by J A Whiting
Her heart pounding, Angie opened the front door to find Donna Allen standing on the porch. “Mrs. Allen, come in.”
Donna Allen’s eyes flicked about as she hurried inside. She pushed her hands into her coat pockets and shifted from foot to foot.
Jenna gestured to the woman’s coat. “May I hang up your coat?”
Mrs. Allen didn’t react for several moments, but then quickly shrugged out of the heavy wool overcoat and handed it to Jenna.
Angie led the woman to the living room where the three of them sat down on the sofa and chairs arranged around the coffee table. The sisters offered Mrs. Allen a beverage, but the woman quickly declined. “I can’t stay. I have to get home.” She kept folding and unfolding her hands together in her lap.
Euclid and Circe came into the room and settled on the rug in front of the fireplace.
“What can we help you with, Mrs. Allen?” Angie looked kindly at the obviously stressed out woman.
Donna Allen’s short hair was disheveled and stringy. Dark circles showed under her eyes and her face appeared gaunt and pasty as if she’d lost too much weight too quickly. “I … I … um….”
“Would you like to tell us something?” Jenna’s voice was gentle and she leaned slightly forward.
“The night Ryan went missing.” Mrs. Allen seemed to flinch when she spoke her son’s name. “We went to look for him.”
Angie nodded.
“We drove all around. We couldn’t find him.” Mrs. Allen’s hands shook and she folded them together again and held them firmly on her lap.
The sisters waited for her to go on with what she wanted to tell.
“My husband was driving. He told me to call Ryan, so I did. Ryan gave us directions to where he was, but we couldn’t find him.” The woman bit her lower lip. “Bob grabbed the phone from my hand and shouted at Ryan. He thought Ryan was playing games with us making us drive all around. I said he might be confused because he was in an accident. My husband yelled at me to be quiet.”
Angie and Jenna shared a quick glance.
Donna Allen’s face was deeply lined with creases in the forehead and along the sides of the mouth. “Bob and Ryan yelled at each other. Then the call ended. I think Ryan hung up on his father.”
“What happened then?” Jenna asked.
“Bob jerked the car around and floored it. He was so angry, ranting about teaching Ryan a lesson. He drove home and pulled into our driveway and told me to get out and go to bed. I tried to calm him down. He screamed at me and I ran inside the house.” The woman’s cheeks flushed pink. “Bob jerked out of the driveway to go find our son.”
Euclid stood up, his back arching slightly as he stared at Mrs. Allen
“Your husband found him?” Angie’s heart was ready to leap from her chest.
“He came home about an hour or so later. Of course, I couldn’t sleep. Bob came into the room and got into bed. I asked him where Ryan was. Bob said Ryan was going to find his own way home. I didn’t dare ask him what he meant. We both just lay in bed awake for two hours waiting for Ryan to come home. Finally Bob got up and called the police.”
“Did your husband tell you what happened when he went out alone to find your son?” Jenna’s facial muscles were tight and tense.
“No,” Mrs. Allen squeaked.
“Did you ask him if he found Ryan that night?” Angie could see the fear on the woman’s face.
“Bob doesn’t like to be asked questions.”
Euclid let out a low hiss.
Angie asked, “The ring with the vine on it, you bought it for your son?”
“Yes. Ryan’s band meant a lot to him. I decided to give him that ring.” Mrs. Allen’s face clouded. “My husband was furious. He didn’t want me to encourage Ryan’s music. Bob wanted Ryan to be an engineer.” The woman checked her watch. “I need to go. Don’t tell Bob I was here. Don’t tell him I told you what happened.” Mrs. Allen flicked her eyes between the sisters. “You won’t, will you?”
“We won’t tell him.” Angie promised. “We’ll have to tell Chief Martin, but he won’t betray your confidence.”
Mrs. Allen gave a quick nod and then seemed to shrink in her seat. “Bob told me he didn’t hurt Ryan.” Swallowing hard, she added, “I believe him.”
Angie and Jenna couldn’t say the same.
