Stalking Ground (4 page)

“Perfect.” Mattie withdrew her hand.

“I promise I’ll stay on this until we find her, Rainbow. Robo and I will do everything we can to bring Adrienne home.”

Rainbow gave her a thin smile. “I can’t tell you how much better I feel, just knowing you’re back home. If anyone can find her out there, you two can.”

The K-9 unit’s reputation for tracking had been elevated last summer. Mattie hoped that under these new circumstances, Rainbow’s confidence in them wouldn’t be misplaced.

After saying good-night, she went to the staff office to call Cole. She swiped to her contacts list and tapped on his number.

“Hello, Mattie,” he answered. “I heard you were coming back tonight.”

He sounded happy to hear from her, and something gave her heart a squeeze. “And I heard you’re helping us get leads on people who might know something about Adrienne Howard.”

“Angie and I are working on that right now. Almost done.”

“Good. I want to get some names and numbers from you so I can get started.”

“All right. Here goes.” Cole dictated the first part of his list while Mattie recorded the information.

“I didn’t know that Adrienne was working with you,” she said when they finished.

“She’s working with some of my clients’ horses. Volunteering for now, but I think she plans to expand her career in that direction eventually.”

“Do you think she was seeing a client yesterday afternoon?” Mattie asked.

“So far every client I’ve called has told me ‘no’ to that question. I don’t track her schedule, though, so I don’t know.”

“Her friends think she might have gone hiking.” Mattie wondered how well Cole knew Adrienne. “Do you know anything about where she might have gone?”

“No, I’m sorry I don’t. I know very little about her beyond her massage skills for horses. I don’t know anything about her personal life.”

Mattie felt a vague sense of relief but stayed focused on her own business. “Deputy Brody has searched several trailheads for her car. We also have the rangers looking.”

“Good.”

She paused, deciding to venture into territory that he’d already shared. “How are things going with Mrs. Gibbs?”

“Well, the jury’s still out. So far the verdict seems split.”

She smiled, thinking he might be speaking in code, since he was working at the clinic with Angela. “Let me guess. Sophie for, Angie against.”

“You’ve got that right.” His voice reflected the smile that Mattie could picture, soft with a little sideways quirk. She heard a lighter voice murmur in the background. “Angie says to tell you she knows we’re talking about Mrs. Gibbs.”

Angela was a hard one to slip past. Mattie’s smile widened. “Oh.”

“She wants to talk to you.”

“Sure. Pass me over to her.”

Angela’s voice came into the receiver. “Mattie?”

“Hey.”

“Hey.” The teen’s voice sounded tight and stressed when she continued. “I’m worried about Adrienne.”

“We’re on it, Angie. We’re doing what we can to find her.”

“Do you think someone shot her and buried her in the mountains like Grace?”

Mattie’s breath caught. The poor girl. No teenager’s mind should have to conjure that image as her number-one fear. “We have no evidence whatsoever that would point to that, Angie.”

“I’ve just been thinking, you know.”

“I know what you mean. Sometimes we can’t help but think of the worst. Especially when such a bad thing happened so recently. But nothing indicates that Adrienne could be a victim of foul play.” She tried to soothe the girl. “We hope she’s out in the high country, took a wrong turn or something, and she’ll either show up soon or we’ll find her. Once we find her car, we’ll know where to look. And the rangers are helping us with that.”

“Okay, that sounds good. Can we help you search if you find her car?”

“Maybe, but the last thing we want is for people to get lost. We have a list of volunteers we can turn to who are familiar with the wilderness area around here if we need them.”

“I want to help.”

“I’ll write you in at the top of my list to call if the right job turns up.”

“Thanks, Mattie.” Again there was a voice in the background, this time much deeper. “Dad wants to talk to you again.”

“Okay.” Mattie and Angela exchanged good-byes.

“So you’ll let us know if there’s anything more we can do?” Cole asked.

“Yes. I’ll stay in touch.”

“Thanks.” He paused, and she wondered what else he wanted to say. “Be careful, Mattie.”

“Always. Good luck on the other thing—Mrs. Gibbs.”

She could hear his smile in his words. “Thanks, I’ll need it.”

As she said good-bye, she realized how even the sound of Cole’s voice seemed to relax her.

