Finding Sarah

by Terry Odell

  The sip of water chilled her all the way down. She poured the remainder down the sink and set the cup on the counter. The window over the kitchen sink sported the same security bars as the rest of the house. She forced a smile and extended her hand. “Show me the rest.”

  “There’s not much to show. One more bedroom and a small bathroom.” He pointed to two doors at the far end of the living room.

  “Your bedroom, right?”

  “Not for long. I thought we’d get married tonight.”

  “Tonight!” Her blood turned to ice in her veins. “I don’t think two people can be married all by themselves. We should wait until we get back to Pine Hills and do it right. You know, the way good girls do it. Family, someone to give me away.”

  “We can have a big party when we’re back. Maybe even a second ceremony. But I have everything we need.” He went to a cabinet in the living room and opened it. Inside was an old television-VCR unit. He held up a video tape. “It’s all on here. Come with me.” Beaming, he dragged her back to her bedroom.

  He flung open the lid to the trunk, removed a large parcel of tissue, and laid it on the bed. He peeled back the crinkling paper and reverently lifted a white satin and lace gown in his arms.

  She swallowed. He thought he could bring her out here, dress her up and marry her. Never mind that it wouldn’t be legal. If he thought it was, he’d try to consummate the marriage. Sarah fought the rising nausea.

  “Your wedding dress,” he whispered. He held it out for her inspection. “Isn’t it lovely? It belonged to my aunt. I’m sure it will fit you. You’ll be the most beautiful bride on the planet.” He moved toward her, arms extended.

  * * * * *

  Randy was halfway to his office when Laughlin’s bark stopped him in his tracks. Shit. Had he missed a court appearance? Forgotten to file a report? His mind whirled through the possibilities as he turned and paced to Laughlin’s office.

  “Sir?” he said from the doorway.

  Laughlin jerked his head in a command to enter. “Shut the door.”

  Randy did as he asked and stood at attention across the desk from his chief. Laughlin lowered the papers he’s been reading and took off his glasses. “Sit.”

  Randy edged around the chair and eased his body down. “Is there a problem?”

  “You tell me, Detweiler.” He picked up the papers and shook them. “You been harassing Owen Scofield?”

  “No, sir. I called on him once.”

  “Mind telling me why you needed to see someone who lives in Portland and has connections up the yin yang—connections to my boss and upward?”

  “I was looking for Consolidated connections to a case.”

  “Still that Tucker thing?”

  Randy swallowed. “Yes, sir. His ex-wife is a part owner of That Special Something. Added to the fact that he sits on the board of Consolidated, it seemed logical to question him. But I never harassed him.”

  “What about his ex-wife? She said you weren’t a hundred percent professional when you interrogated her.”

  “Interrogated?” He balled his fists and jammed them into his pockets. “I questioned her. Like I would anyone. Have you ever met her?”

  Laughlin shook his head.

  “Sir, if there was any unprofessional conduct during that interview, it was hers. Shit, she practically shoved her tits in my face.” He snapped to his feet, every muscle tensed. “I’m sorry you think I would behave in the manner they described.”

  “Sit down. You know the rules. I get a complaint, I have to investigate. For now, let’s say I’ve investigated.” Laughlin leaned back in his chair and Randy unclenched his jaw. He lowered himself back into the chair.

  “Anything more, sir? I have a new lead on the Tucker case.”

  “Case? What case?” There was a new irritation in Laughlin’s voice. “You caught the woman.”

  “But not who put her up to it. I’ve got a link between the robbery, an insurance claim that wasn’t handled properly, a peeping Tom, and in all probability, whoever poisoned Mrs. Cooper’s and my cats.”

  Laughlin leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest. “Tell me more.”

  Randy explained his latest findings, his stomach sinking as he watched Laughlin’s brow furrow and his lips tighten. The man’s jaw twitched.

  “It’s got to be someone with a Consolidated connection,” Randy continued. “I thought if I could get a warrant for the phone records for all these people my unknown has coerced, I’d find him.”