23
It was late afternoon and light snow sprinkled down from the sky as Angie and Jenna walked to Main Street to pick up some baking supplies. The low light level from the cloud cover caused some of the streetlamps to glow and the dusting of snow sparkled like diamonds on the walkways.
“I’m not so quick to agree with Mrs. Allen that her husband didn’t do anything to hurt Ryan.” The toes of Jenna’s boots were covered with snow and looked like someone had sprinkled sugar over them.
“I’m with you on that. How could Mr. Allen come home in the middle of the night from a confrontation with his son and not tell his wife what happened?” Angie groaned at some people’s unusual relationships. “She must suspect something, don’t you think? Why else would she come to see us?”
Jenna blinked a snowflake from her eyelash. “She might have wanted to tell us so that they didn’t seem to be hiding things. She could have been afraid that it would come out that her husband found Ryan that night and then because they didn’t tell the police about it, suspicion would turn to the husband.”
Angie eyed her sister. “My suspicion has been on Mr. Allen all along … among others.”
Jenna agreed. “It doesn’t look good when people lie or try to hide things.”
Wearing a caramel-colored coat and fashionable brown boots, Francine walked towards the girls with her head down to keep the snow from hitting her face. She startled when Angie called her name.
“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” Worry lines could be seen creasing the corners of the stained-glass artist’s eyes. Francine was usually bubbly and friendly, but seemed thoughtful and distracted.
“Are you okay?” Angie touched the woman’s arm.
Francine seemed about to brush off Angie’s concern, but then she sucked in a deep breath and let out her worries in an avalanche. Pulling the sisters to the side of the busy walkway, she brushed her gloved hand over her forehead. “I’m worried about Lottie. She’s been in a terrible funk. Crying. Sitting quietly doing nothing. She hasn’t been eating and I’m sure she isn’t sleeping much. She’s so upset about Ryan. She let slip one night that if she hadn’t abandoned him he’d still be alive. When I asked what she meant, she told me I misunderstood her comment and left the room.”
“Grief is awful to deal with,” Jenna said, thinking about her own feelings when her mother died.
“It seems like more than grief,” Francine said. “She seems to carry some kind of guilt over Ryan’s death. I’ve tried to talk to her, but she clams up and won’t speak.”
“What about suggesting she talk to someone? Maybe she could see a counselor who specializes in loss and grief?” Jenna suggested.
“Lottie would never agree to that.” Suddenly, a hopeful look passed over Francine’s face. “What about you? Would the two of you talk to her? She might be more open talking to women who are closer to her age. Maybe you could get her to talk about why she feels such guilt?”
Angie wondered if there might be an additional reason other than losing a friend that was causing Lottie’s upset. “I’m not sure how helpful it will be, but we can go talk to her.”
Francine’s face lit up and she hugged the girls. “Thank you so much.” A look of nervousness flashed over Francine’s face. “Could you go now? I know you must be busy. I’m worried Lottie will leave soon and go back to Boston. I saw her gathering her things. I asked that she not leave until I get back, but with the state she’s in, she could do anything.”
“We’ll go now.” Jenna nodded. “We’ll go get my car and head up to your house.”
The three parted ways and Angie and Jenna hurried home for the car. Not wanting a
nyone to overhear their conversation, the girls were quiet on the way home, but once they were driving up the coast to Silver Cove, they voiced their concerns about Lottie.
“Why is she so distraught?” Jenna turned the car onto Main Street. “Does she have some reason to feel so guilty?”
“I’m wondering the same thing.” Angie watched the winter landscape rush past. “Lottie knows more than what she’s told us. I’m certain about that. Whether or not it has something to do with hurting Ryan, well, that’s for us to find out.”
“I hope she hasn’t taken off yet.” Jenna pressed a bit harder on the gas pedal.
“And if she still is at Francine’s house, she sure isn’t going to be happy to see us.”
After a ten minute ride, Jenna eased the car to a stop in front of Francine’s big, old house. The sisters got out and were relieved to see Lottie’s Jeep in the driveway.
“How are we going to approach this?” Staring at the house with dread, Jenna locked the car doors.
