A Box Full of Trouble

by Carolyn Haines

  Julie gave her a mischievous wink. So there was, indeed, vodka in that drink.

  "I'm grateful for the breakfast, Julie." Bruce didn't really sound grateful. "But why are you here? How did you find out?"

  Julie put the tray down in front of him and all but tucked a big cloth napkin in his shirt—the one he'd been wearing the day before and had obviously slept in. "You are such a silly, Bruce. It's our quarterly meeting for the Rita's Friends charity. Breakfast here before you go into the office? Third Monday of the month?"

  Erin interrupted. "This isn't a good time."

  "There's no need to be unpleasant, Erin." It was hard to miss the scolding tone in her voice.

  "No, it's really a bad time. I think you should go. I'll see you out."

  "Bruce, what's going on here? Did Shelby Rae say something? I know she doesn't like that you've kept me on as director—"

  "For God's sake." Bruce put his face back in his hands.

  "What did I say? Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

  Jocko got up on his back feet and put his paws on Bruce's knee to lick his hand. Bruce scratched him behind the ears. "Good boy," he whispered. "We think Shelby Rae went out somewhere last night. She didn't take her phone, and she hasn't come home."

  Erin caught a flash of pleasure in Julie's eyes before her face took on a look of dismay. "She ran off—" Her voice trailed off, but both Erin and her father heard her say, "with someone?"

  Bruce stood up so quickly that he nearly upset the table. All the dishes rattled and the Bloody Mary sloshed out of the glass, reminding Erin of the bloodied shirt in her hand. She would wait until Julie was gone to mention it.

  "Get out of this house!" Bruce pointed to the door. Erin saw how his extended hand trembled.

  Julie turned to her. "I don't wish Shelby Rae any ill. You know that, Erin. She and I get on better than the two of you. In fact I heard you arguing yesterday. Maybe you upset her.”

  "It's not any of your goddamn business!" Bruce canted forward, his face close to Julie's startled one. "Get out, and stay away from us. Rita would be ashamed to hear you right now."

  Erin took a step toward Julie to get her moving. She'd never seen father so angry and was afraid of what he might do. She almost felt sorry for Julie. Almost. Taking the woman's arm to get her out of the family room, she heard her father breathing heavily behind them.

  "Did you have a purse or anything?" Erin kept her voice a whisper

  Julie started to shake her head, then said, "It's in the kitchen with the papers. I didn't mean anything. I only wanted to help. I thought you and Shelby Rae were sleeping in, and I know she doesn't cook much anyway. I really did just want to help." In the kitchen she gathered her things and tried to hug Erin, but Erin stepped away.

  "I'm not angry with you, but leave dad alone right now. He's angry with you because he loves Shelby Rae and is worried about her."

  When Julie opened her mouth to speak, Erin raised her hand. "Stop. With any luck she'll come back today and Dad will be fine."

  "Shouldn't you call the police? What if she's been kidnapped? I know I might have been out of line when I asked if she'd run away with someone, but there's a reason I said it. A valid reason. It wasn't because I'm..." She faltered and took a breath. "I care very deeply about you and your father. I don't want to see either of you hurt."

  Erin got Julie out of the house without going into further detail about Shelby Rae's disappearance, and extracted a promise that she wouldn't tell anyone Shelby Rae was missing. She had a good idea of exactly how much Julie cared for her father. Julie Berry was not a subtle woman.

  With the shirt still under her arm, Erin returned to the family room only to find it empty. Trouble was sitting on the couch, washing his face and behind his ear with one black paw. Seeing that the yolk was broken on the egg, she smiled. No one else was going to eat the thing, so the animals might as well have it. Though she reminded herself to make sure her father did eat something. She took the dishes to the kitchen, set the shirt on a stool, and made her father fresh coffee and a bowl of cereal with fruit.

