Lost and Found

by Margaret Lake

  “Aw, shucks, Mims. You didn’t have to say that. Now I’ve gone and gotten all mushy.”

  “No, really. I just appreciate that you take me seriously, annoying little sister that I am.”

  Before Michael could say anything, Mia hung up the phone and, still laughing, scratched behind the ears of the little dog sprawled across her lap.

  “You know, Sammy,” she giggled when he rolled over for a belly rub, “this day just got a whole lot better.”

  * * *

  Charlie wasn’t sure his day was getting any better. A chance meeting with Mia Broderick had been a plus, but for some reason, she seemed to have something against him. Sure, most people were a bit emotional after an accident. Some were unhappy, others angry, and others just plain upset. But Mia didn’t seem to be feeling any of those emotions. Angry, yes, but angry at him. And not just venting at the investigating officer like most people, but angry at Charlie Gordon personally. There’d been a moment when she’d warmed up, but that was a very short moment. And when a woman made your fingertips tingle, you didn’t want her angry with you without finding out why and doing something about it.

  He’d been riding around in the Graceville PD cruiser with Officer Carter for several hours now and they were both too hot, too tired and too discouraged to carry on any kind of a conversation, which had given Charlie time to think about his encounter with Mia that morning.

  “There’s a gas station and convenience store about a mile ahead,” Carter told Charlie. “What say we stop for a sandwich and a cold drink before we start back?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Charlie agreed. “I really wasn’t expecting to get anything out of this today, but the reality is always discouraging.”

  “Owen closes down about nine, but we should ask him anyway,” Carter suggested.

  “Sure. You never know.”

  It was only a short walk between the parking lot and the store, but the heat had been pretty intense. Intense enough for them to appreciate the cool temps in the air-conditioned store.

  “Hey, Owen,” Carter greeted the owner. “Got anything good for the men in uniform who keep the peace around here?”

  “Now Dan, you know there ain’t no crime around these parts for you to worry about,” Owen pointed out.

  “That’s what I mean,” Dan nodded. “No crime because no one dares to try anything with us around.”

  “Yeah, right,” Owen snickered. “Even the cows around here just bat their eyelashes when you come around.”

  Owen was busy filling up a cup with ice and Dr. Pepper for Officer Carter, then nodded at Charlie. “Same for your friend, here?”

  “Dr. Pepper will do just fine for me, too.”

  “Say, Owen, speaking of this peaceful little burg you call home, has there been any unusual activity lately?”

  “Unusual? How?” Owen asked, handing the men their drinks.

  “Late night traffic, maybe?” Dan asked, turning to Charlie. “Owen and his wife live in the house at the top of the rise back there.”

  “Now that you mention it,” Owen mused, stroking his chin, “has been some coming and going in the middle of the night.”

  “See anything?” Charlie asked casually, hoping Owen or his wife were light sleepers and curious to boot.

  “Not me,” Owen replied. “But our youngest has been running a fever the last couple of nights. Teething, you know. And Becca has been up with him. Second night it happened, she got annoyed because she’d just gotten the little mite back down when this car come tearing down the road. Becca didn’t have any lights on, but the window shade was up, and she looked out to see a van racing past.”

  “It was a full moon these last couple of nights,” Dan mentioned. “Any luck seeing the color?”

  “Dark color. Could have been blue or black or even brown. But big. Said it looked like one of those bread vans.”

  “A bread van?” Dan exclaimed. “Where would they get a bread van?”

  “Deliveries,” Charlie muttered. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Carter understood that Gordon didn’t want to speculate in front of a civilian, especially one that had as much contact with the public as Owen.

  Charlie waited until they’d climbed back into the squad car and Dan steered them back onto the road.

  “A delivery van wouldn’t be noticed if it was just making its regular stops,” Charlie said, thinking out loud.

  “And a bread van is always on the road in the middle of the night,” Dan added. “I don’t think Owen mentioned what time Becca saw the van.”