“I’ve been thinking about that. Why don’t we say we were driving through town and decided to drop by to chat a little more about the case.” Angie started for the driveway and as they were about to turn onto the property, a small, beat-up green car passed them moving faster than the speed limit and caused some slush to spray the girls’ legs.
Jenna moaned and Angie glared at the driver. She spun around to watch the vehicle. “Wait a minute. Wasn’t that Henry Whitaker? It looked just like him.”
Jenna turned to see, but the car had made the corner already. The two headed for the front door and rang the bell. When Lottie opened it, she did not look pleased. Wearing jeans and a slouchy turtleneck, she glared at Jenna and Angie. “My aunt isn’t here.”
“We hoped we could talk to you.” Angie smiled warmly.
“I’m really busy at the moment.” Lottie’s upper eyelids drooped and her lower lids had dark half-moons under them.
“We’ll be quick. It will only take a few minutes.” Jenna made eye contact with the young woman.
Lottie seemed to be debating about letting them inside, but then she stepped back with a sigh and opened the door wider so the girls could enter.
“Did you have another visitor today?” Angie asked.
Lottie’s brow furrowed in confusion.
Jenna explained. “We think Henry Whitaker drove by the house just now.”
“Henry? He wasn’t here. Who’d be surprised if he was lurking around though?” Lottie’s voice was weary. She led the sisters into the living room.
“Does he drive by here regularly?” Angie sat down in a wing-back chair.
“Who knows?” Lottie sank into the sofa and leaned back. “Now that Ryan is gone, Henry has no one to follow around.” Pulling a tissue from the pocket of her jeans, she dabbed at the corner of her eyes.
“Lottie,” Angie spoke gently. “You’re aunt is concerned about you.”
“I just lost a friend,” Lottie snapped.
Jenna ignored the comment. “She worries that you’re harboring some guilt.”
Refusing to make eye contact, Lottie seemed to shrink against the sofa, her lower lip trembling.
“Is there anything else you can tell us about Ryan? Or anything you overheard someone say about that night?” Angie glanced around the room. When she spotted Lottie’s dark purple purse on a cherrywood desk set near the windows that overlooked the rear yard, her pulse quickened. Angie stared at it unable to figure out what there was about the purse that was causing her heart to race.
“Lottie?” Jenna tried to get the young woman to speak. “Sometimes it’s helpful to talk about it.”
The tissue in the girl’s hand was so wadded up that it was useless. Her fingers fished around in her back pocket trying to locate another one and coming up empty, Lottie pushed herself off the sofa with a slight groan and padded across the room in her stocking feet to her purse. She returned to the sofa and unzipped the bag. Angie watched with interest and her heart thudded double-time as Lottie’s delicate fingers reached inside and removed a small package of tissues. In the inside pocket of the purse, Angie saw what had been making her anxious.
“Lottie.” Angie looked away from the purse and lifted her eyes to the woman sitting across from her. “Why do you have two phones?”
Lottie nearly dropped the tissues. She stammered, “One is for business.”
“It’s a prepaid cell phone.” Angie waited for an explanation and when nothing was forthcoming, she said, “Ryan called a prepaid cell phone on the night he went missing. In fact, the call was made very close to the time he disappeared.”
Lottie’s mouth dropped open, but nothing came out.
“The call was made to someone in Silver Cove. Did Ryan call you?” Jenna asked.
Starting to shake, Lottie blubbered, “He called me. He called me.” Tears streamed down her face and she began to rock in her seat.
Angie and Jenna gave her a few minutes before asking anything else.
Lottie took in some shuddering breaths. “He called me. He told me his car went off the road. He knew I was in Silver Cove. Ryan texted Henry, but he didn’t get an answer from him so he called his parents to come get him. They couldn’t find him and they had an argument on the phone about why Ryan was so unclear about where he was. I think he hit his head when the car went off the road. Maybe he had a concussion. Ryan asked if I could come get him.” Lottie’s face crumpled. “He said he was so cold.”
“So you went to get him?” Jenna leaned forward.
