Murder With All The Trimmings Part 25

"Thought I'd have a brownie before bedtime," Amelia said.

"You're ent.i.tled," Josie said. "You baked them. There's milk in the fridge, if you can find it. Your grandmother parked a couple of cases of wine coolers and beer there. I have to fax a paper to Alyce. I'll be back in half an hour. Will you be okay on your own?"

"Sure," Amelia said.

Josie dug her contract with Suttin Services out of the filing cabinet in the corner of her bedroom she grandly called her office.

She stood at the door b.u.t.toning her coat and said, "If anything goes wrong, your grandmother is right upstairs."

"Mom, you could go to Kinko's and be back by the time you give me instructions on how to be careful," Amelia said. "I'm not a baby anymore. I'm nine years old."

"Good-bye, sweetie," Josie said, and ran for the door. The bitter cold was like a slap in the face. She hurried to her car, watching her breath in the frosty air. She faxed the contract to Alyce and was back by eight thirty.

The front door was closed, but not bolted. She didn't hear the TV. "Amelia?" Josie called. "Are you all right?"

No answer.

Josie ran to her daughter's room. The bed was still made, and the computer was off.

"Amelia!" Josie called.

She checked both bathrooms. They were empty. Josie found the note propped up against the sugar bowl on the kitchen table: Gone to find Daddy's killer.

"Amelia!" Josie cried in the empty house. There was no one home to hear her.

Chapter 28.

"Amelia!" Josie shouted.

Her frantic cry was ripped from her chest. Their home seemed frighteningly empty.

Amelia's coat and boots were missing, along with her backpack. Josie checked her daughter's bedroom closet. Amelia had gone on her quest for her father's killer wearing her precious hot-pink hoodie.

"Amelia!" Josie screamed again, and held back tears of fright. She ran outside and called again. "Amelia, where are you?"

No answer.

Josie pounded on her mother's door until a rumpled, sleepy Jane finally answered. "What's wrong, Josie?" she asked, barely disguising a yawn.

"I can't find Amelia. She left this note." Josie practically shoved it in her mother's face.

Jane read it, fingers trembling. "Dear Lord. She says she's going to find her daddy's killer. Who is that? She isn't going after one of Nate's dangerous friends, is she?"

"I don't know," Josie said. Her heart twisted. "She didn't say where she was going. But her boots and backpack are gone."

"Who do you think the killer is?" Jane asked. "Did she hear you say something?"

"I might have mentioned that Doreen and her daughter had something to do with Nate's death. But Amelia hates Heather. She'd never go to her apartment."

"Go next door and ask Mrs. Mueller," Jane said. "Maybe she saw something."

Josie thought the old woman watched everyone but never saw anything useful. Still, this was no time to argue. Josie beat on Mrs. Mueller's door until the old woman came out, wearing a pink chenille robe and matching rollers. Maybe she got messages from aliens on those rollers, Josie thought. Mrs. Mueller glared at Josie. "Why are you knocking on my door?"

"Did you see Amelia leave the house recently?"

Mrs. M sighed dramatically. "She left home about ten minutes after you did. She was wearing her backpack. Really, Josie Marcus, you aren't fit to be a mother."

She's probably right, Josie thought, but I'm not wasting time arguing with the old battle-ax. "Where did you see her go?" she asked. "Where was she going?"

"Toward Manchester Road," Mrs. M said.

She could be anywhere by now, Josie thought. She managed a thank-you, then ran back home across the soggy gra.s.s, not caring if she tore muddy footprints in Mrs. M's precious lawn. Her mother's so-called friend hadn't offered to help find Amelia.

Josie was tormented by nightmare visions of s.e.xual predators, serial killers, and cruel boys in cars with the speakers tuned to earsplitting levels so no one would hear her daughter's cries for help.

"Amelia!" she screamed again, as if she could ward off those visions.

Stan the Man Next Door turned on his porch light and came outside wearing an old man's baggy brown cardigan. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"It's Amelia," Josie said. "She took off on her own. She was last seen walking toward Manchester Road."

"I'll help you look for her," Stan said. "I can search around the Galleria and the shopping center's parking lot. Do you think she'd walk all the way there?"

