If he ever found her.
Elizabeth popped her head around the doorway to the kitchen, wiping flour off her hands onto a green apron. Her expression was somber.
“Find anything?”
“No, haven’t found her.” He gestured up the stairs. “What’s the name of those guys who have the motorcycles?” There had been only one Goldwing parked out front, and he knew there had been two the day before.
“Um. The Primm brothers. I think Andrew is still upstairs, but his brother took off first thing this morning and hasn’t been back yet.”
“Which room?”
“Six,” Elizabeth answered, her eyes wide as she watched James instantly bound up the broad staircase to the second floor.
The knock on the solid wood door was loud and all business, and within seconds a puzzled man with a dark goatee and a white towel wrapped around his damp hair popped his head out. He looked James over for a moment, then asked, “Can I help you?”
James pulled out his badge and flipped open the holder so Primm could see it. “I imagine you’ve heard Mrs. Landon is missing?” At the man’s answering nod, James said, “Well, I’m James Landon and I have a few questions about where you and your brother have been on your motorcycles today. May I come in?”
Primm looked up and down the hallway, then quickly beckoned James inside. Gesturing to the lone chair by the window, he waited until James seated himself before he sat on the bed.
“I am so sorry to hear about Amanda’s disappearance!” Primm said. “Edward and I heard about it and we are just devastated. That girl always did have a nose for trouble.”
James’ eyebrows went up. “You...you know my wife?”
Primm looked surprised. “Yes, didn’t she tell you? We went to high school together ages ago, and when we heard about her success here in Ravenwood Cove, we couldn’t resist making her Inn one of the stops on our bike trip.” He pointed to the towel on his head. “Do you mind?” he asked, and when James said no, he stood up and unwrapped the towel, before setting it on the counter.
“Elizabeth told us the news.”
“Mr. Primm, it seems there’s only one bike outside right now. Where is your brother?”
“Please, call me Andrew.” Primm’s eyes shifted sideways, and all the alarm bells James had developed from years of interrogating witnesses and bad guys began going off in his head. He knew body language, and he knew something wasn’t right.
“Um, he went for a ride today. Thought he’d check out the local landscape, get some time to himself. That kind of thing.”
James stood up. It felt much more comfortable to be face-to-face with someone who was lying to him, and he quickly thought through the possibilities of what he could do to extract the truth from Andrew Primm.
“Elizabeth informed you both?” he asked, but the tone in his voice said he already knew the truth. “The second bike wasn’t here when I showed up to look for Amanda. It was already gone. Now, unless he came back and was there when Elizabeth talked to you about my wife being missing, something in your comments is off. Are you covering up for your actions, Mr. Primm, or for your brother’s?”
He took a single step forward. “Which is it?”
Primm’s face paled, and he shrank backward. “Um, well, what I meant to say was Elizabeth had told me, and then I’d been texting about it nonstop with my brother. We’re both very worried about her being gone.”
“You’re texting with him nonstop?”
Primm bobbed his head quickly. “Yes, I told him everything I know.”
“You know,” James said, his tone casual but his eyes full of the frustration and anger he was feeling, “it’s illegal in this state to text while driving. Now, reading texts is hard enough when someone is driving a car, but when someone’s on a motorcycle it’s practically suicide.”
“Um, he had a speaker in his helmet so he can hear when I text,” Andrew retorted, but his eyes shifted sideways again and James knew a lie when he saw one. He put a heavy hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Let’s see if we can get all this straightened out,” he said, his tone flat and cold. “Go get your wallet. You’re going to get a free ride down to the Ravenwood Cove police station, where we’re going to see what you know about my wife’s disappearance.”
“But I don’t know anything about Amanda’s disappearance,” Primm squeaked, his eyes round with fear. “I barely knew her! We had art class together years ago, and that’s it, I swear!”
“Wallet,” James ordered, and Andrew scooped it up off the dresser and slid it into his pants. He went to grab his keys but James stopped him.
“You won’t need those. We’ll be taking my car.”
