One Day Gone

by Luana Ehrlich

  She looked surprised. “Have you been up to Finger Lakes since you’ve been here?”

  “I was there a couple of hours ago, but I’ll explain all that while we’re driving up there.”

  When Whitney went to the back of the house to grab her purse, I took a moment to walk over and look at a landscape painting hanging on the wall in the living room above her couch.

  It was a forest scene with a meandering brook surrounded by low-hanging trees. I could almost hear the sound of the water as it flowed over the rocky creek bed.

  Whitney’s initials were in the lower right-hand corner.

  “Yes, that’s one of mine,” she said as she came back in the room.

  “I don’t know anything about art, so I have no idea if you’re any good or not, but for what it’s worth, I like this painting. In fact, I like it a lot. Is it watercolor?”

  She nodded. “What do you like about it?”

  Whitney’s question took me by surprise, but I didn’t think she was looking for compliments on the painting. It was more like she was probing my psyche because she was curious about my thought processes.

  “It looks peaceful. If I stared at it long enough, I have a feeling my blood pressure would drop.”

  She smiled. “I worked on this painting for over a year, usually after reading my Bible in the morning, and I think this painting reflects my state of mind while I was painting.”

  “You read the Bible every morning?”

  “Yes, I call it my quiet time. It’s the first thing I do in the morning after grabbing a cup of coffee. I read a couple of chapters every morning and pray about things. This morning, I prayed for Lizzie’s safety, and that you’d be able find her.”

  “Well, that hasn’t happened yet, but I’ve made some progress.”

  “I also prayed for you.”

  If we hadn’t been walking out to the car at that moment, I might have asked her what she’d prayed for me.

  Or, maybe not.

  Chapter 22

  On the drive up to Finger Lakes, I filled Whitney in on what I’d found out about Lizzie in Centralia. She seemed pleased when I told her I was positive she’d interpreted Lizzie’s doodles correctly.

  “Even the laptop?”

  “Even the laptop. I don’t believe that doodle was a book.”

  “Didn’t you say she used her laptop to take notes during an interview? If she and the judge were supposed to meet in Centralia so she could interview him, then why didn’t anyone see them together?”

  “That’s a question I can’t answer right now, but I’m guessing one of them texted the other and suggested they drive over to Finger Lakes, because a few hours ago, her car was found abandoned at a campsite near Rock Bridge Trail.”

  “Abandoned?”

  “I’m afraid so. There was no sign of Lizzie, and there was nothing in her car. No laptop, purse, or phone. The detectives investigating her case allowed me to see the campsite for myself, but it didn’t appear Lizzie had been camping there.”

  “Are we driving back up to the campsite? I thought you said you were going to check out some property at Finger Lakes. Did I misunderstand you?”

  “No, when I got back to the hotel and called my office, I found out Judge Woodard owns some property in Finger Lakes. It’s a cabin on Boulder Lake, complete with a boat dock.”

  She was quiet for a few seconds.

  “Wow! That seems pretty significant.”

  “It definitely got my attention.”

  Whitney didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes.

  As I glanced over at the GPS to see how much farther it was until my turnoff, I realized she was staring at me.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “Do you suspect Judge Woodard of being involved in Lizzie’s disappearance?”

  “I’m hoping that’s not the case, but the arrows are all pointing in that direction. Obviously, I can’t ignore the possibility.”

  “But why? What possible reason would he have to harm Lizzie or kidnap her or . . . Well, I don’t even want to think about what else.”

  Even though I’d told my dad about the rumors concerning the judge’s gambling problem, I debated with myself whether or not I should reveal this to Whitney. I suppose I hesitated because I wanted Whitney to see me as an ethical person.

  However, I wasn’t sure she’d think of me as ethical if I told her about the judge and then asked her to keep quiet about it because it wasn’t ethical for me to share such information with her.

  In the end, I skirted around the issue.

  “The motivation behind someone’s actions are almost impossible to figure out until you hear it from their own lips. I learned that when Mac hired me as his investigator when I was still in law school.”

  “Even then, it could be questionable,” she said. “We all lie to ourselves about why we do the things we do.”

  I looked over at her and smiled. “But not you. From what I hear, you’re an exceptional Christian.”

  She laughed. “Exceptional?”

  “Well, maybe not exceptional. I don’t know the exact lingo, but that was the sentiment.”

  She shook her head. “I’m just someone who decided to put their faith in Christ, and now I’m doing my best to follow his teachings. I seldom live up to his standards, and when I fail—which is something I do all the time—he always forgives me.”

  “I admire both your faith and your commitment, but I can’t say I’ve ever experienced it for myself.”

  “I sorta guessed that when you told me you and Curtis were completely different.”

  “You don’t mind hanging around with a non-believer?”

  “All believers were non-believers at one time.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “What happens to make a non-believer into a believer is for the light to dawn, the blinders to come off, and the eyes to see. You never know when that might happen to you.”

  “You mean to me personally?”

