Ready, Aim...I Do!: Missing

by Debra Webb

  Maggie touched her dinner companion’s arm and gestured to Victoria and Lucas’s table. The man with Maggie said something to the hostess, then the two of them made their way over.

  “He’s quite handsome,” Victoria said in an aside to Lucas.

  “I’ll take your word for that,” he murmured back, then stood. “Maggie.” Lucas gave her a peck on the cheek.

  Maggie literally beamed. “What a coincidence.”

  “Vinelli’s is my favorite restaurant,” Victoria said. “If you haven’t been here before, you’re going to love it.”

  “Oh.” Maggie pressed a hand to her chest. “Forgive me. This is Slade Keaton.” She turned to the tall, silent man at her side. “Slade, this is Victoria Colby-Camp and her husband, Lucas.”

  Slade nodded to Victoria. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Colby-Camp.”

  Lucas extended his hand. “Keaton.”

  “Mr. Camp.”

  Maybe it was Victoria’s imagination but Maggie’s friend seemed slow to take Lucas’s hand. Once he did, however, they shook firmly. Maybe she was just tired. They’d had a long week at the agency. Closing up shop a couple of hours early had been the least she could do for her staff.

  Victoria studied the man, Slade Keaton, while Maggie and Lucas made small talk. Lucas, she knew, had a soft spot for the hardworking lady. Maggie was utterly charming and quite lovely, with fiery red hair and vibrant green eyes. She and her companion made quite a handsome couple.

  Keaton watched Lucas closely as he spoke. Was it a protective instinct toward his lady? Perhaps, Victoria thought. But something about him didn’t feel quite right to her.

  Keaton suddenly turned his face ever so slightly and smiled at Victoria, as if he’d heard the thought.

  Don’t be foolish. Victoria blamed her suspicions on her state of fatigue. Besides, how was a man supposed to act when introduced to total strangers in the middle of a restaurant when he had obviously come to be seated and served?

  “The hostess is waiting,” he said to Maggie. To Lucas and Victoria, he said, “Enjoy your meal.”

  When the two had moved on to their table, Lucas leaned forward. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen Maggie on a date.”

  “She works so hard,” Victoria agreed. “I’m glad she’s taking some time for herself.”

  Lucas made an agreeable sound, but his attention remained on the couple being seated a few tables away.

  Victoria started to ask Lucas if he’d sensed anything odd about the man but decided against it.

  Tonight was about relaxing, not dissecting the social life of someone as kind as Maggie James.

  Victoria glanced at the man accompanying Maggie once more. He looked directly at her as if he’d felt her gaze on him. A second, then two and three passed before he looked away.

  Odd.

  Victoria banished the idea...but the one thing she had always trusted, besides her husband, of course, was her instincts.

  Funny how they were humming just now.

  Perhaps it would be in Maggie’s best interest if Victoria did a little looking into this Slade Keaton. It wouldn’t hurt and Maggie never had to know.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Lucas said, summoning her from the scheming thoughts.

  “I’m certain you don’t.” Victoria reached for her wine.

  “You’re thinking,” Lucas said, picking up his own glass, “that you might check out Mr. Keaton, just to make sure Maggie isn’t getting herself into any trouble.”

  Victoria tried to keep the guilt out of her expression. It didn’t work. I knew it flashed in Lucas’s eyes. “She’s likely quite lonely. A lonely woman is easy prey.”

  Lucas held up his glass for a toast. “To the most caring and compassionate woman I know.”

  Victoria blushed and clinked her glass against his. “And one who can be somewhat nosy from time to time.”

  “Don’t worry about Maggie,” Lucas assured her. “I’ll look into Keaton myself.”

  “Now who’s being nosy?” Victoria laughed. It felt good after the busy week they’d had.

  “What can I say?” Lucas enjoyed a long swallow of his wine. “I cut my investigative teeth on the CIA. I can’t help myself.”

  Victoria stole a look at the couple in question. “Well, I hope Mr. Keaton is on the up and up.” If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be hiding anything for long. No one could hide a single fact from Lucas Camp when he chose to find the whole story.

