Hidden Falls

by Newport, Olivia

  A boom thundered behind Sylvia, startled the breath out of her, and launched a surge of adrenaline. She spun toward the scuffling footsteps behind the curtain, but Miles was already out of his seat and taking the side stairs in three long steps before disappearing through the stage door, so she held her position. A nervous mutter rippled across the room. The wait staff along the wall lost their formation. Five hundred faces looked in a dozen different directions.

  Sylvia gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile to the eyes fixed on her. “I’m sure Mr. Devon will have things in hand momentarily.”

  Miles emerged from the stage door and paced across the stage. Sylvia put a hand over the microphone as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

  “Some idiot set the trigger on the theater’s air cannon stored back there,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was Zeke Plainfield, but he’s been out here the whole time. Anyway, there’s no telling what the cycle time was set for.”

  Sylvia eased her breath out through upturned lips. “So everything is all right back there?”

  “Perfectly fine.”

  “And Quinn?”

  “It wasn’t anywhere near him. The cannon was at the back of the stage in a pile of props.”

  “Good.”

  “Let’s not reward this with attention. Just continue your remarks.” Miles casually returned to his seat.

  “We’ve had a mishap,” Sylvia said into the microphone, “but nothing to interrupt our celebration. When you picked up your name tags, you also found a card indicating the entrée you selected with your reservation. Please lay this above your place setting, and servers will be sure you receive the meal you ordered. But before we begin the meal, let’s welcome our guest of honor.”

  Sylvia swept one hand in a wide gesture toward the center of the stage. She fell into darkness as the spotlight shifted and the curtains began to draw open. Applause swelled again and the crowd rose to their feet.

  The curtains left a wide gap now, and light flooded the stage.

  The mark was empty.

  Sylvia smiled for the sake of anyone who might be watching her face and walked across the stage to glance around the area out of view from the audience. It would be just like Quinn to get involved in the backstage commotion.

  “Quinn,” she whispered sharply. “Get out here.”

  Silence. Not even the shuffle of a step.

  Sylvia signaled to a stagehand to turn on the lights behind the curtain. Her eyes swept the area.

  Quinn was gone.

  2

  Losing Quinn

  Saturday

  7:52 p.m.

  Applause thundered. Lauren made sure her clapping was among the most enthusiastic, and her glee for Quinn blotted out the discomfort of her heels when she stood up. Her aunt Sylvia disappeared behind the side curtain to a steady roll of applause. A few seconds later, though, the spotlight dimmed. In response, the ovation tapered off. The standing crowd looked at each other, expressions both expectant and bewildered. Gradually people began to sit down.

  “Hey, Lauren, what’s going on?”

  The pressure on the back of her shoulders could only mean Zeke, an eleventh-grader from church who liked to sneak up on her. Lauren ducked out of his grasp and twisted to see his face. Zeke wore black pants, a white shirt, and a black bow tie.

  “I see you’re serving dinner tonight.” Lauren tweaked his tie.

  “That was the plan, but this wasn’t in the rehearsal.”

  “Rehearsal?”

  “Yeah. As soon as the mayor walks Mr. Quinn down off the stage, we’re supposed to start serving the Caesar salads.”

  Lauren glanced around the table. Brian and Rachel Gardner looked at her with anticipation. She had been in school with a couple of their kids. An older couple she didn’t recognize also seemed to think she would have an explanation.

  “You know how it is,” Lauren said casually. “You can’t predict everything at a rehearsal.”

  “Mr. Quinn wasn’t at the rehearsal.” Zeke tapped one foot and jiggled his knee. “Seems like they should’ve had the star of the show there.”

  Brian Gardner buzzed his lips. “At least this time I’m not worried that one of my kids was the one not paying attention.”

  Nervous laughter circled the table.

  “All he had to do was stand on an X,” Zeke said. “They made it pretty big. I saw it myself.”

  “One little glitch is not going to ruin the evening.” Lauren watched the stage. The curtains were closing.

  “It’s probably a trick,” Zeke said.

