In Plain Sight

by Fern Michaels

  “The picture windows would seem to indicate that time period. Sixteen hundred square feet would be my guess. What we call starter homes today. You have the key Pearl gave you, right?”

  “Right here in my hot little hand. Let’s not stand around here too long so as not to arouse suspicion. I’m thinking these two ladies didn’t get much company, and two guys on a hot-rod motorcycle might raise some red flags.”

  Harry mumbled something that sounded like, “Then pick up your feet and move.”

  The door opened silently. The moment they were inside, Jack turned around and shot the dead bolt. There was no need to turn on any lights. The bright summer sunshine coming through the huge picture window lit up the entire room. The sheer curtains couldn’t contain the sunlight.

  The living room was simply furnished. Four club chairs that swiveled, no sofa. Two lamps and a small coffee table with a few gardening magazines and a bowl of hard candy stood in front of two of the chairs. A twenty-inch television hung on the wall, directly in line with two of the club chairs. The room was painted a soft dove gray, and the matching area carpet was also gray, with a few splashes of a design that looked like a fern frond. Plain, simple. Neat and tidy. No sign of trash or dust.

  A small, narrow, circular stairway was tucked into the farthest corner. “Toss you for it,” Jack said. “Heads you take the second floor, tails I take it. Call it, Harry.”

  “Heads!”

  Jack flipped the coin. He laughed. “It’s all yours, pal. Don’t miss anything. Women are tricky, we both know that. Look for unlikely hiding places. I’m not saying either one of those women hid anything, but it is a possibility.”

  Jack walked through the living room and out to the kitchen, which was small and compact. Like the living room, the kitchen was sparkling clean. All kitchens, at least in his opinion, had their own distinct smell. Nikki’s kitchen always smelled like pumpkin-pie spice. The kitchen at Pinewood smelled like vanilla, cinnamon, and sometimes garlic. This kitchen smelled like apple pie.

  Jack stood perfectly still as he tried to get a fix on the room and the two women who had lived here for some time. Even with the few personal touches, like the fern hanging in the dinette window, red crockery on the kitchen counter, and red-and-green tartan-plaid place mats, there was no sense of permanence. At least he wasn’t feeling any. The words temporary and stopover came to mind.

  The square table was set into a breakfast nook that overlooked the backyard and a tiny porch. Thrift-store furniture, he decided. Not ugly, not pretty. Serviceable. The cushions on the chairs matched the place mats. A small bowl with green plants sat in the middle of the table. The soil was just starting to dry out around the edges, an indication the women hadn’t been gone that long. Jack took a cup from the hook under the cabinet and watered the plant. He dried off the cup and replaced it.

  The floor was covered in what looked like new linoleum, which was clean and waxed. Braided rugs that looked to be handmade were by the sink and stove. The cabinets were painted white, with bright red knobs. So in a way the women had tried to personalize at least the kitchen to some extent. Nikki would have picked up on that right away.

  A small ten-inch television sat on the counter next to a toaster oven. In the corner, there was a red bowl with a green plant. It looked to be thriving with the light from under the counter. He poked his finger into the soil. It was nice and moist. Nikki would know about that, too. He made a mental note. The only other thing on the counter was a small red dish with two sets of keys.

  Forty minutes later, Jack pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. He’d gone through the contents of all the cabinets, even dumping out the cereal boxes, flour, and sugar cans. He found nothing. There was food in the refrigerator—yogurt, eggs, milk, a loaf of bread, some apples, two lemons and two limes, and two cucumbers. There were two bottles of unopened wine on the refrigerator door along with six bottles of Corona beer and a six-pack of bottled water. The freezer contained two packages of frozen chopped meat, a whole chicken, and one package of pork chops along with a frozen strawberry-rhubarb pie.

  The tiny laundry room boasted a stackable washer and dryer and held nothing but a load of towels waiting to be folded. He had the crazy urge to fold them, but he ignored the urge. The overhead cabinet contained two bottles of detergent, some dryer sheets, and a gallon of Clorox, along with six one-hundred-watt lightbulbs, the old kind.