  “Aside from the cats, you got anyone who’s actually broken a law here? Someone filing a complaint?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Well, I need exactly while you’re on duty. Don’t think I don’t know Kovak’s been covering your ass. Everyone’s willing to cut you some slack because …”

  Of my cats. They think I’m losing it because someone came after my pets.

  Not that it would be any better if they knew it was because of a woman he’d just met. “I’m fine, sir. I might have let my personal life get too close, but it’s under control. And the cats are going to be fine, too.”

  “You’ve got a lot of vacation time. You want to use a few days and regroup?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then get to work. Have Kovak bring you up to speed on what he’s been doing and let’s play by the book.”

  “A page at a time.”

  “Right now, you’d better start thinking about a word at a time. I don’t need any more complaints, warranted or otherwise.” Laughlin pulled on his glasses and picked up the papers from his desk.

  Randy trudged down the hall to his office. So much for calling Victoria without a warrant, and so much for getting the damn thing.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Before Chris could reach her, Sarah clapped her hand over her mouth and bolted for the bathroom. She heaved until there was nothing left in her stomach and sat back to catch her breath.

  “Are you all right, my darling?” Chris called from behind the screen.

  Another paroxysm overwhelmed her and she succumbed to the dry heaves until her stomach burned. “Leave me alone,” she managed to cry between spasms of retching. She blew her nose and wiped her face before peeking around the screen into the bedroom. Chris stood there, a look of genuine alarm on his face.

  “Are you all right?” he asked again.

  “No, I’m not. I think it’s the aftereffects of the ether. I’m going to have to go to bed, Chris. I’m sorry to delay the wedding, but I’m sick.” She hoped she managed to sound disappointed.

  “Oh, you poor thing. Of course. I can wait a little while. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

  “Please. Go. Leave me alone.” She rushed back into the bathroom and ran the water in the sink, made some choking noises and flushed the toilet. She listened until she heard the door close before brushing her teeth to get rid of the bitter taste of bile, then returned to the bedroom. Chris had rewrapped the dress and laid it on top of the trunk. She curled up on the bed.

  Chris was sick. No question. She could probably put him off tonight, and maybe she could figure a way out of here.

  Shoes. She needed shoes. Earlier, she’d peeked out the windows, and the trail was not something she could navigate barefoot. Rocks, sticks, leaves. She thought she’d seen some snow patches, too—they must be up fairly high. They hadn’t had snow in Pine Hills in over a month.

  She went to the trunk, moved the dress to the bed, and lifted the lid. He wouldn’t expect her to be married barefoot, would he? There would be shoes. She pulled out more tissue wrapped packets and at the bottom of the chest found a pair of white satin pumps with sturdy two-inch heels. Darn. Stilettos would have made a good weapon, but she might be able to run better in these. She tried one on. It was at least two sizes too large, but she could stuff the toes with tissue. The height of the heels would be a problem, but at least she wouldn’t have to risk shredding the soles of her feet on the trails in the woods. As footfalls approached,
she replaced everything and lay down on the bed.

  Chris tapped on the door. “Sarah? Are you asleep?” The door opened. “I brought you some soup.” He crossed to the bed and touched her shoulder. “You’re not asleep, are you?”

  “Not anymore. What do you want? I told you to leave me alone. I’m sick.”

  “I want you to feel better.” He set a steaming Styrofoam cup on the nightstand. “Chicken broth. You can sip it.”

  “Thanks. Maybe in a little while.”

  “I hope so. Please don’t make me angry. Those bad girls made me angry, and sometimes they got hurt. I don’t like it that way. I’ve been waiting for you, so we can do it the right way. You went off with that cop, so I can’t wait any longer.” He grasped her arm, this time hard enough to make her wince.

  She yanked it back, trying to pull loose from his grasp. “Stop, Chris. You’re hurting me.”

