Leave No Stone Unturned (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 1)

by Jeanne Glidewell

  "Come on," Stone said. "She'll have checked a suitcase, I assume, and she would have had to wait to pick it up."

  "Yes, I'm sure she did," I said. I breathed a sigh of relief. Once again, I thanked God for having Stone with me. I needed someone who could think rationally and not panic in a situation such as this. "I taught her to pack lightly, but she'd still need more for this trip than she could possibly pack in a carry-on bag."

  A few minutes later we were in front of the luggage claim conveyor belt. It was now almost forty minutes past the time Wendy's flight had arrived. All passengers had claimed their bags and departed. One bag remained on the still-revolving belt. I didn't have to read the address tag to know it said "Wendy Pitt." I had given the luggage to Wendy last Christmas. The pretty blue-plaid suitcase looked ominous. My daughter was nowhere in sight.

  * * *

  Using Stone's phone, I called Wendy's cell phone number and left a panicky message on her voice mail. I tried Wendy and Clay's home phone. I let it ring at least a dozen times, but no one answered. I'm certain I used up several months' worth of airtime minutes on Stone's phone.

  Stone had gone to speak with an airline representative. While I waited for him to return, I paced nervously around the baggage claim area. I looked in every nook and cranny I could find—as if I truly expected Wendy to be hiding behind a trashcan or something equally ridiculous.

  Finally Stone returned. He had a concerned expression on his face. I nearly tackled him as he strode toward me. "What did they say?" I asked impatiently.

  "Her name's listed on the flight's manifest, which would indicate only that she checked in luggage. But I'm sure it was after she'd checked her luggage when she called you. If Clay decided not to let her catch the flight, her name would still have been registered on the manifest and her luggage loaded onto the airplane," Stone said. He talked slowly and softly in an unsuccessful attempt to calm me. I was a complete wreck. "So the fact her name is on the manifest means very little at this point."

  "What do we do now? We can't leave here until we're certain, without a single doubt, that Wendy's not in the airport somewhere. Maybe she just had to use the restroom. Yes! That's it! I'm sure that's all there is to it." Suddenly I felt a sense of relief. I was probably just overreacting because of the stress I was under. It could be nothing more than the fact Wendy had drunk too many complimentary beverages on the flight. "I'll check the ladies' room, you check the men's."

  "What?"

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I meant to say while I check the ladies' restroom, you could look around in other areas where she might have gone. We can meet back here in a half hour or so."

  "Okay. First I'll go to the ticket counter, in case she wandered off looking for us and we somehow missed each other."

  She wasn't in any of the restrooms in the terminal, at the ticket counter, or any other place Stone or I searched for her. I'd called her cell phone number and left another three or four messages, each sounding more hysterical than the previous ones. I'd also tried Wendy's home number several more times and was still unable to reach either her or Clay.

  "Should I call the police?" I asked Stone.

  "NYPD or Kansas City?"

  "Kansas City, I guess. I'm sure now that she never boarded the plane."

  "I doubt they'd do anything until she's been missing for at least twenty-four hours."

  "Do you think Clay abducted her?" I asked.

  "Why would you 'abduct' someone who is already with you?"

  "I don't know," I said. I didn't know what to think at this point. I was too flustered to think clearly. "Do you think he'll hurt her?"

  "No, Lexie, I don't. I can't imagine Clay is that stupid or apt to act that carelessly. You can only kill and assault so many wives before you start looking suspicious. My guess is that Wendy chickened out, not wanting to upset her husband—who she, incidentally, just discovered is not exactly the kind of man she believed him to be. Or Clay could have pressured her not to get on the plane because he wants to keep her away from the New York area, in the event she was to hear something about the Eliza Pitt case while she was here."

  "That makes sense." I was beginning to feel a little better about the situation. Stone's rational thinking was starting to have a calming effect on me.

  "I think you should try again to contact Wendy or Clay by phone while I go speak with security. I'll give them my cell phone number. I want them to be able to get in touch with us if necessary. I'll also have Wendy paged a couple times before we leave the airport." Stone sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before continuing. "We both need to calm down. Chances are we are getting upset over nothing."