  Brian Gardner nodded agreement. “Quinn will have the last laugh.”

  Rachel said, “It’s his night. He should enjoy it however he likes.”

  While Quinn didn’t like being singled out for credit—he believed nothing happened due to the efforts of just one person—his creative humor was legendary. He was the teacher students could count on to ham it up at the faculty talent show or in the skits during pep rallies.

  Lauren chuckled. “One time he came out dressed as one of the Trapp Family children in play clothes made out of curtains. I was laughing so hard I nearly fell off the top of the cheerleader pyramid.”

  Zeke grinned. “Last week he got in one of those human bowling ball cages and let them roll him across the gym.”

  “Zeke Plainfield, get back in line.”

  The razor in the caterer’s tone made everyone at the table jump. Zeke lurched toward the wall where most of the waitstaff still stood, though they had relaxed their posture considerably.

  The curtains took a final tug and sealed the gap between them, plunging the activity behind into mystery. Buzzing murmurs around the banquet room notched up.

  “Zeke is probably right,” Lauren said. “Quinn has something up his sleeve.”

  “I don’t know,” Nicole said, shaking her head. “That doesn’t sound right.”

  “I’m sure it will be dignified.” Whatever humor Quinn was going to bring to the evening, he would be in his tux. At most, three minutes had passed since the spotlight showed an empty stage. Considering everything scheduled for the evening, a three-minute delay didn’t concern Lauren. A little laughter would relax everyone, and people across the generations would chatter with one another like old friends. It was some sort of an icebreaker, Lauren decided.

  “Something’s wrong.” Nicole spoke softly into the space between her and Lauren. “I don’t like the way this smells.”

  “What do you mean, how it smells?” Lauren said. “It’s nothing.” They would be laughing about it in another minute.

  “Did you see the mayor’s face?” Nicole said. “She was not expecting this.”

  “Of course not,” Lauren said. “Quinn never tells anybody when he’s going to pull something.”

  “Why did they turn off the spotlight?”

  Lauren shifted in her chair. “Maybe the lights guy is in on it.”

  “You just said Quinn doesn’t tell anybody.”

  “I didn’t mean that literally. Obviously sometimes he needs a conspirator.”

  With her lips pressed together, Nicole shook her head with less hesitancy. “Not tonight. He wouldn’t spoil an occasion like this.”

  “He’s not spoiling anything,” Lauren said. “He’s just being Quinn.”

  “Quinn will play along with a lot of crazy ideas,” Nicole said, “but he’s not the class clown. He never let anyone get away with that in class. He doesn’t disturb other people’s plans.”

  Lauren had no response. What Nicole said was true.

  Nicole nodded toward the stage. “Look at the clues. Your aunt didn’t come back out. The light went off. The curtain closed. Now the principal just went up the side steps to the stage and behind the curtain. This is not adding up.”

  Lauren reached for her water goblet and watched the stage. Miles Devon stuck his head out and glanced around the banquet hall and then quickly withdrew. A stagehand descended the short set of stairs and bounded
down the long wall of the room past the waitstaff. Sylvia reappeared, crossing the apron of the stage without pausing at the microphone. The curtains flapped with the continued bustle behind them.

  An obnoxious roar from someone in the back of the room stunned Lauren. Her hand trembled, knocking the ice cubes around in her glass.

  “What’s the matter?” the voice boomed. “Didn’t you practice enough?”

  Around an entire table, dinner guests guffawed. The rudeness set off a ripple of nervous astonishment that flowed across the banquet hall.

  Lauren’s breath caught as her head turned along with every other head in the room, like gawkers at the scene of an accident who can’t help themselves. She cringed at the way the uncouth disruption would further mar an evening already gone awry. But while most eyes fixed on the ogre who stood and shouted in his own amusement, Lauren’s focused on another man at the table. Nevin Morgan passed her on the street just a couple of hours ago, but she’d hoped to get through the evening’s festivities without giving him another thought.

  “We’re going to get our dinner while it’s hot, right?” the loudmouth bellowed.