  She smiled. “Yes, and that’s what I prayed for you this morning.”

  * * * *

  When the GPS began notifying me of an upcoming turn, I used the interruption as an excuse to end our conversation on the topic.

  Almost as soon as I made the turn, Whitney picked up her camera and started taking some shots of the colorful foliage, but then a few seconds later, she quickly lowered her camera and said, “I suppose I shouldn’t have my camera out when you drive by the judge’s house. I’m sure you don’t want anyone to see you snooping around the place.”

  “You’re right about that. I’m just curious to see if it looks occupied or not. Of course, a lot of these places are rented out when the owners aren’t using them, so it may not mean anything if we see people staying there.”

  A few minutes later, I slowed down to a crawl as we came upon Judge Woodard’s property. There was a short driveway leading up to the front of the cabin, but there were no cars in sight nor was there any activity around the cabin. It looked unoccupied.

  “See anything?” I asked Whitney as we drove past.

  “Nothing. It’s a nice place, though.”

  “When my family and I would come up here to Finger Lakes when I was growing up, I always envied the people who owned these homes. In my mind, having a place up here meant you had money, and having money was my objective when I was a teenager.”

  “From what you told me last night, it sounds like you’ve achieved your objective. You could buy your own place up here now.”

  I nodded. “Yes, I could, and you’re right; I’ve managed to achieve my objective. I can honestly say having money is all I dreamed it would be. I wanted to have choices and never have to worry about what something cost, but I’m not sure that was a worthy objective. There’s something to be said for enjoying what you do.”

  About a mile down the road, I made a U-turn so I could drive by the judge’s lake house one more time.

  As I got closer, I motioned at the camera i
n Whitney’s lap.

  “Go ahead and shoot some pictures as we go by this time. I’d like to be able to look at the place in detail when I get back to the hotel.”

  “Sure, I can do that. Anything you want me to focus in on?”

  “Zoom in on the front porch and the windows.”

  As we left the area, I said, “By the time we get back to Columbia, it’ll be time for dinner. Would you like to stop somewhere and grab a bite to eat with me?”

  She pointed at her jeans. “I’m not dressed for any kind of fancy restaurant tonight.”

  “No, but you look just as beautiful as you did last night.”

  “Well, thank you, Mylas,” she said with an embarrassed giggle.

  A few seconds later, she said, “If you want to get a burger, we could stop at The Kettle.”

  “That sounds good. I know they make great burgers. I took my first date there when I was sixteen.”

  “Really? How did it go?”

  “Not good. The girl got sick when I was taking her home, and she threw up all over my dad’s car. I spent half the night trying to get it cleaned up before he got in it the next morning to go to work.”

  “Forgive me, but The Kettle doesn’t sound all that appealing now.”

  * * * *

  Despite her comment, Whitney insisted we eat at The Kettle, and once our food arrived, I asked her to tell me more about what it was like growing up in a large metropolitan area like St. Louis.

  As she told me about the struggles her family faced after her dad died, I realized how different our teenage years had been.

  “My sister and I had to get jobs after school,” she said, “so we didn’t have a whole lot of free time.”

  “You didn’t participate in sports or after-school activities?”

  “No, there was none of that.”

  “I worked for my dad, but he loves all kinds of sports, so he made sure Curtis and I played at least one sport during the school year.”

  “You and Curtis grew up in a much different home than I did.”

  Whitney took a sip of her iced tea and said, “You’ve talked about what your objective was as you were growing up. My objective was to get married and have lots of kids. I wanted to give them the kind of home I never had.”

  “That’s a worthy goal. It certainly puts mine to shame.”

  I expected Whitney to laugh at my remark, but when I glanced over at her, I noticed her eyes were filled with tears.

  I quickly tried to run through what I might have said that would have brought that kind of response, but then I realized our conversation must have brought up memories of losing her husband and the miscarriages she’d had.

  I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. I should have been more sensitive. Let’s talk about something else.”

  She smiled. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m not usually so emotional. Would you mind if we left now? It’s been a long day, and I’m probably just tired.”

  “No, I don’t mind,” I said, taking some bills out of my wallet and placing them on the table. “We can leave right now if you like.”

  As we walked out to the car, she turned to me and said, “I promise I won’t throw up all over your car.”

  “Best news I’ve heard all day.”

  * * * *

  When we got to her house, I walked Whitney up to her front door, but when she asked me if I’d like to come in, I told her I knew she’d had a long day, and I’d take a raincheck.

  She looked up at me and said, “Thanks for asking me to ride out to Finger Lakes with you. I really enjoyed our time together.”

  Suddenly, I felt very awkward.

  I wanted to take Whitney in my arms and kiss her, but as I took a step toward her, I told myself she might consider my actions too presumptuous, so at the last second, I reached out and laid my hand on her shoulder.

  “I’ve enjoyed it too, Whitney. Thanks for accepting my invitation.”