Setting her personal life aside, she refocused and picked up her phone. It was eight o’clock, and she had a lot of calls to make before it grew too late. She hoped someone would know something that could turn up a lead.

Friday

Mattie startled awake, rose onto one elbow, and blinked at the clock. Shutting off the alarm, she shivered in the cold bedroom and then felt a puff of warm breath against her shoulder. Robo stood beside the bed, chin resting on the mattress, staring at her. In response to her eye contact, he huffed and circled in excitement, nails clicking against the hardwood floor.

She put her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes, pulling the quilt that her foster mother had made for her up over her chin. The room went silent. She knew that Robo had returned to his post beside the bed and would be using his eyes to will her to stay awake with all the intensity he could muster. And if there was one thing her dog could muster, it was intensity.

She peeked at him again. His mouth broadened into a grin.

“Okay, I’ll get up.”

While Robo did his happy dance, Mattie rolled from the bed and hurried to the window to close it. She’d slept with her bedroom window open for as long as she could remember, winter and summer alike. The autumn chill lingered in the room while she quickly dressed in gray sweatpants and a T-shirt that had “Timber Creek Sheriff Dept.” stenciled across the front in solid, black letters. She donned socks and running
shoes, grabbed a hoodie, and headed toward the front door of her house. Robo darted ahead, tail waving.

Out on the porch, she could feel a breeze that intensified the chilly air, blowing from the northwest—the direction from which Timber Creek received most of its cold fronts. She sniffed. Snow? Checking the sky, she thought of Adrienne Howard. If Adrienne was lost somewhere in the wilderness, an incoming storm didn’t bode well.

After stretching, Mattie struck a path for T-hill, her typical run. Vigorous morning exercise made Robo a much better partner at the office, and it was a crucial part of their routine. With him keeping pace beside her at heel, she headed up the steep, rocky pathway. Near the top of the hill sat a letter
T
built with rocks, kept whitewashed by each year’s high school freshman class. She jogged straight upward, running toward it.

On the way down, her cell phone rang. Mattie pulled it from her pocket and checked the display. Her foster mother.

“Good morning, Mama.”

“Good morning,
mijita
.”

Being called “my little daughter” always warmed Mattie’s spirit. “You’re up early.”

“Ha! You always say that.”

She smiled. “You’d think I’d be used to you getting up before the sun by now.”

“
Si
. Come over for breakfast.”

“I don’t have much time.”

“It’s ready for you.”

“I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

Putting her cell phone back into her pocket, Mattie sprinted for home, Robo matching her stride. After feeding him, she hurried to shower and dressed in record time. Then
she loaded Robo into the SUV and drove the few blocks to Mama’s house, the foster home where she’d spent her last few years in the system.

She told Robo to wait in the car and headed across the yard, passing Mama’s collection of plaster of paris yard ornaments: small chipmunks, squirrels, and rabbits frozen in midscurry. Skirting around the side of the white stucco house, she entered through the kitchen door, stepping into a different world filled with lovely aromas. Mama T never sent anyone away hungry, and she cooked up love in every bite. Mattie’s mouth watered.

“What have you fixed for me today?” she said as she entered the kitchen.

Mama T put down her long-handled spoon and turned from the wood-burning stove for a hug. Mattie placed her cheek against the woman’s silvery streaked black hair, which was pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. She held onto the small comfort for a moment until Mama let her go. Stepping back, they grinned at each other, Mama T’s smile showing a gap or two where teeth were missing.

“This morning we have huevos rancheros with green chili and tortilla.”

“Mmm . . .” One of Mama’s old standbys. Grabbing up a hot pad, Mattie went to the stove to lift the black porcelain coffee pot with the white speckles. “Can I pour you a cup of coffee?” she asked.

“
Si, gracias
. Then sit.” Mama placed two plates heaped with food on the table.

As was their habit, Mama uttered a brief prayer of gratitude and then they ate in silence. Mama always insisted that her guests savor each bite and not waste time with chitchat. After they finished, she spoke. “Your brother called.”

Mattie had been waiting for him to call for months. He’d called Mama T last August, asking her to see if Mattie wanted to reconnect, and then nothing. Of course he had to call now, just when she needed to focus on work and finding Adrienne. “What did he have to say?”

“That he is glad you will talk to him. He took your cell phone number and your home number both. He said he will call you soon.”

“Okay. How did he sound?”

