Roxy had left Sheri’s at nine that evening, and to her surprise had gone home and straight to bed, where she had immediately fallen asleep. She’d slept hard, without dreams, as if her body needed to make up for the previous nights of too little sleep.
She awakened before dawn and went about her usual routine, trying to keep her mind off the fear that simmered inside her.
Monday morning and still no word from Aunt Liz. She knew in her heart, in her very soul, that Liz hadn’t gone off somewhere with a man without making any phone calls to check in with the people she knew would worry about her absence. With each hour that had passed she’d become less convinced that Liz was with Edward Cardell.
The plan for the day was for Roxy to work in the Dollhouse and keep business as usual, then at six that evening she was meeting Sheri and Marlene at their store, the Roadside Stop, and they would split up to hang posters all over town.
It felt odd to be working a day like everything was normal, but Steve had been right when he’d told her the best thing they could all do was try to stick to their routines as much as possible.
She didn’t doubt that he would call her when he had information to impart, and she could always call him to check in when the fear got to be too much for her to handle alone. She’d memorized his cell phone number after he’d given it to her. Oddly enough, the number in her brain was comforting.
But she wasn’t in a big rush to speak to him after her embarrassing breakdown on Saturday. Aunt Liz used to tell her that it was healthy to cry, but Roxy had always seen tears as a sign of weakness.
She had a distinct memory of crying only once during the years she had spent with Ramona, and she’d gotten the beating of her life from Ramona’s current boyfriend for making a scene. She’d never really cried again...until Saturday with Steve.
It was just after six when she went downstairs to find Josie already prepping in the kitchen and Gregory out in one of the dining rooms making sure the tables were set and ready to go for the day’s business.
The room smelled of freshly cooked chicken and savory breads and the sweetness of pastries and cakes. “Marlene has already been here?” she asked when she saw the goodies still in their containers on one of the prep tables.
“You just missed her. She said to tell you she’d see you this evening,” Josie replied. Roxy nodded and grabbed her apron from a hook.
“Are you working here all day?” Josie asked curiously.
“It’s back to business as usual,” Roxy said. “I can’t do anything to help find Aunt Liz, and I can’t just sit around doing nothing, so I’m back to my routine.”
“That’s probably the best thing for you to do,” Josie said, a hint of compassion in her voice.
“Best thing or not, it’s the only thing I know to do at the moment. Has Isaaic Zooker made a delivery yet?”
“Not yet, but he should be here anytime.” Josie began to slice a steaming roast, and Gregory returned to the kitchen to begin making the specialty chicken salad.
Gregory Stillwell was a tall, thin and silent man. Roxy didn’t know much about his personal life, but she knew what she needed to about him—that he was dependable, had a terrific palate and worked seamlessly with Josie.
Roxy got busy cutting the vegetables that would be added to a variety of dishes for the day. She was halfway through the task when a soft knock fell on the back door.
She opened it to see Isaaic Zooker. “I’ve brought your cheese,” he said, his gaze not quite meeting hers.
“And what have you brought for me today?” she asked. She knew the middle-aged Amish man didn’t particularly like her, that he thought her brash and outspoken. But she also had a feeling Isaaic, known in his community by the nickname Cheese Man, found working with the English a necessary evil.
“I brought you cheddar, Colby white, the horseradish cheddar and bacon Swiss.” He plunked a large woven bag on the counter and unloaded the chunks of cheese.
Roxy took the invoice he offered and paid him. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
“He’s the most unpleasant man,” Josie said as she placed one of the chunks of cheese on the electric slicer.
“I imagine he’s quite nice when he’s at home among his own community,” Roxy replied. “He just seems to be uncomfortable conducting business. Right now he’s one of my favorite people for bringing that horseradish cheddar. It will be awesome on a sandwich with the roast beef.”
At precisely seven she opened the restaurant, slightly disappointed that Steve, Jimmy and Frank weren’t there to begin their day. She told herself she should be glad they weren’t having breakfast, that hopefully they were all busy working to find Aunt Liz.
The day flew by, and Roxy stopped at every table to ask the patrons if they had seen Liz since last Friday. A lot of the diners didn’t even know Liz, and those who did know her hadn’t seen her recently.
Other than phone calls from Sheri and Marlene to firm up their plans, her phone didn’t ring. Apparently Steve had nothing to share with her, and she could only assume from his silence that Edward Cardell was still missing, as well.
There was no time for a break; patrons filled the place throughout the day. She saw the faces of both new customers and familiar ones. Roxy was grateful for the business, not only because it meant money coming in, but more so because it made it easier for her to put her worries about Liz on the back burner.
It wasn’t until the last patron had left and she’d flipped the Open sign to Closed that the near-crippling worry came slamming back. She could only hope that the posters would help yield results of some kind.
“Aren’t you supposed to meet your sisters?” Josie asked at five-thirty as she worked next to Roxy, cleaning up the kitchen.
“It only takes me fifteen minutes to get from here to the Roadside Stop,” Roxy replied.