  When her father came downstairs fifteen minutes later, followed by Jocko, he carried a red, white, and blue canvas bag he'd gotten at an auto dealers’ convention. It wasn't bulging, but she suspected it contained the fifty thousand in cash from his personal safe. The safe in which he also stored the jewelry her mother had left her, as well as Shelby Rae's more valuable pieces. What did Shelby Rae think about Rita's jewelry being in the safe? Did it bother her? She'd never said, and Rita had been gone long enough that her name didn't come up often when she and Erin were together. The house had even been substantially redecorated two years after Shelby Rae moved in, and, with Bruce's blessing, she’d slowly gotten rid of many of the pieces that Rita had loved. Erin considered it dumb luck that Shelby Rae had hired a Nashville decorator with excellent taste to make most of the changes.

  "Daddy, you need to eat something."

  "Is that woman gone? Maybe I was too hard on her, but she had some nerve coming in the house and making breakfast. What in the hell was she thinking?"

  "Sit down. There's cereal and fresh coffee."

  "I'm nervous as a cat." He set the duffel on the island. Noticing the dirty garment on the stool, he picked it up by one loose edge. At first he looked puzzled, but when he saw it was spotted with blood, his eyes clouded with concern.

  "I didn't want Julie to see it. Jocko brought it out of the woods this morning. I don't know where he found it. You think it's blood, too, don't you?"

  "Jesus." Bruce held the shirt to his face and breathed in Shelby Rae's scent, his eyes closed.

  "There’s not very much. Maybe it's not hers." Erin tried to sound hopeful, but her heart wasn't in it. The shirt was definitely Shelby Rae's. She looked away, discomfited to once again witness the deep emotion on her father's face.

  "The sooner I get this money to them, the sooner we'll get her back."

  "About what Julie said. You know I would never do anything to hurt Shelby Rae, right? What we argued about was really dumb. I don't know why I got so angry."

  Bruce raised a hand, interrupting her. "I'm not blind. We both know Julie’s wanted to take your mother's place for years. She's a sad woman, and I used to feel sorry for her. But the last thing I'll put up with is her trying to get between you and me.”

  To hear him say that took away some of the guilt weighing on her heart. What remained was the guilt over her childish hope that Shelby Rae would get bored and leave, or her father would decide he didn't love his second wife after all.

  "Then let me go with you to drop off the money. Please."

  "I want you to stay here in case she comes back. There's a chance. Somebody could be watching the house."

  "Like Bryn Owens? She's not out there now."

  "She wouldn't be if she kidnapped Shelby Rae. But there could be someone else. Someone who's being paid to watch. You know where the Mossberg is. Use it if you need to. I'm not going to mess around with these people. I told you I want you safe."

  Erin didn't have to ask him if he was carrying. His shirt hung loose, and that meant his Sig Sauer P238 was tucked into the waistband of his khakis.

  He took a long drink of the cooled coffee and put the mug back down on the counter.

  "I'll text you when it's done. If nothing happens while I'm there, I’ll go to work as usual. I don't want anyone to start asking questions, and I don't trust Julie to keep her mouth shut. Look out for Shelby Rae. For anything."

  * * *

  Erin usually did what her father asked her to do, not just out of respect, but because in most things—except when it came to Shelby Rae—he was right. But this did have something to do with Shelby Rae and he wasn't thinking straight. If Shelby Rae returned to find the house locked up, she could get in using the code on the garage door. And Jocko would be there to greet her. That wasn't so bad, was it?

  She waited until her father had been gone for five minutes before she grabbed her
phone, keys, and the Mossberg and headed for her own car. Trouble and Jocko stood at the door leading to the garage as though they knew where she was going.

  "No. I don't need any help, guys. I put the TV in the family room on Animal Planet. Go watch cheetahs or something." Jocko's ears lowered and she could've sworn Trouble was scowling at her. "I'll be back. I promise."

  * * *

  There were two ways she could get to the Strattons’ abandoned dairy farm, and Erin took the fastest, steering the Challenger carefully even as she hurtled along the oil and chip backroads. The Mossberg sat securely in a case in her car's trunk. Not the most practical place, but it was there if she needed it. She couldn't get the idea that her father might be in danger out of her head. A part of her wanted to call the sheriff right that minute. Up to this point, she'd gone along with her father's wishes (mostly), but now he was alone, putting himself at the mercy of the kidnappers.