  Jack looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway. “This was a bust. I didn’t find a thing. How about you?”

  “Just these phones. They were on the dresser. It’s just one big room up there, like a loft. Twin beds, twin dressers. Not a lot of clothes, just enough. Same with the shoes. Some boots, and yes, I checked inside them all. Nothing. No excess of anything. One change of bedding. Six towels in the linen closet. Tissue, bathroom stuff. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing under the sink. No tub, just a shower. I’d say the two women are very frugal. No sign of jewelry or anything fancy. I can almost guarantee, Jack, that no one but us has been here. If there was someone before us, then it was a woman who knew how to put everything back exactly like she found it. That’s my opinion, for whatever it’s worth.”

  “Same here,” Jack groused. “At least you found the phones. The car keys are here on the counter. I guess we should check the cars before we leave and take the keys with us.”

  “This is a nice kitchen. Yoko would like it. She likes the color red. Do you think we should water the fern hanging in the window?”

  “Why?” Jack asked. “I already watered the plant on the table.”

  “So it doesn’t die. Pearl is going to be moving someone else in here in short order. Don’t disturb yourself, Jack, I’ll do it.”

  “Harry! You know what we didn’t find? Their purses. Every woman has a purse or a fanny pack. I didn’t find any down here. How about upstairs?”

  “No. I looked, too.”

  “Makes sense, I guess. A woman never leaves the house without her purse. Take Maggie. She carries her whole life in that backpack of hers. It isn’t exactly a purse but close to it. Nikki would never leave the house without her purse.”

  “You’re right,” Harry said. “Yoko wears a fanny pack because she likes to have her hands free.”

  “I guess we should check out the backyard. And that little porch. They might have buried something, but I’m not about to start digging up the yard. Jeez, there must be a thousand flowers out here. Those women must have loved gardening.”

  “Jack, you know what else we didn’t find in the house? Trash. There was none upstairs. How about in the kitchen?”

  “No. There is a garbage disposal. No other trash anywhere. Maybe outside in the can. We’ll check it when we leave. I saw it when we got here. There’s a little fence around it. To hide it, I guess. The girls are going to be really disappointed that we came up dry,” Jack said.

  “We should leave, Jack. We’ve been here close to two hours. I’ll check the cars, you do the trash.”

  While Harry poked around inside the two cars and the trunks, Jack flipped the lid on the trash can. He stared down into the can. A lone grocery-store bag sat on the bottom and was tied in a knot. He tilted the can and reached in for the bag and undid the knot. Candy wrappers, an empty apple-strudel box, and a copy of In the Know were the only things in the bag. He retied the knot and joined Harry in the driveway. He shook his head to indicate he had found nothing in either car.

  Jack slapped at his forehead. “The mail, Harry! We didn’t check the mailbox!”

  Harry raced to the end of the driveway and opened the mailbox. He shook his head to indicate there was no mail.

  Jack pointed to the grocery bag in his hands. “They saw the tabloid. It’s here in the bag. That’s why they left. They were afraid possibly the neighbors or others would see it. I’m thinking they got out just in time.”

  Harry gunned the Ducati, backed up, then hit the throttle. They flew out of the cul-de-sac like the Devil himself was on their heels. />
  Dinner over and the kitchen and terrace restored to normal, the gang headed back to the war room and took their places at the table.

  “I have an idea if anyone wants to hear it,” Maggie said.

  “Of course we want to hear it, dear. Tell us what it is,” Myra said as she settled herself more comfortably in her chair at the head of the table.

  Maggie took a deep breath, then let it out with a loud swoosh. “Here it is. You all know the Post does a Man of the Year contest every year. We usually gear up for nominations around September and pick the leading entry at the end of December. Why can’t we start a little early under some pretext or other like this year there are so many nominations we need to start early so we can investigate the nominees. We can start by putting little announcements in the paper daily, then hit it full force a week later. Our lead nominee, of course, will be Lincoln Moss! What do you think, guys?”

