by Karen Fenech
Dawson swallowed a couple of times. “Had other things to talk about.”
She turned to leave, then glanced back at the man. He appeared to have shrunk in his time on the porch. “You know, Mr. Dawson, Dean Ryder may believe that his wife left him for another man.” Clare let that hang in the still air.
Dawson shrugged. “I know it. I feel sorry for Dean, thinking that, but I can’t do anything about it.”
So much for the close-knit community of Farley where neighbor looked out for neighbor, Clare thought. To protect his reputation, Dawson was quite willing to let Dean Ryder twist in the wind, believing his wife had taken off with another man. Here was one more example to support her lack of faith in human nature.
Clare gave a little humorless laugh. “No, Mr. Dawson, I guess you can’t.”
* * * * *
She took her time driving back to the rented house. It was a beautiful night, lit by a full moon. She found that she’d driven to the street where Beth had arranged to meet Hoag. It was a long stretch of road, deserted at this time of night, except for herself. Hoag hadn’t specified the exact point where Beth was supposed to meet him, but that would have been difficult to do. What would she have said—in front of an oak tree? The road was lined with towering oaks. Beth probably figured she’d spot Hoag’s rig. Except that she hadn’t shown up.
Clare leaned over the steering wheel, peering out into the night. Looking for . . . what? There wasn’t even a breeze to stir the Spanish moss hanging from the tree branches. Maybe a raccoon or opossum was about, but if so, Clare couldn’t see one.
Hoag had said that he’d been surprised when Beth hadn’t met him. She’d been anxious to leave, he’d thought. Was that comment made to explain Beth’s absence from Farley and support his claim that she’d left some other way?
Clare would find out.
She slid her foot back to the gas pedal and returned to the rented house. Inside, she stood at the kitchen counter and drank deeply from a bottle of water. She’d left in a hurry and forgotten her cell phone on the vanity counter in the bathroom where she’d been speaking with Gil Hoag. She retrieved it, and checked for messages. None.
To check Hoag, she needed access to the local Bureau office and for that she would have to call Jake. She licked her lips. She didn’t want to call him. She focused on a chip in the counter. Didn’t want to spend any more time with him. Every time she did, their past reasserted itself, and picked at old wounds. Clare wrapped her arms around herself in a tight hug.
But to find her sister, she’d do anything she had to. And, once she gained access, she would have no contact with him. Her contact would be with a computer.
Clare placed the call. Jake’s voice mail message clicked on. She left a brief update of her phone conversation with Hoag and her visit with Cal Dawson, then made a request for access to the local Bureau office.
“I want to run a check on Hoag for priors,” she said, “and I want to check Beth’s credit and debit cards for any activity in the last few weeks.” If Beth bought anything with one of her cards, they’d be able to place her in another town or city. “I also want to check with the DMV. See if Beth owns a car.” Clare hoped Beth did, that she’d changed her mind about going with Hoag and drove herself out of Farley. Tracing her vehicle could be a simple matter.
Clare disconnected. While she waited for Jake to get back to her, she’d find out what other transportation was available in Farley.
She consulted the phone directory again, checking listings for local transportation. There was a bus station in Blane County, but it wasn’t located in Farley. No cab companies operated in the town either. Beth could have left with a friend or neighbor who happened to be leaving Farley. But if so, then why arrange to leave with Hoag?
She had no answer. It was past midnight now. Clare rubbed her tired eyes and called it a night.
* * * * *
Clare woke early the next morning. Jake hadn’t called her back. Gladys Linney had mentioned Beth’s closest friend was Patty Burby. Clare decided it was time she met Patty.
After a shower and a quick breakfast, she jotted down Patty’s address from the phone book and went in search of the woman.
Patty Burby lived on a farm. Clare pulled up to a house on a well-tended stretch of land. A man drove a tractor across the fields. A yellow Labrador snored on the front porch. He opened one eye as Clare knocked, but didn’t rouse himself.
A slender red head answered Clare’s knock on the front door. Her curly hair formed a halo around her head. She was bearing a large baby on her hip, the child heavy enough to strain the tendons in the woman’s arms.
“Patty Burby?” Clare asked. At the woman’s nod, she said, “I’m—”
“I know who you are,” Patty said. “All over town about you.”
She stepped back from the door, and issued a curt invitation to come in. Clare complied.
The door opened into a small kitchen. The room was cluttered with the usual appliances and an assortment of baby furniture and toys, but countertops and the tile floor gleamed. The woman placed the baby in a playpen on a thick comforter, then went to the refrigerator and took out a pitcher of lemonade, which she held in one hand, and retrieved a bottle of beer with the other.