  She heard his breathing rasp as he slowly relinquished the grip on her arm. His eyes had taken on a feral gleam. “You put on the dress and come out. I’ve waited long enough. I said I don’t want to hurt you.” He squeezed her arm harder and there was a look of arousal on his face. She lowered her eyes and saw the evidence of his growing erection.

  “Tell me about the bad girls, so I don’t make any mistakes. Please. I don’t want to be a bad girl.”

  “They weren’t important, Sarah. Not like you. They were just girls, but they liked too many men. It didn’t work with them, so I had to hit them and they hit back, but you’re not a bad girl, so we shouldn’t have to hit. Sometimes I forget.”

  She choked back her panic. “You won’t forget with me, Chris, will you? That I’m not a bad girl? That we don’t need to hit?”

  “I’ll try to remember.”

  “I’ll try not to make you angry,” she said. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Finish your soup and get dressed.”

  “Oh, but I can’t do that. You know it’s bad luck to see the bride on her wedding day. I’ll stay in here tonight and we can have the wedding tomorrow. Besides, my stomach is still queasy.”

  “No, I think not. We’ll get married tonight. I’ve waited so long.” His tongue darted in and out of his mouth, licking his lips. Sarah couldn’t help but think of a snake.

  “Tonight, then,” she said, the smile frozen on her face. She prayed he couldn’t read her face the way Randy could. “But it will take awhile. I don’t have my maid of honor and bridesmaids here to help, you know. And I want to look beautiful for you.”

  “I’ll go change, and I’ll be waiting. Call me when you’re ready.” He left the room and locked the door behind him.

  She shoved everything she knew about Chris from her mind. This was a different person, someone walking a thin wire between fantasy and reality. Sarah unwrapped the dress and removed the rest of the contents of the trunk. She gathered everything and took it into the bathroom. Thank goodness the lingerie was new. Nevertheless, she couldn’t repress a shudder of disgust while putting on the bra and panties.

  She slipped the dress over her head. Its cool satin caught on the fear-induced sweat coating her body. The row of tiny buttons up the back fought her trembling fingers, but she managed to fasten them. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. A simple, elegant dress. High-necked, with long, lace sleeves. She remembered trying on her wedding dress and knowing that in it, she was truly beautiful. Chris’ aunt had probably felt the same way. How sad that now the dress was going to be used for such ugliness. A tear slithered down her cheek.

  She attached the train to the hooks at her waist and set the headpiece and veil into her hair. She hadn’t washed it, and it felt matted and grimy. What was she thinking? Put a wedding dress on a woman and she automatically wants to look her best? She balled up her fists and put them to her mouth against a rising wave of hysterical laughter.

  Even with tissue stuffed into the shoes, she could barely keep them on her feet when she walked. How would she manage to run in them? She’d manage. She had to. With any luck, she’d be rescued before she had to go too far.

  “Randy. Where are you?” she whispered. He was a good detective. He’d find her. She jerked at the sound of a tap on the door.

  “Sarah? How are you doing?”

  “Almost done.” How long would he wait?

  “I think you’ve had plenty of time. Everything is set.”

  The impatience in his voice answered her question. “One more minute,” she called. “I need to be perfect.”

  She peered into the trunk one last time. In the corner was one more tissue-wrapped package. She opened it and discovered a small bible bound in pale blue leather. Old, new, borrowed, blue, flashed through her mind. Chris had covered everything. She pulled the veil over her face and crossed to the bedroom door. After a shaky breath, she rapped on its wooden surface. “Chris,” she said in a tremulous voice. “I’m ready.”

  * * * * *

  “Thanks to Mr. Flinn’s confession, we might get out on time for a change,” Kovak said as he and Randy left the interrogation room. “I love it when they see the error of their ways.”

  Randy smiled. “Yeah, but catching them with three wallets, five watches, and an eyewitness identification doesn’t hurt.”

  “That’s true enough. But I like to think it’s my charming powers of persuasion that got Mr. Flinn to admit he’d been burglarizing that neighborhood.” Kovak looked at his watch. “Look, the guy’s been booked and as lead on the case, the paperwork is mine to file. Go. Find your woman.”