“Go on—get out of here. Gregory and Gus and I can finish the cleanup and lock the doors. Take fifteen minutes to go upstairs and change your shirt. You have mustard on the sleeve of the one you have on.”
Roxy looked at her shirtsleeve, surprised to see the yellow-brown smear. “Okay, I’ll leave this all up to you and I’ll see you in the morning.”
She raced up the stairs with a new purpose as she thought of working with her sisters to do something positive in the search effort.
Minutes later she’d changed into a clean bright yellow T-shirt and jeans and headed out to meet her sisters at the store. As she drove along the highway to reach their place, she noted the wildflowers that spread their beauty along the sides of the asphalt.
Aunt Liz loved spring. It had always been her favorite season. She’d spend hours planting flowers in the gardens in the front of her house and in the back. She’d water and weed, and she loved the feel of the warming earth beneath her fingers. She put in a nice garden each year, but she had yet to get to it this spring. Hopefully she’d be home in time to get it done this year.
Roxy clutched her steering wheel tighter. They had to find her. The four days that she’d been missing felt like a year...like an agonizing eternity.
Once Roxy left the outskirts of Wolf Creek, she turned onto the major highway that would lead toward Harrisburg. She only had to drive about ten miles before she spied the large, low wooden building that boasted a big sign indicating it was the Roadside Stop.
She pulled in and parked. In the distance the Amish settlement was in view, with silos rising up and large barns in pristine white. The houses were modest, surrounded by rich green farmland and pastures. She could see the men working, old and young, their wide-brimmed hats a familiar sight.
The community and Sheri and Marlene’s store were symbiotic; the Amish people provided much of the goods that Sheri and Marlene sold. Signs along the building advertised Amish cheese and furniture, butters and relishes. The store also sold Wolf
Creek souvenirs and travelers’ needs and had so far been more successful than Sheri had ever dreamed it would be when she’d bought the old building three years before.
She and Marlene had planned to own and run the place together, and then Marlene had eloped and moved to Pittsburgh. It had only been since Marlene’s return a year ago that the two had become partners as they’d once planned.
Roxy got out of the car and entered the store, embraced by the scents of fresh-cut wood and herbs, of foodstuff and lemon cleanser.
She ran her hand across the smooth, polished wood of a rocking chair she was sure Abraham Zooker had crafted, and then smiled as she saw Sheri behind the counter.
There was almost nine years’ difference in age between Roxy and her youngest sister, and Roxy definitely felt a maternal kind of love for Sheri.
Maybe part of it was that Sheri was small and dainty, sweet-natured to a fault and never had a bad word to say about anyone. Most of the people from the Amish settlement often stopped in just to visit with Sheri, finding her to be a woman who embraced many of their values, particularly about personal vanity. Sheri rarely wore makeup, unlike Marlene, who always looked as if she was ready to attend a movie premiere.
Sheri smiled at the sight of her and hurried around the counter to give her a quick hug. “Marlene just went to the back room to get the posters and some hammers and nails.”
“Can you get away for a couple of hours?” Roxy asked.
Sheri nodded, her long chestnut brown hair swaying with the movement. “Abe should be here anytime, and he’s going to close up for me tonight.”
Marlene came out of the back room, her arms filled with posters and everything they’d need to hang them. She laid everything on the counter, and for a moment the three of them looked at one of the posters of Liz.
Liz Marcoli was an attractive woman, with brown hair that only went to her ears. It was just beginning to show strands of silver, and her dark eyes always appeared to hold both wisdom and humor.
They’d chosen a photo of her laughing, because that’s how people thought of Liz...always happy, always finding something to laugh about. Roxy desperately hoped she was laughing now. She needed to believe that wherever Liz was at the moment, she was happy and healthy.
“Somebody will find her, won’t they, Roxy?” Sheri asked, her whiskey-brown eyes so solemn, so trusting that Roxy would have the right answer.
“Of course somebody is going to find her. Maybe she hit her head or something and is suffering from some kind of amnesia, wandering around without knowing who she is or where she belongs,” Marlene offered.
“And if that’s the case, it’s possible she ended up by the highway where somebody picked her up and took her to a hospital not around here,” Sheri added.
“And that means somebody will see our posters and call my cell phone to tell me where she was last seen or where she was taken to, and then we’ll just all go get her,” Roxy said with a conviction she hoped was convincing.
“We...we j-just need to get her back where she belongs,” Sheri replied. The faint stutter broke Roxy’s heart as she realized Sheri was obviously more stressed and upset than she appeared.
“We’ll get her back where she belongs, but right now we need to get as many of these posters up as possible before dark,” Marlene said.
They all turned as Abe Windslow came through the door. He was a bear of a man, tall and broad with shoulders as wide as a mountain. Four years ago, at the age of fifty-six, he’d lost his wife, and his two children lived out of state. He’d taken the job of helping Sheri and Marlene at the store to stave off the loneliness of his little cabin in the woods.
He greeted them all and then gazed at the posters with a somber expression. “I hope you get some results,” he said, his gaze lingering on the picture of Liz. “She’s a nice woman. I asked her out once.” He smiled and shook his head. “Turned me down flat, she did.”
