by Mary Coley
What harm would there be? It was a creepy old building, but she wanted to see what it looked like inside. Now was her chance.
Her cell phone rang. Mike’s number flashed in the display panel. “Excuse me a minute,” she said. “Hello.”
“I thought you were picking me up.” Mike sounded irritated.
“Hold on a second.” Mandy turned back to the blond man at the top of the steps. “Maybe I’ll take the tour another time, thank you,” she called up to him. “I’ll come back. Really.”
She crossed the intersection and walked toward her car. “Mike, are you okay?”
~ Chapter 19 ~
Mike
“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m sitting here waiting for you. What’s happening?” Mike’s irritation level was peaking. What did she think he was, a dog that would patiently wait for her to pay attention to him?
“To start with, a goon at the library threatened me. Then, this truck followed me to your apartment. Did you see anyone? I debated calling the police.”
He glanced at the street from his seat on a bench in front of the apartment complex. “If anyone came looking for me, I missed them. I walked to the corner deli for a sandwich. You said you’d be here in one hour, not two.”
“I’m sorry. I drove downtown. Thought I’d visit a few shops near the gallery, try to figure out who Jenna intended to visit before she saw the painting. That funeral parlor was interesting. A handsome funeral director could be a possibility. I don’t have anything concrete.”
Sheesh. She’d gone investigating without him. Why? Was she suspicious of him? “Are you coming to get me or not?”
Mandy hesitated.
He could imagine what she was thinking. He was a stranger; he shouldn’t be involved in something so personal.
“Mandy, I thought we were working on this Jenna thing together.” He scratched his forehead, where the bandage irritated his skin.
“The man at the library scared me. I’m afraid you’re going to be hurt even worse if you keep trying to help me. I should go on alone.”
“You’re not serious.” He stood and paced in front of the apartment building. “That could be dangerous. You’re safer if I’m with you.”
“I can’t risk you getting hurt again. You’ve already helped too much.”
“You want to help Jenna. I want to help you help her.” He softened the angry edge he felt. He couldn’t believe she would go on without him.
“Jenna is my best friend. I owe this to her.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know. I’m your friend, aren’t I?” He didn’t like to beg, but he didn’t see much choice at this point.
“You have become a friend, yes, but we’re tied together by our work situation—or we were until I quit. We’ve never seen each other outside of work events.”
Mike had nothing to say to that. It was true, even though he wished it wasn’t.
“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, Mike.”
“I can handle it, Mandy,” he blurted. He had to try a different tactic, get her to listen to him again. “Be honest with me, and with yourself. Why are you willing to risk yourself for Jenna?”
That was a legitimate question, and one he’d like her to answer.
“She was the first person I met at work. She was friendly. I needed that. I needed to feel I fit in.”
“There’s more to it. She isn’t that nice to anybody.” He had let resentment creep into his voice. He hoped Mandy didn’t hear it. Jenna had never even said hello to him.
“My aunt raised me, and she told me how important it is to stick by your friends. She said you should never let a gully open up between you and someone you cared for. I don’t want a gully between me and Jenna.”
“Sounds like your aunt was a sentimental cowgirl,” he scoffed. “Gully?”
“Don’t make fun of me. My aunt had lived through it. She and my mother fought and fell out of touch. My mom and dad died, and she never had a chance to set things straight. She still regrets it. I don’t want to experience that with Jenna.”
“I think I hear violins,” he teased. Surely this sentimental crap wasn’t the only reason she’d become friends with Jenna.
“You’re rude.”
Her voice had changed. He was losing her. “No, really, Mandy. Sisters having a falling out is a lot different than two people who have been friends for a few years breaking off a friendship because one of them goes racing away for who knows why.”
An engine turned over in the background. Mandy’s car. She was on the move again, and she wasn’t going to take him with her.
He had to find out if she had located Jandafar. “What about Jandafar? Are you going to try to find it?”
~ Chapter 20 ~
Mandy
“Probably.” Mandy reached over and opened Natural History of Oklahoma, which still lay on her passenger seat. She thumbed through the pages. A large section of pages divided itself from the rest, and the book fell open. Something was stuck tightly down into the binding. She opened the folded piece of card stock.
With a purple pen, someone had written, “Come to me! It’s been so long. 2 p.m. tomorrow.” The writer had noted an address.
“Are you still there?” Mike asked.
“Uh, Mike, sorry. I’ll have to call you back.” Mandy disconnected.
She reread the note, turned the car off, and retraced her steps down the street.
In front of the old square building, a block past the blackened ruins of Yolanda’s Art gallery, she stopped. The address on the card was the location of Paducka’s Funeral Parlor.
The Greek god funeral director answered the antique button doorbell seconds after she pushed it. “You’ve come back. I knew you would. Come in, please. I’m Adam Hughes.” He extended his hand as she stepped through the doorway.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Mandy Lyons.”
“I think you’re sight-seeing, more than needing my services. Unless I’m reading you wrong,” he said, grinning.
