by Tess Rothery
“Not out here, that’s for sure. Can’t ride a bike this far.”
“Sure, but where did she ride her bike? I bet she went back to one of her previous hideaways this time.”
“We had a fort in the woods by the creek. We made it out of fallen trees and branches, like a teepee. She went there twice, but the fort only lasted a couple of years. There’s nothing there to go back to.”
“What made you want to set forts up way out there? Shelter? Water?”
“Yeah, it was right on the creek, so that was good. And there were some big shrubs that made a kind of V where we could go to the bathroom. Or at least we said we could. I never did.”
“So, shelter, privacy, and water. What would keep her from setting up a tent there?”
“The cold?”
“It’s June. Have you checked the old fort?”
“I mean, no. I just figured…”
“Let’s go there next. You said she ran there twice. Where did she run the third time?”
Belle scrunched her face up. “Her aunt, um…what was her name…Debora. Her aunt Debora, who used to build computer motherboards from home, had property. So, the last time she ran away, she went there, camped out in the woods.”
“Was there water or anything?”
“No. When they found her, she was miserable. I don’t think she’d go back there.”
“But does Debora still live on the property?”
Belle shook her head. “I don’t remember, but we can always check.”
“Lead the way to the fort. We’ll check there first.”
Getting to Belle’s old fort only took half an hour, but there were no signs of life.
They immediately headed to Debora Rueben’s place, but there was a gate shut across the long driveway.
Clay parked on the shoulder. They both got out.
Belle hesitated. “We don’t even know if Debora still lives here.”
“Only one way to find out.”
He climbed over the fence, but Belle was glued to her phone. After a moment, she looked up, shaking her head. “I asked Dayton’s cousin, Aviva. She said Debora moved to Salem three years ago.”
“And you’re sure the woods weren’t a good place to hide out?”
Belle scanned the property, her hand shading her eyes. “I don’t even see the woods anymore. Do you?”
He had seen trees and figured they counted but taking a few steps back and really considering the situation, he had to admit there were no woods.
“I can’t see her trying to hide in that windbreak.”
They got back into the car. “We’ve got all day, Belle, where do we go next?”
“What’s easier, hiding where no one goes and no one expects you, or hiding where there are so many people no one would notice you?”
“Think she might have gone to Portland?”
Belle stared into the distance, not responding for a while. “If she did, we’d never find her. We wouldn’t even know where to start looking. It’s not like we could trace her phone records.”
“She just graduated high school, right?”
“Yes.”
“What was she planning on doing in the fall?”
“She wanted to go to Comfort College of Art and Craft, but her parents wouldn’t let her. It was too expensive, and she wouldn’t get any federal aid, because their income was too high.”
“Trapped in the middle,” he said it softly and with sympathy.
“Yes.”
He started the car and got back out on the road, heading for the highway.
“Where are you going?”
“There are other arts colleges in this state. Maybe she called one and set up a tour. Those smaller colleges do that kind of thing.”
Belle pursed her lips but didn’t respond.
He settled in for the drive, sure and confident he’d cracked the code to finding Dayton. And in four years of living with Taylor Quinn, queen of arts and crafts, he had learned where all the schools that might possibly rival her alma mater were located.
It was a long drive to Lake Oswego where Oregon College of Art and Craft was located.
Clay had been called glib more than once in his life, but having Belle alone in the car with him led his thoughts away from those easy things to talk about and on to the failure of his relationship. Even with the happy thought of Joey Burk in the back of his mind, he still had things he wanted to ask his captive audience. “It was like a divorce, really, since we’d lived together for so long.” He spoke out of the blue of his breakup.
She lifted an eyebrow, which he caught as he took his eyes off the road for a second to check her mood. Her attention was still trained on her phone.
“And it hurt like hell. I’d had one other relationship as serious as this one. That one had broken my heart too.”
Still no response. Clay wasn’t fazed. “I still wonder if she was going to break up with me anyway, and this was just her excuse. Otherwise, why not have a conversation about it?”
Belle let out a short, sharp breath. “Have you thought of asking her this?”
He shook his head. “What’s the point? She’s made herself very clear.”
Belle snorted—though it was a very feminine, teenage girl sort of snort. “Has she? Because I remember coming home from school in May for a quick weekend and seeing you two saying goodbye on the back stoop. It didn’t look even remotely decided.”
He too remembered the kiss goodbye, a little bit fueled by the wine they’d had with dinner, but mostly fueled by the happiness over the success of their spring ad campaign. He’d hoped that the kiss would have been followed with an invitation inside, but it hadn’t.
“You don’t know your sister.”
“She kisses everyone like that?”
A quick slide show of the men he knew were his rivals, plus some of the other men in town who kind of intimidated him, like Hector, who was running Café Olé, spooled out before him. “Yeah. She does.”
“Then I guess I don’t know her. But if I did know her, even a little bit, then the thing I would know is that she is unsettled in her mind about her life right now, and having you around all the time is the thing that has unsettled her.”
