Where Danger Hides

by Terry Odell

  Hunt answered, watching her. It was as if he’d heard Dalton’s questions but hadn’t connected them to the man’s presence in the room. “Sure—I mean we have our own opinions about things, and we disagree from time to time, but who doesn’t? I wanted her with me. To be honest, it’s easier to schmooze at social events if you’re a couple. She huffed a little—said I was trying to keep her away from the people who needed help, that I thought they were beneath us—the way my mother did.”

  “Go on,” Dalton said.

  “So, I went alone. And yes, I let her know I wasn’t happy about it.” Hunter stared at the ceiling. “Squeezing money from rich people can be a royal pain.” One corner of his mouth twitched in something between a grin and a sneer. “That’s why they’re rich. They hang onto their money.” He gave a quiet snort. “I should know. I was brought up in that environment.

  “Anyway, in order to meet everyone, you have to start with the two-martini lunch, then afternoon cocktails, pre-dinner drinks, after dinner drinks, and on into the wee hours. I can pace myself, but when you’re trying to cover as much ground as possible in a day, it gets to be a bit much. I called to tell Nancy I was getting a hotel room, and I’d be home Thursday morning. She didn’t answer, but I wasn’t worried.” A grimace crossed his face. “I was three steps beyond buzzed and didn’t think twice about it. Figured she was in the shower, working on something for the center, making friends—anything. It wasn’t unusual.” He choked back a sob. “I should have followed up.”

  Miri reached for him. “You couldn’t know. Don’t blame yourself. We’ll find out what happened.”

  “Right.” Hunt looked from Miri to Dalton again, confusion in his eyes, apparently clicking on the third person in the room. “You’re an investigator?” He rubbed his neck. “How did you know—what made you think—why are you here? I didn’t tell anyone.” He gave Miri an apologetic glance.

  Dalton leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs, his hands clasped between them. “Mr. Sanderson, I’m going to be straight with you. We weren’t coming about Nancy. It’s almost a coincidence we’re here.” He paused, as if waiting for Hunt to question him. When Hunt didn’t respond, Dalton continued.

  “There are people who think this undertaking is a bit off the wall for Andrew Patterson and wonder if there’s more to it than meets the eye. I was working with Miri on a Galloway House issue, and our paths dovetailed. When I was sent here to check things out, I invited Miri along to pay a surprise visit to her sister.”

  Hunt stared into the distance, as if he was trying to assemble a thousand-piece mental jigsaw puzzle. “Check what out?”

  Miri waited for Dalton to explain.

  “Patterson’s project,” Dalton said. “I was sent to make sure it really was a prototype community for migrant workers.”

  Hunt nodded in slow motion. “Right. I got a call. Someone is coming. Tomorrow.” He tugged his hair. “His name is Mr. Drummond.”

  Dalton unclasped his hands and sat up, keeping on a level with Hunt. “There is no Mr. Drummond, Mr. Sanderson, and I’m here tonight. I posed as Drummond when I met with Patterson. It’s a long story, and I apologize for the charade.”

  After another pause, Hunter rubbed his neck again, then worked his shoulders. His posture straightened and some light returned to his eyes. “You’re not investigating me, are you? It’s Patterson?”

  “I said I’d be straight with you, and I meant it. I’m investigating the project. If there’s anything unusual going on, I’ll follow it back wherever it leads. If it’s to you, I’ll have to report it.”

  Miri watched Hunt, waiting for him to bristle at the hint of impropriety. Instead, he nodded like a wise old man on a mountaintop. He stroked his stubbly chin as if it were a full grown beard. “I see.” He rose from the couch, back straight, shoulders square. “I’ll get the coffee.”

  * * * * *

  Dalton followed Sanderson and Miri into the pristine kitchen. Aside from brewing coffee, the man probably hadn’t fixed himself a meal since he realized Nancy was gone. While Sanderson brought cups out of a cabinet next to the sink, Dalton opened the refrigerator.

  “We’ve been on the road awhile,” he said. “Would it be all right if I raided your refrigerator?” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled out a carton of eggs, butter, and milk.

