by Sandra Brown
“I really would be cold without your coat. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She didn’t want to distract him with conversation, but she was desperate to know what lay in store. “Will you… What will you do?”
“When?”
“When we get there.”
“You’ll see.”
“Can’t you just tell me, so I’ll know what to expect?”
“It won’t be long now.”
Indeed, over the next half mile the steep grade leveled out and they began to pass houses. They were spaced widely apart, but they were the first signs of civilization she had seen in four days. Coming around a bend, the headlights caught a small city limit sign.
She turned to him with surprise. “This isn’t Drakeland.”
“No.”
“Is Drakeland farther on?”
“It’s in the other direction. This road doesn’t go there.”
“I thought you were taking me to Drakeland.”
“What made you think that?”
What had made her think that? He hadn’t told her that was their destination, but since it had been her starting point, she had assumed he would take her back there.
The town through which they were driving now barely qualified as such. It had two caution lights, one at each end of the narrow state road that bisected the town. On one side of it were a bank, a service station, and a double-wide serving as the US Post Office. A café, taxidermy, and general store were on the other side. All were closed for the night.
Emory had anticipated being returned to someplace with lights, activity, people. Batting down a flutter of panic, she asked, “Are you going to leave me here?”
“No.”
His terse response did little to assuage her misgiving.
At the second caution light he turned right, drove two blocks, then turned right again into an alley that ran along the back of a cluster of what appeared to be small businesses and offices.
“What are you doing? Where are we going? Are we meeting someone here?”
“We’re making a quick stop, that’s all.” He pulled up to the back door of a single-story brick structure, turned off the headlights, and cut the engine. “Sit tight for a sec.”
He got out and stepped around to the bed of the pickup. Looking through the rear window, she watched as he raised the lid of a tool box attached to the cab and took out a tire iron with a socket wrench at one end and a sharp, double-pronged hook at the other.
He carried it to the rear delivery door of the office. Before Emory could fully register what he intended to do, he’d done it. He used the tool to pop out the doorknob, including the entire locking mechanism, leaving a neat round hole in the metal.
He came back to the truck and returned the tire iron to the tool box, then opened the passenger door, unbuckled Emory’s seat belt, closed his hand around her biceps, and hauled her out.
“You’re up, Doc. Hustle.”
At first she’d been too dumbfounded to react. Now she did, frantically pulling against his grip on her arm. “What are you doing?”
“Breaking and entering.”
“Why?”
“To steal what’s inside.”
“Are you insane?”
“No.”
“You’re about to commit a felony!”
“Uh-huh.”
His reasonableness astonished her. It terrified her. Crazy people often appeared perfectly sane until they…weren’t. She wet her lips, took quick shallow breaths. “Listen, I’ll give you money. You know, you said I had gobs. I…I’ll give you all you want, just—”
“You think I’m after money? Jesus.”
The man who’d taken a tire iron to a locked door for the purpose of breaking in and stealing actually looked affronted.
“Then why in God’s name—”
“This is a doctor’s office.”
A new light dawned. “Drugs? You want drugs?”
He sighed and propelled her toward the door. “We haven’t got time for this bullshit.”
She dug her heels in. “I won’t be any part of this.” She swung at him with her free fist, but he dodged it. “Let go of me!”
“Quiet!” Gripping both her arms now, he looked around to see if her raised voice had roused anyone, but the alley remained dark except for a lone street light at the end of the alley, and somehow, impossibly, it beamed into his eyes as they bored into hers. “The girl in the pickup?”
“The F-Floyds’ sister?”
“She’s in a bad way and needs your help.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“I’ll explain on the way back.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“We’re going back to help her.”
“I’m not going back.” She tried to push away from him and began struggling again.
“Emory.”
What stilled her wasn’t so much the little shake he gave her but the use of her name and the authority with which he spoke it. “We can stand here arguing and risk getting caught and going to jail, or—”
“You’d go to jail. Not me.”
“Or you can hold to your Hippocratic oath, get in there, and gather up what you’ll need to treat her.”
“I won’t commit a crime.”
“Not even for a good reason?”
“Nothing could compel me.”
“You’ll soon be eating those words.” He pulled her toward the door of the office. “You’re reputed to be a do-gooder. Here’s your chance to do some good.”
Chapter 13
Jeff had watched daylight turn into a short-lived dusk. Darkness fell fast.
He killed time. He wanted to kill Knight and Grange for not keeping him updated as promised. Instead, he’d sat and watched the wall clock tick away the afternoon without a clue of what was happening beyond the sheriff’s office lobby.
As it neared closing time at the clinic in Atlanta, he called the main number.
“This is Jeff Surrey. Are the doctors still there?”
“Oh my God, Mr. Surrey.” The dulcet tones with which the receptionist had answered gave way to a voice that wavered with emotion. “I’ve left you messages asking if there’s been any word about Dr. Charbonneau. We’ve all been sick with worry. Please tell me she’s all right.”
“Let me speak to the doctors, please. Either one.”
