Hidden Falls

by Newport, Olivia

  “I’ll go with you.” Lauren stood as well.

  “I still need your signature, Lauren.” Cooper slid the papers across the desk. “Can you look this over carefully, please?”

  Sylvia patted her niece’s arm. “Stay and see what else Cooper might need. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Lauren’s eyes widened into a glare. Sylvia allowed herself a close-lipped smile. Lauren had noticed after all.

  10:46 a.m.

  “I’ll walk you out,” he said.

  Lauren looked from Officer Elliott to the door, a distance of about twenty feet. She hardly needed an escort. Before she could protest, though, Cooper was on his feet and cradled her elbow with one hand. The pressure was slight, and Lauren didn’t resist. What was the point? They would be at the door within a few seconds.

  “We have to stop meeting like this,” Cooper said.

  “Believe me, I plan to.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “I mean, well, the questions and reports. I could do without all that.”

  “That’s what I mean, too.” Cooper opened the door and stepped outside with her.

  Lauren wondered just how red her face was at that moment. “So … you’ll call if you find out anything.”

  “Your number’s in the file.”

  “Right.”

  “Despite the circumstances,” he said, “I’m glad we finally met officially. I’ve had my eye on you.”

  She looked at him in her peripheral vision. Lauren had been vaguely aware of Officer Cooper Elliott, but nothing more. She stayed on the right side of the law, and he came to church once every few weeks at best—and only to Sunday morning worship. Why should he have his eye on her?

  “I hope you’ll call soon.” The blush rose through her neck immediately. “I mean—about my aunt’s store. I hope the investigation turns up good news.”

  Lauren pivoted and put distance between herself and Cooper Elliott as rapidly as her feet would take her. Only when she was back on Main Street and turned the corner did she lean against a brick building to blow out her breath before inhaling again. She was twenty-eight and hadn’t been on a real date in so long she was hard-pressed to say when it was. Obviously it hadn’t led anywhere.

  It didn’t matter. Lauren wanted Cooper Elliott to find Quinn or find whoever wrecked Sylvia’s store—preferably both. That’s what mattered. In the meantime, Lauren wasn’t going to sit around doing nothing. In trim khakis and a blue sweater, with stylish but sturdy walking shoes, her apparel was perfectly appropriate for the conversations she intended to have this morning. Sylvia was Quinn’s best friend, but that didn’t mean someone else didn’t know a random bit of information that might explain what kind of emergency Quinn had.

  Principal Miles Devon, for instance. Walking out to the high school wouldn’t take more than twenty minutes.

  Actual time in transit turned out to be seventeen minutes. Lauren headed straight for the administrative offices and presented herself to the secretary. It took another six minutes to talk her way into the principal’s office.

  “What do you hear from your parents?” Miles gestured to a chair where Lauren would be comfortable. “Fishing in Alaska! I can’t imagine how beautiful that must be.”

  “I don’t hear too much,” Lauren said. “Phone reception is spotty up there.” She hadn’t come to discuss her parents’ dream vacation. Lauren explained the purpose of her visit.

  “I don’t think I know anything relevant to your inquiry,” Miles said when she finished.

  “I asked a broad question.” Lauren crossed her legs. The principal’s office had been redecorated since her high school days—quite recently, Lauren thought. The table and chairs were still scratch-free. “What if I get more specific?”

  “Such as?”

  “You hired Quinn, right?”

  “Yes. I don’t see where you’re going.”

  “How did you find him?”

  “He applied. As I recall, we had an unexpected opening less than two weeks before the school year was due to start. His application came with an impeccable recommendation, and we did a couple of phone interviews. When everything checked out, I hired him.”

  “So you hadn’t met him in person?”

  “No, I hadn’t.” Miles cocked his head. “Lauren, where is this leading?”

  “I just want to find Quinn.” Lauren met his gaze. They weren’t student and principal. Forty years apart in age, they both lived and worked in this town in high-profile positions that required some savvy in personal relationships.