“WELL, GEORGE, WHAT do you think?” James asked as the police chief walked into the breakroom. It had been nearly an hour since George Ortiz had kicked James out from the interrogation room. James hadn’t liked it, but it probably had been the best move. His first instinct was just to squeeze Andrew Primm’s slender neck until he gave up every bit of information about Amanda he could. Not the best move, and certainly illegal, but highly effective.
George shrugged. “I’m not sure. His rap sheet came back with three different drug charges in California, and his brother’s has five on it. He’s not telling the truth about what he’s up to here, that’s for sure, but I can’t figure out if he’s wrapped up in Amanda’s kidnapping or not. I’ve sent Endman out to track the brother down. We had Andrew send a text to him, telling him to come in, but so far there’s been no response.” He half-sat, half-leaned on the edge of the table. “And I’ve called over to get Beekman in to question him. Maybe he’ll have better luck than I did.”
“Beekman’s good,” James agreed. He’d known the man ever since Beekman had quit the FBI and joined the sheriff’s office, saying he liked the change of pace. His interrogation style was effective and steeped in all the training he’d had in how to read the veracity of his suspect. “Let me know what you all find out, will ya?”
“You know I will.” George’s voice was sympathetic. “We’ll find her.”
Glancing toward the window, James was silent for a moment. “It’s getting late, George. We’d better find her soon. You know the odds go down with every passing hour.”
George took a deep breath, then blew it out slowly.
“I know, my friend. I know.”
Chapter 11
Amanda desperately looked around the room, blinking back the pain in her head as she tried to think of what to do.
There was almost nothing in the dank basement to help her, and nothing she could reach. With only the cardboard boxes, an old toilet, a workbench, and the crooked pipe she was shackled to, there was no sign of a way out.
She pulled against the ropes on her hands and the cast iron pipe, desperately twisting her fingers as far as she could to loosen the bonds, but Koi had tied them far too tightly.
Whatever she did, she was going to have to do with her hands tied.
The chair.
Maybe she could reach the wooden chair.
Amanda dropped her bound hands to the floor and lay down as flat as she could on the cold, damp cement. She stretched her body as far away from the heavy pipe as possible, wishing she was much taller, as she tried to touch the leg of the wooden chair with her foot.
No luck. She was simply too short.
Ignoring the pain in her aching wrists, she tried again, pulling so hard on the pipe she was worried she’d actually break one the bones in one of her hands in her desperate effort to snag the chair with her toe.
A bit more, and she had it!
With infinite caution, she carefully moved the chair toward her a fraction of an inch at a time, making sure she wouldn’t lose contact between her shoe and the chair leg. Finally, it was close enough she could hook her entire foot around it and drag it toward her. It took some maneuvering to keep the heavy chair from toppling over as she jerked it her way but at least she was able to pull it so it rested directly against th
e cast iron pipe holding her hostage.
With a grunt of effort, she carefully stepped up onto the seat of the chair with one foot, then another, until she was standing upright.
She had one chance, and it was going to take every bit of her strength.
Amanda knew about old plumbing. She had to learn about it because she’d had to deal with it from the first day she’d become the owner of the Ravenwood Inn. Maybe all those visits from her plumber and their talks were finally going to pay off.
One of the things she’d learned was how old pipes were assembled when they were installed. Unlike modern plumbing, which was screwed or sealed together, old cast iron was put together using gravity. A section of pipe would be slightly flared at one end, and the end of the pipe that fit into it would be a bit narrower. To keep them together, traditional plumbers would use tar-covered hemp rope and melted lead to seal the joint. There was no way she’d be strong enough to break the five-inch pipe in front of her, but maybe she could use her knowledge to her advantage.