“Take your pick. I’d really love a beer.” Patty made a face. “But I’m nursing so it’s lemonade for me for the time being.” She cast a loving glance at the baby, then back at Clare.
“Lemonade, thanks.”
Patty poured two glasses and handed one depicted with Fred and Barney to Clare. “I’m thinking you didn’t drive out here for a glass of my lemonade, so why are you here?”
Clare met Patty’s steady gaze. “Since you know who I am, you likely also know that I came to town to see Beth. I’ve been told that she left Farley. I’m hoping that she confided her destination to you.”
Patty pulled out a wooden chair at the kitchen table, then waved a hand for Clare to do the same.
“You made the drive for nothing.” Patty drank deeply from the glass. “When Beth left, I was as surprised as everybody else.”
“According to Gladys Linney, you and Beth are best friends.”
“Were best friends. I haven’t seen much of Beth in the last four years—not since she got married.”
Clare heard bitterness and resignation. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m sorry to say that, but I can’t say I’m all that surprised. I told Beth things were going to change with us once she married Dean. She said no of course, but I knew that once she said ‘I do’ her friendship with me wasn’t going to be her call any longer. A lot of things weren’t going to be.”
“Why was that, Patty?” Clare asked softly.
Patty curled her lips in a sneer. “Dean didn’t like us being friends. I knew he wouldn’t let Beth and me go on once they were married.”
“Did Beth say that to you?”
“No. Like I said, we stopped hanging out. Not right away. It took some time for Dean to get his way. But he did and once he did, I only saw Beth if I happened to run into her in town.”
“Why do you think Dean would put an end to your friendship?”
“I got my theories. Like me and Parker aren’t good enough to be friends with the likes of him. Plus, he didn’t care for my attitudes. Wouldn’t have wanted my take on things to rub off on Beth.”
“What ‘take’ did Dean object to?”
Patty laughed. “Oh, hell, he didn’t like anything I had to say, but mostly he didn’t like what I had to say about him. I knew he would run Beth’s life once they were married, and I told her that—the last time was in front of Dean at the wedding rehearsal. Dean didn’t care for my comment. Of course, he didn’t say nothing to me about it. Left it to Beth to take up his cause, which she did.” Tears brimmed in Patty’s eyes. “Oh, hell.”
The door opened and a man built square and squat like a cinder block entered the kitchen.
“I think you’re done here, Miss.” His wo
rds were slow, his tone soft. “You shouldn’t have come, upsetting my wife.”
Patty plucked a tissue from a box on the table. “It’s all right, Parker. Clare here didn’t say nothing that I don’t already know.”
Parker Burby took up a position behind his wife’s chair. They were clearly a unit. For an instant, Clare wondered what that would be like. She shook off the thought.
Patty went on. “Beth told me she didn’t want me to stand up beside her as her matron of honor, feeling like I did about Dean.” Tears fell onto Patty’s cheeks. She mopped them up with the tissue. More fell and she pressed the tissue to her eyes.
Parker placed his bear-size hand on his wife’s shoulder and squeezed gently. Patty reached back and clutched his fingers.
“We made up some and I did stand up with her on her wedding day.” Patty shook her head slowly. “But that was the beginning of the end for us.”
“Were you surprised when Beth left Dean?”
“Oh, yeah. She thought he was responsible for the sun rising every morning. I’m thinking she found out that wasn’t the case. The Beth I saw after the wedding wasn’t the same girl I’d known. Her spark was gone. I was afraid it was gone for good, but she left Dean so she must have got it back, and I’m glad. I hope she’s real happy with that truck driver. Dean Ryder wasn’t good for her.”
“I spoke with the driver,” Clare said. “He wasn’t involved with Beth. He says that she didn’t leave Farley with him.”
Patty’s shimmering eyes widened at that.
“It looks like she left on her own,” Clare added. “Patty, where would my sister go?”
“She used to talk about getting herself some schooling. She wanted to be in the movies.” Patty’s eyelids lowered and her shoulders slumped as if she were suddenly carrying a great weight. “That wasn’t so long ago, but it feels like a lifetime. I don’t know Beth anymore. I don’t know this new Beth. I can’t say where she would go.”
Clare had been hoping for some insight from someone who knew her well. “Any other friends she would confide in?”
“She didn’t keep up with the girls we know. Once she married Dean, he became her whole world.”
And yet she left him, Clare thought.
She needed to piece together her sister’s last known day in Farley. “When was the last time you saw Beth?”