A frown line formed between Mama’s brows. Apparently she considered the question important enough to give it her full concentration. “He sounded tired. And maybe at first, afraid you would not want him to call you. Then he sounded relieved. Happy. But still tired.”

Her foster mother could gather a great deal from even a short phone call. During high school, Mattie learned she could hide nothing from her Mama T.

“He said to tell you thank you, and he looks forward to talking to you.”

Mattie couldn’t help giving her head a slight shake. Her brother Willie was a mystery to her. She’d hoped, for all the years since they’d been separated after Willie was sent away, that he would find her someday. And now that he had, he’d delayed their reunion for months. It didn’t make sense. She preferred tackling this kind of situation head on, not waiting around for the moment to fester.

“Did he leave you a phone number?”

“No. It’s strange. I asked for it, but he said no, he would call you.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just wait to hear from him then. Thank you, Mama, for being the middleman on this. It seems kind of crazy the way he’s handling it.”

The lady smiled. “Middlewoman,” she said, her eyes twinkling. Then she sobered. “It does seem strange. Like he’s hiding something. I hope it will be all right.”

Mattie touched her warm hand and then stood to carry her dishes to the sink. “Don’t worry. This is good. You said so yourself.”

“I did,
mijita
. And so it is. Now you go to your work. You have much more important things to do than washing my dishes.”

Mattie hugged Mama T and let herself out the door. On the way to the car, she suppressed a shiver. She zipped her jacket, pretending it was the cold air that caused it. But she couldn’t hold back the bad feeling she had swelling in her chest. Was it about Willie? What if he didn’t call? She’d been unable to retrieve Willie’s number because Mama T still used an old-fashioned rotary phone on her kitchen wall. Detective LoSasso had suggested they subpoena her foster mother’s phone records to find the number, but Mattie hesitated to abuse a system meant to trace criminals and not long-lost relatives.

Or was the bad feeling caused by something else, something that lay hidden out there that she had yet to discover?

Whatever it was, she didn’t like this feeling of dread one bit.

*

Cole could smell bacon cooking when he came down the stairs for breakfast. He was mentally thanking his sister for finding Mrs. Gibbs, until he heard that dear woman’s voice wafting up the stairway alongside the scent of bacon. Her Irish brogue colored her speech, and her angry tone heated up the kitchen.

“Ye’ll not be going to school in that outfit, young miss. Not while I’m in charge, anyway.”

Cole resisted the urge to turn around and head back to his bedroom. He sighed and trudged into the kitchen to face the battle. He sought out Angela—for he knew it must be his eldest drawing fire—and recognized immediately what had instigated the housekeeper’s censorship.

In addition to a stony face, Angela wore an extremely low-cut tank top that Cole hadn’t seen since summer. “What’s wrong with it?” she asked.

“It’s shameless, it is. I’ll not have you parading around school with your bosom exposed.”

The last thing Cole wanted to talk about at breakfast was his teenage daughter’s bosom. Angela had vacillated between being his right-hand girl and acting out since school started. He understood the difficulties a teenager faced, but he felt compelled to stand behind the housekeeper and present a united front. Especially since he agreed on this one. “Mrs. Gibbs is right, Angie. You need to go upstairs and change.”

“I’ve worn this shirt to school before, Dad. You didn’t complain about it then.”

After receiving his divorce papers, Cole had been in a depressive funk when school started last summer. Back then, he probably hadn’t noticed. “I don’t remember that, but I’ll take your word for it. Letting you wear this shirt was my mistake. Let’s not repeat it. Go change, Angie, before you miss the bus.”

“Dad.”

How can she load such disgust and disappointment into one syllable?
“Do what I say. Hurry up.”

Throwing him a look that would kill a lesser man, Angie left the table. Cole turned his attention to his youngest, Sophie. She looked rather self-satisfied after witnessing her older sister’s defeat and was dressed in a freshly ironed pink
blouse, her brown curls tied up on top of her head with a gauzy pink scarf. Mrs. Gibbs’s work, no doubt. Belle, their Bernese mountain dog, sat beside Sophie, eagerly watching for anything that might drop. Cole smiled. Belle knew who was the messy one in the family.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Cole said to Sophie as he made his way to the coffee pot.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said, taking a bite of scrambled egg. “Mrs. Gibbs made breakfast.”

