The Manhattan Encounter

by Addison Fox

  “Mom always called it her field of flowers.” Jason’s gaze lingered on the quilt, as if remembering special moments with his mother.

  Sheri’s heart squeezed tight. She wished she had any memories of her own mother, but her mother had dropped her off for her aunt Liz to raise when she’d been a couple months old.

  “Same price as we put on the other one?”

  Jason lifted his gaze back on her. “Yes, that would be good.” He leaned against the counter as if reluctant to leave. He was a good-looking kid with dark hair beneath his requisite straw hat. But his eyes held concern and dark circles rode beneath, making him appear much older than his age.

  “Everything all right?” Sheri asked softly.

  Jason shrugged slender shoulders. “Okay, I guess, although I’m worried a bit about my da.”

  “Worried about what?” It wasn’t right for a child to worry about his father, she thought.

  Once again Jason shrugged, a faint pink stain coloring his cheeks. “He’s just not been himself the last couple of months. He leaves the fieldwork and disappears and I don’t know where he goes. He’s distant and isn’t part of the family like he used to be.” Jason flushed again. “I shouldn’t be talking about this.”

  Sheri reached out and covered his hand with hers. “Don’t worry, Jason. You know I’m not a gossiper. Maybe your father is still grieving and he’s dealing with it by isolating himself.” She pulled her hand from his.

  “I know he misses my mother a lot, and dealing with the younger ones is difficult. Thankfully, Sarah Fisher is watching them for me this morning for a couple of hours.” He gave her a small smile. “I love my family but sometimes a little break away from them all is not a bad thing.”

  “You have a lot of responsibility on your shoulders, Jason. Just try to find some time for a little fun, too,” Sheri replied.

  At that moment Jennifer arrived and the private conversation between Sheri and Jason halted. With a wave of his hand he left the store as Jennifer came around the counter to stand next to Sheri.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  Sheri nodded. “Jason brought in another of his mother’s quilts to sell. I feel so sorry for him. Since Mary died he’s had so much to deal with.”

  “You know the old saying, ‘What doesn’t break you makes you strong,’” Jennifer replied.

  Sheri eyed her wryly. “Ah, words of wisdom from a twenty-two-year-old who still lives at home with her parents who treat her like a princess.”

  Jennifer laughed. “I’m the first to admit that I’m hopelessly spoiled.”

  “Now that we agree on that, take thy spoiled bottom into the storage room and unpack the boxes of Wolf Creek souvenirs that came in yesterday,” Sheri said.

  Jennifer gave her a saucy salute and then disappeared into the big back room that provided storage space and a picnic table for lunch breaks.

  The morning seemed to fly by, with more business than usual for a Wednesday. She hoped it was a portent of a busy tourist season. Spring and summer business was great, but when the snow flew she shortened her hours and lived mostly on what she’d made during the busy season.

  There were only three places where Sheri was happy—here at the store, at her cottage with the surrounding woods, and at her aunt’s home that had always smelled of cinnamon and apples or rich chocolate and dough.

  Liz Marcoli was a talent in the kitchen when it came to baking sweets and desserts. Marlene had inherited her natural talent for baking. Roxy also had a genuine talent in the kitchen, but Sheri was hopeless when it came to cooking anything but the simplest of dishes.

  A blur of tears misted her eyes as she thought of her missing aunt. She knew the law enforcement in Wolf Creek had done everything in their power in an attempt to find Liz, but there had been no leads to follow, no breadcrumbs of clues.

  Three and a half months had passed and the hole in the fabric of their little family had been ripped right from the center. Aunt Liz had been their mother-figure, their support system, their snuggle buddy on dark stormy nights when they’d been children.

  And now she was gone...vanished from her home, seemingly vanished from the entire world.

  The tears that had been about to fall as grief attempted to take hold of her vanished when a car pulled up to the front door and a family of five tumbled from the doors.

  It was one o’clock when Sheri’s cell phone rang and she saw Marlene’s number light up. “Hey, sis, what’s up?”

  “I feel really, really bad calling at the last minute like this, but can you get by without me today? I’ve got an appointment at three to meet an electrician at the store and I have a feeling it’s going to be a long meeting.”

  “It’s not a problem,” Sheri assured her sister. “In fact, if it’s time for you to stop working here to focus solely on the bakery, it’s all right. Jenny, Abe and I can handle things here and if I find myself shorthanded, I can always hire a new part-timer.”

  There was a long silence from Marlene. “Are you sure?” she finally asked. “I really am excited to get the bakery up and running as soon as possible.”

  Sheri smiled into the phone. She knew between the work on the bakery and her relationship with Detective Frank Delaney, Marlene had finally found all the pieces she needed for her happiness. Working in the store had never really been part of Marlene’s dreams.

