“Yes, ma’am, Ms. Carmichael. I need to see your identification and a credit card, please,” says the man behind the counter.
My heart races as panic rushes through me. “Can I just pay cash?”
“I’m sorry, but at this hour we only take credit cards. Plus, we’ll need the credit card for incidentals and overages.”
Shit, shit, shit. I haven’t thought about that since Harold or the photographers always handled this…or Noah. I hesitate because Noah will see the bill and know where I am. Or where he thinks I am. I rub my hands down my jeans and finally hand over my driver’s license and credit card.
“Thank you.” The man enters my information into his computer and tells me where to find the car.
Before it dawns on him who I am, I hurry out the door to the stall where the car sits. With a sigh of disappointment, I look at the car in front of me. I miss my convertible already. At least this one has a sun-roof. That’s something, right?
I throw my bag in the backseat and drive to a hotel just off the interstate where most people won’t expect to see a top fashion model. The night clerk books the room that I pay for with cash to get a few hours of sleep. Without taking a shower, I just crawl between the scratchy sheets—not caring because I’m so tired.
I wake before the sun rises. Once my eyes focus, I pull up my maps app. I can go south to Aiken to see my parents. That’s the logical thing to do, but Noah would think of that, too. Who am I kidding, he’s found someone new, he won’t even notice I’m gone. Sadness rolls through me because I miss him, our marriage, the way things used to be. Tears well in my eyes, and I blink them away.
West, it is then.
Saluda sits about an hour West of Columbia. It’s a farming community, but it’s more than that to me. It’s a blip really, no more like two blips. They’re significant blips but blips all the same. This is where I met Noah when I was fourteen, and where I gave him my virginity three years later. We haven’t been back here since we were seventeen, so if he ever decides to look for me, Saluda is the last place he’ll look.
During the hour drive, I think about how much I miss the way Noah once treated me. I miss the long drives from rodeos, his protective ways, the way no one ever questioned who he belonged to, or for that matter, who I did. Now we’re more like friends with benefits because we don’t see each other enough to have meaningful conversations. We’re more just catching up on what’s happened while we’re apart. That isn’t what I’d agreed to when we got married.
I laugh when I pull into the Crossroads Bar and Grill. If the name of the place isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is because if there’s ever a person at a crossroads of the heart, it’s me. In a small southern town, there are three places to find out the happenings in town…the bar, the hair salon, and the church. Since it’s Saturday morning, church isn’t open and no one is touching my hair, so the Bar and Grill will have to do.
I emerge from the car bringing my purse from the passenger seat and smooth down my white jeans. With my head held high, I walk through the door.
The Crossroads Bar and Grill seems to cater to the farmers and cowhands. There are saddles, antique farm tools, and harnesses on the walls. Behind the bar there’s a sign that says, “FFA RODEO CHAMPIONS.” The pictures date back to the seventies of all the bull riders who won the Future Farmers of America’s (FFA) rodeo championship. Noah’s picture will be up there somewhere since he won it twice. Once for the under sixteen class and once for the sixteen to eighteen-year old class. A shiver runs through me as I walk toward the man behind the bar.
When I get close, he lifts his head. “May I help you?” His southern drawl is typical for this area. I know everyone around here will sound just like him which causes my lips to tilt in a friendly smile.
I remove my sunglasses and set them on top of my head. “I’m new in town and was wondering if you know where there’s a small house for rent.”
The man dries his hands and reaches out for mine. “Welcome to Saluda. I’m Dale.”
I shake his hand. “Nice to meet your Dale. I’m, um, I’m Tammy.”
From the cocked eyebrow, he didn’t miss my hesitation, but he recovers quickly. “So, what brings you to town?”
“A change of scenery.” I shrug. “I guess, I just need a vacation from life.” What is it with bartenders and hair-dressers that make people want to spill their guts? “I haven’t eaten today. Would it be possible to get a salad with the dressing on the side?”
“Is that it?”
My face heats. “A grilled chicken breast on top would be nice and a water.”
“If you don’t mind sitting here alone for a few minutes, I think I can handle that.”
“Thank you…Dale.”
While the man disappears into the kitchen, I take the time to look at the pictures. I stop when I see a fourteen-year-old Noah Carmichael holding a trophy and one of those huge checks people use to show prize money. I smile because it’s almost as big as he was then. I continue to look at each picture on the wall.
Dale comes out of the kitchen and catches me staring at a different picture. This time Noah is bigger and older. He looks handsome in his tight T-shirt, fitted jeans, and that damned old cowboy hat. As I scan the picture, I’m standing behind his shoulder grinning just as big as he is.
“Do you know him?”
I nod. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”
Dale turns to look at the picture then back to me before he sets my food in front of me. “He’s not around these parts no more.”
“No, he’s in Atlanta.”
“That’s you in the picture with him.”
I barely nod again. “Yeah, that’s me.” I duck my head trying to hide my love for the man with the trophy.
Dale seems to get nervous. He shuffles his feet and starts drying the same glasses he was working on when I walked in. “How long you planning to stay around here?”
“I don’t know. I was looking to rent a house for about a month. Is there a hotel here until I find something?”