“Mmm . . . I could smell it on my way down the stairs. Thank you, Mrs. Gibbs.”

Standing at the stove with spatula in hand, the woman gave him an approving nod, probably more for backing her up with Angela than for his expression of gratitude. She wore her gray hair in tight curls around her round and ruddy face. She’d only been with them for a few days, but so far she appeared to prefer more formal dress—black trousers with creases and neutral colored blouses that had a look of starch about them—rather than the denims and T-shirts that Cole and his youngsters were used to.

“How do you like your eggs, Dr. Walker?” she said, brandishing one above the skillet.

“Please, call me Cole,” he told her for the umpteenth time.

She gave him a slight shrug.

“Scrambled is great. Two please.” He took his seat beside Sophie, relishing her smile, a childish greeting around the toast she was taking a bite out of at the same time. “Do you have your backpack ready?”

“Yes, I do. Today we’re going to start a science lesson about stars. Mattie showed us the dippers and the North Star, so I’ll have a head start.”

“Sounds good, little bit.” He looked at Mrs. Gibbs, wanting to draw her into the conversation. “Are you all still planning to go out to the Hartman place after school?”

“Yes,” Sophie said, while Mrs. Gibbs said, “We will.”

“Do you need directions?” Cole asked.

“Angela can show me the way, can she not?”

“I’m sure she can.” Cole hoped Angie was in a better mood when the time came.

Mrs. Gibbs set his plate—piled high with steaming eggs, four strips of bacon, and toast—in front of him. He could get used to this. Since he’d taken over kitchen duty, they’d had nothing but boxed cereals to choose from in the morning.

“Mrs. Gibbs, I appreciate this more than you’ll ever know.”

The crow’s feet deepened around her green eyes when she smiled. “Oh, I have a notion how much you like your bacon. Most men do.”

Cole dug in, eating quickly so that he could get to the office.

“What would you like for dinner?” Mrs. Gibbs asked as she sat down at the table with her own plate.

Dinner. On the table after work. One that he didn’t have to cook himself. Would wonders never cease? “I’ll leave that entirely up to you. I’m easy to please.”

“Hamburgers,” Sophie chimed in.

“We’ll see,” Mrs. Gibbs told her. “Now run upstairs and brush your teeth. It’s almost time to go out for the bus.”

Sophie got up from the table, smacked a kiss on top of Belle’s head, and headed up the stairs. Belle took off after her, limping only slightly from the gunshot wound she’d sustained last summer. After Sophie left, Mrs. Gibbs spoke quietly. “Young Angela isn’t very pleased with me.”

“She’ll get over it. She’s a good kid, but I think she’s gotten used to calling her own shots around here the past few months.”

“I’ll try to respect that. But I feel I must express my own opinion when I see something that the girls are doing that I don’t agree with.”

“Of course. And I’ll back you up when I can.” Cole might be desperate to have help around the house, but he wouldn’t turn over the raising of his kids to an outsider. “One thing I learned lately is that I’ve got to be involved with my kids, and we made a pact to communicate with each other. So I’ll have to express my opinions, too. Often you and I will agree. Sometimes we might not. Then we’ll have to work things out.”

Mrs. Gibbs gave him a skeptical look. “We shall see.”

It sounded ominous. “I’m sure we can work together. We just need to keep each other in the loop.” He pushed back his chair, ending the conversation. “Thank you for breakfast. That’s a mighty fine way to start the morning.”

“And what do you want for your lunch?”

“I’m used to a sandwich, but I can make that myself. I never know when I’ll be able to take a lunch break.”

“I’ll leave something made for you in the refrigerator.”

Clearly Mrs. Gibbs knew her way into a man’s heart. “Thanks. As long as I have fruit, chips, and sandwich fixin’s, I’m a happy camper.”

The kids came down the stairs together, Angie picking at Sophie’s hair in a teasing way but dressed in a more acceptable shirt. Cole decided not to comment on it, gave both girls a hug, and saw them out the door. They headed up the lane toward the highway to catch the school bus.

He felt autumn’s chill in the air and instantly thought of Adrienne Howard. He scanned the sky. Wispy gray clouds spread over half of it from the west, and they looked like they were filled with wind. As if proving him right, a light breeze lifted some dry leaves and scattered them across the lane. If a storm was brewing, the warm Indian summer might be coming to an end.