  Miri gave him a nod of understanding and found a bowl and frying pan. “Let me help Dalton. Hunt, why don’t you sit down?” She lowered two slices of bread into the toaster. By the time Dalton cooked the eggs, she’d finished toasting more bread and located plates. From a drawer, she found silverware and set three places at the table.

  Dalton put a plate piled with scrambled eggs and toast in front of Sanderson. If he noticed that his portion was triple the size of Dalton’s or Miri’s, he didn’t say anything. Once he swallowed the first bite, he devoured the rest in silence.

  “Dalton’s a wizard with scrambled eggs, isn’t he?” Miri said when Sanderson finished the last morsel on his plate. “I’ll bet you feel better.”

  To his surprise, Sanderson cleared the table and filled the sink with soapy water.

  “Nancy hates coming home to dirty dishes,” he said. “I hired a housekeeper when I first got here, but her kids were sick, so Nancy gave her the week off.”

  Miri moved to get up, but Dalton stayed her with a hand to her shoulder. He joined Sanderson at the sink, picking up a towel and drying.

  “I have to ask this straight out, Mr. Sanderson. Please don’t take offense,” Dalton said. “You and Nancy—”

  Sanderson responded immediately, as if he anticipated the question. “No. I said it before. We weren’t having marital problems. Coming here was something she wanted.” He wiped the side of his nose with the back of a soapy hand. “She was like a kid again.”

  Dalton tilted his head at Miri, silently asking if she detected anything off in his tone, his words. She shook her head.

  “Good,” he said. “That narrows our search since we can assume she’s not running or hiding. Where have you checked? Have you called anyone? The local cops?”

  Sanderson snorted and spun around, scattering droplets of water. “Sure. The police chief himself came out, off duty, in his fancy clothes and new Lexus. Like I’d called him away from something important. ‘You know, Mr. Sanderson, this was a big change for your wife. Dragging her down here away from all her people. She’s a grown woman, Mr. Sanderson. You can file a report if you insist, Mr. Sanderson, but if it’ll make you rest easier, I suppose I could put a lookout order on her car.’ The whole time he’s eyeing me as if I’m either a wife-beater or a cuckold. The man probably couldn’t find his ass with both hands and a GPS.”

  Miri’s chin dropped and her eyes widened. Maybe she didn’t know Hunter Sanderson as well as she thought.

  “I drove around, looked for her car. Checked the new community center. I called the hospitals, too,” Sanderson said, a trace of relief in his voice. “She hasn’t been admitted anywhere around here.”

  “Could she have been with friends?” he asked. “You said there were some sick kids. Maybe she ended up taking them to the hospital.”

  “She’d have called,” Miri said emphatically.

  Sanderson nodded. “Cell reception around here can be erratic, but if she was anywhere with a land line, she’d have used it if her cell wasn’t working. Besides, she hasn’t had a lot of time to make friends. She talked to some of the workers, trying to get a feel for what they wanted, but we haven’t been here long enough for her to start much socializing.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “This isn’t the luncheon crowd.”

  “So where could she be? What do we do?” Miri looked back and forth between Dalton and Sanderson. “If someone took her, wouldn’t they call? Send a ransom note? She could be lying in a ditch somewhere.”

  Dalton flinched at Miri’s outburst. Sanderson blanched.

  “I should have done more. I . . . God.” He sank to a chair and buried his face in his hands. D
alton gave him the privacy he needed, shaking his head at Miri. She understood his silent admonition and mouthed, “Sorry.”

  Sanderson spoke, his voice muffled through his fingers. “I thought . . . maybe, maybe the chief . . . that there was a grain of truth . . . maybe . . . maybe she was with someone. I hadn’t called her until very late. She could have been angry, gone off to teach me a lesson. I don’t know why. She’s not the vindictive sort. And—” he looked up, red-faced “—and the way I was brought up, we don’t air our little domestic squabbles in public. I convinced myself she’d be back this morning. Then by lunch. When she missed dinner, I started to panic, and that’s when I called Miri.” He turned toward her, pleading and apologetic. “I thought she might have confided in you—told you what she was doing.”