“I might know a place. I assume you’re wanting privacy?”
I jerk my head toward Dale. Why would he ask that? “Yes, that’d be nice, but why would you assume that?”
Dale walks back toward me and pulls a magazine from under the counter then lays it down. “I thought you looked familiar when you walked in. It took me a minute, but my wife makes me pick up any magazine with you on the front cover.”
My hand flies to my mouth as I quickly look around. “Oh God…” It’s the same magazine I’d picked up in Atlanta a few days ago.
“We’re trying to get pregnant, so the article is a bonus.” Dale laughs.
“Dale, I’m begging you. Please don’t tell anyone I’m here. I just need a break, you know?”
Dale smiles. “I think it’s written somewhere in the bartender’s code that we don’t reveal any secrets we gain while behind the bar. Your secret is safe with me.” The door opens, and Dale’s smile grows wider as he leans toward me. “Now, Becky may be a different story.”
I turn to see a tiny brunette walk in with her eyes fixed on the man behind the bar.
“Is it all right if I introduce you?”
I nod. This is the kind of thing I miss. “Hand me her magazine and a pen.” I have a feeling about these two so I quickly scribble on the magazine. Becky, thanks for being a friend when I needed one. Tamryn.
When Becky walks around the bar, Dale pulls her close. “Becky, I’d like to introduce you to someone.”
Becky’s smile is bright and friendly, and I know I’ve made the right assumption, so I return the smile.
“Becky, this is Tamryn. She’s come to stay in Saluda for a while.”
Becky’s eyes grow as big as saucers, her hands shake, and her mouth moves even though nothing comes out. Finally, she regains her voice. “Oh, my God. Oh-my-God! It’s really you!”
My cheeks warm, and again I agree with a slight nod. “Hi, Becky. This is for you.” I hand Becky
the magazine I signed.
“Thank you, ‘cause nobody’s gonna believe this.”
I hate to burst her bubble. “Becky, can we please keep this between the three of us, at least until I leave town?”
Becky’s head is nodding like a bobblehead doll. “Yes, of course.”
“And please, call me Tammy.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Hun, did your Aunt Grace rent her house down by the lake?” Dale tries to get Becky’s attention.
She turns to face her husband. “I don’t think so, why?”
“Tammy, here, is looking for a place to rent for a month or so.”
Becky quickly turns back toward me. “Really?”
“I’m looking for a place, yes.”
“Oh, it’s the cutest little house with front and rear porches. If you wanna watch people, you can sit on the front porch. If you want privacy, you can sit on the back porch.” Becky leans in closer. “I prefer the back porch personally.”
“I’d love to see it.”
“Let me put my stuff down and make a call. Dale, do you think I have time to take her out there?”
“We’ll make due ‘til you get back.”
I finish my salad and wait for Becky to return. “Dale, what time does the live band start tonight?”
“We have a DJ until nine, then the band starts. You gonna come back?”
I point to a high-top table in the corner with a playful grin on my face and a twinkle in my eyes. “If you’ll reserve that table for me, then yes, I think I’d enjoy that.”
“Consider it done. See ya, tonight.”
I smile to myself. Momma would be proud that I’m not wearing my heart on my sleeve.
8
Noah
I’m grateful it’s Saturday morning, and I don’t have to be in the office. Sleep? Not a damn wink. I’ve tossed and turned all night worried sick about Tamryn.
When the first sign of morning creeps through the curtains, I force myself out of bed.
Looking for some kind of connection to her, I flip back through our last few text conversations. Was she trying to tell me something then? My last four messages went unanswered. The last message she responded to said she could live with seven. That’s the night I let Jason talk me into dinner. The night I should have put my wife first. The night I made the fatal mistake of not putting her feelings above my career. The night that set all the actions since then into motion.
I scroll back a few more. I don’t need the jewelry. I need my husband. My God, it’s right there in black and white. She told me. She fucking told me.
What was our last conversation? It was just yesterday morning, but it seems like forever ago.
Thank you for the necklace. You shouldn’t have.
Apparently not.
She doesn’t want the jewelry, she wants me.
Sometimes it’s hard for a girl to remember when she’s alone more than she’s with her husband.
Fuck!
I run both hands through my hair and pull. The pain in my head is nothing compared to the one in my heart.
I finally drag myself to the kitchen to make coffee when my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number.
“Tams?”
“Mr. Carmichael, it’s Sebastian Hunter. I’m returning your call from last night. Is this a good time?”
A disappointed sigh leaves me. “Yes, I’m sorry, Mr. Hunter.”
“Call me Bash. How can I help you?”
I pull my hand down my face and take a deep breath as I mentally change gears. It’s not her. “My wife is missing, and I hope you’re free to look into it.”
“Have you filed a missing person’s report?”
“No, I wasn’t sure what to do.”
“Are you at home, now?”
“Yes. I’m scared to leave in case she comes back.”
“Mr. Carmichael, give me your address, and I’ll meet you at your house in a half hour. We can call the police together.”