  “We need to get a statement, anyway,” Charlie told him. “Will they come in willingly?”

  “Owen and Becca are good people, but they’ve got that store to run and a small herd, not to mention four kids under the age of eight.”

  “Got it,” Charlie grinned. “If you’ll set it up at their convenience, I’ll go back myself.”

  “Glad to help,” Dan nodded. Small-town people tended to understand other small-town people. You couldn’t just pull them away from their families and livelihoods because it was convenient for the police.

  “So, what’s next?” Dan asked.

  “If the bakery truck is the one, he was either headed toward Joseph, or had already made his delivery and was headed back.”

  “By delivery, you mean …?”

  “Yeah. One of the old folks. We’ll need to see if there’s been another sighting, but we can’t just focus on that truck. It might not be the one.”

  “Might not,” Dan agreed.

  “You know, there’s a bakery and café right next to the house where one of the women was found,” Charlie mused. “Might be.”

  “Might be at that,” Dan smiled. “Mind if I come along with you into Joseph to check that out?”

  “Glad of the company,” Charlie smiled back. No true cop ever liked to give up the hunt.

  Chapter Twelve

  Michael waited impatiently for Anna to arrive. He hoped she hadn’t gotten tied up with a client, or worse, forgotten completely. But no, if she’d been delayed, she’d have sent a quick text and she certainly wouldn’t have forgotten. Anna Tomaselli was a highly organized person and probably had her phone programmed to remind her every ten minutes if she had an appointment.

  In the meantime, he was enjoying the view of the river from his seat on the wooden deck. True, it was hot to be sitting outside this time of year, but there was almost always a nice breeze coming off the water. Little wavelets danced merrily into the breeze and Michael thought that only having Anna with him to appreciate the view could make him any happier.

  “Michael, you look very far away. Am I interrupting anything?” Anna hesitated, feeling unsure of herself. It was an old feeling that she’d thought she’d gotten over, but here it was, raising its ugly head again.

  “No, not at all.” Michael’s heart gave an extra little thump at the sight of her. She looked like a cool breeze herself in a figure-flattering, sky blue dress of some light material. “I was just thinking that there would be nothing nicer right now than to share this view with a beautiful woman and here you are.”

  “Oh, go on, Michael,” Anna chided him, but she was ridiculously pleased at the compliment. She was even more pleased when he got up from his chair and kissed her on the cheek, then helped her into her seat.

  “I can’t believe we’ve finally gotten together for a meal,” Michael said, feeling almost giddy with happiness.

  “It’s okay, Michael. We only reconnected a few days ago.”

  “Yes, but we’ve known each other a lot longer than that,” he pointed out.

  “Hardly,” Anna laughed. “The star athlete and the math geek didn’t socialize. We barely spoke.”

  “Oh, yes we did. How many times did I ask you how to conjugate a French verb or what this or that word meant? Not to mention equations,” he winced. Math always made him want to turn and run.

  “I don’t think that counted, Michael,” Anna replied primly. “That was just
you picking my brain like half the students in our class.”

  “Maybe so, but I still contend that it counts as speaking and now here we are, having lunch and an actual conversation.”

  Anna was saved from replying when the waiter approached their table to take their orders. They both went for the catch of the day and both were secretly pleased that their tastes were so alike.

  “So, how did your interview go with Mrs. Findlayson?” Anna asked, taking a sip of her iced tea. Her throat felt dry even though it was cool under the striped, canvas awning.

  “Carla,” Michael corrected. “She insisted that I call her Carla and she’s a feisty old gal.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Eighty-nine, and sharp as a tack. It’s just too bad that her body is giving out. They’re moving her from assisted living to the nursing home in a couple of days because she’s no longer ambulatory and I know that’s upsetting her.”

  “It must be hard to give up your independence,” Anna murmured.

  “Just as hard to know the nursing home is the last stop on your journey,” Michael added. It was something they all had to face, but for right now, sitting across from a beautiful woman with the sun sparkling on the river, that day could have been at least a century away.