  Who could the kidnappers be? Was Bryn Owens really capable of something so vicious? All along, Erin had had the sense that Bryn's lawsuit wasn't about money, but punishment. Anyone who saw Bryn and Tionna together could tell that they loved each other deeply. And the bakery was their labor of love. Bryn Owens was not a big woman, and probably couldn't have manhandled Shelby Rae, who was taller. But she could've taken her at gunpoint, or she might have had help.

  The previous night, Erin had wondered about Noah, too. He certainly had reason to hate her family. But even though she'd seen him walking away from Bryn Owens's car, he’d later been on the dock watching the fireworks. She and her father agreed that Shelby Rae had probably disappeared while they were going on. Erin had wanted to join Noah on the dock, but it felt too awkward. He’d also stuck around long after the bonfire was lit, and she didn’t like to think how disappointed he’d looked when she shut the door after taking Trouble from him. He probably thought she hated him. She found herself wanting to make it up to him.

  There was another possibility that bothered her. What if Shelby Rae had cooperated with someone in her family to get the fifty thousand dollars? That Uncle Travis was certainly creepy. Erin didn't know him well, but he'd been busted for check forgery at least once. He might be small time enough to settle for fifty thousand easy dollars. Or what if he—or someone else—was blackmailing Shelby Rae about something?

  Erin shook her head to try to stop her mind from generating such crazy ideas.

  She remembered how, when she and MacKenzie were eleven, MacKenzie's Sheltie dog, Mikey Cyrus (formerly "Miley" but she turned out to be a he), had gone missing. They'd put up fliers all over town and hung out at the shelter for hours on end, waiting to see if anyone showed up with him. When a week went by, Erin and MacKenzie became convinced that Mikey Cyrus had been kidnapped. It didn't matter that their parents had told them the little dog might have just wandered off. They researched dognappings online and became convinced that Mikey Cyrus had been captured either by someone who wanted to resell him because he was so cute, or by people who wanted to test cosmetics on him. Erin’s mother had discovered them on the computer, looking for the email addresses of the people in the science department at the Bluegrass Junior College. Never mind that no one did any kind of scientific research at the junior college, let alone animal testing. Erin sulked for two days. Finally, at the end of the second day, someone called MacKenzie's house from a town about ten miles away to say they had the dog. They'd found him going through a spilled garbage bag near their apartment dumpster, and when they approached him he practically leapt into their arms. Fortunately he was still wearing his collar and tag engraved with the Clays' address and phone number.

  So it hadn't been Erin's nascent detective skills that had brought the dog home, and maybe she was a little paranoid. But paranoia wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps she was being a little hard on Shelby Rae, too. It wasn't like Shelby Rae had ever been a criminal.

  Erin drove the Challenger down an overgrown, once-graveled road leading to the abandoned farmhouse next to Stratton's dairy farm. When she got out, she was careful to lock the car without making the alarm beep. By the time she made her way to the treeline nearest the barn where her father was to leave the money, she saw him already heading back to his truck, his head bowed. He wasn't messing around. This was no game to him. She knew he would do anything to get Shelby Rae back alive.

  Once in the truck, he sat for a few minutes, staring at the barn. Erin hated that he was alone. Why hadn't he let her come with him? She felt a little guilty that she hadn't stayed back at the house, as he'd asked her to. But, dammit, if he wouldn't call the sheriff, somebody needed to make sure he was okay. Like some kind of superhuman sheepdog, her father was always taking care of people. But who was there to look after the sheepdogs of the world?

  She startled at the sound of her text alert, and quickly silenced it. She hadn't meant to leave her phone on. Ironically, the text was from her father.

  It's done. Is she back?

  Did he imagine that kidnappers worked that way—so quickly?

  No nothing yet. Is everything okay?

  * * *

  Going into the office. Call me when she shows up.

  * * *

  I will.