  “We all want to find him,” Miles said.

  “What he did was uncharacteristic. Aren’t you curious what kind of emergency would make him behave like that? Something in his past?”

  “Quinn was a very young man when he came to Hidden Falls, just a summer out of college. I don’t suppose he had much personal history.”

  “You’ve known him a long time,” Lauren said. “Surely over the years he must have said something about his past.”

  Miles leaned his chair back on two legs. “Quinn is one of the best teachers I’ve ever seen. Maybe even the best. And other than not taking students on field trips out of the county, he does everything I ask him to do. That’s all I need from him.”

  “He’s your friend, Mr. Devon.”

  “I like to think so. But he’s always been reticent to talk about his background, and it isn’t my business to push.”

  A knock on the door brought the principal’s secretary into the office. “The Barkers are here for their appointment.”

  Lauren’s stomach sank. “Can we talk more later?”

  Miles lifted one shoulder. “I’m always glad to see you. But I don’t know anything about Quinn before he came to Hidden Falls and very little about his personal life since then.”

  As she walked back toward downtown, Lauren made a series of phone calls that led her to the house where Sammie Dunavant was cleaning. Sammie met her out front with her hands still in yellow rubber gloves.

  “I can’t invite you into the house of one of my customers.” Sammie pulled off the gloves.

  “I understand.” Lauren estimated the house was built in the 1950s, an era in between the early stages of downtown Hidden Falls and the upscale building patterns of the last several decades ringing the town’s historic center. “I just want to ask some questions.”

  “Sure. Can’t promise I’ll know the answers.” Sammie sat down on the front step.

  “You clean house for Quinn, don’t you?”

  “I go in every other Tuesday and do the bathrooms, kitchen, and floors. He never asks for much more than that. It only takes a couple of hours.”

  “Were you there last Tuesday?”

  “No. That was an off week.”

  “So you’ll go tomorrow?”

  “I always call to confirm.” Sammie propped her elbows on her knees. “If he doesn’t come home today, I won’t go.”

  “I think,” Lauren said slowly, “that something really serious must have happened to make Quinn leave.”

  “I heard they found his car,” Sammie said.

  “That only makes me more worried.” Lauren adjusted her glasses. “I wondered if you ever saw something around Quinn’s house that would be a clue to an emergency.”

  Sammie stood up quickly. “I’m running a business. I clean. I don’t snoop.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lauren said quickly. “I’m not implying anything. I’m just … you might have seen something and not known what it meant. A stack of papers, an envelope from out of town.”

  “I have to get back to work.” Sammie pulled on one glove and put a hand on the doorknob. “I can’t help you.”

  Sammie disappeared into the house. Lauren kicked a rock down the sidewalk. She was going to have to get better at this.

  Lauren checked her phone three times as she scuffed her way back to town. No missed calls. No voice mails. No text messages. She might as well head to the church and try to get some work done. The details of the h
ealth fair loomed.

  She walked past the Fall Shadows Café, and the wafting aroma exiting with a customer triggered Lauren’s latent appetite. Dinner last night had seemed like too much bother, so she’d dismissed the thought. Neither had she eaten breakfast. Maybe a sandwich and coffee would help her think more clearly. Lauren retraced her last eight steps and entered the café.

  When Gavin looked up, she said, “Can I get a tuna on wheat and a large coffee? To go, please.”

  “How’d it go at the sheriff’s?” Gavin touched the buttons on his cash register screen to enter Lauren’s order.

  “Blessedly brief.” She fished in her bag for her debit card.

  “People are mighty curious.”

  “I can imagine.” Lauren paused before continuing. “Gavin, Quinn comes in here a lot, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s a regular.” Gavin filled a “to go” cup with coffee and snapped on a lid.

  “Maybe you know something about what kind of emergency he might have had.” Lauren swiped her debit card. “Maybe he mentioned a friend in trouble? Some business he needed to take care of.”

  “Nope. Drinks his coffee black, eats eggs Benedict on Saturdays, says hello to everybody, thinks he knows how to spin a good pun.”