Keeping one ear out for any sounds of Koi’s return, Amanda slid her hands up the pipe and hugged it to her body, straightening up as tall as she could. It took a bit of maneuvering to wedge her shoulder against the bend in the pipe. She bent her neck a bit, worried she’d hit her head on the low ceiling with brutal force if her plan worked. Then, bracing her feet as squarely as she could on the heavy wooden chair, she pressed her lips together and pushed as hard upward as she possibly could. The chair creaked alarmingly underneath her, and small dark spots danced in front of her eyes as she gave every bit of strength to the tremendous effort of somehow moving the pipe.
Nothing. Several moments of pushing as hard as she could and there was no movement at all.
She sagged downward, gulping in the fetid basement air as she reconsidered her attempt.
Looking around the dark room, she frantically tried to think of some other alternative besides her idea of separating the pipes enough so she could break free.
But there was no other alternative.
She had to make this plan work or die in the basement.
Wrapping her hands as tightly as she could around the pipe, she hugged it to herself and fitted her shoulder into the crook of the pipe again. Saying a silent, heartfelt prayer, she gritted her teeth and pushed with all her might again, pressing upward with every bit of her being, to try to escape.
For Katie.
For James.
For survival.
Her eyes teared up against the effort and searing pain in her shoulder as she used her legs to smash her body against the cast iron.
Suddenly, there was a crack, the smallest of movement, and she gasped in shock as the seam in the heavy pipe popped open. She could see a bit of light where the top curve had pulled away from the vertical pipe beneath it. With her last shred of strength, Amanda pulled her hands up and quickly scraped the rope through the opening in the split second it was there.
Her hands free, she tumbled backward from the force, off the unsteady chair and falling hard onto her back and hip. She grunted as the air whooshed out of her shocked lungs, and closed her eyes against the pain in her shoulder as the top part of the pipe slammed back down into the tube it had been joined to for so many years.
It hurt to fall, oh my, how it hurt.
But she was free.
And she had no time to lose.
First things first. She needed her hands free, whether it was to defend herself or to aid her escape.
She rolled over to the metal workbench, and began opening drawers and scanning the empty pegboard for any sort of tool that could cut the rope binding her wrists.
Nothing.
But she wasn’t going to give up.
She carefully ran a hand down the l-shaped metal leg of the workbench, and when she found what she was looking for, put her hands against the bare metal and began to frantically pull the rope between her wrists up and down against the edge. Little by little, the wound cords of the rope began to fray and pull apart, until finally, mercifully, there was such a small length of rope remaining she could snap it like she would a kite string.
Free!
Amanda felt a surge of incredible hope as she quickly pulled the broken rope off her wrists, then, ignoring the pain, hurried to the bottom of the steps and peered upward.
The TV was still blaring, but after more than a minute of intense listening, she didn’t detect Koi at all.
He might be back in the house, or he might not.
It was worth the risk.
Silently, she started quickly up the stairs, inwardly flinching at every groaning creak the old wood made. She could see into the kitchen.
No sign of Koi.
Taking a last, final breath, she sprinted to the top of the staircase and ran across the kitchen. Popping her head up so she could peer out the tiny window over the kitchen sink, she could see the muddy driveway on the left, illuminated by a single bare bulb on the front porch.
The driveway was empty.
He wasn’t back yet.
Amanda had no idea where she was, but she knew it definitely wasn’t where she wanted to stay.
She grabbed the doorknob on the backdoor with both hands, flung the door open, and sprinted out into the dark, damp night.
Into the unknown, but at least away from being a prisoner.
Chapter 12
Meg plopped the basket of warm raspberry scones down in the middle of the table and shook her blonde head at her grandmother.
“Gram, I know you said you were going to stay in the Inn until Amanda came back, but we’ve got more people coming here just a bit, and we need a chance to get some ideas together. There’s more room here in the coffeehouse than in the parlors at the Inn, and who knows how many folks are going to show up? We’ll probably need the extra space.”
Mrs. Granger shifted on the seat of her walker and rolled her eyes at Meg. “I just don’t want her coming home and not finding anyone there, that’s all. As long as Elizabeth has to stay there for those last two guests, I might as well tag along with you.” She leaned over and plucked one of the buttery scones from the basket, then set it on her plate. “Isn’t there any tea this morning, dear?” she asked, knowing full well there was, and Meg headed back to Cuppa’s front counter to get tea for her grandmother, with real cream and extra sugar.