  “But, I did find out some interesting things,” Michael said, wrenching himself away from morbid thoughts. “There are a lot of checks and balances in place when someone is transferred to the hospital or dies. Makes it difficult to slip someone away unnoticed.”

  “And why would they do that anyway?” Anna asked. “There’s no profit in doing that that I can see.”

  “Agreed. I’m still going with elderly folks with no friends or relatives signing over their Social Security checks in return for care. And they wouldn’t be in a big facility like Wynwood. They’d be in a small ALF run by individuals.”

  “Yes, I think that’s the most viable theory,” Anna agreed. She paused a minute, leaning back to allow the waiter to set her plate in front of her. She hadn’t realized how far over the table she’d been leaning to be close to Michael. At least he’d been doing the same thing so she didn’t have to be so embarrassed.

  “Yes, that was interesting,” Michael agreed, waiting for the waiter to disappear before saying anything more. “I spoke to a security guard as well as Carla’s part-time caregiver. But then, just as I was leaving, I had an idea.”

  “I hope you showed them the photos.”

  “Well, yes I did. Good thing I didn’t forget, although I’m going back to be with Carla when she moves. I could have asked her then.”

  “Oh, you are! That’s so sweet, Michael,” Anna exclaimed, covering his hand with hers. That was a little too bold for her, but Michael turned his hand and grabbed hers before she could pull it away.

  “No sweeter than you were with Jane Doe,” he said, sincerely.

  “Oh,” Anna gulped, reaching for her tea with her free hand to wet her throat. She just couldn’t understand why she should feel so dry.

  Michael could sense Anna’s unease and gently let go of her hand, but it had been a wrench to do it. Her palms were as soft and as smooth as satin, but the fingers that gripped his, if only briefly, held his firmly.

  “And, uh, did, uh, Carla recognize anyone?” Anna asked, clearing her throat.

  “Maybe,” he replied, doing a little throat clearing himself. “She said she might know Jane Doe and asked if there was a reverse aging computer program that could show the woman at a younger age.”

  “That was clever!” Anna exclaimed.

  “Yes, it was,” Michael beamed. “I’d seen something like that on YouTube, but when I called Chief about it, he said he thought the FBI might have a more sophisticated program to do that same thing.”

  “If they were brought across the state line, the FBI would get involved anyway,” Anna pointed out.

  “Yes, I talked to Chief about that and he’s all for it. We don’t have the men or the resources here to handle an investigation of this magnitude.”

  “But surely Chief is taking steps, isn’t he?”

  “Oh, yes. Charlie Gordon is in Graceville right now looking for any van that might have been traveling the back roads late at night. Any vehicle, for that matter. Some of these ranchers are likely to be up with a sick animal in the middle of the night and could have seen something.”

  “Good, and if they find a van that crossed over the line, they can get the FBI involved sooner rather than later.”

  “Let’s hope,” Michael sighed. He also hoped that was the end of the conversation about the lost Jane and John Does. He was happy to be with Anna under any circumstances, but he’d much rather be talking about something more romantic.

  “You know, you have beautiful eyes,” Michael blurted out.

  “Th … thank you,” Anna stammered, taken aback by the abrupt change of subject. She’d been hoping for something more romantic but was unprepared for the sudden compliment.

  “No, I mean it,” Michael leaned forward, taking her hand again. “The color is gorgeous, of course. That beautiful, deep blue. But it’s the life behind them that is so beautiful. They sparkle, they snap, they glimmer, depending on your mood. I can almost read your thoughts by the light shining in them.”

  Anna didn’t know what to say. No one had ever said anything like that to her before and she was dizzy with the extravagance of his words.

  “I’m sorry,” Michael said, cringing at the words. “I hope I haven’t offended you.”

  “No,” Anna squeaked. Taking another sip of tea, she cleared her throat and tried again.

