Cut and Run

by Fern Michaels

  “That’s not good enough,” Nikki said. “I think we should go down to the war room right now, talk this out, and form a plan, a mission if you like that word better, to find Annie. Three months, ninety days, is simply too long for us to believe that nothing is wrong. If I were missing for that long, I would expect the rest of you to be doing everything in your power to make sure that nothing was amiss.

  “If Annie turns on us for interfering, that’s something we’ll have to live with. And I don’t care if it’s Christmas Eve or not. Something is definitely wrong. I can feel it. That’s my personal opinion, to be sure, but I think the rest of you feel the same way I do.”

  The mad scramble from the table stunned Charles as the Sisters and Brothers beelined from the room. Charles looked at the half-eaten food on Myra’s heirloom dinner plates, at the beautiful crimson poinsettia centerpiece, compliments of Yoko and Harry. He turned to Fergus, and carefully said, “Are you certain, Ferg, that you have no clue where Annie might have gone?” It was a question he’d asked hundreds of times since Annie’s departure.

  Fergus responded the same way he’d responded the previous hundreds of times. “I’m sure, mate. As Jack always says, I did not see this coming. I checked with the airport to see if I could find out where she took the Gulfstream. New York. Once she left there, they must have changed their flight plan. I doubt that even Avery can find out where that plane landed. For all we know, her plane could be hangared at some private airport, and she could have flown commercial to her destination. Knowing Annie, if she doesn’t want to be found, she will not be found.

  “As of this morning, the Gulfstream has still not returned from wherever it flew. It’s the very first thing I check every morning. That plane is wherever she is or stashed somewhere else. Her pilot is off the grid and doesn’t answer calls or texts.

  “By the way, Charles, I want to thank you again for allowing me to stay here. I would have lost my mind staying at the farm by myself.”

  “No problem, glad to have you. We need to go down to the war room, Ferg.”

  Fergus waved his hand over the table as much as to say, what about all of this?

  “The hell with it,” Charles said, heaving himself up and out of his chair. Fergus blinked but followed suit.

  Charles looked around at the chaos in the war room, where Lady Justice prevailed on the monster screen hanging from the rafters. He wished he’d stayed upstairs. From the expression on Ferg’s face, it looked as if he felt the same way. It was pure bedlam, with the girls snapping and snarling at one another as they pointed to Annie’s empty chair. “Someone needs to sit in that chair!” Nikki bellowed.

  “That’s Annie’s chair,” Dennis West bleated. “It would be sacrilegious to sit in it!”

  When he entered the room and saw what was taking place, Charles let loose a loud, shrill whistle. The room went silent immediately.

  “You all sound like a gaggle of squalling cats. All this noise and bedlam will get us nowhere. Let’s all quiet down and start acting like the responsible adults we allegedly are,” Charles said.

  When Charles was satisfied that he had everyone’s attention, he cleared his throat. “It is obvious to all of us that we have a crisis on hand with one of our own. And we need to deal with it. I have to wonder, though, why you all waited for tonight, Christmas Eve, to rear up and act like a pack of ten-year-old brats.”

  “It was the empty chair at dinner, dear,” Myra said. “I think it hit all of us at the same time. Annie always loved Christmas.”

  “Why did you just use the past tense?” Maggie barked. “Do you know something the rest of us don’t know? Well?” Maggie barked again.

  Myra just shrugged, her face a mask of sadness. “I know what you all know, which is absolutely nothing.”

  Jack stood up and held up both hands to show he wanted everyone’s attention. “Let me start off with saying this. Do not let your emotions cloud the issue. We all feel the same way about Annie. That’s a given. We need to think and act like this is a mission. Feelings, no matter how strong they are, have to be set aside. First things first. We all need to recognize and realize that Annie left of her own free will. Second, if she wanted us to know what was going on, she would have called us. She knows that all of us, and I stress all of us, would have stopped whatever we were doing and rushed to her aid. Third, the fact that she did not do that tells us whatever happened is something she considers personal and private, something that she did not want to share with us. I, for one, do not have a clue as to what that would be.