  “I’m positive,” Sheri replied. “I don’t want to see you here unless you’re shopping for something you need to create culinary magic.”

  “Sheri, you’re the best,” Marlene said, her relief evident in her tone.

  Sheri laughed. “Just build that bakery and invite me as a special guest on opening day.”

  “You know that goes without saying.”

  The two spoke for another few minutes, talking about their eldest sister, Roxy, who had moved in with Detective Steve Kincaid and his seven-year-old son. Roxy ran a successful restaurant called the Dollhouse and specialized in hearty breakfasts and delightfully fresh and original lunch fare.

  Neither of them mentioned Aunt Liz or the stalled case that had all three sisters barely clinging to any hope that she would be found alive.

  When the call finally ended, the rest of the day remained busy. Thankfully when it was time for Jennifer to leave, Abe Winslow had arrived to take up the slack.

  The two of them stayed busy with customers until seven. By eight Sheri decided it was time to close up shop. She locked up the front door and then together she and Abe left through the back.

  “Busy day,” he said as they stepped outside into the warm night.

  “Hopefully we’re just going to get busier.”

  “I could work more hours if you needed me to,” Abe said.

  Sheri smiled at the older man. He’d taken the job of working here in the late afternoon and evenings after his wife had died. He’d told Sheri that the silence of their cabin had been overwhelming after she was gone.

  “I might need you to work more hours. Marlene isn’t going to be working here anymore. We’ll see how things go. Good night, Abe.”

  “See you tomorrow,” he said and headed toward his old Chevy parked in the lot next to her pickup.

  As she pulled out of the lot, she thought about Abe. He’d initially been a suspect in Liz’s disappearance when he’d told Sheri and Marlene that he’d asked Liz out and she’d turned him down.

  But he’d quickly been cleared of any wrongdoing. At the time Liz had disappeared Abe had been spending the night at his brother’s home in Hershey. The brother and several other family members had confirmed his alibi.

  Thoughts of Abe halted as Sheri noticed car lights behind hers. She slowed to allow the car to pass, but the car slowed, as well. She sped up and the vehicle behind her mirrored the action.

  No reason to believe anyon
e is following me, she thought. And yet when she turned off the highway and onto the narrow gravel road that would eventually lead to the lane that was her driveway into her cottage, the car made the turn right behind her.

  An edge of apprehension crept up her spine. There were few people who used this road and she couldn’t remember the last time any vehicle had shadowed her from the shop to her home.

  Stop being silly, she told herself. There were other people who lived in this area. She didn’t own the road that continued past her driveway and on up the mountain. It was probably just the thought of somebody kidnapping Aunt Liz that had her unusually on edge.

  She couldn’t tell the make or color of the car that was behind her. Darkness had fallen and all she could discern was the brilliance of the headlights.

  As she turned into the lane that led to her cottage, she could have sworn that the car behind her came to a near halt, and then zoomed on and disappeared from sight.

  Sheri hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until it expelled out of her in a deep whoosh. She parked her truck and when she stepped out, a sense of uneasiness settled over her again as she heard the sounds of Highway barking raucously from his pen.

  Nerves jittering, she quickly unlocked her front door, stepped inside and then locked the door behind her. She went to the kitchen and looked out the window where Highway was at the back of his fenced pen facing the forest and barking the kind of sound that indicated danger.

  The dog was well trained not to bark at four-legged creatures or any of the wildlife that populated the area. Highway only acted this way when there was a two-legged predator in the woods.

  Sheri opened the window above her kitchen sink, her heart beating an abnormally rapid rhythm. “Highway...inside!”

  The dog turned in her direction, looked back toward the forest and gave a sharp bark, and then headed to the doggie door.

  As he entered the kitchen, Sheri flipped the latches on the door that would keep anything else from crawling inside. She hurried back to the window and peered outside, wondering who or what had set Highway off.

  The darkness betrayed no movement, no discernible figure, but that didn’t slow the frantic beat of Sheri’s heart. She tried to tell herself she was overreacting.

  Still, she went from room to room, turning on lights and checking windows for any sign of an intruder. Her blood chilled as she found an unlocked window open an inch in the spare bedroom.

  Had she unlocked the window last week when the weather had been so nice? Had she opened the window to let in some fresh air? She couldn’t remember. All she knew for certain was that she didn’t want to be here alone.

  She wasn’t even aware that she had memorized Jimmy Carmani’s phone number until she punched it into her phone. He answered on the first ring. “Jimmy, can you come to my house?”

  “On my way,” he replied, and hung up.

  Copyright © 2014 by Carla Bracale

  ISBN-13: 9781460335178

  THE MANHATTAN ENCOUNTER

  Copyright © 2014 by Frances Karkosak

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