In Sickness And In Death Part 7

Panic clamped onto my heart and gave it a painful squeeze. "Erica, answer me. Where are you?"

"I don't know." Her voice sounded hoa.r.s.e. "Mom, where are we?"

I gripped the phone tighter. Erica had never addressed our mother within my hearing, not since Mom died, of course. "Erica, are you home?"

"No-o-o-o."

"Are you in a house?"

"It's dark."

"Are you sitting down?"

"Lying."

"On a bed?"

"Cold. Where are my clothes?"

My hand shook. The phone struck my temple. She hadn't gotten her medication fast enough. She was either hallucinating or talking in her sleep. She'd been known at times to walk, talk, and chew gum while asleep. No one could say she wasn't a woman of many talents. "Is there a window?"

"Y-e-e-s."

"Okay, Erica, get up and go to the window. Look outside and tell me what you see."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"My wrist is stuck."

"On what?"

"Ahhh ..."

Clearly, she was stumped. "Okay, Erica, hold on."

I ran from the office into the living room and grabbed my purse, fumbling for my cell phone with one hand. I hit speed dial for Ray's cell.

Danny watched me from the couch, his brow furrowed.

I turned my back to him.

"Yes, Darlin'?"

"Ray, Erica called me from this number." I checked the caller readout and repeated the incoming phone number to him. "She doesn't know where she is. She's completely out of it."

I could hear him keying into a computer, looking for the address to go with the number.

"Keep her on the phone. I'm on my way."

I clicked my cell phone shut. "Erica, honey, Ray is coming to get you. Just sit tight."

Nothing. "Erica? Erica? ERICA?"

All I got in response was a dial tone.

____.

Ray called twenty minutes later. "It's a motel room. She's not here. There's no sign of her. The desk clerk says he didn't see her, but four different guys checked in today. Glen Burton, Maurice Boor, Richard Scott, and Mickey Dean."

"Mickey Dean's is a restaurant."

"I know. The names may all be aliases."

I didn't think so. "Is Boor spelled B-o-o-r?"

"Yes."

"Erica went to high school with a Maury Boor. He used to put notes in her locker all the time. He freaked her out, always calling and asking her on dates."

"I don't know him."

I pulled the phone book out of a drawer and thumbed through it. Maurice Boor wasn't listed, nor anyone else with the same name. Just my luck, his family had moved away. "I think he was a year younger than Erica, so six years younger than us."

"What does he look like?"

"I haven't seen him in years. In high school, he was short and scrawny with dark hair and horn-rimmed gla.s.ses. Sort of geeky." I would have to dig out Erica's old yearbooks to find his picture.

"The desk clerk couldn't remember which guy was which, but he said two of them were dark-haired, one balding, one with a gray ponytail. All of them were taller than him, and he's around five-eight."

Maybe Maury had a growth spurt after high school. "Are any of them in their rooms?"

"No. This is an hourly sort of motel, Darlin'. It's about a mile from The Cat's Meow. They draw their regular crowd."

"Can you go see if she's there?"

"No. I'm supposed to be looking for a one-armed woman, Jolene. I cannot chase your sister around town."

"Ray, Erica was talking about b.u.t.terflies. She spoke to Mom like she was in the room with her. She's not well."

"She hasn't been well for a long time. There's no sign of any foul play here, or any kind of play. I don't know why she called you, but I have to get back to work. I'll check and see if Maurice Boor has any priors."

I couldn't believe he hung up on me. I resisted the temptation to slam the phone on the receiver over and over again only because of Danny's watchful eyes.

While it was true Erica had been sick for years and known to disappear for days at a time with men, her hallucinations usually involved someone being after her, making her afraid to leave home. She lost several jobs because she failed to show up for work, too afraid to drive there for fear someone would be in the back seat of her car waiting to attack her. I'd never really thought of her conversations with our mother as hallucinations, since Erica never said she saw Mom or heard Mom's voice. She just quoted her, which I'd interpreted as Erica trying to garner support for her own ideas by attributing them to Mom. After today, I wasn't so sure.

I tried to convince myself that, like so often in the past, I had no real cause for concern about Erica's safety. But Erica had a thing for b.u.t.terflies. She coveted their short life span. And images of the severed arm lying in the ice chest kept pushing their way into my mind. We might have a psycho killer running loose in our county, one who preyed on women from The Cat's Meow. Erica had recently become one of those women. While not a dancer, she had been there the other night, offering herself to men in the bar. Had one of them decided to take her up on her offer? Was he keeping her against her will? I couldn't sit idly by and wait to find out, not when she'd called me in distress.

