Stranger in Town

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “You expected my call then?”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I’d rather not talk about him,” I said. “He’s not the reason why I called.”

  Nick laughed.

  “So you are still with him? Afraid of what he’ll do to you if you call it quits?”

  I sighed. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Like what—the fact you refuse to speak to me?”

  “The last time we spoke on the phone, you hung up,” I said. “Remember?”

  “There wasn’t anything left to say.”

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “And now?”

  Regret. And the strong urge to rewind the moment and make the decision not to call him at all. And an even stronger urge to purchase and consume an entire bottle of wine once I arrived back home. Or maybe two bottles.

  Does every woman feel like this?

  “Rusty, you still there?” he said.

  “Rusty” had been Elvis’s pet name for actress Ann-Margret Olsson, who supposedly considered Elvis to be the love of her life. Since Nick had felt the same way about me once upon a time, in his mind, the name applied. I never liked it. He didn’t care.

  “Please don’t call me that,” I said.

  “Why not? You used to love it.”

  I sighed.

  “Can we get back to the reason I’m calling?”

  “It’s still all business with you, isn’t it? It was always hard trying to get you to unwind.”

  “What do you know, Nick?”

  “Do you even think about me anymore?”

  “I haven’t thought about us for months.”

  “Why? Because you’re too busy with the suit?”

  “Please Nick—just stop. All I care about right now is how you know Mr. Tate.”

  “Fine. I was traveling through Jackson Hole last week. I was driving straight through, but I was tired, so I decided to stay the night. I went to some local bar and sat next to your guy.”

  “Noah Tate?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Go on,” I said.

  “This Tate guy said his four-year-old daughter had been kidnapped several months earlier. He’d come to the realization he would never see her again and had decided to kill himself and his wife.”

  “Wow,” I said. “He left that part out of the conversation. At least he didn’t do it.”

  “Don’t get too relieved, he almost did. He said he was loading the gun when his wife came in with an envelope addressed to the two of them. He opened it and found some paper inside he claims is from his missing daughter.”

  “And?”

  “At first I thought he was crazy. I didn’t care if he was drunk or sober. I couldn’t understand why he’d tell that kind of thing to someone he’d just met.”

  “So you thought the guy was a lunatic, and yet you gave him my card?” I said.

  “I told him I’d left something in my truck and snuck away so I could check out his story. Turned out, it was true. I did a search on my phone. There were photos all over the Internet of Tate, his wife, and their missing daughter. I gave him your card because from what Tate led me to believe, he doesn’t trust the police.”

  “Yeah, I got that impression too,” I said.

  “I’ve dealt with guys like him before—they all have the same glossed-over look in their eyes. This one’s teetering on the edge. He’s unpredictable, and I thought if anyone could help him, it’s you.”

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “You always hated what I did for a living.”

  “Still do. But no matter what I think, you’ll keep doing it anyway.”

  “So you thought why not throw me a bone?” I said.

  “Look, I genuinely question Tate’s sanity. But I thought if you looked into the kidnapping, it might give him something to live for—buy the guy and his wife some time before it’s too late.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Maddie sat on the couch with my very tired westie, Lord Berkeley, a.k.a. Boo, asleep in her lap. “Still no answer?”

  “I’ve been calling him for three days now. The phone goes straight to voicemail every time.”

  Maddie squinted.

  “You ever have this problem with Giovanni before?”

  “Never. We’ve been dating for several months now, and this is the longest we’ve gone without talking to each other.”

  “Hmm. When was the last time you heard from him?”

  “He called me a few days ago, saying he had some kind of urgent business to attend to in New York City. But ever since he left, I haven’t heard a word—no text, no phone call, nothing. That’s not a relationship. Not to me.”

  “Maybe he’s in trouble,” Maddie said.

  I shook my head. “Giovanni is the type of person who starts trouble and then later ends it.”

  Maddie smacked me on the shoulder. “You’re still hung up on the whole ‘mafia’ thing, aren’t you?”

  “It’s not a ‘thing,’ Maddie, it’s real. Just because he refuses to talk to me about it doesn’t make it any different.”

  “But you’ve never actually seen him involved in any mafia activity, so how do you know exactly what the guy does?”

  “Of course I have,” I said. “He just thinks I have no idea what anyone is talking about.”

  I stared at the lake outside my bedroom window, wishing I could climb onto my inflatable raft and fall asleep under the watchful eye of the afternoon sun.

  “I’m leaving for a few days,” I said.

  “What—when?”

  “Tomorrow morning. I took a new case yesterday.”

  Maddie pushed her elbows into the comforter on my bed, propping her hands onto her cheeks. Boo slid off of her and onto one of my pillows. “Where are you off to?”

  “Wyoming,” I said.

  She laughed.

  “You’re joking.”

  “All you need is a business license.”

  “What’s the case?”

  “A kidnapping. Two kids.”

  She opened my nightstand drawer and rifled around.

  “I don’t have any gum in there,” I said.