  “Well, he is pretty punny.” Lauren cautiously sipped the coffee.

  “Ha. He’s an amateur. Just wait for the joke contest on Saturday.”

  12:59 p.m.

  She was exiting the Fall Shadows Café with coffee in one hand and a small paper sack in the other when Jack spied Lauren. Based on the direction she headed, Our Savior Community Church was her likely destination. Her speed surprised him. Jack had to lengthen his stride to close the gap without looking like he was chasing her.

  “I meant what I said.” Beside her, Jack matched her pace on the sidewalk.

  “What was that?” She didn’t even turn her head to greet him.

  “You might need legal help. You’re bound to be a person of interest.”

  “What?” That got her attention. Her step faltered for half a second. “I’m not a suspect. I’m barely a witness.”

  “You never know.”

  “Jack,” she said, “I’m sure you mean to be helpful, but I didn’t see anything. I certainly didn’t do anything to Quinn or my aunt’s shop.”

  Jack put his hands in his pockets in a practiced casual mannerism and continued walking. “In my experience, it helps to be prepared even if you think it will never happen.”

  She stopped and turned to face him. “Officer Elliott gave me no reason to believe anything except that he needed my statement.”

  “Of course not. He’s a competent officer. He knows he has to have a solid case before he moves forward.” Jack smiled at Lauren’s bewilderment. “But I can help you.”

  “I mean no offense, Jack,” she said, “but Sylvia suggested you look elsewhere to build your practice, and I have to say I agree. I’m sure there are other people in Hidden Falls who need your services.”

  Jack pulled a card out of the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket and handed it to her. “In case you change your mind.”

  She stuck it in her bag. She didn’t drop it into the cavernous abyss but tucked it neatly into a side pocket. He’d gotten to her. In another day, she’d be writing a retainer check. Jack couldn’t bill at the hourly rate he’d charged in Atlanta or Memphis, but a high-profile client would be good for business.

  Lauren glanced across the street. “There’s my aunt now. I want to catch her.”

  Jack didn’t object. He simply followed.

  “Any news?” Lauren asked.

  Sylvia gripped her phone in one hand. “I just talked to Cooper. He says I can get back in the store in a couple of hours.”

  “That’s good news,” Lauren said. “The fingerprint guy came?”

  Jack took one hand out of a pocket and buttoned his jacket again. “You’ll want to be certain the police have been thorough. Once the scene is disturbed, you can’t restore evidence.”

  Sylvia met his eyes. “I have confidence in Cooper Elliott.”

  “Well, I ran into Lauren and reiterated my offer to help, if there’s anything I can do. If the criminal approach doesn’t get you the results you need, we can always go the civil route.”

  “If we discover who did it, you mean.”

  “Right.” Jack produced a cool smile.

  “I don’t think I need a lawyer,” Sylvia said, “but I’m going to need help cleaning up the shop and getting it up and running.”

  “Sounds like a job for Dani Roose,” Lauren said.

  “I’ve been calling her.” Sylvia waved her phone. “This could be several days’ work. But—”

  “Let me guess,” Lauren said. “She’s not answering her phones.”

  “I’ve left messages on both numbers. Multiple times.”

  “She’s probably up at the lake.” Lauren sipped her coffee.

  “Ignoring your phone is an aggravating way to run a business.” Sylvia reached for the sack in Lauren’s hand. “I smell tuna.”

  “Take half.” Lauren released the bag.

  Jack watched the two of them move in synchronized familiarity. They were a lot alike. He could see the family resemblance in their features and gestures, even the timbre of their voices. Either one—preferably both—would make a great client. He would even be willing to handle mundane matters for them to build their confidence in him and be able to count them as clients.

  “Why don’t I drive out to the lake for you?” Jack turned his palms up and brightened his eyes. “Dani has a cabin, right?”

  “Yes, but you don’t have to go to that trouble,” Sylvia said. “Dani will either call me back or I’ll find someone else to do the work.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Jack said. “I would be happy to do it. I’ll just go home and get my car.”