  Dalton took a breath that started at his toes, then slowly blew it out. “Okay, Mr. Sanderson.” He rested his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Hunter. Let’s figure out what we’re going to do.”

  Sanderson dried his hands, folded the towel, and slipped it through the handle on the oven door. “Let me use the john, and I’ll be right back.”

  “She’s in trouble, isn’t she?” Miri whispered after Sanderson left the kitchen. “She and Hunt might disagree about stuff, but they don’t fight. She wouldn’t run away even if they did.”

  Of course not. After a childhood of abandonment, neither sister would leave someone they loved. He almost wished it was a domestic issue. It might make it harder to find Nancy because she wouldn’t want to be found, but she’d be safe. The pain in Miri’s eyes jabbed him in the gut. He enveloped her in a tight embrace, inhaling the scent from her hair.

  “You have to be strong, darlin’. We’re going to deal with this.” He released her and guided her to the living room. “But I’m gonna need some more information.”

  “Like what?”

  He heard Sanderson’s approach. “Later,” he whispered.

  Sanderson sat on the edge of the armchair. Dalton took a seat across from him on the couch, with Miri claiming the other end. Dalton recognized the blank expression on Sanderson’s face. It usually meant someone admitted defeat. When it was one of the bad guys, it was a welcome sight. Now it sent an almost palpable feeling of despair through the room.

  “First thing,” Dalton said, “is to forget anything about pride. No making up stories, no hemming and hawing. She’s missing, you want to find her, and you’ll take help where you can get it. No matter what kind of looks people give you. No matter what they might be thinking.”

  “I understand,” Sanderson said.

  “Okay. Let’s start with your police chief. What’s his name?”

  “McClusky.”

  “First name?” He’d have Zeke run a background check.

  “Al. Not sure if it’s Albert or Alfred. Hell, could be Algernon for all I know. He’s always saying, ‘Call me Al.’”

  “All right. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “The cops aren’t doing anything, are they?” Miri said.

  “I doubt it,” Sanderson said. Bitterness filled his tone.

  “Unfortunately,” Dalton said, “there’s no legal reason the cops are obliged to follow up on a missing adult in good physical and mental health. There’s no law saying a person has to tell anyone when she picks up and leaves, whether it’s for a trip to the grocery store or for good. So even if he’s a jerk, McClusky hasn’t violated the letter of the law.”

  Miri leaned forward, her jaw muscle clenching. “What works to our advantage at Galloway House doesn’t help on this side,” she said. “Most abused women are glad the cops don’t come rushing as soon as they leave.”

  Dalton directed his attention to Sanderson. “I work for a company with a lot of resources,” he said. “I can use some of them.”

  “Of course,” Sanderson said. “Do whatever it takes. I should have done more already.”

  “I have to be honest,” Dalton said. “It’s not going to be cheap.”

  Sanderson didn’t blink. “Whatever it takes.”

  Dalton’s phone trilled. He pulled it from his belt, glanced at the display, then lifted the phone to his ear. “Zeke. Whatcha got?” He frowned at the garbled response. “You’re breaking up, man. Where are you?”

  “It’s this end,” Sanderson said. “Try the front yard by the sycamore tree.”

  He nodded. “Be with you in a second, Zeke.” He opened the front door and stepped onto the drive, almost colliding with a small figure racing toward the house.

  “Whoa, little lady. Take it easy.”

  She sidestepped, as if he was a minor obstacle in her path, and bounded up the stairs. “Miss Nancy,” she called, her voice ragged over her heavy breathing. “Donde esta Miss Nancy?”

  “Hang tight, Zeke.” He opened the front door. “Miri?”

  Chapter 24

  At the sound of her name, Miri jumped from the couch. A girl, not more than twelve, she estimated, raced into the room, sweeping it with a frantic gaze.

  “Carmen. What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.” Hunter was on his feet, gripping the girl’s shoulders, trying to calm her.

  “Roberto.” She gasped for air.

  “Her younger brother,” Hunt explained. “What about Roberto?”

  “He is very sick.” Carmen struggled to get the words and catch her breath at the same time. “Mama. Sent me. Get. Miss Nancy.”