Lottie nodded. “I drove towards Mission River.” She looked across the room and her eyes hardened. “By the time I got there, Mr. Allen had found him. I drove past so Mr. Allen wouldn’t see me. The headlights lit them up. I saw them talking. They were gesturing. They both looked angry.”
“What happened?” Angie felt light-headed.
“I drove up the road and turned around. I headed back again to see what was going on. Ryan and his dad were screaming at each other. I couldn’t stop. That would only make everything worse. Ryan’s dad hated me. He didn’t know we were still together. He would have killed Ryan.”
“Together?” Angie glanced at Jenna.
Lottie let out another long sigh. “We were still together. We never stopped seeing each other. We had to be discreet, even with our friends, so no one would catch on. Mr. Allen couldn’t know.”
“Did you see if Mr. Allen struck his son?” Jenna questioned.
“I didn’t see anything more. I drove away and went home. If I’d gotten out maybe Ryan….” Lottie’s voiced trailed off.
“There wasn’t anything you could do.” Angie was adamant. “Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault. Lottie. It wasn’t your fault.”
Lottie sucked in wobbly, ragged breaths. “I saw Henry in his car. I passed him as I drove away. He must have woken up, saw Ryan’s texts, and went out to find him.” Moving her eyes from one sister to the other, she said, “Henry would never have let anyone hurt Ryan. Mr. Allen must have sent him away … or maybe Henry heard the argument and got scared and went home.”
Angie had to ask even though the answer was obvious. “Who do you think hurt Ryan?”
Lottie didn’t even raise her red-rimmed eyes, just kept them focused on her hands in her lap. “Ryan’s father. He did it.”
24
Driving back to Sweet Cove with Jenna, Angie had a hollow feeling way down deep in her stomach as she made a call to Chief Martin to report Lottie’s suspicions about Ryan’s father. It was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that Angie had some information to tell the chief about Mr. Bob Allen’s actions on the night his son went missing.
Walking up the steps of the Victorian’s front porch and entering the pleasantly warm foyer, Jenna and Angie felt awful thinking about what seemed to have happened between Ryan and his father. Angie’s head was throbbing as she hung her and Jenna’s coats in the closet. The sisters heard footsteps on the staircase and turned around to see Darren coming down t
he steps. He stopped on the bottom tread, his expression serious.
“Lottie called me.”
“You want to talk?” Jenna suggested the sunroom so that they could shut the door for privacy.
Darren sank into one of the chairs. “I knew Lottie and Ryan were together. It was a secret we kept to ourselves. The three of us would get together all the time to play music.” Darren ran his hand over the top of his head. “Ryan and I wrote songs together. We set up a company to split the profits. Ryan couldn’t let his father know he was still involved with music so credits couldn’t be in Ryan’s name.” Darren leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “We had no idea that things would take off like they did. The band’s big hit last fall, Sweet Friend of Mine … Ryan and I wrote that song together about the friendship between me, him, and Lottie. Ryan played on that album using a pseudonym. He couldn’t tell his father.”
“Wouldn’t Mr. Allen have been happy with his son’s success?” Jenna asked.
Darren slowly shook his head. “Ryan’s father said that music was for drug addicts and losers and groupies. Mr. Allen didn’t want Ryan to be anywhere near the business.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this before?” Angie watched Darren’s face.
“We didn’t think the business part of our partnership had any bearing on the case. When Lottie found out that Ryan was missing, she thought that Ryan and his father must have fought with each other by his car and that maybe Ryan ran off. We thought he’d be found, maybe with a concussion from driving off the road. We thought Mr. Allen would tell the police he’d had a fight with Ryan that night. Lottie didn’t want to say anything because she didn’t want Mr. Allen to know that Ryan had called her to come pick him up.”
“So when Ryan was found dead, Lottie suspected Mr. Allen might have hurt him?” Angie could see how Lottie began to fear that Bob Allen might have killed his son.
“Yes. She’s horrified that she left Ryan there with his father and drove away.” Darren swallowed and looked across the room.