I give him the address and disconnect the call. As I walk to the shower, I hit Tamryn’s speed dial number. Her phone rings in the kitchen, but it’s not the normal ringtone she has for me. What is that song? I turn back toward the kitchen and dial again. “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’” by the Righteous Brothers starts playing.
My shoulders sag as I tilt my head to the ceiling and close my eyes. I wait until it goes to voicemail, just to hear her voice. Why didn’t she just talk to me? Because I took you for granted, I think to myself. Tears roll down my face while I’m in the shower. I make it quick because I don’t want to be away from my phone in case she calls.
The doorbell rings, and I walk down the hall buttoning my jeans. I look through the peephole and see the man I know as the best PI. I open the door while it registers with me that Sabastian Hunter isn’t the biggest man I’ve ever seen, but he’s big enough to handle any situation he finds himself in.
“Bash.”
“Mr. Carmichael.” He stretches out his hand and chuckles. “I never thought we’d be sitting on the same side of the aisle.”
“To be honest, I never thought I’d need a PI.” I move to the side and wave Bash in. “Come in. I just made a pot of coffee. Would you like a mug?”
Bash nods. “So, tell me what’s going on and let’s see what we need to do first.”
I spend the next couple of hours telling Bash everything I know. I answer his questions as best as I can. Show him the email confirmation from the airlines and print it as requested. We go through her phone again even though I’ve already done that. Bash looks at the last text Tamryn sent.
“Have you called this Harold? Maybe she’s been in touch.”
I shake my head. “He’s her agent, and he doesn’t care for me since I negotiated her last contract.” The man is not my biggest fan, and to be honest, I’m not Harold’s either. But, the man is good at his job. He protects Tamryn like a little sister which is the only reason she’s still with his agency.
“Right now, he’s your only lead.”
Without further hesitation, I call Harold.
“I thought you were getting a new number, babe.”
“Harold, it’s Noah.”
“Oh, is Tamryn okay? Her message yesterday was quite cryptic.”
A sad laugh leaves me. “That’s the question of the hour. She’s disappeared. No one knows where she is. Has she called you?”
“Noah, I’m sorry. The last we actually spoke was several weeks ago. She said she missed you and needed some time away.” I close my eyes as Harold’s words are like salt being poured on an open wound. “She made a passing remark about slowing down her travel schedule and seeing how you felt about starting a family before she got too old.”
“Fuck!” I slam my hand down on the counter so hard my palm is red.
“I take it you didn’t know.”
“No, I didn’t know. Listen, if she calls you, please write down her number and call me.”
“Look, Noah, she’s my client. I can’t betray her.”
“Harold, if you care one iota about her, and not just your paycheck, you need to call me. I’m the only one who can fix this. Without me, you don’t get her, so you need me as much as I need you.”
A rushed breath comes through the phone. “Fine. You want me to call this number or a different one?”
“I’ll text you my number. Oh Harold, do not tell her that we’ve spoken or you’ve given me her number. Do you understand me?”
“What the hell, Noah?”
“I don’t know where her head is right now and need some time to put a plan in place. Harold, I’m not only her husband, but her attorney, so let me repeat my question. Do you understand me?”
“I hear you loud and clear.”
“For what it’s worth, thank you for this.”
“As long as she’s okay, you’re welcome. If you’re her problem, I’ll cut off your balls, hot-shot attorney or not.”
“Good to know, Harold. Thanks.”
> I disconnect the call and look at Bash for direction.
“What time was your last communication with her?”
“Yesterday morning about ten.”
“When was her last communication with anyone?”
“The lady at the pawn shop, sometime after seven. Why?”
Bash raises an eyebrow in question.
“She sold the jewelry I’d bought her. It should give her enough money to live on for a while.”
“Unless we have signs of foul play, she has to be missing for twenty-four hours before we can file a missing person’s report. If she’s on that flight to South Carolina, she could be anywhere in twenty-four hours. If she sold her jewelry, there doesn’t seem to be foul play.”
I furrow my brows. “So, I can’t file the report until after seven tonight?”
“Technically, that’s correct, but maybe we can bend the rules a little. Since the last contact is from that phone and it’s in your possession,” Bash points to Tamryn’s phone, “I suggest we put that phone in your car. Call the police based on your last communication with your wife. I need the missing person’s report to go to the airlines. They won’t tell me shit without it. Seeing that she’s a celebrity may put a fire under their asses.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I turn Tamryn’s phone off and put it in the console of my Range Rover. When I return, Bash is looking at the godforsaken magazine lying on the table.
“Ready to call this in?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
I dial the police department directly instead of using the emergency number. When an officer answers the phone, I relay that I need to file a missing person’s report.
“When was the last communication with the missing person?”
“I spoke with her about ten yesterday morning.”
“I’ll send some officers over to take your statement and fill out the report. Is this the best number to reach you?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I hang up, and the waiting game begins. As we sit in my living room, Bash continually peppers me with questions. Was I cheating on Tamryn? Were we happy? And the question that knocks the wind out of me: Was she cheating on you?
Toby and Vince had basically asked me the same thing last night, but not in so many words. If she were cheating, why would she come home early to be with me?
Crossroads of the Heart Page 4