  From behind him, Nevin Morgan met Lauren’s eyes. Something inside Lauren shriveled; a moan escaped and she snatched back her gaze.

  “Are you all right?” Nicole asked.

  Unable to speak, Lauren nodded vaguely.

  Sylvia came out from behind the heavy stage curtain and stepped to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, please excuse the delay. We ask your patience as we prepare to continue.”

  Lauren didn’t like the color in her aunt’s face as she once again pushed the curtain aside and withdrew behind it.

  “Sylvia lost Quinn! Sylvia lost Quinn!” The taunter started a chant, and his buddies joined in. Fortunately, his efforts to incite the crowd failed.

  Lauren’s anticipation of humor dissipated. “I think you might be right,” she said to Nicole.

  “I’m a reporter,” Nicole said. “I can smell a story a mile away. Something happened.”

  Lauren stood. “I should see if I can help.”

  Nicole grabbed Lauren’s forearm and pulled her back into her seat. “No. That will just make things look more suspicious.”

  “Maybe Quinn is ill up there. Maybe they found him on the floor with a heart attack.” Lauren’s imagination raced.

  “No. He’s not there. That’s the issue. He’s not there at all.”

  “How do you know?”

  Nicole raked a hand through the hair covering the side of her face. “Because they’re still looking for him.”

  Sylvia crossed the stage again. Lauren watched her aunt’s face. It was a mask of control and efficiency, an expression Sylvia put on when she wanted to handle a situation in unruffled calm.

  This really was a situation.

  7:57 p.m.

  Sylvia Alexander was again at the microphone, this time holding up a copy of the evening’s program. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for bearing with us. You’ll notice in tonight’s program the invitation to visit the video booth along the side wall at some point in the evening. A videographer will be there to record your personal greetings and remembrances of Ted Quinn. Since it looks like our evening will deviate from the order printed in the program, I invite you to begin availing yourself of this opportunity.”

  “We might as well sit down.” Liam held Jessica’s chair.

  She seated herself and tucked her long legs under the table. Liam sat beside her. On the other side of him, Cooper’s eyes were taking in the scene.

  Thinking like a cop, Liam thought. A few people drifted toward the video booth.

  “What happened?” Jessica asked.

  Liam wondered if anyone else heard the edge in her voice.

  “It’s fine,” Liam said.

  “You don’t know that,” Jessica said.

  “I just mean we don’t have any reason to be worried,” Liam said. “They’ll find where Quinn went off to, and we’ll get on with the evening. They’re probably reorganizing now.”

  “Don’t be too sure.” Dani spoke from the other side of Cooper.

  “Dani, do you know something?” Liam asked.

  She shrugged. “Not really. Except Quinn doesn’t like this kind of attention.”

  “He probably just needed a minute,” Cooper said. “Maybe he didn’t feel well. He could be in the men’s room.”

  “Is that really what you think?” Dani glared.

  “I don’t think anything,” Cooper clarified. “I’m just saying we don’t need to rush to conclusions or speculate about what was in Quinn’s mind.”

  “He’s not in the men’s room,” Dani said.

  Liam scoffed. “Unless you’re in one of your socially inappropriate moods, I don’t see how you can verify that, Dani.”

  She scowled at him.

  Cabe Mueller and his wife sat across the table. “Maybe someone needed him. Somebody backstage. Some situation. When I was a student, Quinn was always thinking of someone else before himself.”

  “He still does that,” Cooper said.

  “Then I’m sure that’s what it is,” Cabe said. “Somebody else got sick. It will sort itself out soon enough.”

  “No doubt,” Liam said.

  Jessica leaned toward Liam, her hand stroking his knee beneath the table. Her hair brushed against his cheek in that intoxicating way that made him think she did it on purpose.

  “I thought you promised this would be a short night,” she said, the heat of her breath against his ear.

  He touched her face, wondering if her skin tingled as much as his did. “It will be. This is nothing.”

  Her eyes spoke volumes of doubt.