I glanced at Danny, who tried to avert his eyes back to his book before I caught him watching me. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah."

"How about pizza?"

"Okay."

"Get your coat and shoes. We're going out."

____.

I pulled the Lexus into the parking lot of The Lincoln House, the restaurant and bar where Erica worked. Erica's car sat in the far corner of the lot. My heart rejoiced. Could she have shown up for work?

Danny studied the picture of Abraham Lincoln in the lobby of the log cabin restaurant while I scanned the bar. I didn't see Erica, but the place was full.

The hostess seated us near the fieldstone fireplace. When the waitress arrived, I ordered sodas and sent Danny to get his pizza from the salad bar. I hustled into the barroom and caught the bartender's eye.

"Hey, Jolene. Did you and Ray come in for dinner?" Bernie, the bartender and half-owner, went to high school with us. He was a star on our high school football team, but his renowned brawn had since aged into paunch.

"Ray's at work. I brought our new foster child, Danny. He's twelve."

Bernie swiped a towel over the bar. "I got a twelve-year-old. Jacob. Maybe they'll be in the same cla.s.s."

"That would be nice. Is Erica working tonight?"

He folded the towel in his hands and looked at it. "She's off tonight. She was here last night." He didn't sound too happy about it.

"Her car's in the parking lot."

His gaze remained trained on the towel. "I noticed."

"Do you know if she went home with someone last night?"

He frowned. "Not for sure. She walked out with a new guy."

"An employee?"

"A customer. He's been in a couple times this month."

"Do you know his name?"

"No. He's quiet. Not really her type."

"What do you mean?"

He gave his nose a nervous swipe. "Your sister likes excitement. Lately she's been spoiling for a fight."

"In what way?"

"She's irritable. She's jumpy. She gets mad if things don't go her way. I had to sit her down the other day and tell her that she needs to sweeten up or she's outta here."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I thought she was doing well here."

He brought his gaze to meet mine. "She was, Jolene. She was. I knew her record when I hired her, and I warned her then. She did fine for a while, but the last few months ..." He trailed off and avoided my eyes again.

"What about them?"

"To be honest, since you lost your baby, she's been different."

I shouldn't have felt surprised. Erica did shoot a man the day before we surrendered Noelle. Surely that had affected her, whether she admitted to it or not. "Different in what way?"

"It's like she's desperate for attention." He washed a few gla.s.ses in the sink under the bar. "I think she misses you."

"Misses me?"

"Yeah. She talked about you and the baby all the time. Then suddenly she didn't have anything to talk about anymore. I'd ask her how you were doing and she didn't know."

Guilt washed over me. I'd neglected my sister, my surrogate child. Erica needed support, and I hadn't been there to give it to her. "What does this guy she walked out with look like?"

"Dark hair. Maybe six foot. Okay looking, for a guy."

"If he comes in again, can you call me?"

Bernie stopped drying the gla.s.s in his hand. "What for?"

"I don't know where Erica is, and she's been off her medicine. I need to find her and make sure she's all right."

"Sure. Sure. If he comes in, I'll call you. And if Erica comes in, I'll let you know, too." He leaned closer. "I gotta tell you, though, if she doesn't come in for her next shift, she's through."

"Fair enough." If that happened, I would pay Erica's bills just like always.

After thanking Bernie, I rejoined Danny at the table. He had four slices of pizza stacked on a plate with a side of heavily b.u.t.tered bread. No vegetables.

I let it go. "I'm going to grab a piece of pizza and some salad. Then we need to go to Erica's apartment, okay?"

Danny nodded, his cheeks bulging with pizza.

____.

Erica lived in the apartment I'd leased when Ray and I separated four years ago. He and I'd been unable to come to terms over his desire to have a baby and my desire to avoid perpetuating my bloodline's mental health issues. When Noelle fell into our arms and Ray and I reconciled after three years, we bought the bungalow, and Erica had moved into this old Victorian on Wells Street. She lived in the first floor apartment, and the landlord lived on the second floor. This time of year, the landlord was most likely holed up in a hunting lodge somewhere with his old war buddies. The entire house was dark when we pulled into the driveway.

I rang the bell then used my key. The apartment smelled musty. Danny followed me in and waited while I turned on the lights.

"Wow. Cool." The dozens of fake b.u.t.terflies dangling on fishing line from the ceiling captured Danny's attention immediately. "She likes b.u.t.terflies."

I nodded. My fears grew.

The kitchen was clean and orderly. No one had cooked here in days, maybe months. Her bed was made, her clothes hung. Her suitcases remained tucked under the bed. Erica wasn't here, and I couldn't find a clue as to where she might be.