“Not the more obvious stuff?”
“Like Mom? Sure. That doesn’t help. But if you weren’t here, she could move on. At least that’s what I think.”
He felt judged by this teen and changed the subject. “What about you? How’re things with Levi?”
“Poor Levi.” She said it softly.
He frowned. Poor Levi? Was he the next to have his heart broken by a Quinn girl?
They rolled up to Oregon College of Art and Craft. The parking lot stood empty, and the landscaping was unkempt. “What the heck?” Clay frowned at the abandoned school in front of him.
“I could have told you this place had closed.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“You didn’t tell me where you were going.”
“We need to eat.” He started the car again and roared out of the parking lot. Annoyed with the person sharing the car with him in a way he hadn’t felt for many years. Not, in fact, since he had lived at home with his own little sister.
He drove to the nearest Taco Bell and took them to through the drive-through. “You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
“Not usually.” She didn’t smirk, but she still wasn’t paying attention.
They got back on the highway with their sodas and tacos.
When they were finally out of the sprawling suburbs, Belle looked up from her phone. “If you love her, you need to be serious with her about it. My sister is serious in general. This thing where she’s dating everyone in town isn’t the real her.”
“Sure…”
“Did she date a million guys before you?”
“Nope.” He squinted as he concentrated on balancing his taco, merging into traffic, and remembering Taylor’s past. “Before me, it was just some guy she knew in grad school. Some r
eal numbers geek.”
“So, a guy like you.”
“Uh…”
“Her two serious relationships were with numbers guys. You really think Hudson is her type?”
“Hudson is every woman’s type.”
“Then why does she still go out with that banker guy? Hudson’s not her type. She likes geeks like you. She always has.”
“Thanks?”
“No offense. I like geeks too.”
He cringed. He did not want Taylor’s eighteen-year-old sister making a pass at him.
She laughed and reached toward his knee.
He jerked away, turning the wheel.
She laughed again, holding up the chip she had been reaching for.
He exhaled. And clenched his soda. The lid popped off, and in an attempt to catch it, he tipped the cup of icy Pepsi over himself.
“Damn it!” He tried to mop up his legs with a napkin, but only managed to drive the aging VW Rabbit into the Amazon Freight truck as it attempted to merge in front of him.
“We’re not dead,” Belle’s voice, though clear and unshaken, had a hint of apology.
“Excuse me?” Taylor stared at Grandpa Ernie, comfy in his recliner. She always told herself that her fears were nonsense and that her sister wasn’t going to die in some kind of unexplainable accident. Just because fate had taken both of her parents didn’t mean it would take Belle as well. And yet, whenever Belle didn’t answer a call or a text, that is what she thought.
“There’s been an accident, but Clay and I aren’t dead. I didn’t call sooner because there wasn’t any point. I knew you were at work.” Belle put a little sauce on that last sentence, her regular taunt that Taylor loved work more than family.
Taylor leaned against the wall. “What kind of accident?”
“Car. Your idiot ex drove us into a semi. We’ve been checked out by docs and are fine. But we had to wait forever to get insurance to pay for a rental. He’s cheap, did you know that? Wouldn’t just use a credit card. Also, he’s in a little trouble. An accident caused by distracted driving is no joke apparently.”
Taylor slid down the wall. Everything about the call was hitting every one of her most sore spots. “Are you, um, coming home?”
“Yeah, we’ll be leaving shortly. If I was twenty-five, I would have rented my own car and abandoned him.” She laughed, but it didn’t sound natural.
“Are you really, really okay?”
“A little whiplash. My head is killing me. And I do wish I could drive myself.” She dropped her voice. “I’m a little scared to get back in the car with him. Isn’t that dumb?”
“Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”
“No, don’t. It’s not that bad. We’re about an hour away.”
Taylor pressed her hand to her eyes. Clay could kill them both in an hour. “If you don’t want to get in the car, don’t. I will come get you. I promise.”
Belle murmured softly, maybe to herself, “No, we’ll come home. I’m sorry.”
“What? Don’t be sorry. Please, whatever you do, don’t apologize for getting in an accident. Put Clay on.”
“I can’t, he’s already in the car and starting it up and stuff. I’ll be home soon.”
“Love you.”
“You too.”
Taylor rested her head on her knees. Everything was fine.
Everything was fine.
Everything was fine.
But where was Dayton Rueben? Had they found her before the accident?
Taylor sent Dayton another text, but knew, deep in her heart, she’d never get a reply.
Her phone buzzed a text. She nearly leapt for joy.
But it was just Reg. “Sorry. Can’t make it. Talk soon.”
Clay’s arm was in a sling, and it was cute.
Joey Burke could have made very good coffee for herself in her own kitchen at work but had been inexplicably drawn to Café Olé. And as she stood with the small cluster of early morning customers waiting for her café con leche, she watched the goofy grinned, somehow injured, newcomer to town as he ambled down Main Street in her direction. Breakfast service was to begin at Bible Creek Care Home this morning, but she had time for a quick coffee and chat beforehand. And, anyway, it would be good for her mental health. She needed a friend or two who wasn’t likely to die of old age in the coming year.