  “We’ll soon know.”

  Victoria relaxed. Maggie was in good hands with Lucas providing backup.

  The world needed more men like Lucas Camp.

  Chapter Eight

  Bay Minette, 8:30 p.m.

  Where was Harry? Melissa needed him here. He always made the most confusing or troubling situations better.

  Melissa paced the length of the living room again. She’d been doing that for hours now. Jonathan had tried to calm her but his reassuring words had not helped.

  Floyd Harper was dead. He’d fallen off the overpass on Main Street. It appeared to be an accident, but the chief wouldn’t make an official announcement until the forensics work was completed.

  That Harper was the only witness to Stevie having left town made his sudden death suspicious.

  Chief Talbot had called with word on that awful development an hour ago. He hadn’t wanted Melissa to see it on the news or hear it any other way. Already folks were tying it to Polly’s disappearance. Calling it murder.

  Melissa hugged her middle. Mr. Harper was an alcoholic, that was all too true. But, to her knowledge, he had never hurt a flea. He lived in an old run-down house trailer on the edge of town and spent most of his days liquored up on whatever he could afford. Yet, he never got into trouble. Never bothered anyone. The only time he’d ever spent a night in jail was the time he’d passed out on a park bench and the chief had insisted he sleep it off in a cell so Harper would remember never to do anything like that again.

  How could he have anything to do with Polly’s disappearance? The only connection was that Harper had been the one to confirm Stevie had gotten on that bus to Nashville.

  Melissa raked her fingers through her hair, massaged her skull in an effort to ease the tension there. This just didn’t make sense. Stevie would never hurt Polly. Certainly Mr. Harper wouldn’t. How on earth could this be happening?

  “Tell me again what happened to Price’s family.”

  She turned to Jonathan when he spoke. He sat on the sofa surrounded by old high school yearbooks and family photos that included Stevie. “His mother abandoned him when he was just a kid and his father passed on years later. His father was another Floyd Harper. He couldn’t stay sober, much less take care of a child. Folks around town, my family in particular, picked up his slack. Stevie’s parents weren’t bad people, they just had a lot of bad breaks.”

  Jonathan studied several photos that he’d spread on the coffee table in front of him. “He seems very happy with your family.”

  Exhausted, Melissa sat down on the sofa next to him. Her pulse sped up with the brush of their shoulders. She’d been reacting that way all day. It was ridiculous but she couldn’t suppress her body’s reactions. “Stevie has been like a part of the family since he was a kid.” The theory that he might have taken Polly didn’t make sense. None at all. It was about as far-fetched as the idea that Uncle Harry was having an affair with Carol Talbot. Ridiculous.

  Yet, deep down Melissa understood that Harry had been very lonely since her mother had passed away and she and William had grown up. But Harry just wasn’t the sort of man to do such a thing.

  “Tell me about the chief’s wife,” Jonathan said, as if he’d picked up on Melissa’s last thought. He’d always been able to do that. When they were together, she’d accused him of reading her mind too many times to count.

  “They’ve lived here for as long as I can remember. The chief is preparing for retirement. They bought a place in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. They were suppos
ed to leave already but he doesn’t want to go until this...” she swallowed hard “...is resolved. His wife has never worked outside the home despite having a degree in education.”

  That Jonathan wasn’t letting go the idea that Harry and Carol were having an affair raised Melissa’s hackles. He was right, she realized on an intellectual level, to consider every possibility. Even though this possibility was a waste of time.

  “She planned to teach,” Melissa explained, “but they wanted children first.” She replayed the comments she could recall that her mother had made over the years about the chief and his wife. Most of the ladies in town considered Carol Talbot a bit uppity, but Melissa’s mother had always spoken kindly of her. “I think there were several miscarriages before Carol had a successful pregnancy.”

  Jonathan looked surprised to hear this. “I was under the impression they didn’t have children.”