  “No, not at all. It’s just … I mean no one has ever said anything like that to me before.”

  “Good,” Michael laughed, delighted. “Then I have the privilege of being the first.” And, he thought, the only.

  “Oh, Michael,” Anna sighed, still at a loss for words.

  “Annie, Annie, Annie,” he said, giving the hand he held a little shake. “You must have been dating blind men.”

  Anna didn’t want to admit that she’d hardly dated in college and not at all in high school.

  “Well, I …”

  “Enough, beautiful lady,” Michael told her, still grinning. “If I buy you dinner. I mean an actual dinner. Not me showing up at your house with a pizza box in my hand. Will you allow me to say nice things again?”

  “I … I suppose …,” Anna stammered again, still unable to form a coherent sentence.

  “Good. Be prepared. I’m working on a poem about your hair.”

  “Oh, my god,” Anna whispered as Michael laughed again. She’d barely made it through lunch. However would she get through dinner with this sexy, handsome man spouting poetry about her hair?

  * * *

  As it turned out, Carla wasn’t moved until a day later than planned. Michael was glad of the delay since it gave them time to reverse age the picture of Jane Doe. It also gave that wonderful woman another day of independence.

  Armed with both photos and a report on Jane Doe’s DNA, Michael made his way to Carla’s cottage. He was early, but he not only wanted time for Carla to look closely at the photos, he also hoped to distract her if she was upset about the move. Nothing like being asked to help the police to give someone a sense of importance. Too often, his research showed, the elderly were shunted aside and ignored. It was like they became invisible. And that wasn’t going to happen to Carla if he had anything to say about it. He couldn’t save all the old folks, but he could do his bit for the one he knew and had become very fond of.

  Michael was glad when Rosemarie opened the door for him. She’d be there to calm Carla if she got upset about moving.

  “How is she?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Getting itchy,” Rosemarie smiled. “Her new room overlooks the river and she can’t wait to enjoy the view.”

  Michael had to chuckle at that. Carla really was the most remarkable woman.

  “Carla!” he called, moving past Rosemarie. “H
ow’s my favorite golden gal?”

  Michael took Carla’s hand and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

  “I’m always fine. And I can’t be taken in by young scalawags bearing gifts.”

  “What makes you think I’m bearing gifts?”

  “I see that hand tucked behind your back,” Carla told him, pretending to scowl. “Now give!”

  “You got me!” Michael laughed. “Remind me never to try any tricks with you.”

  And Michael was rewarded with the sweetest smile from Carla when she saw the yellow roses.

  “Oh,” Carla breathed, a pink blush staining her wrinkled cheeks, making her look like a young girl just receiving her first bouquet. “Yellow roses are my favorite. However did you know?”

  “Trade secrets.”

  “Humph. You called Rosemarie, didn’t you?”

  “Us nosy reporters do our research.”

  “Sit down, young man. You’re giving me a crick in my neck.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Michael replied meekly, sitting on the end of the sofa nearest Carla’s wheelchair.

  “And don’t you ma’am me,” she replied sharply. “Rosemarie, would you put these in water, please, and bring this trickster a cup of tea.”

  “Of course,” Rosemarie replied, taking the roses and brushing them past her nose to breathe in the heady scent.

  “Aren’t your cups and things packed? I mean, you don’t have to go through any trouble to make me a cup of tea.”

  “Good heavens, no,” Carla smiled grimly. “These cottages came fully furnished and stocked with dishes and towels and everything I needed.”

  “You mean you weren’t allowed to bring your own personal belongings?” Michael asked, shocked.

  “No, no,” Carla shushed him, waving her hand. “I have all my photos and a few knick-knacks that I’ll be able to take with me to the new room. Who cares about some old cups and saucers?”

  “I see,” said Michael, not really understanding. It was something he’d have to look into for his article. It sounded to him like just one more depersonalization of the seniors.

  Just then Rosemarie came back with Michael’s tea. “Any luck with the reverse aging of that photo?”