  She frowned and shut the drawer. “How old are these kids?”

  “The first one was six when she was kidnapped, so she’d be eight now,” I said. “And the other is four.”

  “No wonder you took the case. How could anyone say no to a couple of missing kids?”

  “The police don’t have a lot of evidence from what I understand.”

  “How long have they been missing?”

  “The older one was taken two years ago, and the younger one, six months ago.”

  “Mmmph,” Maddie said. “I don’t like those odds. You know you have almost no chance of finding them alive.”

  “I know, but I have to at least try,” I said. “One piece of evidence has been nagging at me. Both parents received a coloring page in the mail leading them to believe it came from their child.”

  Maddie made a face like she’d just bit into something sour. “What a cruel thing to do.”

  “I don’t know what to make of it yet, but my client is convinced the coloring page was drawn by his daughter.”

  “Why would someone take a person’s child and then send them reminders of it? Was there a ransom?”

  I shook my head.

  “There’s been no other contact with the parents of either child other than the one coloring page they each received in the mail,” I said. “I’ve been going over it all day, trying to figure out why a person with no ulterior motive would take the time to send it at all.”

  “And what did you come up with?”

  “There’s only one motive that comes to mind: guilt.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Instead of calling Giovanni again the next morning, I tried my luck with his right-hand man, Lucio. He answered on the second ring.

  “Hey, Sloane.”

  “I need to talk to Giovanni,” I said. “I’ve been calling
for a few days.”

  “Boss can’t talk right now. He’s in an important meetin’. Said to tell you he should be home soon.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Oh and uh, one more thing—he said not to worry. He’ll explain everything later.”

  “He’s too busy to send a text?” I said. “It’s been four days, Lucio. What’s going on?”

  “Don’t get all bent, Sloane.”

  “I’m not,” I said.

  “Sure sounds like it. Things here are, ahh, complicated at the moment.”

  How complicated could they possibly be?

  I sat there trying to decide whether it was worth saying something I might regret later. It probably was, but I stayed quiet.

  “Sloane, you still there?”

  “I’m here,” I said.

  “Want me to give the boss a message for you?”

  “Yes. Tell him I won’t be around when he gets back in town.”

  “Why? Where you goin’?”

  “Just tell Giovanni not to worry, okay?” I said. “If he can explain everything later, so can I.”

  I pressed the end button on my cell phone and sent it to voicemail when Lucio called back. I zipped my suitcase closed and looked around for Lord Berkeley who’d been MIA for the last half hour. The dog had good instincts. He knew whenever I put my shoes on, I was leaving. Combine that with packing a bag, it usually meant he was going to a sitter for a few days, something he didn’t particularly like.

  I called Lord Berkeley’s name out several times, but the only response I got was a room full of silence. There was only one thing to do. I walked to my front door, opened it, and knocked. Boo scampered around the corner in full alert mode, teeth clenched, growling at the door. It worked every time.

  “Let’s go for a ride,” I said.

  He gave me a look that said, Listen lady, I know what the word ‘ride’ means. And I’m not going to no sitter.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “You can come with me this time.”

  He didn’t understand, but when he spotted the bag of dog treats I rattled around in my hand, it no longer mattered.

  I heard a noise behind me that sounded like someone roller blading on the pavement. I turned around, facing the blond, pigtailed woman in front of me.

  “All ready to go,” Maddie said.

  “Umm, what are you talking about?”

  She smacked me on the arm. “I’m your plus one.”

  “I already have a ‘plus one,’” I said, pointing at Lord Berkeley.

  “Oh, come on. You’re such a stiff sometimes,” she said. “I need a vacation, and you’re going somewhere I haven’t been before, so I figured I’d tag along and keep you company. Besides, if I don’t go, you’ll just call me with a bunch of questions anyway. You always do.”

  I walked past her.

  “I’m going whether you like it or not,” Maddie said.

  I turned, looking her in the eye.

  “I’m looking for missing children this time, not dead bodies. At least, I am hoping it won’t come to that.”

  “Just because you think you’re better on your own, doesn’t mean you are. How many people in your line of work can say they have a medical examiner at their disposal?”

  “Will it matter if I say no?” I said.

  Maddie smiled, knowing she’d won. Not many people did with me. “You don’t have anything to worry about. I’ll stay out of your way.”

  I glanced at the cut-off denim shorts and pointy boots she was wearing and somehow didn’t believe a word of it. “What’s with the outfit?”

  “You said Wyoming, right?”

  “Yeah—but not Wyoming streetwalker.”

  She tossed her head back and laughed.

  “I bet half the girls in the state dress like this. You’ll see.”

  Four hours and one pit stop later, we pulled into a three-star hotel on the outskirts of town.

  Maddie stuck her bottom lip out like a child who’d just been told there wouldn’t be any dessert tonight. “Where are we?”

  “Pinedale,” I said.

  “I thought we were going to Jackson Hole?”

  “We are, but I want to look around here first.”