  “Have I told you how fabulous you look tonight?”

  She smiled, but not in a persuasive way. “You’re going to owe me big-time for this one.”

  “And I will gladly pay my debt. Every cent I owe.”

  Liam glanced at Cooper, wishing the subject of debt hadn’t entered the conversation. He was doing his best to act normally around his brother. But Liam knew Cooper’s face as well as his brother knew his. This wrinkle in events had shifted Cooper’s mind into his professional training, and Liam didn’t want to be on his radar.

  Cabe Mueller scooted his chair back. “Perhaps I’ll have a word with Principal Devon. If this were happening at a function associated with the school where I teach, the principal would want reliable assistance.”

  “I’m sure Miles has it well in hand,” Cooper said.

  “Still, I’d like to offer assistance.” Cabe glanced at his wife. “You’ll be all right?”

  She nodded, and Cabe left the table.

  “I’m sure your husband means well,” Dani said, “but he’ll find there’s nothing to do.”

  Stubborn as ever. Why did she think she knew more about Quinn than anyone else?

  “Did Quinn say something to you?” Liam tilted his head to get a good look at his cousin’s expression.

  “Just that he’d like to go fishing,” Dani said.

  “He couldn’t have meant tonight.”

  “Sure he could.”

  “People are getting restless.” Cooper’s gaze slowly arced the room.

  “Can you blame them?” Jessica said. “I don’t recall anything on the invitation describing a mystery disappearance and a delay of dinner.”

  “There is no mystery disappearance,” Dani said.

  “Dani.” Liam loaded his tone with as much warning as he could muster.

  “People need to stay calm,” Cooper said. “There’s no reason to worry prematurely.”

  “Or at all,” Dani said.

  “Who wants to go to the video booth?” Cooper asked. “Dani? Liam? The three of us can make a message together.”

  “I’ll pass,” Dani said.

  Liam wasn’t surprised. He glanced at Jessica. “Jessica doesn’t know Quinn, but I’ll go.”

  “Let’s do it.” Cooper slapped his palms together.

&
nbsp; The brothers scooted around several tables and found clear walking space. The line seemed to move quickly. They stood behind a young couple.

  “Hello, Gallaghers.” Cooper’s bright tone cut through the subdued waiting. “Do you know my brother, Liam?”

  Liam extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “This is Raisa and Bruce Gallagher. They have two adorable little girls you’ll have to meet someday.”

  Raisa visibly flushed with pleasure at the mention of her children.

  “I look forward to it,” Liam said. He sized up Bruce, whose suit suggested he made a steady but not impressive income.

  “Honey, it’s our turn.” Bruce Gallagher took his wife’s elbow, and they entered the booth, an area about six feet by nine feet screened off by a system of PVC pipe and lightweight beige print fabric.

  Liam felt a touch on his back and turned toward a member of the waitstaff.

  “Excuse me, I need to get through with a message for the kitchen.”

  Liam knew the teenager firmly pressing his way through the gathering line. He was Dave Plainfield’s boy. Liam had met him once on an evening visit to the Plainfield home.

  Liam saw the boy’s long foot go down in the wrong place, too close to a joint in the PVC frame. He tripped and fell into the booth’s frame, knocking apart a support pole. Once one wall of fabric gave way, untethered, a second wall caved in, and a third. Yards of fabric lost their skeleton and fell into a heap. A sound that could only have been the clattering tripod and tumbling video camera made Liam wince. From inside the toppling mound of pipe and fabric, Raisa Gallagher screamed. Gasps went up from the nearby tables.

  Liam and Cooper scrambled to scoop away the remains of the booth and reveal the startled Gallaghers. The videographer probed the yardage until he located the camera.

  “Everybody okay?” Liam asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” Bruce Gallagher said.

  “Sorry,” Zeke Plainfield mumbled as he sprang to his feet.

  “You should be,” the photographer snapped. He held up his camera. “It’s broken.”

  “It was an accident.” Cooper spread his hands, palms down. “Let’s be thankful everyone is all right.”