Gone in a Flash (13 page)

Read Gone in a Flash Online

Authors: Susan Rogers Cooper

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths

BOOK: Gone in a Flash
11.72Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Mr Smith looked at her and put his finger to his lips, asking for silence. She did not comply. She felt Megan was alive and well in her brain.

‘You can’t tie me up like this! I’m an American citizen! Help!’ she screamed.

Mr Smith left the room with his cell phone and Alicia started to scream.

‘Shame on you!’ Mr Jones said, and taped her mouth shut again. ‘This poor old man is gonna pee himself because you’re acting like a baby!’

With that, he asked Bert to lead him to the bathroom.

Alicia sat in silence. She looked around the room, scoping it out. She hadn’t lived with E.J. Pugh for a year and a half for nothing! She was going to get out of here if she had to bite an arm off to do it. Hopefully, someone else’s arm.

THURSDAY
VERA’S STORY

Gerald was a smart man. It didn’t take that long for us to go from Mr Norris and Mrs Pugh to a first-name basis. We were both of an age, and had known each other for several years, so it seemed fairly natural when we slipped into using first names. I really don’t think I need to explain myself here. His first suggestion was to go to my room and find the note Rachael left me, which we did. I, of course, left the door open while he was in my room.

‘She would have had to sign things to go on this trip, right?’ I suggested.

‘A couple of problems with that,’ Gerald said. ‘One, anything to do with the hotel she probably did over the Internet.’ True enough, I thought. I’d made all my arrangements with the hotel over the Internet – or rather my granddaughters had. ‘And two,’ he said, ‘anything she would have signed for the choir would probably be with Sharon and not Brother Joe.’

Damn! I thought, but didn’t say out loud. A lady never cusses in mixed company. ‘Then we’re out of luck,’ I said. ‘I can’t think of anything else she could have signed or written.’

‘Did she sign for anything here? Like dinner? Had it billed to her room or anything?’ he countered.

I thought. Hard. That first night we were too late for dinner when we got here. But breakfast the next morning? Damn, I signed for that! Then there was the luncheon, but that was part of the package … ‘I don’t think so, Gerald,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I can’t think of a time when she would have.’ Then I remembered! ‘She said she was going to get her nails done right before the luncheon! She forgot to get ’em done at home and saw they had a beauty shop here that did nails!’

‘And the beauty shop will have that ticket with her signature,’ Gerald said. He stuck out his hand like one of my grandkids going for a high five, so I got on tiptoe to hit it, then we were out the door.

And no, I didn’t feel strange having a man in my hotel room. I’ve known him for several years, he’s a nice man, and it was strictly business, so get your mind out of the gutter. Besides, as I said before, I’d left the door open.

I had just gotten off the phone with Lacy Kent, the woman from the junior orientation who was supposed to be coming over for coffee this morning. I had no desire to explain the entire convoluted mess to her – I lied and said one of my girls was sick. We postponed for the following week. I just hoped my life would not have been destroyed by then. The girls and I were sitting on the sofa in the family room when we heard the front door open and close. Willis came in the room.

‘What are they going to do?’ I asked, knowing my voice was weak and tired. Why was this crap affecting my kids? Again? What did I do wrong that this crap followed me around like a lost puppy, then morphed into a badly trained pit bull when I least expected it?

Willis sat down on the other side of the girls and put his arm around them. Our hands met behind Bess’s back and our fingers entwined. ‘They’re putting out an APB – all points bulletin – on the white car.’ He shrugged. ‘Meanwhile, I guess we wait for a call.’

We heard a car in the driveway, the slamming of a door, and Megan jumped up and rushed to the back door. Graham walked in and Megan hugged him. He took her by the hand and walked into the family room.

Willis jumped up. ‘What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Austin!’

‘Megan called me,’ Graham said. ‘I came as fast as I could. Is she all right? Have you found her? What the hell is going on?’

‘Megan!’ I said.

But Bess grabbed her sister’s hand. ‘Good thinking, Megs.’ And she too got up and hugged Graham. He sat down between the girls.

‘No, we haven’t found her yet—’ Willis started, but Graham jumped up.

‘Then why aren’t we out there looking for her?’ my son demanded, and I thought maybe it wasn’t such a good idea – him being here. When a young man is as in love as my son was with Alicia, reason and good sense were not always readily available.