  “They did,” Melissa explained. “Just one. A little girl. She was born when I was about four.” Dragging up those awful memories sent another stab of misery deep into her chest. “A beautiful little girl. Like her mother.” Carol Talbot was a gorgeous woman. “When she was four she drowned. It was really awful.” Melissa shivered, hugged herself again. “I don’t know how a person gets over something like that.” And she didn’t want to know.

  “I don’t think they do.”

  Melissa searched Jonathan’s face, his eyes. There had always been something he held back from her. That had been part of the problem, she suspected. “You lost someone?” He wouldn’t tell her. She’d asked that question before, but he’d never elaborated on the shadow that hung over his past. They talked about his history to a point, but there was always that place he avoided.

  “You could say that.”

  And that was as far into his past as Jonathan Foley ever allowed her. It shouldn’t bother her all these years later, but somehow it did.

  Jonathan turned his attention back to the photos again. “That’s why the chief isn’t retiring as planned.”

  “Yes. He won’t leave without finding Polly.” The chief wouldn’t leave this investigation up to anyone else. He knew every citizen in this town, some since birth. He wasn’t going anywhere until this was done. Melissa appreciated his loyalty. Calling Jonathan for help was no reflection on the chief’s determination to solve the case. He had gone above and beyond. And he’d found nothing. Chief Talbot could use all the help he could get, whether he wanted it or not.

  In truth, it was that close-knit relationship between the chief and the citizens he protected that worried Melissa. She couldn’t imagine anyone in town being responsible for Polly’s disappearance. Would the chief’s training and years of experience help him to see beyond what he thought he knew to be true?

  “Sometimes,” Jonathan began, “in their grief, people go to extremes they wouldn’t have gone to before to assuage the pain.”

  “Like having affairs.” Melissa knew where he was going with this. “I just can’t see Carol or Harry doing something like that. He and the chief have been friends for most of their lives. They played football together in high school. Harry was the chief’s best man at his and Carol’s wedding.” Melissa hadn’t been born yet, but she’d heard all the stories, seen the photos.

  “Rayburn suggested your uncle and the chief haven’t spoken in years.”

  A frown furrowed across Melissa’s brow. What was Scott up to? He loved stirring trouble, thrived on drama. He never hurt anyone, just kept small-town life interesting. But this was a missing child. Polly, for God’s sake. Setting her frustration aside, she weighed the comment he’d made to Jonathan. “Uncle Harry was always too busy taking care of us to have much of a social life.”

  Melissa tried to think of a time when she’d seen him and the chief together—in any setting—carrying on a conversation. Surely she had. Yet, strangely, she couldn’t recall even one. Scott could very well be putting one and two together and coming up with four. Just because the chief and Harry were busy didn’t mean they weren’t friends anymore. And just because Carol had suffered an agonizing loss didn’t make her an adulteress.

  Still, Melissa recognized that Jonathan had a point. “Carol Talbot shops.” Those same ladies in town who didn’t care for Carol whispered behind their hands about her outrageous shopping sprees. “She goes on big shopping trips, sometimes all the way to New York. She wears only the best. Her home is decorated equally beautifully.” Melissa shrugged. “I guess buying things became her distraction.”

  “Sometimes a distraction works for a while,” Jonathan put forward, “then that person needs something more. Like a drug addiction. When the same old drug doesn’t do the trick anymore, it takes something new and stronger, more daring than the last.”

  He was preaching to the choir. As a nurse, Melissa understood the human psyche. She shook her head. “Maybe. But not with my uncle. He’s not that kind of man. He’d never do that to the chief.” Harry had been like a father to her and to William. He’d sacrificed any thoughts of having his own family to take care of his younger brother’s. A man like that didn’t get involved with another man’s wife. He wouldn’t be that selfish. Melissa refused to believe that for a moment.

  “According to Rayburn,” Jonathan said, despite her wish that he would forget about Scott, “Stevie’s fascination with the children in the community is trouble waiting to happen. Is there any possibility that he has inappropriate feelings for any of the children? Have you watched his interactions closely enough to truly judge that aspect? I’d like you to put your feelings for the man aside. Is it possible?”

