Part 20 (1/2)
”What's up?” I asked as I stepped outside, acting as though he didn't affect me in the slightest.
”We got a call at the station from Bernard Sampson.” Mitch's face looked graver than normal. ”He says his wife never came home last night, and he's worried sick about her.”
”Oh my gosh, that poor little old lady.” My heart thumped for a totally different reason now. ”You don't think anything awful happened to her, do you?” I fidgeted and paced. ”It was freezing last night, and the killer is still on the loose.”
”Let's not go there, Tink. Calm down and let's try to find her, all right?”
I took several deep breaths. ”Okay.”
We got in his car and cruised the town. We went to the library with no luck. No one had seen her. We went to the shopping district but still no luck. No one in the restaurants or at the church had seen her, either. After an hour of searching, we were headed back to my house when I spotted a movement off the side of the road.
”Wait a minute, back up,” I blurted.
”What?” Mitch slammed on the breaks.
”Back there. I think I saw something.”
He backed up his cruiser. I searched the street by Carolyn's house and Amanda Robbins's old house, which still had the yellow tape around it.
”I don't see anything,” Mitch said, scanning the area.
”I swear I saw something.” I opened my door.
”What are you doing?”
”What do you think I'm doing? I'm getting out to investigate. Isn't that our job? Jeesh.” I stepped out of the car and closed the door.
”Get back in here, you crazy-headed fool,” he snapped through the window he'd rolled down. ”It could be dangerous.”
”Yes, and poor Mrs. Sampson could be hurt.” I crouched down and started zigzagging across the yard toward the librarian's house like I'd seen in the movies.
Detective Stone hopped out and jogged until he caught up with me, tapping me on the shoulder of my humongous puffy coat. ”What are you trying to do, scare the bad guy off by line dancing?”
”Ha, ha.” I continued my crazy movements. ”Aren't you supposed to run in a zigzag pattern when chasing someone?”
”No, you only do that if you are the one being chased and the bad guy is shooting at you with a gun.” He ran right along beside me. ”Stop doing that, you look like a fool.” He snagged his arm around my waist and pulled me back against him.
”Oh.” I stopped moving, enjoying the warmth of his wide, hard, sculpted chest for a moment, then came to my senses and stepped out of his hold to stand up straight and march up the driveway.
”Now what the h.e.l.l are you doing?” He s.n.a.t.c.hed my hand and yanked me to a stop. ”You don't want to advertise your approach, either.”
I looked down at our hands and pulled mine from his, crossing my arms in front of me and tapping my boot. ”Okay, smarty-pants, what am I supposed to do?”
”Let me go first. You don't even have a gun.”
”I won't argue with that.”
”That'd be a first.” He grunted. ”Stay close.”
I stepped behind him and followed closely. So close that when he stopped short by the corner, I bounced off his back, grabbing his hips so I wouldn't fall. He craned his neck around and scowled down at me from over his shoulder.
”Not that close,” he snapped.
”Sorry.” I winced and backed off a step. Okay, a baby step, but after the standoff with Pendleton, I wasn't taking any chances. I wanted to solve this case, but I didn't want to die in the process.
The detective searched the area, made sure it was safe, and then peeked around the corner. He quickly stood up and holstered his gun. ”There she is. I think she's alone, but-”
That was all I needed to hear. I raced around him and ran to the old woman's side, glancing over my shoulder. He threw up his hands and followed, shaking his head the entire way. She sat at the base of the librarian's bedroom window, exactly where the footprints had been that night. She had her ap.r.o.n on, as was her habit, I was beginning to see, but at least this time her shoes matched. And thank G.o.d she'd worn a heavy coat.
”Mrs. Sampson, this is Detective Stone. Can you hear me?” Mitch asked.
She sat there staring straight ahead, looking dazed.
”Maude, it's Sunny. I'm so glad we found you.” I touched her cheek.
She turned to look at me. ”Sunny? Have we met?” she asked.
Sadness filled every ounce of my body and darkened my soul like tea filling my cup and staining the water black. ”Yes, a couple of times. Bernard is looking for you.”
”Oh dear, did I miss our lunch date again?” she asked. ”My s.h.i.+ft at the library takes up so much of my time.”
”I know, but I'm sure they'll understand if you want to take a break.” I held her hand. ”Bernard is really worried about you. Would you like to go see him?”
”Oh yes. He's a good man. He works so hard for all of us. Where are my girls?”
”They're fine,” Mitch said, giving me a funny look. Once he recaptured Maude's attention, he asked, ”Are you ready to go, Mrs. Sampson?”
She gnawed her bottom lip. ”Am I in trouble?”
”No, no. We're just going to have Dr. Wilc.o.x check you out.” Mitch helped her to her feet. ”Make sure you're okay.”
”I told Bernard I was dying, but he wouldn't listen to me.” She sighed. ”He never listens to me.”
I looked her in the eye and squeezed her hands. ”Something tells me he'll listen to you now.”
Dr. Wilc.o.x came out of the exam room, sending Maude home with her husband, Bernard. Bernard stopped at the exit to the waiting room and turned to the detective and me. He cleared his throat and said, ”Thank you for bringing my wife back to me. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't found her.”
Mitch nodded once in return.
I said, ”You're welcome, Mr. Sampson. Please take care of her. She's a little fragile.”
Bernard replied, ”I know all about my wife, Ms. Meadows. I've always looked out for what's mine.” The lines in his face looked deeper today, like the worry and stress had finally taken its toll.
”That's my Bernard,” Maude said, patting his arm. ”A real trouper.” She looked exhausted. He held her hand tight, and they walked out together.
Dr. Wilc.o.x reentered the waiting room and called Detective Stone and me into his office.
”Well, what's the verdict, Doc?” Detective Stone asked, leaning a hip against the wall.
I refused a seat as well, too keyed up to sit.