Part 22 (1/2)
Chuck waved at him, and Michael tossed back a greeting as he strode through the lobby and pounded up the creaking wood stairs. He didn't want to stop to chat. He had one thing on his mind. Well, food and then one thing. Mouth watering, he fumbled to get his room key out of his shorts pocket and balance the food in one hand.
The door swung inward as he pushed his key into the keyhole.
Every sensor in his brain shot to high alert as he shoved the door completely open and stepped into the room. The empty room. He tossed the to-go boxes on the bed, scanning the small room. ”Jamie?” The door to the bathroom was open. He checked the quiet shower.
”Jamie?”
Sweat started on the small of his back. She just stepped out for a minute.
He pushed aside the lace curtains of their window and scanned the hedged backyard. The rear gate in the hedge was open from the yard to the back alley, but the tables and chairs on the patio were empty. No tall women with long hair. All quiet.
Too quiet.
Michael thundered back down the stairs and into the lobby.
”You seen Jamie?” He shot the question at Chuck, who was straightening a shelf of books. Michael's chest heaved like he'd run a sprint. He slowed his breathing. Christ. Keep your head on straight.
Chuck stiffly turned his head. ”No, she hasn't come down that I've seen. She got a phone call a while back. I put it through to her room, and it didn't ring back, so I a.s.sume someone answered up there.”
”A call? Who was it? How long ago?” Michael barked.
Chuck looked thoughtful. ”Maybe twenty minutes. Maybe a little more. I can only tell you that it was a male voice, and he asked specifically for Jamie Jacobs.”
”Young voice? Old?” Michael's heart was doing flip-flops.
Chuck shrugged. ”Neither?”
”Where's your phone system? It'll show the number of who called.” Michael started for the man's office.
Chuck chortled. ”I ain't got one of those fancy phone systems. Just the basics.”
Michael froze. ”No caller ID?” Seriously?
”Nope. None of that call-waiting stuff either. Always thought that was kinda rude.”
Michael exhaled. ”And she hasn't been downstairs?”
”I've been in and out of the back. I mighta missed her if she went through.”
”You were here when I left twenty minutes ago.”
Chuck nodded. ”I've been doing some paperwork in the office. I try to keep an ear out for people coming through, but I don't hear footsteps so well these days. That's why I've got the bell on the desk.”
Michael swallowed hard and scanned the room. The lobby was the old living room and dining room of the former house, with the reception desk tucked in the corner farthest from the front door. A small kitchen and Chuck's office were through the swinging door across the room. Horses could have pranced through the lobby and Chuck would have missed it if he'd been in the office.
”Mind if I look in the kitchen?” Michael pushed through the swinging door before Chuck could reply. A quick look in the adjacent office and the neat kitchen confirmed no Jamie. Sure enough, Chuck's phone looked straight out of the 1970s. Michael strode out the front door and stood on the wide wraparound porch, seeking any sign of her. Nothing. He stepped back inside and nearly ran over Chuck.
”What's wrong, son? You look like you're ready to strangle a cat.”
”I can't find her.” Understatement.
”Well. She can't have gone far. There's nowhere to go,” Chuck said reasonably.
Michael shook his head. ”No. She was waiting for me. She wouldn't have left.” He checked the time. ”I need to call Sheriff Spencer. This isn't right.” He left Chuck standing in the lobby and pounded up the stairs. ”Would you ask your first-floor guests if they've seen her?” he shouted back to Chuck.
Michael's bedroom door was still open. He looked inside again, hoping...still empty. He whirled around, moved into the hallway, and pounded on the other three doors in the hall, not waiting for someone to answer each one. One door opened and a middle-aged woman with thick eyegla.s.ses glanced out. She reminded Michael of an owl.
”Chuck?” she asked.
”Chuck's downstairs.” Michael gestured at his open door. ”I'm staying next door, and I'm looking for my girlfriend. Have you seen her?”
Annoyance crossed the owl's face, and her nose lifted into the air. ”No. Not today. Last night, I heard her though. Last night...I heard both of you. I would have called Chuck, but I a.s.sumed he was asleep, and I figured it'd be rude to disturb his sleep.” She shut the door.
”Ah...sorry about that,” he said to the closed door. He pounded again on the other two doors. No answer.
”f.u.c.k.” He dashed back down the stairs. His heart was doing a serious drumbeat in his chest, and it wasn't from all the stairmastering.
Chuck stood in the center of the lobby. ”I asked. No one's seen her.”
”How the h.e.l.l can she just leave and no one notice?” Michael yanked his phone from his pocket and dialed Sheriff Spencer.
”Well...both rooms down here were watching TV. Usually folks don't pay much attention to what other people are doing around here.”
Bulls.h.i.+t. The townspeople had watched every step he and Jamie had made since getting to town. Someone had to have seen her.
”Spencer,” the sheriff answered his call.
”Sheriff, this is Michael Brody. Jamie is missing.” No point in mincing words.
”What?”
”We're at Chuck's place. I left to get dinner, I came back, and she's gone. Chuck said she got a phone call a while back from a man. f.u.c.k! I think he's got her.” Michael's brain screamed as he voiced the thought. He'd been holding off, not giving credence to the theory, but now he'd said it out loud, and he couldn't think of anything else.
”Our tattoo man? Are you sure? Maybe she walked to the store. She's got to be somewhere. Did his phone show who called?”
”Guess how old the phone system is.” Michael jogged out the front door and down the street to the little grocery, holding the phone to his ear. ”I'm going to check the store, but I'm telling you, she wouldn't leave.”
”I'm still at the Buell house. Somebody did a number on this kid. A f.u.c.king execution. One bullet to the back of the head. I've got a sobbing mama who wants to know why her son was killed, and I can't tell her I think he said the wrong thing to a stranger. I've got a female deputy on hug-the-mother duty, and she's starting to wear down from this woman's hysterics. State is still taking evidence from the garage, but it looks like a clean scene to me.”
”Christ.” Michael didn't want to think about a teenager collapsed on his garage floor and his frantic mother. He had Jamie on the brain, and there wasn't room for anything else. He threw open the door to the market and searched the few aisles for Jamie's black head.
Nothing.
”Help you?” asked a clerk as she leaned against the counter. She held a nail-polish brush in one hand, ready for action with her other hand in painting position on the counter. Her eyebrows had shot up as Michael abruptly entered the store. He didn't recognize the young woman from the day before.
”Seen a woman with long black hair come in during the last twenty minutes or so?”
The woman shook her head. ”No one's been in for over an hour.” Her hand still held the brush in midair. ”You buying anything?”
”No.”