“Dr. James is standing right here.”
He heard the receiver being transferred from hand to hand, then, “Jeff?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have much to tell you, Neal. They located Emory’s car early this afternoon. But only her car. That was the last report I got.”
“Hold on. I’m gonna put you on speaker. Everybody wants to hear.”
Jeff could picture the clinic staff clustered around the desk phone as he related what little he knew. “I looked up that national forest on the Internet. It covers thousands of square miles, most of it mountainous, some of it referred to as ‘wilderness.’ The terrain isn’t for the fainthearted.”
“I’ve camped in that area,” the doctor said. “And she’s lost in it? Christ.”
“Fortunately, as you know, Emory is very fit and has incredible stamina.”
“Isn’t it snowing up there and the temperature well below freezing?”
Leave it to Neal James to paint the bleakest picture possible. “Yes, the weather is impeding the search for her.”
Several questions were hurled at him at once. He interrupted them. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything else. The deputies haven’t returned, and they haven’t called in. Or if they have they haven’t spoken to me. It’s been hours since they left, and I’m as much in the dark as you are. It’s frustrating as hell.”
“Do you want me to drive up there?”
The doctor was extending the offer for Emory’s sake, not Jeff’s, and he was glad he had a valid reason to decline it. “There’s nothing you could do. Until I know something conclusive, I’m thinking positive and ho
lding out hope that Emory is all right and simply unable to reach me.”
The clinic staff endorsed that view, but their voices were subdued, a few tearful, as they said their good-byes.
He then called his office and left a voice message for his secretary, telling her only that he had a family emergency and wouldn’t be in again tomorrow. Just as he disconnected, Knight appeared.
When Jeff saw him, his heart skipped. “Emory?”
Shaking his head, he said, “The search continues. I’m sorry.”
He motioned Jeff to join him, and they took the familiar route through the warren of desks in the large squad room. Grange was seated at Knight’s, a cup of coffee cradled between his hands, which looked red and chapped. His cheeks were ruddy with cold.
Jeff took the chair he’d sat in before. “How long have you been back?”
“Only long enough to grab some coffee,” Knight said. “You want a cup?”
Jeff shook his head, then looked back and forth between the two. “For God’s sake, tell me something. Anything. I’ve been dying here.”
Knight scooted aside his coffee mug and picked up a rubber band, which he popped against his fingers. “Sad truth is, Jeff, we don’t know shit about where Emory’s at.”
He looked over at Grange, who gave a solemn nod of confirmation.
“Her car…?”
“Was the only one in a parking area that accesses a scenic overlook and several hiking trails. Those trails branch off every which o’ way, then each one has arteries that go up, down, all around. I wrote down the names of some of the trails. Take a look, see if one sounds familiar.”
Jeff took the sheet of paper Knight passed him and read down the list. “They all sound the same. Indian names. Nothing jumps out at me. The trail she took might be here, but… I’m sorry. I just don’t remember.”
“Well, all of them were being searched till it got dark. Up to that point there’d been no sign of her.”
Jeff let the sheet drift down onto Knight’s desk, then bent his head low and massaged his eye sockets. The two officers gave him several moments to absorb the implications of what they’d told him. Finally he raised his head and dragged his hand down his face. “Her car didn’t provide any clues?”
“It was glazed with a thin layer of ice, covered in snow, but otherwise didn’t seem to have been touched since she left it. No tracks around it either, indicating nobody else has been up there since she parked.”
“What about inside the car? Any sign of a struggle?” He swallowed. “Foul play?”
“That’s the good news. No sign of struggle,” Knight said, smiling at him kindly.
“Thank God.”
“Looked to us like she parked and walked away on her own. No flat tire. She didn’t leave the key, of course, but after the, uh, crime scene guys—”
“Crime scene?”
“We’re treating it as such till we know better. Anyway, after they got finished with the car, we checked it out. It started right up. No engine trouble. In the trunk we found the boots she was wearing on Friday and a duffel bag with an ID tag on it.”
“A gold leather fleur-de-lis with her business card inside.”
Knight nodded.
“She has a set of those,” Jeff said.
“We brought the duffel to the office here and want you to go through it, see if you notice anything unusual. But we already checked inside and saw nothing but normal stuff. Change of clothes, underwear, toiletries.”
“She would have been traveling light. She intended to stay away two nights at the most.”
“There was also a laptop in it,” Grange said.
“She never goes anywhere without that.”
“We can’t crack it without the password. Do you know it?”
“Her mom and dad’s names, only backward.”
Grange jotted down what he spelled out. “They’re waiting on this.” He got up and disappeared down a hallway, where Jeff supposed personnel would begin exploring the contents of Emory’s computer.
“We didn’t find her cell phone.”
He came back around to Knight. “She carries it in a fanny pack when she runs. In case…” He paused on the stammer. “In case she has trouble.”
“Well, she still hasn’t used it. We checked. And it’s not emitting a signal.”
Grange returned and said to Knight, “They’ll let us know.”