  It was officially end of shift. Randy raised his eyebrows. “You sure? I still owe you for last week.”

  “I’m sure I’ll collect.”

  “Thanks, but call if you need me.”

  “What part of ‘go’ don’t you understand?”

  Randy was out the door and in his pickup in under a minute. He should be able to catch Sarah at the store before she went home. He punched her number on his cell phone and waited out the recording. It wasn’t quite five-thirty. She should be doing paperwork. “Hi, it’s me. You there?”

  When she didn’t pick up, he drove a little faster. He parked in the alley and rang the back doorbell. No answer. She must have had a slow day, not much paperwork. He got back in his truck and drove to her apartment, trying not to grin like an idiot as he knocked on her door. The grin faded as the seconds ticked away and she didn’t answer. She could be on the bus. In the john. Taking a shower. On the phone. He called her apartment and could hear the phone ringing through the door, then her machine.

  He told himself to calm down, to quit worrying and walked across the hall. Maggie answered his knock, Othello cuddled in her arms.

  “Have you seen Sarah?” he asked.

  “Not today, no. I was on a Big Sister retreat all weekend—didn’t get home ‘til late and was volunteering at the Women’s Center all day. Why?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not like we had plans. I stopped by the shop and she wasn’t there, and she’s not here. Probably still on her way. Stopped at the store or something. Sorry to bother you.”

  “Wait here.” Maggie passed Othello to Randy.

  “Feeling better, guy?” The cat snuggled against his chest and purred. Dr. Lee had predicted Starsky and Hutch would be released in a day or two, but Randy enjoyed a moment with the warm ball of fur.

  “I’ve got her key. Let’s check.”

  “Maggie, I think that might be a little presumptuous.”

  She cocked her head and looked at him. “Well, maybe I thought I heard something and as a good neighbor, I should check it out. And since you’re here and you’re a cop, if maybe I did hear something, maybe you should come with me.”

  “Can’t fault that logic.” He swapped the cat for the key and they walked across the hall.

  Randy unlocked the door. Maggie called out to Sarah, but there was no response. They stepped inside. Everything was neat. No signs of anything amiss. And then Randy saw the folded bundle of clothing on the couch next to Sa
rah’s purse. The clothes she’d been carrying when he dropped her off last night. A steel band tightened his gut.

  “Wait here,” he said to Maggie. “And please don’t touch anything.”

  “Oh my God. You think something’s happened to her?”

  “Is it like her to leave without her purse?”

  Maggie shook her head.

  “I think you should go back to your apartment. I’m going to check things out. There’s nothing you can do here. And Sarah might try to call you.” He cut off her attempts to argue.

  Maggie’s lips flattened. “I’m going to call around to her friends.”

  “That’s a good idea. Let me know if you hear anything.”

  She left, rubbing the cat to her cheek.

  Randy walked through the apartment. Sarah’s bed was neatly made, her closet orderly. Saturday night’s dinner dishes were in the rack by the sink. The kitchen wastebasket sat in the middle of the floor, empty. Was she taking out the trash? He’d feel like an idiot if she came marching up the back stairs. But a happy idiot.

  He went to the back porch and tried the back door. Unlocked. He called her name. Nothing. He dashed down the wooden stairs and stopped on the bottom landing. Stepping carefully, he crossed the yard and circled the Dumpster, eyes scouring the ground for anything unusual, as if finding trash beside a Dumpster might be unusual. He pried the lid open and peered inside. One lone plastic bag of trash sat in the middle of the container.

  Back inside Sarah’s apartment, Randy forced himself to slow down and think. He was a detective, for God’s sake. This was his job, and he usually did it very well. The answering machine light blinked. He hit the play button. A mechanical voice told him there were seven new messages.

  Three beeps. One automated message about a foolproof investment opportunity. One from Sarah’s mother asking why she hadn’t called. That had been at seven—Sarah had still been with him. Another beep. Then Sarah’s mother again. He listened to her voice. It could almost have been Sarah’s.