  “Please let me know as soon as you hear anything about Lizzie. I’ll be praying for her safe return.”

  “I promise I’ll keep you updated. I’ll probably call you tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

  “I’d like that.”

  She gestured down at her camera. “I’ll send you the photographs I took today as soon as I get them downloaded.”

  “Thanks, but there’s no rush.”

  Whitney stood in the doorway as I walked out to my car, and as I drove away, I gave her a brief wave.

  I didn’t drive more than a block or so before I had to pull to the curb and shut off the engine. I was shaking so much I didn’t trust myself to drive any farther.

  As I took a couple of deep breaths, I asked myself what was going on with me, but the answer seemed obvious.

  I was trembling like a frightened puppy because of my feelings toward Whitney.

  Yes, I was attracted to her; no doubt about that.

  Yes, she was a beautiful woman; no one would deny that.

  However, I knew there was a lot more going on with me than just a physical attraction.

  Did it have something to do with Whitney’s faith?

  Was it her gentle spirit?

  Was it her self-confidence?

  I realized those things had struck a chord with me, and I was responding to her on an emotional level I’d never experienced with another woman before.

  Certainly not with Paige.

  Maybe that was it.

  Maybe I was having this reaction because it was the first time I’d been with another woman since breaking up with Paige.

  With that thought in mind, I drove back to the Hilton, but when I entered my suite, I looked over at the sofa where Whitney had been sitting the night before and experienced an epiphany.

  I realized what was going on with me had nothing to do with Paige.

  It had everything to do with Whitney Engel.

  Was it possible I was falling in love with her?

  * * * *

  I walked in my bedroom and noticed the two booklets I’d tossed on the dresser the day before: “Are You A Good Person?” and “The Basics of Faith.”

  Since I’d already read “Are You A Good Person?” and decided I definitely wasn’t a good person—at least by the criteria outlined in the booklet—I thumbed through “The Basics of Faith.”

  The booklet didn’t define faith. Instead, it was a step-by-step guide to becoming a convert to Christianity, which the booklet described as coming to faith in Christ.

  The steps seemed simple; perhaps a bit too simple in my way of thinking.

  It used the mnemonic ACTS to describe them: Acknowledge, Confess, Trust, and Seek.

  If I were to come to faith in Christ, I would first need to acknowledge what God said about himself in the Bible was true.

  Well, I didn’t have too much trouble with that one.

  I’d always been convinced the Bible wasn’t a fairy tale, although I probably couldn’t tell you very much about what was in the Bible or what God said about himself in the Bible.

  After that, according to the booklet, I needed to confess my failure to live up to God’s standards of righteousness.

  I was still having trouble with that one. I’d dealt with too many bad people in my life to believe I was in that category.

  The third point was about trusting God to open my eyes of faith so the light could come in and I could see him for who he is.

  That sounded similar to what Whitney had said. She told me she was praying for the blinders to come off my eyes.

  All the steps of faith had a Bible verse to go along with them, and the third step was from 2 Corinthians 4:6: “For God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness’ has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”

  I wondered if Whitney knew about that verse.

  She probably did.

  I figured she knew a lot about the Bible.

  The fourth step was to seek the truth
about God from the Bible, which I suppose was why Whitney had told me she always tried to read some verses from the Bible every morning.

  As I sat there considering the four steps, I felt ashamed of myself, not because of what I’d just read, but because it dawned on me why I suddenly had an interest in becoming a believer when I hadn’t given Christianity or the Bible more than a passing thought my entire life.

  It had nothing to do with making a commitment of faith.

  It was all about making myself more appealing to Whitney.

  How self-serving was that?

  I immediately shoved the two booklets in the nightstand and slammed the drawer shut.

  Ironically, they landed on top of the hotel’s complimentary Bible.

  A few seconds later, Nina called me with some new information about Judge Woodard. I assured her I was glad to hear from her, and she wasn’t interrupting my evening.

  * * * *

  Nina went into a long explanation of how she’d been able to obtain Judge Woodard’s calendar entries on the Missouri Supreme Court’s password-protected website, but I cut her off after a few minutes and asked her to give me the bottom line.

  “Okay then. According to his calendar, he’ll be in court tomorrow morning. After that, he has a lunch engagement, and following that he’ll be in his chambers.”

  “Any idea what he’s been up to since Monday?”

  “There was nothing on his schedule on Monday. The court wasn’t in session, and there weren’t any entries. I’d say that jives with his appearance in Centralia on Monday, don’t you?”

  “No doubt about it. What about the rest of the week?”

  “He’s had a full schedule of activities, from meetings with lawyers and other judges, to court sessions and appointments.”

  “Thanks, Nina. I knew if anyone could get me this information, you’d be able to do it.”

  “You’re welcome. By the way, you should be hearing from Jenna soon. Just before Charlie left the office, he told me Jenna had been able to make arrangements for him to fly to Columbia tomorrow.”

  “Any thoughts on Charlie you want to share with me?”