  He didn’t wait for her to decline but reversed his direction and covered the blocks between downtown and his home. Getting on the mayor’s good side would never be a lost effort. Smelling Lauren’s tuna sandwich, though, made Jack hungry. At home he could grab a quick sandwich himself. As Jack let himself in the front door, the house felt empty.

  “Gianna?”

  No answer came. His wife’s absence was not completely unexpected. She stayed on top of shopping and errands and every loose end while the kids were in school so she could be in the house when they came home. Gianna had been the same way when she worked as a paralegal, always anticipating the next step and finding order and logic where no one else did. Any attorney she was assigned to was lucky to have her. If Gianna were an employee, Jack could assign her to dig through the files in his office and be confident she would come up with something that would help build his business. As his wife, though, she would tell him he was wasting his time. So he flipped through the files on his own, pausing to read carefully if something out of the ordinary grabbed his attention. Quinn’s disappearance two nights ago gave Jack a new trail to trace. When he figured out where Quinn had gone, Sylvia Alexander would be in his debt.

  Jack was in the kitchen smearing mustard on two slices of dark rye bread when his wife and youngest daughter burst through the back door. Brooke was in tears, and Gianna’s patience teetered. Her jaw was clamped shut in that way that meant one more wrong comment would break the dam.

  Fresh sobs smashed over Brooke’s face as she ran from the room.

  Jack abandoned his sandwich in the making and looked at Gianna. “Did something happen at school?”

  “She never made it to school.” Gianna tugged off her jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. “This morning I asked her to take Roxie out to do her business one last time, and she let her off the leash.”

  “So the puppy—”

  “Is lost. And she ran in front of a car, which terrified Brooke. I heard the squeal of brakes myself. Apparently Roxie kept running and Brooke lost sight of her. We’ve been looking all morning. I’m glad you’re home. It’s your turn to do som
ething now, Jack.”

  Jack wasn’t sure what Gianna wanted him to do. Comfort Brooke? Promise another puppy? He resumed working on his sandwich, laying deli turkey on one slice of bread and positioning the other on top before picking it up.

  “I’ll talk to her,” he said. “Then I have something on my schedule. I have to meet someone.”

  “Call whoever it is and reschedule.” Gianna opened the fridge, stared for a few seconds, and closed the door without removing anything. “Your daughter needs you. Now is not the time to ignore her.”

  Jack bit into his sandwich. It was just a puppy. They’d only had her a few weeks, and he was sure they could get another one.

  “I’m serious, Jack.” Gianna fixed her eyes on his. “Brooke needs you, and I need you to take a shift looking for the dog. She’ll be hysterical if you don’t.”

  “Fine.” Jack would take Brooke out looking for a few minutes, talk some sense into her, and get his day back on track. He carried his sandwich as he left the kitchen. Brooke was curled tightly on the couch, gripping the dog’s leash and wiping tears.

  “Come on,” Jack said. “We’ll go look a little longer.”

  “We have to look until we find Roxie.” Brooke sat up. “Even if something really bad happened to her, I want to know.”

  Jack chewed. “Do you want something to eat first?”

  “No. Every minute counts.”

  Jack swallowed. “Then let’s go.” He crammed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth.

  “Where will we go?”

  He had no thought. “Where do you think we should go? Which way did Roxie go?”

  “She runs so fast.” Brooke zipped her purple fleece-lined hoodie. “She must have thought it was a game.”

  “She probably saw a bird or a squirrel.”

  They stepped outside the front door.

  “Maybe she’ll come back.” Brooke’s voice trembled with hope. “Dogs do that sometimes, don’t they?”

  “Sometimes.”

  A gray-haired woman power walked toward them on the sidewalk. “Did you find your dog, Brooke?”

  “No, Mrs. Winters. Not yet.”

  “I hope she turns up.” Mrs. Winters charged on down her route. “How do you know that lady?” Jack asked.