  “Fourth, she used subterfuge to keep us from learning where she was going. I’m talking about her private plane. I don’t know much about aviation and planes, but I don’t think it’s all that easy to hide a giant Gulfstream. Which raises the question, why the need to hide the plane?

  “Fifth, Annie’s pilot and hostess are incommunicado. Obviously on Annie’s orders. That tells us that Annie does not want to be found, and she does not want any interference from any of us.”

  “So, then what are we supposed to do, Jack?” Ted asked.

  “That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it?” Jack growled.

  “I don’t care what anyone says, three months is way too long for Annie not to be in touch with us. She loves us all the way we love her. She wouldn’t knowingly put us through all this angst if she could help it. I believe that heart and soul,” Maggie said, passion ringing in her voice. The others agreed by smacking their hands on the table to show their support for Maggie’s proposition.

  “You’re saying we should throw caution to the wind and go full bore, is that what you’re saying?” Charles asked. “Even knowing if we’re wrong we’ll all face Annie’s wrath at some point.”

  “Damn straight,” Kathryn said.

  Charles’s eyes sparked as they settled on his beloved. “Then let’s get to it, people. Ferg, call Avery now. Tell him to come here immediately. I know for a fact he’s alone even though we invited him for Christmas. He told me that he wanted to sleep through the holiday. He’s registered at the Hay-Adams because he likes their Christmas decorations. He can be here in no more than an hour.”

  “Where should we start?” Nikki asked.

  Everyone focused on Myra, who had tears in her eyes.

  Charles’s voice was sweet and gentle when he said, “Myra, you’ve known Annie since you were babies in nappies. Tell us about everything you know about Annie. Even if it pains you and you have to share secrets. We need all the help we can get if we’re to help her.”

  * * *

  The sun was creeping over the horizon when Myra Rutledge yanked at the zipper on her travel bag. She looked around, not knowing what it was that she was looking for. Charles? She sniffed and smelled the aroma of Charles’s special coffee blend wafting up to the second floor. She spun around when she heard her husband enter the bedroom.

  “Anything I can do?”

  “I wish there was, Charles. Truly I do, but no.”

  “Can I ask where you’re going, old girl?”

  Myra smiled ruefully. “The only place I can think of. Spain. The mountain. I should have done this three months ago. Why didn’t I, Charles?”

  “Because you know Annie better than anyone on earth. You were respecting what you perceived to be her wishes. In so many ways, Annie is a private person, and in so many other ways, she’s an open book. You were trying to be the friend you are and always have been. I knew when we went to bed last night that this was what you were going to do. You see, old girl, I know you as well as you know Annie.”

  “The girls are going to be upset with me,” Myra whispered.

  “Yes, they will be upset. But, having said that, they will understand. Are you flying first class?”

  “No, first class was sold out. It doesn’t matter. I booked on short notice, just a few hours ago to be precise. I didn’t sleep much last night. Maybe I’ll sleep on the flight. I’m scared, Charles,” Myra said, stepping into his arms. “Truly
I am. What if Annie isn’t on the mountain? What if something happened to her, and we never find out? She did say she was never ever going back to the mountain. She was so firm about that.

  “Actually, it was more than that. Much more. It was a promise. Annie never ever makes a promise she can’t keep. That’s why I think she’s gone there. She thinks we’ll never look there because of that promise. Whatever happened has something to do with that damn mountain. I feel it in every pore of my body. But what if I’m wrong? What if I’m wrong, Charles?” Myra cried, wiping at her eyes.

  “Then, my dear, you will deal with it like you deal with everything else. Do you want me to go with you? I can be ready in ten minutes. Fergus can watch the dogs.”

  Myra squeezed her arms around her husband. “I appreciate the offer, Charles, but this is something I have to do on my own. I’m not sure why that is, it just is.”

  “Can I at least drive you to the airport?”

  “Yes, dear, you can. I was going to take the farm truck and leave it at the long-term lot.”

  “Let me wake Fergus, and we’ll get this show on the road. Do you have time for coffee and a sticky bun? I baked some when I first got up.”