  Hearing her father's truck start, Erin looked up. She was so hidden in the trees that he would have had a hard time spotting her. Also, he wouldn't be looking for her.

  After he was gone, she stayed put. Thirty minutes later she was hot, bored, and scratching her bare legs non-stop because of the bugs and long grass. A few cars and pick up trucks passed by, but otherwise nothing was happening. How did actual police deal with being on stakeouts? At least on television they had doughnuts or coffee or deli sandwiches. She wanted to kick herself because she hadn't even remembered to bring a bottle of water.

  She thought of hiding in the barn itself. It was more dangerous, but it was the only way she could know for certain who was picking up the ransom money. Tucking her phone into her shorts pocket, she parted the whip-like branches in front of her, but froze when she heard the whining engine of a four-wheeler cruising through the woods to her left. She shrank back, worried she'd been seen. The four-wheeler didn't hesitate as it burst into the old pasture headed for the barn.

  The vehicle was far enough away that she couldn't get a good look at the driver, but she was sure it was a man. He must have been watching for her father to know that he’d already left the ransom.

  The driver wore amber-colored work pants, boots, and a black hoodie that hid his hair and the edges of his face, which was fully covered by a black morphsuit-like mask. The eyeless mask made him look sinister and dangerous. Before Erin thought to get out her phone to take a picture, he disappeared behind the barn, and she cursed.

  One thing was certain. Shelby Rae wasn't inside the barn, or her father would've seen her. And if the person picking up the ransom was the kidnapper, Shelby Rae was hidden away somewhere else. Either she was locked up, or someone else was guarding her.

  The four-wheeler didn't shut off. There must've been a second entrance to the barn, because after less than a minute, the four-wheeler revved and appeared again, headed back the way it came. The driver still wore his hood up, and the red, white, and blue bag was slung across his back. As the four-wheeler bounced over the pasture, Erin was able to get a couple of pictures before it disappeared into the woods. She weighed the idea of following it, but there was no clear path or road the way it went. Plus, it was long gone.

  She knew she should've felt like she'd accomplished something by getting the pictures, but it didn't feel like enough. No matter how she zoomed in on the man on her phone, she couldn't see enough detail, and the four-wheeler had no license plate. Checking to make sure no one else was coming, she stepped over the busted fence and hurried to the barn.

  * * *

  Erin looked up at the sound of movement in the barn's rafters. A half-dozen ragged holes revealed the perfect blue of the sky and sunlight that bathed the interior in mellow light. The air smelled of rotted h
ay, dirt, and old cow dung. She was careful where she walked because someone had busted up the stalls, leaving splintered wood and rusting nails all over the ground. A red-winged blackbird cried out from the edge of one of the holes above her, and she jumped, laughing nervously.

  The note had told her father to leave the money on a blue steel drum. She found the drum easily, as it was the only industrial item left in the barn. Grasping the drum's edge, she tried to rock it. But it was immovable. She shivered to think what might be inside. A weighted-down body? What if it was Shelby Rae?

  She pulled her hand back, afraid, and glanced around the barn. The idea was too macabre. Impossible. Yet not impossible.

  Determined, Erin made herself look more closely at the drum. Scraping away the rust and grime from the edge with her house key, it looked like the drum had never been unsealed. Squatting in front of it, she could just make out a dusty printed label: Grade 80 Steel Chain. She sighed with relief. That would explain why the drum was so heavy. A search of the barn turned up nothing, and she decided to leave.

  No one seemed to be following her, so she drove home more slowly than she had on the way to the barn. True to his word, her father wasn't at the house. She'd expected him to change his mind and come home to wait. It surely had to be hell for him going through the motions of his day, only being able to think about Shelby Rae.

  Erin let Jocko out, then nervously checked the house phone's voicemail to see if the kidnappers had called. It was a thought that hadn't occurred to her before she'd decided to follow her father. Fortunately the only messages were from a pest control company wanting to set up an appointment, and a long, pitiful message from Julie that was part apology and part suggestion that she could come over and help in any way she could—to make dinner or clean up after the party or just offer moral support.