I took his hand and pulled him down next to me. ‘Where would you suggest we go look? Luna and Chief Donaldson are checking out all the hotels and motels in Codderville and Black Cat Ridge, and looking for the car the girls saw them in. We have that license plate, but it was stolen.’ I rubbed his back. ‘Everything that can be done is being done.’

‘So tell me everything!’ Graham said, taking both my hands in his. ‘From the moment you dropped me off. Don’t leave out a detail.’

So I started, telling him about not being able to eat dinner at the Driscoll – leaving out the part about not being able to have sex either (some things they don’t need to know) – about his dad eating a healthy breakfast but me not being able to, at which point Willis tried to jump in with some denial, but Graham and I both shushed him, and getting home and Willis bringing in the luggage, finding the satchel.

Between the four of us – Willis, Bess, Megan and myself – we got the rest of it out.

‘Where the hell did this satchel come from?’ Graham asked.

‘We don’t know,’ I said.

‘When did it get put in the truck?’ he asked.

Willis and I looked at each other. Willis said, ‘The only time I can think of was when it was in the parking garage at the Driscoll.’

‘OK, why would someone put that satchel in your truck?’

I had a brain fart. ‘Scenario,’ I said. ‘Suppose a man is running through the parking garage, two guys are chasing him, he’s carrying a satchel, he stuffs it in the first place he finds – Willis’s clown truck – then runs up to the top level of the parking garage—’

‘As in the two guys who’ve been stalking us?’ Megan asked.

‘Yes, and then the two guys chasing him shove him off the top!’ Willis said.

‘Oh my God!’ Bess said. ‘That guy at the Driscoll! The one who fell off the roof! You think this is about him?’

‘Not so much about him,’ Willis said, ‘but more about what was
in
the satchel.’

‘But there was nothing in there!’ I said. ‘We checked it out! Remember? You got the Dopp kit, I took the clothes to Goodwill and Alicia got the satchel as a backpack.’

Willis jumped up and headed to the master bedroom, the rest of us following and hanging out at the bathroom door while Willis checked out the Dopp kit. Dumping his razor, shaving cream, and deodorant in the sink, he brought the Dopp kit itself to the bed. I sat down next to him and, with the kids looking on, he took his Swiss Army knife out of his pocket and began to tear the lining and the bottom out of the kit. There was nothing there. Several shoulders slumped.

‘OK, so where were we in my scenario?’ I asked the room in general.

‘The guys shove him off the top of the Driscoll parking garage,’ Graham said.

‘But only one guy chases him up there,’ I said. ‘The other one had to be near our truck, going for the satchel. Then we show up—’ I started.

‘And they get the license and follow us home,’ Willis finished.

‘What guy at the Driscoll? What are y’all talking about?’ Graham pleaded.

‘Tell you later, son,’ Willis said, grabbing his phone out of his pocket. ‘Gotta call Luna!’

SIX
THURSDAY
VERA’S STORY

W
e found the beauty shop, or as they called it, ‘The Salon’ in fancy script. We went in and I talked to the girl at the reception desk.

‘Hi,’ I said. ‘My name is Vera Pugh and my roommate Rachael Donley had her nails done here on Tuesday, but she had to leave the hotel for a family emergency.’ I’m not big on lying, but this was for the greater good, and pretty much close to the truth. ‘She asked me to pick up a copy of her charges here so she could pay me back when I see her.’

And I was right, I was going to be responsible for her manicure, too, along with her half of the room! This was costing me a fortune.

‘Sure,’ the young woman said. ‘Donley?’

‘Yes. D-O-N-L-E-Y,’ I said.

She went on her computer, hit a couple of keys, then smiled. ‘Here it is.’ She hit another key and said, ‘It’s printing. Let me go get it for you.’

She was back in less than a minute – it was a small shop – and handed me the bill. Fifty-two dollars! I almost choked on my own spit! I looked at it closer and saw that, hey, it was only forty-two for the manicure – the rest was tip!

Since I wasn’t able to speak, Gerald thanked the girl for me and we headed off to the lobby.

Dad called Luna and filled her in. She said she was going to call the detectives in Austin covering that case and get back to him. Graham and his sisters sat in the family room, side by side on the sofa, not watching TV for a change. They just sat there, not even talking much. Finally, Mom came in and told Graham the details of the man – James Unger – who had, as was now suspected by the police, been pushed from the top of the Driscoll’s parking garage.