  “I love it!” Annie bellowed. “It’s perfect! You deserve a raise for that, Maggie!”

  Maggie turned beet red as all the others congratulated her, saying it was the perfect way to get to the oh-so-private Mr. Lincoln Moss.

  “Any other suggestions, plans, strategies?” Myra asked.

  Dennis held up his hand as though he were back in grade school. “Jason Woods!”

  “What about him, kid?” Jack asked.

  “Don’t we need to know more about him? We think, don’t we, that he is the one who spirited the two women to safety? Jack, you said after you and Harry went through the house that it was both of your opinions that the women skedaddled on their own. Meaning that Lincoln Moss did not find and snatch his wife.” Jack nodded. “Then we need to find out all there is to find out about Jason Woods and the best place to do that is . . . drumroll please . . . Facebook! Young people, especially college students, live on Facebook. All they do is tweet and twitter and blog and text. I am confident we can find out everything there is to know about that young man within an hour. There is no reason to think this guy is any different. With both their cars still in the driveway, how did they get away, and don’t tell me they walked. Someone had to pick them up and take them somewhere, and my guess is Jason Woods is the one who drove them away.”

  “He’s absolutely right,” Abner muttered as he tapped furiously, which just proved to everyone what he had said all along, he could do two things at once.

  “Do it, kid!” Jack said. Dennis grinned, his thumbs tapping away almost as fast as Abner’s busy fingers.

  “We are making progress here,” Alexis said happily as she winked at Espinosa. “So far, Isabelle, Yoko, and I are the only ones without an assignment. With the exception of Myra and Annie,” she added hastily. “Charles, what can we do?”

  “What would you ladies like to do?” Charles said, turning the question right back at Alexis.

  Charles pretended to think, then finally said, “This might be a good time for you girls to put pen to paper where Pearl is concerned. She doesn’t have to go anywhere to get her files since they’re all in her head. I think once we see everything there is to see as to how her underground works, names, profiles, we’ll be better equipped to go down that road. All in favor say aye!” The room burst into sound.

  Pearl turned white, made a move to get up until she saw Kathryn’s hand poised midway to the tabletop. Her eyes filled as she settled back down on her chair.

  “You have to give it all up right now, Pearl,” Myra said gently. “It goes without saying that all of us here will take your secrets and those of your people to our graves.”

  “If you don’t, Pearl, I will shoot you myself, and you know what a good shot I am,” Annie said, her eyes sparking dangerously.

  Pearl nodded, her face miserable, tears puddling in her eyes. “It all started the day I found out my son-in-law was abusing my daughter and their child. I was still a sitting justice on the Supreme Court at the time. I knew . . .”

  Two hours later, the group sat back in their chairs and stared at Pearl. Not with anger or frustration but with admiration bordering on awe. No one said a word. Only because none of the people in the room knew what to say. It was Kathryn who got up, walked around to where Pearl was sitting, and held out her hand. “I honest to God don’t know of another person in this whole world who could have done what you’ve done, Pearl. Please, I’d be more than honored to shake your hand. I think we all now understand where you are truly coming from.” Instead, Pearl reached up and hugged Kathryn so tight, she squealed.

  “Don’t you feel better now, Pearl, since you shared all of that? We can help. We will help,” Myra said. Pearl nodded, but she still looked miserable.

  “It’s getting late. I say we call it a night and pick up tomorrow morning where we’re leaving off right now,” Annie suggested.

  “Who’s staying over?” Charles asked.

  It turned out that everyone elected to return to their respective homes with the promise of reconvening at eleven the following morning.

  When the last car left the driveway, Charles turned to Myra and kissed her on the cheek. “It was a good day, wasn’t it?”

  “It was, Charles. I had no idea Pearl’s underground was as involved and as extensive as it is. I understand the secrecy, but I also understand that if she were to keep on the way she’s been going, mistakes would be made, and those mistakes could have a domino effect. Now that we all have her back, the chances of that happening are just about zip. Do you agree, Charles?”