“I’d like to know more about your business.” She took in the carpeted stairs and thick drapes over each door opening. A gleaming wooden floor stretched past the stairs into a dim hallway. Classical music played through an intercom system, and vases of flowers graced tabletops on both sides of the hall, scenting the air. The place had the look of a mansion rather than what it was. “This is a magnificent building. Must take a lot of people to keep your business going.”
His teeth caught the light from the crystal chandelier above them when he smiled. “My brother and I own this building. He and I will be the primaries once we get the business going again. My great uncle purchased it late in life but neglected to develop the business when his health declined.”
Mandy listened with one ear, focused on the mortician’s face. Had this man or his brother written to Jenna? “Are there women on staff? Potential clients—my aunt, for example—might prefer to deal with a woman at such an emotional time.”
Hughes smiled again. “Are you asking about your aunt, or are you wondering about employment?”
She forced a laugh. She’d play along with this angle. “I am between jobs right now, but I do think older ladies like my aunt would want a woman’s support during the funeral planning process.”
“Good enough. I have employment applications in the office. Follow me.” Hughes pushed aside one of the thick burgundy drapes to reveal a door. He opened it and motioned her through.
They strolled down the long hall past several closed doors before he opened one and stepped inside. Gas logs blazed in the fireplace despite the August heat outside. The classical music she’d heard in the foyer was also wired into this room. Unpacked boxes sat on the floor in front of bookcases already full of bound volumes. From the age and condition of the hard covers, many of them would be welcome in an antique bookstore.
Several paintings had been stacked against one wall. The front painting looked like a Thomas Moran landscape, like the beautiful works she’d seen at T
ulsa’s Gilcrease Museum. They couldn’t really be Moran’s, not here in this rundown funeral parlor.
“Ah, you notice art. Shades of the Romantic art movement, mid- to late-19th Century. Moran possibly? Sorry to say, it’s a copy.” Adam Hughes moved a stack of magazines from the seat of a leather wingback chair and motioned for her to sit. “Where did I stash those employment forms?” He opened the middle drawer of a wooden file cabinet behind the desk.
As he searched for the paperwork, he held himself straight, artificially so, as if he were on display.
She shifted on the leather seat and her stomach clenched with the realization that no one knew she was here, all alone with this stranger. Maybe Jenna had been on her way here yesterday afternoon. Hours later, she had disappeared. Mandy stood.
Adam Hughes turned back to her and held out a paper. “Here it is.”
Mandy folded the form and tucked it into her purse. “Thanks. I’ll fill it out and return it soon.”
“Do you have time for a tour? It’s a great old building. The apartments on the third floor haven’t been occupied for a long time, except for the one my great uncle lived in. They’ll become state-of-the-art lofts. Want to see them?” He smiled his dazzling smile again. He was George Clooney handsome.
“Another time. I have an appointment.”
Hughes followed Mandy out of the room and down the hallway.
She glanced inside the only room with an open door. The glass crypt on the display table in the center of the room was illuminated by a crystal chandelier. Goosebumps broke out on her arms.
She jumped when a hand touched her shoulder.
“We plan to carry unique caskets. That’s a crypt from our crystal line. They’re used mostly in family mausoleums. Ever seen one before?”
“No.” Mandy’s heart thumped. Had Jenna been here? Had she seen this after, or before, the painting? Her breath caught in her throat.
“Let me show you the unique features.” He stepped past her and into the room. Lamps blazed and the chandelier brightened.
“I’ll pass.” She hurried away from him to the hall door and shoved aside the drape.
“I’ll see you out,” Adam Hughes called from behind her.
“I can find my way.” Mandy crossed the foyer to the front door. She couldn’t get outside fast enough.
“Hope to see you again. I think my brother will agree the business needs a woman’s touch, an emotional élan. Thanks for coming by.” He called to her from the entry.
Mandy didn’t look back. She stopped herself from taking the steps two at a time and charging across the street before looking both ways for traffic. She raced to her car, slid in and locked the doors. Her hands trembled.
The room at Paducka’s Funeral Parlor could have been the setting for the painting of Jenna screaming, trapped in the glass crypt.
~ Chapter 21 ~
Mandy
Mandy thumbed through the bills in the cash pocket of her wallet. She had $33 in bills, about two dollars in change, her ATM card, and her MasterCard. And she was on her way to southwestern Oklahoma, 200 miles away.
No one on the planet had any idea where she was going, except maybe Mike. Will would have no idea where to look for her. Should she call him? He had already threatened to return early, told her what an idiot she was for pursuing this. He was going to be mad when she returned, even if she made it back before he did.
She pushed his name on the dashboard Bluetooth phone display. His voice message played after three rings, and the beep sounded.
“I’m sure you’re in a meeting, honey. Things have gotten weird here. I can’t get hold of Sean. Their house was emptied by movers this morning. Some goon threatened me in the library. I think I’ve figured out where and what Jandafar is. It’s a B&B in southwestern Oklahoma, used to be a guest ranch. I think maybe Jenna vacationed there as a teenager with her parents. Something happened, and I’m going to go find out what. I’ll call you later this evening from Medicine Park. It’ll be late.”