  "My guess is you'll get a phone call from her or reach her at her house this evening, and it will turn out that Wendy is just fine. Try not to panic, Lexie. Going to pieces now won't help the situation at all."

  "Okay, you're right," I said. I knew Stone was trying to tell me I needed to pull myself together for Wendy's sake. "Thank you for being here for me."

  "I can't think of any place I'd rather be." Stone kissed me very briefly on the lips and wrapped his arms around me as I cried quietly into the collar of his shirt. It was the first time he'd kissed me that way, and it was a bittersweet moment. It was one of the best, and one of the worst, moments of my life. I couldn't rest easy until I heard my daughter's voice and knew she was safe. Then maybe I could take the time to analyze the way I was beginning to feel about Stone.

  Chapter 21

  We took one last thorough look around the airport before Stone convinced me Wendy wasn't there and we should head back to the Camelot B&B in Schenectady. Wendy might be trying to get in touch with me at the inn, he reminded me. On our way toward the exit, I removed Wendy's suitcase from the baggage turnstile and then walked out of the terminal with it. Watching it circling aimlessly around on the belt by itself had been causing my stomach to feel tied up in knots. I was surprised when no one from security stopped to question me or insist I show my identification.

  Stone had called for a taxi to pick us up at JFK and take us to the garage where my Jeep had been towed and a new fan belt had been installed. We were soon on our way out of the city. I worried that each mile Stone drove took me farther away from Wendy.

  We rode back to the inn in near silence. Stone concentrated on driving, while I stared out the window. I was too concerned about the welfare of my daughter to make idle chatter, and yet I didn't want to voice my deepest fears. Stone seemed to understand how I felt and didn't try to press me. He reached over and patted my knee to comfort me.

  When we finally pulled up in front of the Camelot B&B, I saw Harriet standing in the yard looking up at the porch. She had a hand on each hip and a cigarette dangling from her mouth. A cloud of smoke enveloped her like a swarm of hungry gnats.

  On the front porch was one of the most attractive young men I'd ever seen. He reminded me of a popular movie star often featured in magazines that I subscribed to. With a brush in his hand, he was covering the railing and the spindles around the porch with a fresh coat of white paint. He waved as we pulled up to the curb.

  Stone laughed and said, "I guess it didn't take long for Andy to fall under Harriet's spell."

  Stone introduced me to his nephew. I liked Andy immediately. Although taller and slimmer than his uncle, Andy favored Stone in other ways. They had matching smiles and similar personalities. Andy was definitely a chip off Stone's block.

  Andy finished painting the front porch while we unpacked our overnight bags. Then we enticed Harriet to walk across the street to the diner with us, and the four of us sat down to eat. We had decided to clue Harriet in on the current situation. It didn't seem to bother her that we'd been deceiving her all along. If the police, Clay, or Wendy called for us at the inn, we wanted Harriet to know why it was important to get the message to us immediately. Harriet surprised me with some remarkably good ideas as we all discussed how to proceed with the situation. I'd still been unable to reach Wendy or Clay on the phone.<
br />
  After dinner, Stone paid the tab for all four of us. I'd been too upset to eat anything, so had nervously rearranged the food on my plate until it no longer resembled an appetizing meal. It was late as we walked back across the street to the inn. It had been a long, nerve-wracking day and I was worn out and emotionally drained, but still rattled. I climbed into bed, later amazed I'd eventually managed to fall sleep.

  * * *

  Early the next morning, sitting on the back porch, Andy, Stone, and I sipped our "full-flavored" coffee. We were all startled when Stone's cell phone rang. Andy's eyes met mine and held as his uncle spoke into the phone.

  "Stone Van Patten here." He listened a moment and nodded his head at Andy and me.

  "Clay?" Stone asked. He paused to listen again. "Yes, I am a friend of your mother-in-law's. That was Lexie using my phone to call you."

  I could only hear Stone's side of the conversation, but I listened intently, hoping to pick up clues as to what Clay was saying on the other end.

  "We were to pick Wendy up at the airport yesterday, and she didn't come in on the flight. Her luggage did, but she didn't. We arrived a bit late due to car trouble, but we looked everywhere, and Wendy was nowhere to be found."