Graham nodded, taking in all the strange happenings since he’d left home only a few days ago. It could have been a year for all that had happened. Back in Austin, not so much. He’d registered, gotten some classes he wanted and a couple he didn’t, at times that were scattered all over the place, making no rhyme or reason. He’d been very careful when designing his schedule to put all his classes in the afternoon so he could sleep late and study before he had to get ready. He’d also planned them according to the U.T. map he was given, so he could walk to all of them and leave enough time to walk from one side of the campus to the other. He had no intention of wasting what little money his parents allowed him on student parking on campus. But now he had one class in the chem building on the west side of campus immediately followed by engineering in another building on the northeast side of campus, then back to the chem building for lab. With ten minutes to traverse the famous forty acres twice.

He’d made one day of classes so far – English 101 and American history 101, both taught by TA’s who didn’t have English as a first language and with accents so thick he only understood every fourth word or so. Every day his stomach had been tied up in knots and he’d puked his guts out just the day before. So far, college had not been the magical experience his mother had claimed it to be. And then he gets the phone call. Megan telling him Alicia had been kidnapped. Right after lunch. He puked
that
up.

He excused himself and headed upstairs. He needed to lie down. Once in his room he realized something was different. He didn’t know what it was until he laid down on his bunk. He could smell her. Putting his nose to the pillow his mother had put on his bed, he sniffed. Alicia had been in his room, on his bed. He could smell her. For the first time since he was eleven years old, Graham Pugh began to cry.

Alicia woke up to angry voices. At first she had no idea where she was or why her arms and legs wouldn’t move. Then it all came rushing back to her. The sun was coming up. She could see it through the window. The sky was lightening, the trees and shrubs and cattle becoming clearer. Across from her on the sofa, the old man, Bert, lay asleep, his feet tied, his wrists bound in front of him. They had offered her the sofa last night but she’d declined, saying Bert should have it. Right now all she wanted to do was stand up and stretch. Everything ached.

The angry voices were coming from the kitchen, which she couldn’t see from her vantage point.

‘There’s nothin’ in here!’ screamed an angry voice that she didn’t recognize. Maybe this was the Mr Brown Mr Jones had spoken of ?

‘There was nothing in there when we got it!’ Mr Smith said. That voice she’d never forget.

‘Look!’ the other voice said. ‘See this hole you made? You don’t think I can see this, asshole?’

‘I didn’t make that hole! Jones, come here!’

A third voice entered.

‘Yeah?’ Mr Jones said.

‘Did you put this hole here?’ Mr Smith asked him.

There was a short silence, then Mr Jones said, ‘No.’

‘Do you know who did?’ Mr Smith asked.

‘I dunno. Did you?’ Mr Jones asked. To which Mr Smith answered with a resounding, ‘No!’

Then there was silence. Alicia knew who had put that hole in the bag. And now she knew for sure what they were after. The flash drive. Of course, she’d known that somewhere in her psyche as soon as she’d found the damn thing. Now they were going to want to know where it was – and she wasn’t about to tell them she’d left it in her room. They’d go back to her house and God only knows what they’d try to do to her family! Alicia felt the first twinge of panic since the entire ordeal had begun. She tried to take deep breaths, in and out, in and out, trying to conjure up yet again the might of her sister Megan. Her new mantra was WWMD – What Would Megan Do? And she knew exactly what Megan would do.

Mr Smith charged into the room, followed by Mr Jones and another man. The new guy was smaller than even Mr Smith, who was much smaller than Mr Jones. The new man had wispy blond hair and deep-set black eyes that did not sparkle or even gleam. He wore a snug T-shirt that showed off muscular arms, and even his jeans showed off overly-muscled thighs. After so much time with the beautiful Calvin the day before, she found herself describing the new guy in her mind: Roman nose, medium-to-dark complexion, yellowish teeth, firm jaw. He looked nasty.

Mr Smith was carrying her satchel. ‘What’d you do with it?’

‘With what?’ Alicia asked.

‘The thing that was in this hole!’ he shouted, spittle flying across the space between them and landing on her face. With her hands secured behind her she couldn’t wipe it off. She was rethinking that hand-sanitizer bath – maybe it should be Clorox.

Other books

Virgin River by Richard S. Wheeler
Lawe's Justice by Leigh, Lora
Organize Your Corpses by Mary Jane Maffini
The Dawn Star by Catherine Asaro
Tuesdays at the Castle by Jessica Day George
Wolf’s Glory by Maddy Barone
A Ghostly Grave by Tonya Kappes