My knee bounced beneath the desk as I struggled to push my thoughts of inadequacy out of my mind. I could feel the electric buzz crackling deep in my bones. Dawson had me working the crime beat—DUIs, assault, gang related crimes—but the stories were small and boring. Though he never came out and said it himself, I knew Dawson was hoping for me to get my next big break sometime soon, too.
Finally, I closed up shop and headed out the door. Susan had the girls getting together for margaritas at the Rio and that sounded better than just sitting here while not getting anything done.
Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I exited the building and headed for my car when I caught sight of movement out of the corner of my eye.
Glancing to my side, I put on the brakes as I noticed a familiar face lock eyes with me. It had been months since we’d last spoken and I thought we might never see each other again.
“Ginny,” I said with a smile.
“I’m sorry for not calling to schedule a meeting.”
Ginny Morris was wearing jeans and a winter coat. Her eyes were still as sad as I remembered them the last time we spoke. She had aged considerably, and I attributed it to the stress and grief of dealing with the fallout of knowing her son was a cold-hearted killer.
“No, it’s not a problem. It’s good to see you.”
“You too.” She sighed. “Look, I just wanted to say thank you for keeping your word.”
The air grew silent between us and together we shared a solemn look of mutual understanding. Ginny Morris was referring to my story that followed the school shooting. Most of the story was told and published in the paper but the part Dawson had cut, I’d added to my website feeling like it wasn’t complete without being shared. Inside the editorial, I told the harsh truth of the Patriots of God movement Tim got caught up in and how it could have all been prevented if decisions in the past had been made differently. It wasn’t to make any excuses or justification for what he’d done, but to act more as a warning to remain vigilant in the world in which we lived.
“I heard Tim’s funeral went well,” I said.
“It was a peaceful and respectful ceremony.”
“He deserved as much,” I murmured, thinking how Rick went quiet after Susan and her attorney Gregory Kilmartin silently gave them the money donated by Croft without incident.
Ginny’s eyes watered as she turned and looked away. “It gave both Rick and me the proper closure we needed in order to move on ourselves.”
My limbs grew heavy as I stood there in the cold feeling sorry for all she’d been through and what she had lost. I could only imagine the difficulties these last few months must have brought her. It must have been the hardest months of her life, always hearing whispers behind her back, having people glare and think she was the monster her son was.
“Rick didn’t want me to come speak with you, but I know he’s too proud to apologize for the way he acted.”
“I’m glad you did. I’ve been thinking a lot about you two.”
Ginny flashed a weak grin. “Anyway, I better get going.”
I spread my arms, stepped forward. Ginny fell into my chest and wrapped her arms around me tight. Tears popped out of her eyes as she cried. I held her until she was finished. When she stepped away, she wiped at her eyes and gave me one last look before turning on a heel and disappearing around the corner of the big concrete building.
I drove to the center of the city, choking back my own tears. I prayed for the Morrises, hoped that they could find peace within themselves. They had a difficult road ahead and I certainly didn’t envy them.
I was the first to arrive at the Rio and was quickly seated. I ordered my margarita and, by the time I was taking my first sip, both Erin and Susan were stepping through the front door. Shedding their winter coats, they both fell into the booth just as more drinks were served.
“Has anyone talked to Allison?” Susan wrapped her lips around her straw.
Erin rolled her eyes to me. We both shook our heads and shrugged. “I thought you talked to her,” I said.
Susan pinched her brow. “I did. She said she was leaving the office early.”
“Maybe she had other stops before coming here?”
We shrugged it off as no big deal with the expectation that Allison would arrive any minute. As soon as our first plate of appetizers arrived, I was telling Erin how I still didn’t have a story to get excited about.
“It will come,” she assured me.
“What are you looking for?” Susan asked.
I couldn’t admit to them what I really wanted. It was too embarrassing and would only elicit unwanted lectures I wasn’t in the mood to hear. “I don’t know. Something deeper than what I’m currently working.”
“Well, Benjamin has me going to a business conference with him in Boulder.”
I perked up, happy to shift the conversation away from my life. “Are you organizing the event?”
Susan shook her head and laughed. “Not quite. Apparently, he’s reserved a swanky hotel room tucked up against the Flatirons.”
“Romantic,” Erin and I teased.
“I couldn’t resist the offer even if I’ll be subjected to a day of conferences I’m not interested in.”
“Do you have to go?”
“I promised him I would.”
“Geeze, is it really worth it then?” Erin gave Susan a skeptical look.
Susan looked back, wiggling her eyebrows. “Totally worth it.”
We all giggled until our glasses were empty and we were ordering a second. As soon as we were starting on the next round, a woman of about my age with cascading dark hair hesitantly approached our table.
“Excuse me, you’re Samantha Bell, right?”
I peeled my shoulders off the back of the booth and scooted forward. “That’s me.”
“I’ve been following your website.” The woman shifted her gaze to Erin. “And listening to your podcast. I’m a huge fan.”
Erin’s spine straightened. “Thank you.”
Suddenly, Susan’s cellphone started ringing. She excused herself from the table and left us alone with our fan.
“I’ve been reading and listening to your podcast since the Chandler Davis case.” She tilted her head and paused, shifting her feet over the floor as if there was something she had to say but didn’t know how to say it. “Anyway, a friend saw you two here tonight and called to tell me.”
“Is there something we can do for you?”
Her half-mast eyes raised. “I need your help.”
I shared a quick glance to Erin.
“My daughter,” the woman swallowed hard, “vanished after having dinner at my place and no one knows where she is.”
“Have you gone to the police?”
She nodded, clutching her purse like a cat kneading its claws.
“When did this happen?”
“Two nights ago.” The bags beneath her eyes puffed up and swelled like balloons. “I know I should wait for the police to conduct their investigation, but it isn’t like my daughter to just disappear without letting me know where she was.”
“And you would like us to assist?” Erin asked.
“At least look into it.” Her eyes filled with hope. “I know how thorough you two are and thought maybe by speaking to you directly I could win over your sympathy.”
My mind was scrambling to decide whether or not I could help this woman with her interesting request. There wasn’t any harm in at least looking into it. Maybe something was there that I could use to pick me up out of my own personal funk. Before I could respond, Susan was hurrying back to the table with a glimmer of fear shining in her eyes.
“That was Patty O’Neil who just called.” Susan was breathless as she spoke. Her cheeks flushed in sudden panic as she lunged across the booth, reaching for her purse. “Allison collapsed at the office and was rushed to the hospital.”
Erin and I scrambled when gathering our own possessions.
“This is awful,” Susa
n kept saying. “We have to go now.”
I slid out from the booth, stood, and turned to the desperate mother still looking to me for help. Handing her my card, I said, “Send me the details. I’ll see what I can do to help find your daughter.”
Continue the series by reading Bloody Bell. Click here and start reading today!
AUTHOR NOTE:
Thank you for reading BELL HATH NO FURY. If you enjoyed the book and would like to see more Samantha Bell crime thrillers, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. Even a few words would be appreciated and will help persuade what book I will write for you next.
One of the things I love best about writing these mystery thrillers is the opportunity to connect with my readers. It means the world to me that you read my book, but hearing from you is second to none. Your words inspire me to keep creating memorable stories you can't wait to tell your friends about. No matter how you choose to reach out - whether through email, on Facebook, or through an Amazon review - I thank you for taking the time to help spread the word about my books. I couldn't do this without YOU. So, please, keep sending me notes of encouragement and words of wisdom and, in return, I'll continue giving you the best stories I can tell.
About the Author
Waldron lives in Vermont with his wife and two children.
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Bell Hath No Fury Page 28