And despite the injured arm, Clay looked young and healthy to her.
Chapter Sixteen
All day Friday, Taylor was torn between yelling at Clay for damaging her sister and spoiling her sister for still being alive.
Clay had met her in the store with coffee and conchas from Café Olé, looking and sounding sincere in his regrets and looking pathetic in his sling. She limited her yelling to just three short bursts and only when they were alone.
After the third, he stared at her, “You need to eat lunch.”
“I know,” she hissed like it was his fault.
“Then go, because there is nothing I can do to unbreak your heart.”
She exhaled sharply. “I’m going home to grab a bite with Grandpa Ernie as soon as Roxy gets here.”
“Then I pray she gets here fast.” He settled in at her desk next to the stairs and made a show of opening the shop laptop with one hand, then hunting and pecking as he typed.
Taylor ignored him till she could escape.
It was a long, uncomfortable day, and she was ready to collapse when she finally made it back home.
Before she could collapse, the door swung open.
“Taylor.” Sissy stood in the doorway of the little house looking tired from a long day's work. She wore her smock embroidered with her name and salon logo in the corner. Her naturally curly hair looked like it had been styled nicely at the beginning of the day, but exertion and humidity had taken a toll on it. “Taylor,” Sissy began again, “today was salon day at Bible Creek Care Home, and Marva Love didn't come.”
“Come in, come in.” Taylor led Sissy into the kitchen. “Can I get you a cup of tea?”
“I don't think you heard me.” Sissy did not sit down in the chair that Taylor pulled out for her. “Marva Love did not come to her weekly appointment at salon day. This is the first weekly appointment she has missed in six-and-a-half years. I have been setting her hair for her in exactly the same style since I took over salon day from Lorena.”
“I see.” Taylor put a kettle of water on the stove, the normalcy of the action, of the plastic kettle handle in her grip, of the sound of the water filling it, made more sense than Sissy showing up agitated about a hair client. “Are you worried something has happened to her?”
Sissy looked as though Taylor was the slowest student she had ever had the chance to work with. “Yes. There have been two murders at the care home, and my most faithful client did not come to her regular appointment. Of course, I'm worried.”
“Did you call the police?”
“First, I called Marva, but no one answered, so I called Karina at the front desk. She said Marva had been receiving her meals all day and was at home. So, I talked to Joey in the kitchen, and Joey said that someone had delivered a meal to Marva at lunch and had seen her. What exactly do you think I should have told the police, given that information?”
“Don't get testy with me, Sissy. I can’t know what you don’t tell me. If you're not worried that she's been murdered, what are you worried about?”
“I am worried that she was murdered. That is exactly the thing I'm worried about. For all we know, she accepted her meal, and it was poisoned. She had an after-lunch appointment.”
“Did she get her dinner?”
“Dinner service started after I left. They opened the dining room today, but residents who wanted to have meals delivered could. She was on the delivery list. This is also fishy because she's one of the most outgoing residents there, besides which she's not very old, just seventy-six on her birthday, so it’s not like she was too tired or frail to come to dinner.”
“I suppose I'm a
n idiot if I ask you if you went to see her?”
“I called again after I closed up shop, and she didn't answer. I did go to her apartment and knock, but she didn't answer. I could hear the TV through the door. And one of her neighbors, June Fischel, said Marva always falls asleep in front of the TV and that she'd never hear me.”
“I think I understand now.” The kettle began its piercing whistle. Taylor poured herself a cup of tea and then held the kettle out towards Sissy. Sissy shook her head no. “You can't go to the police because her behavior is seen as normal by everyone else, but you are concerned that something dreadful has happened to her.”
“Exactly.”
“I hate to be the one who constantly says stupid things, but what am I supposed to do about this?”
“I was afraid you'd say that.” Sissy sat down and took a deep breath. “Have you started cooking yet?”
“I literally just stepped into my kitchen. I've been at the shop all day.”
“Never mind. You and Ernie come to my place with me. I've got tetrazzini in the crockpot. We’ll eat and make a plan.”
That worked for Taylor. It got her out of one of her least-liked chores and gave her someone to talk about this murder situation with. She dismissed Ellery for the day and helped Grandpa Ernie into Sissy's van. With a name like Marva Love, the missing resident might just be one of the many relatives of Dayton Rueben, as Dayton's mom was Dayna Love before she got married.
While Grandpa Ernie appreciated the good old comfort food, he did not relish babysitting Sissy's youngest daughter, Breadyn. That said, as Sissy and Taylor drove to Bible Creek Care Home on the edge of town, they both agreed he took it better than he would have if he’d realized that the soon-to-be thirteen-year-old was actually babysitting him.
“Did anyone explain the lockdown situation to you?” Taylor asked.
“I got an email saying the campus was open.” She snorted in derision. “It didn't feel open to me, but they claimed the police have said the residents are safe.”