  “Why?”

  “This is where the first kidnapping took place,” I said.

  “But the guy who hired you was from the second kidnapping, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Going to Jackson right now would be like crossing the finish line before starting the race,” I said. “I need to start at the beginning, where it all happened.”

  She wasn’t listening anymore. Her attention had been diverted to the exterior of the hotel. She waved her hand in front of her. “This is the best you could do?”

  “What’s wrong with it?” I said.

  “I’m in charge of making the reservations from now on.”

  I shrugged.

  “I’m not sure they have five-star hotels in this town. You might be on vacation, I’m not. Five-hundred-thread-count sheets won’t help me find two lost girls.”

  She smiled.

  “Yeah, but getting good sleep might.”

  I glanced at the time on my phone. “I need to run into town really quick.”

  “Can’t it wait until morning?”

  I shook my head.

  “I want to stop by the grocery store before they close.” I snapped Boo’s leash on his collar and handed it to her. “There’s a pool. And a Jacuzzi. You’ll be fine.”

  A black Dodge Ram circled the parking lot and then exited without stopping. Normally, it would have flown under my radar, but the black grille guard on the front caught my eye. I’d seen a similar truck before in the McDonald’s parking lot the day before when I met with Noah Tate. But the Dodge hadn’t even slowed as it passed by, and there was no reason for me to believe I was being followed. Not yet. I shook it off. After all, I was in Wyoming where trucks were a dime a dozen. Right?

  CHAPTER 8

  The lights inside Maybelle’s Market were still on when I arrived, and according to the sign in the window, I had twenty minutes before they closed. I was determined to make the most of it.

  A young girl about the age of eighteen was politely giving instructions to a coworker when I walked in. She wore a red apron with the store’s name embroidered on the front. When I walked by, she looked at me and smiled, showcasing a mouth full of perfectly positioned porcelain veneers. They reminded me of white Chicklet’s gum and were so bright I couldn’t look away no matter how hard I tried.

  “Can I help you?” she said.

  “Is the manager here?”

  She thumbed to the right. “He’s in his office. Is everything all right?”

  I nodded.

  “I just wanted to ask him a few questions.”

  “I can get him for you if you want.”

  “How long have you worked here?” I said.

  She paused for so long I thought I was going to be given the actual date and time right down to the last second.

  “I kinda grew up here. My dad owns the store.”

  “So you’re a Maybelle?”

  Her laugh made me feel like I’d missed out on an inside joke. “Maybelle’s isn’t our last name. The store was named after Myra Maybelle Shirley, a famous outlaw. They used to call her “The Bandit Queen.” When my grandpa first opened the store, all he sold was coffee and that type of thing. He passed the store down to my dad, and now we sell practically everything.”

  A man stepped out of a side office, a set of keys swinging from his pointer finger. He glanced at me and then checked the time on his wristwatch. Obviously, he had one thing on his mind: closing the store. He wore a faded white polo shirt that was several sizes too big and a pair of slacks that couldn’t hold their position without a belt. The man walked past us and then stopped. “Is there a problem?”

  I shook my head.

  “This young lady was just telling me about the history of this place.”

  He sh
ooed the girl away with his hand and came closer. “Do you need help finding something? We’re closing in five minutes.”

  “I believe I’ve found what I was looking for,” I said.

  His eyes searched my empty hands.

  “Is there somewhere we can talk for a minute?” I said.

  “What about?”

  “Olivia Hathaway.”

  The man whipped around and speed-walked so fast back into his office I could barely keep up with him. He held the door, ushering me into his office. Once inside, he closed the door, leaning against it like it was a welcome refuge from potential eavesdroppers on the outside.

  His office smelled like a combination of an old jock strap and stale food, prompting me to keep our meeting short.

  “Is there a problem?” I said.

  “Who are you?”

  “Not a reporter if that’s what you’re worried about,” I said.

  “I’ve never seen you before, and you don’t look like you’re from here.”

  I glanced down at my jeans and lavender sweater, wondering what he would have thought if I’d brought Maddie along with me. But he wasn’t eyeing my clothes. He was scrutinizing my Fendi handbag, a gift from Giovanni. I considered setting the major distraction on the floor until I noticed it looked like it hadn’t been mopped for a while. Apparently, store cleanliness didn’t extend to personal offices. I held the bag securely with both hands in front of me, tight against my legs to avoid contamination.

  “My name is Sloane,” I said.

  “Jim.”

  Jim sat behind a beaten up metal desk that quite possibly had been around since his father owned the store. I sat opposite him on a chair that had a price tag dangling from the side. At least it was clean.

  “I’m looking into the kidnapping of a couple girls over the past two years,” I said. “I understand Olivia was kidnapped from your store.”

  He cleared his throat—twice. “I told everything I know to the cops, and then to the investigators that showed up after the cops, and then to the agents who showed up after the investigators. Why are you interested?”

  “I’ve been hired to look into a few things.”

  “Are you new?”