  Myra looked at her watch. “Sorry, no, we’ll be cutting it close as it is. I’ll make us both a cup to go. Two sticky buns for you and one for me. I’m so glad you aren’t upset with me. I mean, I know you are, and you are just trying to . . . to . . . never mind. I have to do this, that’s the bottom line.”

  “I know, love, I know. Don’t fret now. Go down and fix our coffee while I roust Ferg. Now if anyone is going to be upset, it’s Ferg. Count on it. I’ll fetch your bag.”

  Myra waved her arm as she rushed to the back stairway that would take her down to the kitchen. Once there, she moved quickly, pouring coffee into two thermos containers and wrapping the sticky buns in wax paper. She took a moment to savor the rich smell of cinnamon before she looked down at the dogs, who were staring up at her as if they knew exactly what was going on.

  “I won’t be gone too long. This is important and something I have to do. You know I’m leaving you in good hands.” Tears blurred Myra’s eyes as she bent down to cup Lady’s face in her hands. The pups whined softly as they clustered around their mistress’s legs for a comforting pat to the head. She did her best to hug them all just as Charles and Fergus galloped down the stairs.

  Myra took one look at the misery etched on Fergus’s face and wanted to cry. “If she’s there, Fergus, I will bring her home. That’s a promise.”

  Fergus licked at his dry lips as his fingers raked through his sparse bed hair. All he could do was nod before he made shooing motions with his hands, indicating they should leave.

  Five minutes later, Charles blasted through the gate, which wasn’t fully open. He saw Myra flinch as the monster gate scraped the shiny black Mercedes. “It can be fixed, don’t worry about it, Charles. I hate to say this, but you’re going to have to speed, so be careful. I don’t want to miss my flight.”

  “Trust me, love. I will get you there on time. I’ve never failed you, have I?” Myra didn’t think that statement deserved a reply, so she just stared out the window at the beginning of a new day, a new day she wouldn’t be sharing with her husband. She did her best to ignore the tight knot forming in her stomach. I’m coming, Annie, I’m coming.

  Charles was as good as his word. Myra made her flight with under five minutes to spare. She was one of the last to board the flight. She was breathless and light-headed when she settled into her seat and buckled up. She leaned back and closed her eyes. I’m coming, Annie. I’m coming.

  Chapter 2

  The hostess’s voice woke Myra with a start. She blinked and quickly buckled her seat belt. She was here. She blinked again, wondering how she could feel so tired when she had just woken up. Stress. She stifled a yawn, checked her watch, which she had set six hours ahead when she boarded the flight at Reagan National Airport back in D.C.

  Myra could feel the plane descending. This was the part of flying that she hated. I’m coming, Annie. I might not get to you tonight, but by tomorrow we’ll be face-to-face.

  Myra wished she’d woken earlier so she could have splashed some cool water on her face. Her skin felt dry and parched. She looked around for the water bottle that had been at her side. It was gone. Obviously the hostess had removed it while she slept. A tired sigh escaped her lips as her gaze dropped to her watch. She’d traveled 4,044 miles. She’d been on this plane for almost nine hours. She’d picked at three meals, nibbled on six snacks and sipped at four tiny bottles of water. Yet she still felt parched. She also itched.

  Myra squeezed her eyes shut as the wheels touched down on the runway. She hated this part of any flight just like she hated the actual descent. Actually, she loved and hated it. Loved that she’d reached her destination safe and sound, but hated knowing that this was the moment a tire could blow out and cause the plane to careen off the runway.

  Twenty minutes later, Myra found herself following the crowd and looking for someone in cleric attire who would be looking for her. She saw the young padre near the baggage carousel. He was holding a placard high in the air. Myra waved. She was rewarded with a wide, toothy smile as the cleric shouldered his way toward her.

  “Mrs. Rutledge! I am Padre Tomás Diaz. Please, call me Tomás.”

  Myra held out her hand and smiled. “Only if you call me Myra. I just have one small bag. Thank you for meeting me on such short notice and at this hour of the evening.”

  They made small talk about her flight, the weather, the time change as they waited for Myra’s bag to pop up out of the chute. Myra pointed to her beige plaid bag. The padre reached his long arm forward. Myra couldn’t help but notice the frayed cuffs of his suit jacket.