“When was this?” Roxy asked in surprise.
His broad shoulders moved up and down in a shrug. “About a year ago. It was no big deal. She’d come in here for a jar of mint jelly, and I asked her if she wanted to have dinner with me sometime. She told me she liked to dine alone, and then the next day brought me a chocolate cake as a consolation prize.” He rubbed his stomach. “I’ve got to say, it was a good consolation prize.”
At any other time the sisters might have laughed, but instead Sheri gave him quick instructions for finishing up the night and then the three women walked outside.
They agreed that the best way to get as many posters hung as possible before dark was to split up. Roxy would take the area around the Dollhouse and the east side of Main Street, Sheri would take the west side of Main Street and Marlene would head into Hershey and hang as many signs as possible there.
They’d have a good two and a half hours before the darkness of another night descended. They divided up the posters, hammers and nails, and then they each got into their cars and headed in different directions.
As Roxy headed back toward the Dollhouse, she thought about Marlene. She knew Aunt Liz had been worried about Marlene since she’d returned to Wolf Creek after her divorce.
It had been bad enough when Marlene had eloped with a man none of them knew very well, and even worse when he’d taken her to live in Pittsburgh. During her two-year marriage she’d only spoken to her family sporadically, and then one day she’d come home, telling them all that she was divorced and didn’t want to speak about her husband or her marriage ever again.
They’d all respected her wishes, but they also saw the changes that had occurred in Marlene. There was a depth of sadness in her beautiful blue eyes that had never been there before.
Roxy just wished her sister would talk to one of them and let them know what had placed that grief in her eyes. She wished Marlene trusted them enough to share whatever heartbreak she carried.
The Dollhouse was surrounded by other businesses, and Roxy parked on the street and began the task of nailing posters on posts, walking into stores and asking if a poster could be placed in the window and then working her way down the block.
Maybe Marlene was right. Maybe there had been some kind of accident, and Aunt Liz had hit her head and was suffering some sort of amnesia.
Then why hadn’t she been taken to a hospital here in Wolf Creek or in Hershey? Roxy had called all the local hospitals and urgent care centers and had come up with nothing. Maybe she had been taken to a hospital farther away.
She wondered if Steve and his partners had checked the hospitals all over the county. If she heard nothing from him tonight, then she’d call him first thing in the morning. She’d been patient all day and had used all the self-control she possessed not to call him.
But tomorrow all bets were off. She needed to know what the detectives and other lawmen were doing, how they were moving the investigation forward. She wanted to know that everything under the moon and sun that could be done was being done.
He would know tomorrow that she and her sisters had done as he suggested when he saw the posters everywhere in town. He might not be too happy that she’d used her own cell phone number as a contact on the posters, but she hadn’t known what other number to use. Besides, she certainly intended to share with him any tips that might come in from the poster blitz.
By eight o’clock her hand and arm ached from the hammering her body was unaccustomed to, and there was no point in stopping in at the shops, as most of them were in the process of being closed for the night.
By the time another half an hour had passed, the shadows of night had begun to fall. Roxy quickened her pace, wanting to get as many posters up as possible before complete nightfall.
Another night of people not being where they were supposed to be. Another night of no answers, a night filled with more fear and anxiety. It was completely dark when Roxy pulled
into her driveway, disheartened emotionally and wearied physically.
As she entered the back door and stepped into the kitchen, the first thing she saw was that the large black trash can hadn’t been emptied into the big Dumpster at the back of the lot outside.
She was tempted just to leave it, but she knew it was full of food that would stink in the morning, and she’d much rather start the day with the trash can empty.
Making a mental note to herself to remind Gus for the hundredth time that this was part of his nightly duties, she grabbed the heavy container and carried it out the back door.
With some effort, she managed to dump the trash into the large bin and then headed back to the house with the empty can. She hated nights. She never had before, but since her aunt wasn’t home where she belonged, Roxy had come to hate the darkness of the nighttime hours.
She’d just reached the back door when she felt something fly by her head and heard a loud thwack in the door woodwork. She barely turned her head and gasped when she saw a knife buried deep into the wood, its odd, cross-shaped hilt shimmering in the light spilling out of the open kitchen door.
What? Her brain refused to work, to make any sense of it. A knife? Where had it come from? Before her mind could fully comprehend it, another knife slammed into the door frame on the other side of her.
She dropped the trash can and fell to the ground in a crouch. Her heart beat so hard she couldn’t draw a breath. Somebody was throwing knives at her! Who? And why?
Tentatively she reached up and twisted the doorknob and opened the door. She crashed inside the restaurant, slammed the door closed and locked it, and then scurried around the corner of the walk-in freezer where nobody could see her if they peered into the window in the door.
Somebody had thrown knives at her, with near-deadly results. Somebody had just tried to kill her. As she remained on the floor, stunned, she waited to hear the breaking of the glass in the door that would indicate whoever was outside was coming in to complete the murder attempt that had been botched by a mere inch.
Cold Case, Hot Accomplice Page 9