside the wine storage racks, his hands tied behind his back and a gag stuffed into his mouth, held in place with a piece of duct tape. His eyes were open, wild with terror. He flinched back when Handel bent over him.
“It’s all right, Pablo. No one is going to hurt you. You’re safe now.” Handel gripped his arms and helped him struggle to his feet. “This might hurt though,” he warned before he ripped off the tape.
The boy spit out the cloth, coughing and gulping air. “He took Davy!” he said finally when he caught his breath. “He said to tell you…” he stopped and gritted his teeth.
“It’s okay, Pablo. Take it easy. Take a deep breath and start over.” Handel spoke calmly, his hands on Pablo’s shoulders, making eye contact. “Now, what did he say?”
The boy gulped and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his skinny throat. “I think he said, I mailed a letter to the birds in the old olive tree!”
Margaret bit her bottom lip and swayed like a reed in the wind. Adam caught her and wrapped his arms around her. He held her tight, stroking her hair. “We’ll find him, Meg. We will.”
Pablo’s lower lip trembled as though he was about to cry, failure to remember the exact words weighing him down. Handel untied the boy’s hands and patted his head. “You did great. It’s all right.”
Pablo looked around wildly then and pointed to the far corner of the cellar. “He gave Davy and me drugs. Something bad!” he said, clearly panicked by the memory. “I spit mine out!”
Adam looked behind the barrels and boxes. One half of a large tablet was wedged between two crates. He pushed them apart and picked it up. It was a huge pill, too large for any small boy to swallow hole. “Did you bite this in half?” he asked, worried that the boy might have harmful drugs in his system.
Crushed (The Fredrickson Winery Novels Book 2) Page 12