  Stone stopped to listen again. I leaned closer but still couldn't understand Clay's words. It was obvious Clay was as concerned as we were about why Wendy didn't exit the plane at JFK airport.

  "Yes—uh-huh—of course, Clay—I agree," Stone said.

  Stone listened to Clay as a puzzled look crossed his face.

  With a final, "Yes, I think that'd be a good idea," Stone replaced the phone on its clip on his belt. He reached over and clasped my hand in his.

  "What's up?" Andy asked.

  "Clay saw my number on his caller ID numerous times and wondered who was trying so hard to get in touch with him. He listened to the messages you left and called immediately. He told me Wendy did indeed board the plane. She had told him he could go on home, but he'd stayed until she had gotten on the plane, anyway, and he didn't leave until after it had taxied over to the runway. I believe him."

  "But then—" Suddenly I was unable to continue my thought.

  "Yes. I know what you're thinking. Wendy couldn't have been abducted at thirty thousand feet. Whatever occurred, it had to have been after she disembarked from the plane."

  "What was Clay's reaction to the news that Wendy was missing?" Andy asked.

  "Clay was alarmed and upset, but not overly shocked by the idea she could have been abducted at this end from the JFK airport. He made a curious statement when I first told him she hadn't been at the airport when we arrived a bit late."

  "What'd he say?" Andy and I asked in unison.

  "He said, 'Oh no, not again.' There was genuine agony in his voice too."

  "Talking about Eliza, wasn't he?" I asked.

  "Yes, I think so. I asked what he meant by his remark, and when Clay realized what he'd said, he replied, 'Oh nothing. Never mind.' "

  "What do you think now, Stone?"

  "I believe him, Lexie. I really do. He seemed totally surprised and sincerely upset. I don't think he's responsible for Wendy's disappearance. Perhaps someone in New York has a personal vendetta against him."

  "Why?"

  "Who knows? Anyway, he's booking a flight and heading out here. I told him I thought it was a good idea. I think there's a connection between Wendy's disappearance and Eliza's abduction. We need to buckle down and see what we can find out from any and every source today. The sooner we can find Wendy, the better. First thing I'll do is call the NYPD to report the incident."

  "I'll help in any way I can, Uncle Stone," Andy volunteered. Then he turned toward me and noticed the look of sheer terror on my face. "Don't worry, Lexie. We'll find her."

  "Detective Glick?" I said into the phone.

  "Yes?"

  "This is Lexie Starr."

  "Lexie Starr, freelance writer?"

  "Yes."

  "Can I help you?" I noticed he didn't sound overly thrilled.

  "Well, yes... uh, I was wondering if you had made any new progress on the Eliza Pitt case?"

  "Nothing more than what I'm sure you saw on television. Anything beyond that would be classified information I'd be unable to share with you."

  "Why do you dislike me so much, detective?"

  "I don't dislike you, Ms. Starr. I don't even know you. I take my position seriously. I can't tell everything I know—about every case I'm involved in—to everyone I meet. That wouldn't be very professional, now would it?"

  I sighed. Detective Glick was a very hard nut to crack. I was wasting my time trying to get any information out of him.

  "I guess not. Thanks anyway."

  * * *

  "Sheriff Crabb. May I help you?" I heard on the other end of the line.

  "Yes, Sheriff Crabb, this is Lexie Starr. We met about a week ago. I'm the lady writing the novel about the Eliza Pitt case. Do you remember me?"

  "Well, I declare," he answered. "Of course I remember you. I surely do. One doesn't often get to meet a honest-to-goodness gen-u-wine author like yourself."

  "Thanks," I said, amused by his effusiveness. I felt a twinge of guilt for deceiving him and getting him excited about a book and movie that would never materialize. "I enjoyed meeting you too. The reason I'm calling you this morning is to see if you've made any new discoveries in the Pitt case."

  "Yes, ma'am, I'm happy to report we've made some progress in that case lately. Your friend, Detective Glick, made an interesting discovery a few days ago. Found the actual site where the lady was killed. Apparently she was later moved to the site where that hiker kid found her. You may have seen the news report on this."