  “I do. So, what would you like to do now, dear? A nightcap? The eleven o’clock news? A last walk with the dogs? Maybe a midnight snack?”

  “Oh, Charles, that’s all so boring. Why don’t we throw caution to the winds and race each other up the stairs. I have it on good authority, from a dear old friend of mine, that ripping off one’s partner’s clothes with one’s teeth is very exciting!”

  Charles was at the top of the steps gnashing his teeth before Myra could even catch her breath.

  Chapter 6

  Jason Woods was a hard worker. His supervisor at the Home Builders Depot wished he had six more employees like Jason Woods. A dozen would be even better. He watched Jason now as he unloaded hundred-pound bags of peat moss like they were five-pound bags of sugar. He wasn’t smiling today, which was odd. In fact, he looked angry. He wondered if he should talk to him, but he hated getting personal with his help. Better to leave well enough alone, he decided. He was going to miss him when he left in August to return to college even though he said that he would work weekends if his schedule permitted. He moved off to check on another delivery of topsoil.

  Jason knew that his boss was watching him. He must be giving off bad vibes or something. How could he not? He’d just allowed himself to become embroiled in what he was beginning to think of as a nasty domestic mess, but his gut was telling him it was something way worse than domestic violence.

  The tall, well-built young man swiped at the sweat dripping down his face. Damn, it was hot. But, then again, it was mid-July. He looked at his watch. Four more hours till quitting time. Home to shower, change, grab something to eat, then make the two-hour ride to his family’s cabin, where he’d stashed the two women.

  Jason almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a hard push to his shoulder. He whirled around expecting to see law enforcement but instead saw the laughing face of Emily Appleton’s friend, Stacey Copeland. “Hey, Jason!”

  Jason removed his Redskins ball cap and swiped at his soaking-wet head. “Hey yourself! Things so boring in the paint department that you had the urge to smell peat moss and manure?” He laughed, but even to his own ears it sounded phony and forced. And who are those two women standing by the wilted petunias? They’re staring at me and trying to pretend they aren’t. His heart kicked up a beat.

  “Something like that,” Stacey said. “Hey, what’s up with Emily? She hasn’t been in for four days, and she hasn’t called in either. She isn’t answering her cell phone. Since you two are you know . . . kind of an item, I thought maybe you
might know what’s going on. Do you?” she asked bluntly.

  Jason swallowed hard. He shook his head. “I haven’t seen her. I tried calling yesterday, but the call went to voice mail. And we’re not an item, we’re just friends,” he lied. Who is that young guy checking out the clay pot planters? He looks familiar. He almost missed the look the two women shot his way and the young guy’s almost imperceptible nod. The muscles in his stomach tied themselves into a knot. They were together, he was sure of it. And they were checking him out. Shit, shit, shit! He could feel the panic starting to build in his stomach inch its way up to his chest, causing him to gasp for breath. He broke out into a cold sweat.

  “Can you take a break, Jason? I’m on mine. Let’s go get a cold soda or something. I’m worried about Emily.”

  Not half as worried as I am, Jason wanted to say, but he didn’t. Instead, he waved to his supervisor and said he was taking his break. He followed Stacey to the back of the store to the employee kitchen or what they called the break room, where he popped two bottles of cola and offered Stacey one. He gulped at his, his mind racing a hundred miles a minute. What to say, what not to say, how to look, how not to look. Stop sweating, he cautioned himself. Like that was possible.

  Stacey Copeland eyeballed her friend, concern etched on her face. “You look funny, Jason, is anything wrong? By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask, did you register yet for fall classes? I was thinking of going over to CU after I got off work. Want a ride?”

  “I’m okay. Haven’t been sleeping well these past few nights. Our A/C is out,” he lied with a straight face. “I’m working till four. That’s if I hold out that long. My stomach is kicking up. I might leave in a little while. I need the hours, but if I’m going to be puking my guts out, I’m no good to anyone here.”