  Miri dashed to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water for the child. Carmen drained the glass, then shook her head. “Mama says Roberto needs the clinic. He coughs so much and has a big fever. Mama can’t wake him. She asks if Miss Nancy can drive.”

  Miri’s instincts waged a battle. Taking the child to a doctor would draw her away from Nancy. “Is there anyone else who could take him?”

  “No. Mama has tried. No one can help.”

  “How far is it to the hospital?” Miri asked.

  “The emergency clinic is about fifteen miles away,” Hunt said. “There’s a small hospital attached, but the nearest major facility is at least an hour from here.”

  Hunt buried his face in his hands. When he looked up, his entire demeanor changed. He was calm, in charge. “Carmen, wait here.” Back straight, he strode into the kitchen.

  Miri crouched to meet Carmen at eye level. “Hi, Carmen. I’m Miri. I’m Nancy’s sister.”

  The girl gave her a nervous smile, her gaze following Hunt.

  Miri took Carmen’s hand and led her to the couch. “Sit for a minute. He’ll be right back.”

  The girl nodded, wide-eyed, but seemed grateful for the shift in responsibility.

  “When did you see Nancy, Carmen?”

  “Two days, I think. Maybe three?” She lowered her eyes. “I am sorry, I do not remember.”

  Miri sat beside the child and held her hands. “Did she tell you anything about what she was doing? Anything she was working on? Anyplace she might be going?”

  Carmen gave her head a rapid shake. “I know she goes to the old center. She asked everyone what we want.” Her eyes lit up. “She said we will have a new center. With many books, like the library. And computers.”

  “Do you like school?” Stupid question. What kid did?

  “Yes,” Carmen said. “Mama says if I finish school, I can have a better life than picking. Only Papa goes to the fields, and he is north. There is more work.”

  Hunt returned and flashed a smile. “Carmen, I called Doctor Gerardo Montero. He’s a good friend of mine. He’s going to go to your house and examine Roberto and decide if he needs to go to the hospital.”

  Carmen stood, her hands clasped at her waist. “Thank you, Señor Sanderson. I must go home, to help Mama.” She walked toward the door.

  “Wait,” Hunt said. “You can’t walk back, not alone. I’ll drive you.” He slid his eyes toward the kitchen, as if willing the phone to ring. “I’ve got my cell, Miri, if someone calls.”

  “I’ll go. You wait here. You said half the time there’s no
decent cell reception. I won’t be long.” She squeezed him in a quick embrace.

  Carmen darted out the door and Miri followed. She passed Dalton as he paced, cell to his ear, under the sycamore tree. Dalton said something into the phone, then lowered it. “What happened?”

  “Her brother’s sick. Hunt called a doctor friend. I’m running Carmen home.” She shooed Carmen toward the Escalade. “Get in the car.” Turning back to Dalton, she said, “I’ve got my cell. Did you find out anything?”

  “Zeke’s working on it.” He traced her jaw, and a warm glow ran through her at the understanding transmitted in his touch.

  “I won’t be long.”

  “Go,” he said. “There’s nothing you can do here.”

  * * * * *

  Wandering the front yard, Dalton focused on Zeke’s words, not Miri.

  “No reports of the Sanderson woman’s car,” Zeke was saying. “Nothing in the local cop shops or county sheriff’s office.”

  “Damn it, Zeke, don’t tell me what you didn’t find. There’s got to be something.”

  “Sorry, man. Nothing on the missing woman. But I did find some murmurs about your Patterson guy.”

  Dalton stopped mid-step. “What?”

  “Seems the contractors he’s hiring have less than a blue ribbon reputation. Although technically, he’s not hiring them, but he owns the company that is. Hobart Construction.”

  “So he’s cutting corners on code? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Chill. I poked around his financial holdings. Found some interesting stuff.”

  “Cut to the chase, Zeke. I’m working on no sleep here.”

  “Some of the companies have legitimate reasons for purchasing large quantities of chemicals used in the production of methamphetamines.”

  Dalton leaned against the sycamore tree. “You’re shittin’ me. Patterson is into drugs?”

  “That’s the easy answer.”

  “Holy crap.”

  “You do have a way with words.”