She chose her next words carefully. “I know you’re disappointed in me. But I think Jenna’s in serious trouble. I’ve got to help if I can. Hopefully, it’ll all be over by the time you get back on Sunday. Love you. Talk to you soon.”
She disconnected. Her phone battery indicator hovered in the red zone. She didn’t want to be without that lifeline, and she plugged her phone into the car charger.
Mandy knew she was doing the right thing, but Will might not see it that way. He was protective of her. Their relationship had become serious, even though neither of them had wanted anything serious at the beginning. Did he love her enough to get over his disappointment that she had gone against his wishes?
Mandy stopped at her apartment to get the dog, clothes, and a few necessities from the bathroom, then at a nearby QuikTrip to grab a small bag of dog food. She merged onto I-44, the Turner Turnpike, and headed southwest toward Oklahoma City and eventually Lawton and the Wichita Mountains. She hadn’t been to that part of the state in years, but the first 90 miles of the journey through forested eastern Oklahoma was rote.
The interstate passed over hills and into valleys, all of them lush with green pastures or covered with forest trees of oak and ash. Cattle and horses grazed in the pastoral setting. The dog remained curled in the passenger seat, his head on the center console, his eyes watchful.
An hour and a half later, she drove through Oklahoma City, navigating crisscrossing highways to get on another turnpike that would take her to the southwestern corner of the state. At a gas station, she studied the map she kept in the glovebox. She could have used the Map feature on her phone, but she liked seeing the names of all the small towns just off the highway, towns like the ones where her parents had grown up. Back on the road, the turnpike stretched to the straight blue horizon. The temperature had risen into the nineties, much more typical for late August weather than the previous gloomy days.
An hour later, the dropping sun hung low enough that she flipped down the sun visor. Her stomach rumbled, and the gas gauge showed only a quarter of a tank. When she reached Lawton, she stopped at a truck stop with a Subway deli located inside. A sandwich and potato chips were as much as she could afford until she could find an ATM.
Mandy walked the dog in a grassy area to do his business, gave him water, and slid back into the car. Her cell phone rang.
“Where are you?” Will demanded.
“Lawton,” she said. She didn’t give him time to respond. “I think Jandafar may be somewhere northwest of here, near the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge. I know it’s crazy, Will. But I’m worried about Jenna.”
Will was silent on the other end of the line. She waited.
“I can’t believe you’re going ahead with this,” he finally said. “You may be putting yourself in danger, and yet you don’t know for certain anything has happened to Jenna.”
“It seems that way. But I have this feeling she’s in trouble, and the only one to help is me.”
“I don’t want you to go on alone, Mandy. I’m coming home.”
“But I don’t want you to miss your meeting. It’s too important.” He had told her his future with the company hinged on this meeting. A lot of the upper execs were there, and his presentation could earn him a promotion.
“It is. But so are you. Don’t you understand what you’re putting me through right now? If I must pick between you and my job, I pick you.”
She sucked in a quick breath. She’d been waiting to hear those words. Why did he have to say them now? She bit her lip. “I’m doing this on my own, Will. You don’t have to be here. I can find Jandafar. I can get the local police involved. I won’t do it alone, I promise. I’ll probably be in Tulsa by the time you are on Sunday.”
“What if it’s not that easy? What if you don’t find Jenna, or any trace of her?”
Mandy didn’t want to think about that. She had to find Jenna. Hadn’t her message said, “by Saturday”? It was late Wednesday. She started the car. “I n
eed to get back on the road again, honey. I’ll call you when I get settled in a motel tonight.”
Will didn’t respond.
“Are you there? I said—”
“I heard what you said. Please don’t do this.”
“I love you, Will. Talk to you later.” She disconnected.
In the sky, the wispy clouds had turned pink and deep rose. She drove toward Medicine Park. The sky glowed, bathing the road and the surrounding farmland in golden twilight. Her stomach felt hollow despite her recent dinner. Will was mad at her.
Headlights gleamed in her rear-view mirror. A big sedan had crept up behind and was now only a few feet from her rear bumper. Her heart skipped. A truck coming from the opposite way came too close to the center line, and she jerked the wheel to the right, afraid the driver was navigating into her lane. The shoulder of the highway buzzed under her right tires; she corrected, pulling back into her lane. The sedan behind her accelerated into the passing lane, honking. She took her foot off the accelerator. Thank God the guy was moving on. She didn’t want him on her tail as she drove these last few snaky miles.
The car completed the pass and returned to her lane. Brake lights glowed red, and the vehicle’s speed dropped below the posted speed limit.
Now the driver wanted her to pass. Another car was behind her, hugging her rear bumper. A line of traffic came towards her in the opposite lane of the two-lane road. The car honked. She raised a hand in exasperation. The sedan in front slowed even more. Her speedometer read 50 mph. She tapped the horn. Brake lights glowed.
There was an opening in the oncoming traffic. She put on the turn signal and started to pull out. A horn blared. The car behind was attempting to pass. She jerked the wheel and got behind the slow sedan again.
Another opportunity to pass the car opened. The next oncoming vehicle, a semi, topped a hill a mile away. She pressed the accelerator and started to pass. The sedan sped up. She accelerated, and the other car matched her speed.