“How can you eat at a time like this?” Lisa demanded, watching her nephew Sage follow Mrs. Granger’s lead and grab a scone. “Amanda’s out there somewhere, we don’t know who has her, and everyone who’s been out beating the bushes for her has come up empty. We need to do something now; not worry about snacks.”
Sage stopped chewing, his face reflecting his guilt. “Um, how will my not eating help her?” he asked around the crumbs in his mouth. “Amanda likes me, and I like her. If she were here, she’d tell us that she’d want us to eat.” When his aunt gave him the evil eye he swallowed hard and nodded.
“Okay, okay. Business first. What’s everyone doing about Amanda being gone?”
The bell over the popular coffeeshop’s front door chimed, and the Hortman brothers walked in. They nodded at Meg, who was hurrying over with a full teapot for the table, and seated themselves by the front window. Grace TwoHorses and Brian Petrie were having a lively discussion outside with Roy Greeley, their words muffled by the thick glass.
“I’ve put together a list of who’s doing what,” Lisa said, pulling out her phone. She was probably the most organized friend Amanda had, with a logical approach that was alternately frustrating and valuable. As editor of the local paper, the Ravenwood Tide, she knew just about everyone in town, and more than once she’d used her newspaper to help others. This time, to find her best friend, she’d pulled out all the stops, updating the newspaper’s website with the latest info about Amanda, and arranging to have the entire front page of tomorrow’s paper all about Amanda and her disappearance.
“Ivy told me she’s been keeping an ear out at the cafe, and Heinrich i
s, too. We’ve got half of the shops downtown closed so people can knock on doors and talk with people to see if they know anything. Mrs. Bitterman is heading that up. Sage has his entire car club out cruising the backroads and parks.” She stopped and looked up from her phone. “How’s that going?”
Sage shrugged. “So far, nothing. Truman was driving my old Impala and some cop didn’t know him and wanted to ticket him for the loud muffler, but he talked his way out of it because he was searching. Other than that, they haven’t found anything except cops all over the place.” He looked around the table. “I never knew James had so many police as friends.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Mrs. Granger said, spooning more sugar into her tea. “That boy knows just about everyone, and he’s done more for this town than he’ll ever admit.” The old lady had known James since before she’d babysat him in grade school, so if anyone was entitled to call him a boy, it was her.
The bell over the door rang again, and James strode in, his eyebrows knit together in perpetual worry. He automatically wiped his muddy cowboy boots on the floormat and unzipped his dark jacket. A stream of people followed him, friends and neighbors who wanted to hear the latest on what was going on with the search for Amanda and to find out what James knew.
Within minutes the main room of Cuppa was packed full of people, and Tory and Meg were doing their best to keep up with requests at the front pastry counter. James quietly talked to a few folks then sat down on the seat Mrs. Granger had set aside for him.
“Thanks for coming, everybody,” he told the table, and there was an instantaneous chorus of dismissal and support. Finally, James looked around the room. It was packed, with people leaning against the wall when they couldn’t find an open spot to sit.
When James stood up the conversations dropped off immediately.
“Well, we all know why we’re here,” James said, “so I thought I’d pass along what I know and stop any rumors that might be floating around.” He cleared his throat and looked at his boots for a long moment. “You all know that Amanda’s missing and we believe she’s been taken by someone, but we don’t have much beyond that. Her car crashed up on Old Fir road, and her phone was smashed in the process.” He looked up, at the dozens of worried eyes staring back at him. “It looks like someone carried her away from the crash site, but we aren’t sure why yet, or what her condition is.” As he paused for a moment, he felt an ancient, arthritic hand softly slip into his and, looking over, he wasn’t surprised to see Mrs. Granger smiling up at him, even though her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Flora, Fauna, and Foul Play Page 4