Patty wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “Weeks before she actually left. I didn’t see her around town much and Connie Dannon and me don’t get on. She knows I don’t like her brother and didn’t want Beth to marry him.” Tears filled Patty’s eyes again. “Beth didn’t come by to tell me she was leaving.” She raised her eyes to Clare. Her auburn lashes were damp. “She’s family to me. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Beth.”
Patty covered her face with her hands and sobbed into them.
“Okay. That’s enough,” Parker Burby said. His eyes narrowed in concern. He crouched beside his wife and put his log-thick arms around her. “Easy, darlin’. It’ll be okay.” To Clare he said. “You can show yourself out.”
Clare left the Burbys. The dog was still on the porch when she stepped out, muzzle resting on his forepaws. She made her way to the car. The asphalt drive was gooey in places and the trek was slow as her low sling-back sandals stuck to the tar.
She intended to pay a call on Connie Dannon. According to Hoag, Beth had worked at the inn on her last day in Farley and was presumably there until four thirty. Clare wanted to confirm that. So far, the inn was the only known place that Beth had been on her last day in town.
Clare’s cell phone rang. She checked the caller ID, then spoke into the phone. “Hello, Jake.”
“Got your message,” Jake said. “I ran Hoag. No priors. Man pays his debts and his taxes. Nothing raised any red flags.”
She had no doubt that Jake had been thorough and took comfort in the fact that he hadn’t found anything nasty in Hoag’s file that would raise fear for Beth.
“Beth doesn’t have a car registered with the DMV. I went ahead and initiated a search on Beth’s credit cards, bank info, etcetera,” Jake went on. “It’ll come through my home computer shortly. I’ll print a copy of whatever turns up for you and drop it by your place on my way into work tomorrow, or you can pick it up at my place. I’ll be home all day.”
He sounded distracted. Clare wondered if that had something to do with whatever emergency had compelled him to go home yesterday after his talk with Cal Dawson.
The last thing she wanted to do was go to Jake’s house, but she did want a look at Beth’s recent credit card transactions. She also wanted to arrange access to Jake’s office.
“I’m on my way,” Clare said, and disconnected.
Chapter Eight
When Clare pulled into Jake’s driveway, he was on a ladder painting the eaves trough of his house. Chocolate brown was slowly giving way to sunny yellow.
She parked beside his SUV on the double drive, then left the car. She took in her surroundings as she made her way to the cement walkway the ladder was perched on. A small inflatable pool filled with water sat on the freshly mowed lawn in the shade of a live oak. A wooden swing that glistened with wet paint the same color as the eaves troughs hung from the thick limb of that tree. The scents of freshly cut grass and paint filled the air.
She could imagine Jake pushing the swing for the young girl she’d seen him with yesterday—the child that Clare assumed was his daughter. Against her will, she thought of him standing behind a woman seated on that swing, her smiling face tilted back to his, as he rocked the swing gently.
She looked away from the swing.
Jake was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that were faded from many washes. He glanced down at her from the second rung of the ladder and nodded to her as she reached him. His eyelids looked heavy as if he hadn’t slept, and again she was reminded of his urgency to be home yesterday.
Since he was doing the mundane chore of painting, it appeared the crisis was over in the Sutton house.
Jake set the paintbrush across the open can. “The report on Beth came through. File’s on the chair, on the porch. Not much there and no credit cards to report on. Beth doesn’t have any.”
“What about joint—with Ryder?”
“Nada. Likewise for a bank account. Nothing with Ryder. Nothing on her own here in Farley either. She does have an account in Columbia though.”
“Columbia?”
“Yup. Set it up eighteen months ago. She’s the only one named on the account. She had a couple thousand in it until last week when she withdrew it all. She’s got debit card access, though the account is drained at the moment. That’s it.”
Clare retrieved the folder. In addition to the account history, the number and bank where it was located were also listed.
She shook her head and sighed. “It just couldn’t be that easy.”
“Tracking her through her card use was a long shot,” Jake said. “The secretive way that Beth made plans to leave town suggests that she doesn’t want to be found. She may know she would leave a trail if she used her debit card and opted to take the cash instead.”
“A trail for whom, though, I’m wondering,” Clare said softly.
“What?”
“You said Beth may not have wanted to use her debit card because she knows it can be traced. I’m wondering who she thinks will want to trace her. When I spoke with Ryder, he made it clear that he isn’t interested in a woman who doesn’t want him. Makes me think why all the drama of making secret plans to run away? Why take off? Why not just tell Dean she wanted a divorce?”