  “Follow me, Señ . . . Myra. I was fortunate in finding a parking space right in front.” He smiled ruefully as he pointed to his collar. “It comes in handy sometimes. We have an hour’s drive ahead of us. Unfortunately, Padre Mendoza will not be awake to welcome you. He retires early these days.”

  “Is he not well?”

  “His health is fine, thanks to Countess de Silva. As Padre puts it, his old bones are deteriorating faster than his mind. My bishop sent me here to help out. That’s another way of saying I do the heavy lifting. Padre Mendoza works with the children, teaching them their catechism and playing the organ while they sing. He spends a good part of each day sleeping if he is not praying in the chapel. He deserves the rest.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. The countess has spoken of him more times than I can remember and always with love and respect.” The young padre nodded as he settled Myra’s bag in the back of his rusty pickup truck, which smelled like chicken poop.

  “We have a truck like this at the farm,” Myra said, and giggled. “Can we take just a moment? I want to call my husband to let him know I arrived safely.” Myra looked down at her cell phone to see she had no bars. “Oh, dear, I forgot to charge the phone before I left. By any chance do you have a cell phone, Tomás?” She knew she could pull out the special phone she carried, the one that all the Sisters had, but something cautioned her not to do it.

  “I do, but it won’t help you. It is just for local use. Our cell phone use in the village is not what you are used to. Our cell towers are fitful at best.

  “Now, about this truck. It runs, in case you are worried. It will get us to the parish house safe and sound. The countess ordered three new trucks for the village, but they have not arrived as yet. Customs, so much paperwork, and Padre Mendoza tends to ignore the mail. I believe the trucks arrived at the port, but when he didn’t respond, they were sent somewhere else. We use the trucks to transport our pomegranates, figs, jujubes, and citrus fruits to the bigger cities. It’s how the village survives, with the countess’s help. God always provides, one way or another,” he said happily.

  “Fasten your seat belt. We’re going to be traveling over some cart tracks. But I am a good driver, so you will be completel
y safe.”

  “I’m not worried, Padre Tomás. Tell me, when did you see the countess last? By the way, your English is very good.” Myra asked her question as she looked around at the crowds of people. Did everyone travel at night? she wondered.

  “Padre Mendoza told me when I arrived that the only thing the countess asked for in return for her help, and that was that all the children, everyone actually, learn English. She hired a teacher from Madrid to come here, and the teacher is still with us. I’m sorry the windows do not go up and down. We try not to drive if it is raining,” he joked. “But to answer your question, I have never met the countess. I only know what Padre Mendoza saw fit to share with me, which is basically nothing. He guards his relationship with the countess very closely. You do know, do you not, that the countess provides for the entire village? She sends all the older children to the university. She provides for our elderly. We have a constable and a small jail that has never been used. We have a doctor, a real drugstore with a pharmacist, and two nurses who see to everyone’s health and well-being. Everyone in the village, even the children, have a cell phone. We even have satellite TV. There is nothing our villagers would not do for our kind benefactor. The countess supports our church, the school, everything. I cannot wait to meet her one day.”

  Myra digested all that she was hearing before she asked, “Is the countess on the mountain? Do you know?”

  “I do not know. Padre Mendoza told me I was not to talk of the Countess de Silva. He said that is his job. What I do know is he said he knows of you but has never met you in person. He said the countess considers you like a sister. Is this true? When you called, he did not seem surprised.”

  “Yes, it’s true. We grew up together as children. I love her as a sister. I value and treasure our friendship. That’s why I am here.”

  “Like I said, I look forward to meeting her at some point in time.”

  Myra nodded. The rest of the bumpy ride was made in virtual silence. Myra didn’t mind. She was tired, and her mind was racing as she ran scenario after scenario over and over in her mind. How could Annie be here and this young priest not know? What if she wasn’t here? What if this was a wild-goose chase? There were so many what-ifs she couldn’t get a handle on anything. All she could hope for was that tomorrow, Padre Mendoza would have some answers for her. She moved restlessly in the cracked leather seat, with the jutting springs digging into her thighs.