“Who’ll let you know what?” Jeff asked.
Grange was characteristically laconic. “Our computer geeks. They’ll let us know if they find anything useful on her laptop.”
Jeff had kept a lid on his frustration for as long as he could. “Meanwhile my wife is still missing. Isn’t anybody actually looking for her?”
“Lots of folks are, Jeff. But it’s dark. The roads up there are damn near impassable, but we’ve got officers driving ’em anyway. Snowfall is a lot heavier up there than it is down here. Tomorrow, if the weather clears, we’ll put up a chopper, but the forecast isn’t promising. The search will continue overland, but that’s slow going because of the terrain. If it’s feasible, we’ll get a canine unit to—”
“Bloody hell.” He stood up and walked away, grinding his fist into his opposite palm. “‘Tomorrow.’ ‘If.’ ‘Canine unit,’ for chrissake.” He stopped pacing and turned back to them. “Where’s this parking lot? How far from here?”
“A piece,” Knight replied.
“Oh, that’s helpful.”
“Jeff, sit down.”
“My ass has grown carbuncles from sitting! I’m going there myself.”
“That wouldn’t be too smart.”
“Oh, while to you smart means getting the password to Emory’s computer?”
Knight sighed. “Criticize our efforts if it makes you feel better, but if you go stumbling around up there, we’d soon need a search party for two people instead of one.”
Jeff stood there, rocking back on his heels, fuming. “What about the FBI?”
“We could pull ’em in, but they’d be doing what we are.”
“Which is precious little.”
“Look, Jeff, I know it seems like nothing’s being done, but—”
“Goddamn right. That’s exactly what it seems like.”
“I understand how frustrating that must be.”
“Like hell you do. Has anybody you love ever gone missing?”
Properly put down, Knight quietly admitted that he hadn’t experienced that misfortune.
“Then don’t pretend to know what I’m feeling right now.”
“Okay, I’ll stop with the banalities if you’ll sit down and let us talk through some things with you.”
Jeff didn’t comply immediately, but ultimately, realizing the futility of having a temper tantrum, he returned to his seat. “Talk through what things?”
“Well,” Knight began, “as I said, it appears that Emory parked and walked away from the car under her own power. No sign of her being assaulted or dragged off, anything like that.”
“Which means that she likely had a mishap in the frigging wilderness. She’s still out there while we sit here where it’s nice and cozy and the coffee’s hot.”
“Could she have met someone?”
“No,” Jeff replied curtly. Then, after a beat, he looked at Grange, who had asked. “Like who?”
“There are marathon clubs. Sometimes the runners train as a group.”
“Emory trains alone.”
“Always?”
“Yes. If she’s a member of a club or something, she’s never mentioned it to me. She doesn’t go to meetings or anything like that. Have you checked with any such clubs?”
“Maryjo did. None had Emory on their membership roster.”
“Then why did you bring it up?”
“Double-checking,” Grange said, remaining unflappable. “It’s unlikely, but Maryjo could have missed one.”
Knight said, “My wife walks every morning with a group of women in the neighborhood. No power wal
k, you understand. More like a stroll that gives them time to gossip about anybody who isn’t walking.” Looking at Jeff, he asked, “You’re sure Emory doesn’t have a running buddy?”
“I’m sure. I don’t know of anyone she would have been meeting. Besides, the reason she came up here on Friday was to be alone.”
“Why did she want to be alone?” Knight asked.
“So she could focus. Running is like therapy to her. She uses it to sort things out, get her head on straight. It’s like…like church to her. It gives her a spiritual high.”
“I’ve heard of that.” Knight looked over at Grange and nodded sagely.
“Still, she must be awfully committed to drive over a hundred miles to train alone on a mountain trail.”
“She challenges herself,” Jeff said. “She sets tough personal goals.”
“Overachiever?”
“And then some. She’s a perfectionist. If she commits to something, it’s forged in steel.”
“Including marriage?”
Grange’s out-of-left-field remarks were beginning to grate on him, and he let it show. “Pardon me?”
Knight, in the tone of a wise grandfather or a priest, asked softly, “Is she faithful to you, Jeff?”
He saw red and shot each of them a glare. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong.”
“What do you think we’re thinking?”
“That Emory rendezvoused with a man up here. That I’m a chump, the last to know that my wife is cheating.”
“Not possible?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“All right,” Knight said. “I warned you that we’d have to ask some tough questions. If you say everything is rosy on the home front, then…” He extended his hands at his sides, letting the gesture speak for itself.
“I didn’t say it was rosy.” Jeff lowered his gaze to the floor, and when he raised his head, both deputies were looking at him expectantly. “Emory and I had a quarrel on Thursday night.”
“The night before she came up here?”
“Yes.”
“Over what?”
“It started out small. I didn’t want her to come up here. I thought the trip was absurdly unnecessary. Why couldn’t she do a distance run closer to home, someplace that didn’t require an overnight stay and which was, frankly, less dangerous? One thing led to another, the argument escalated. Both of us vented some spleen.