  Melissa rose and started pacing again. She didn’t want to think of Stevie in that way. He wasn’t really a man, in that sense. He was a child. Why did someone always have to make every little thing bad? She hated that. “I played with him myself growing up.” She shook her head adamantly. “Stevie doesn’t think that way. I’m as sure of it as I am of anything.”

  “But you were both kids then,” Jonathan reminded her. “What about now? Physically, Stevie’s a man. Think, Melissa.” He pressed her with that deep, deep, penetrating gaze that still haunted her dreams. “Are you absolutely certain Rayburn is wrong?”

  Hesitation and confusion muddied her thinking process. “I don’t know.” She turned away from him and walked to the window. It was dark outside. Nothing to stare at but the moon. “I guess it’s not completely impossible.” She looked over her shoulder at Jonathan. “But I’ve never witnessed anything untoward in Stevie’s behavior in any setting with anyone.” That was the truth. She would stand by that until solid evidence proved otherwise.

  And if she was wrong...

  Don’t let him have started with Polly.

  Not Polly.

  Jonathan joined her at the window. “You don’t want to consider this line of thinking,” he said quietly. “But Harper was the one witness who could place Stevie on that bus and now he’s dead. Stevie has deep affection for Polly and the two went missing the same day. That can’t be coincidence, Melissa. No matter how you look at it—no matter what you think you know—the facts speak for themselves.”

  She closed her eyes, held back the emotions that threatened. He was right. She couldn’t deny his words any longer. After all her family had done for Stevie, surely he wouldn’t have hurt Polly. Yet, on an intellectual level, she knew those very things happened.

  Not to her family...they’d suffered enough already.

  “Tomorrow,” Jonathan said gently, “we’ll confront Rayburn together. I’m certain there is more he didn’t tell me. He seems like the type who won’t want to be one-upped. If you refute his claims, he may spill more than he intends in order to prove you wrong. Any information we gain from him could prove useful.”

  She nodded. “I can do that.” Scott loved being right. And most of the time he was. Just not this time.

  Headlights flashed across the window, then extinguished. Melissa peered through the darkness to determine who had arrived. Her heart rate kic
ked into a faster rhythm. Harry.

  “It’s my uncle.” She turned to Jonathan. “Maybe I should talk to him alone.” Harry hadn’t seemed as enthusiastic about her call to Jonathan as she’d hoped he would be. If she intended to ask him any sensitive questions, he would be most unhappy if she did so in front of Jonathan.

  “I have some calls to make.” Jonathan stepped away from the window. “I’ll be out back if you need me.”

  Melissa resisted the urge to launch into his arms and go with him. She didn’t want to think about these questions, much less ask them. And she was tired. So very tired. She closed her eyes and banished the images of sweet little Polly out there somewhere, alone in the dark.

  Or worse.

  Melissa shuddered. She had to keep herself strong. Polly needed her.

  The front door opened and Harry stepped inside. He didn’t live here but he might as well have. He’d been a part of this family in every sense of the word for Melissa’s entire life.

  Their gazes collided. “Hey.” She couldn’t manage a respectable smile for him, but she tried to infuse hope into her expression. The grim set of his made her heart pound harder. Surely there wasn’t more bad news.

  “I need to talk to you, Melissa.”

  Fear skittered through her veins. “Is there news?” Please, please don’t let it be bad.

  Harry trudged over to a chair and dropped into it. He was showing every day of his fifty-eight years tonight. They were all showing signs of sheer exhaustion and overwhelming misery.

  She sat down on the sofa and clasped her hands in her lap to prevent them from shaking. “What’s wrong?”

  “William is beside himself.” Harry swiped a hand over his face. “He’s torn up over the idea that you and your friend believe Presley had something to do with Polly’s disappearance.”

  Melissa hated that Harry and William were hurt by Jonathan’s questions, but they had to be asked. She had come to terms with that painful fact. Presley was hiding something. There was no doubt in Melissa’s mind.

  “I know Presley would never purposely do anything to hurt Polly,” Melissa explained. “But William’s got to see that something’s wrong with her story. She’s hiding something. Whatever she’s leaving out might be relevant in a way she doesn’t understand.”