  "Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. Could you show me the site the detective discovered where Eliza Pitt was actually killed?"

  "Nah, wish I could, but I don't rightly know where that is yet. Sure sorry, ma'am."

  Gee, this guy is a wealth of information, I thought. It appeared the sheriff was still not entrusted with any classified information. If I couldn't get any useful info out of him, I'd have to use him to get it another way.

  "Hmmm... say, I've got an idea. My boyfriend's an officer with the Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, police force. He's been assisting me with my research for this book I'm writing. I know he'd be honored to help you with your investigation. Just for the sake of the novel, you know. It'd be good experience for him to have you as a mentor. And I hate to admit it, but Detective Glick is a bit out of sorts with me right now. He seems to think I should base the novel and potential screenplay on him and his involvement in this case. However, I believe it would be more exciting, and more appropriate, to highlight you. After all, you are the authority on this murder case now."

  I knew Sheriff Crabb's weakness, and I was not above exploiting it.

  "That's mighty kind of you, Ms. Starr. I'm sure you know what would be best for your book. And I suppose it'd be okay if your policeman friend—er—uh—Officer—"

  "Officer Van Patten."

  "Thanks. Yeah, I'd be happy to let Officer Van Patten tag along. You're right. It could be of great benefit to him to see how I handle this case. I'm always willing to help a fellow lawman learn the ropes." Amused, I visualized Sheriff Crabb rocking back and forth on his heels and toes again, with one hand holding the phone and the thumb of his other hand hooked in his belt. Despite the situation, I could barely suppress my laughter.

  "That's mighty kind of you, sheriff. To expedite matters, perhaps you could call Detective Glick and have him meet you and Officer Van Patten there. He can take the two of you to the actual murder site. Because of your professionalism and competency, I'm sure you'll want to take photographs, and do your own investigative work at the murder scene, anyway. This would be ideal timing for you too."

  "True, very true. Got to cover all the bases, ma'am. That's how we professionals operate, you know. Leave no stone unturned—that's always been my motto."

  "Of course. I'm ve
ry impressed, sheriff."

  "Ah, shucks, ma'am. Just doing my job. I'll set up a meeting with the Schenectady detective, Glick. Have Officer Van Patten meet me at my office at two o'clock this afternoon. We can follow Detective Glick out to the crime scene in my squad car."

  "Yes, that'd be fine. And, Sheriff Crabb?"

  "Yes, ma'am?"

  "Perhaps you shouldn't mention my name around Detective Glick at all. He is already jealous of your role in all of this, you know. I don't want to fan the flames and cause any friction," I said. "It's probably best that Glick doesn't know about my connection to Officer Van Patten. He's already upset enough about being upstaged by you."

  "I understand. I'll try to keep your name out of the conversation, Ms. Starr."

  "Thanks. And I'll make sure that Officer Van Patten is at your office at two."

  * * *

  Stone left in his Corvette to meet Sheriff Crabb. Andy decided to paint Harriet's back porch while we waited for his uncle to return. I paced restlessly because I couldn't relax. Wendy was on my mind constantly, and I felt like it was my own interference that had placed her in her current predicament, a predicament I didn't care to think about too much. Who had my daughter and what were they doing to her? The possibilities were too frightening to dwell on, so I tried to distract myself with other things.

  I even welcomed the distraction of eating breakfast. I picked up my fork and absentmindedly began picking at the platter of poached eggs and toast Harriet set before me. It could have been a plate full of grub worms for all the attention I paid to the food Harriet had prepared. The feisty old proprietor seemed to sense I needed something to do to keep me busy until I heard from Stone.

  "After ya done with ya breakfast, why don't ya go back and see old Nitwit Pitt agin?" Harriet asked. "No sense wearing out me floors and being under me feet all day. Ya ne'er know. Ya jest might git something useful outta the ol' nutcase."

  "Hey, that's a good idea, Harriet. Thanks. I'll take her a few more books. I'm not sure she'd be ready for more candy yet. It hasn't been that long since I gave her ten pounds of chocolates."