"I don't know," Josie said. Were the buses running this late? Or, G.o.d forbid, did Amelia hitchhike? She could have caught the MetroLink on Manchester Road and gone downtown, or to the airport, or-Josie's heart froze. Her daughter could be anywhere in the metro area.

"Thanks," Josie said. "I'll go the other way on Manchester Road, toward the city." They exchanged cell phone numbers to stay in touch.

Jane was shivering on her front porch, but now she was awake and alert. "Well?" she asked.

"Amelia was last seen headed toward Manchester," Josie said. "I'll get my car and start looking for her."

"I will, too," Jane said.

"No, I need you to stay here, in case Amelia calls or comes home," Josie said. "Stan is going to help."

Jane reluctantly agreed. "I'll get coffee started," she said. "Should we call Nate's father at his hotel?" Jack was still cool toward Jane.

"No," Josie said. "Let him sleep for now. I'll call Mike." Even though things were iffy between them, Mike would help in an emergency like this. He picked up his phone after two rings, and Josie told him Amelia had disappeared. She edited out her own suspicions of Heather and Doreen.

"Where do you think Amelia is?" Mike asked.

"If I knew, I wouldn't be looking for her," Josie snapped.

"Josie," Mike said, "yelling at me won't help. I know you're worried. But I need some idea of where to search."

"I'm sorry," Josie said. "I didn't mean to snap your head off. I'm upset. Terrible things can happen to a little girl on her own. Amelia was last seen heading toward Manchester. Stan is going to take the area around the Galleria, including those huge parking lots. I'll do the streets between Manchester and Clayton, then check out the Highway 40 construction site. Can you look around Dogtown and the DeMun neighborhoods for me?"

"I'll be glad to. But those are really far away, Josie. She's not likely to walk there," Mike said. "I'll check the residential part of Clayton, too, just in case."

Amelia wasn't likely to walk off without telling her mother, either. Except she did. Josie shuddered at the thought of her daughter wandering in the dark depths of the night.

"Josie, are you still there?" Mike asked. "What about Amelia's friends? Have you checked with them?"

"She might have gone to Emma's house," Josie said. "Emma's mother would have called me, I'm sure, but I'll call just in case."

"And I'll start searching. It's nearly ten o'clock. I'll check in with you at eleven, but I hope we have news before that. Josie?"

"Yes?" she said.

"Don't worry," Mike said. "It's going to be all right. She's a smart little girl."

"Do you really believe that?" Josie asked.

"Of course," he said.

Josie called Amelia's best friend. Emma was already in bed. Josie wished her own daughter was safe and warm at home. "Sorry, Ms. Marcus, I haven't even IM'ed her since about five tonight," Emma said. "Is she sick or something?"

"No," Josie said, not willing to admit her daughter had disappeared. "Thanks, Emma. You've been a big help."

Stan the Man Next Door had already left on his search. Josie started up her trusty gray Honda. The car was rusty and dented, but it was dependable. She drove slowly through the slushy side streets. Maplewood had a small-town stillness at night, but now that quiet seemed ominous. The big old houses looked like eyeless skulls. The bare tree branches were skeletal fingers, reaching out for her daughter. The Christmas lights in the yards spread false cheer on the snow.

Josie had been driving about ten minutes when she saw a small figure bundled in a dark coat and her heart leaped. She drove faster. As she got closer, Josie realized that was no child, but the thin, bent figure of an old woman. Josie was so disappointed she almost wept.

Josie saw groups of tweens and teens at the burger joints and clothing stores, but none was Amelia. Where were their parents? she wondered. Why didn't they make sure their kids were safe at home?

And where was her daughter? Josie couldn't lose her. She tried to drive faster, but her car slid on a patch of slushy ice. Slow, she reminded herself. Speeding up won't help find Amelia faster.

Josie kept driving up and down the empty streets, praying that her daughter was safe. In her mind she replayed scenes from the nightly news: desperate parents begging kidnappers to please let their child come home unharmed. She imagined weeping family members huddled around shallow graves in desolate woods. She saw yellow crime-scene tape fluttering in the dirty snow, and solemn officials wheeling away a black body bag with a small mound zipped inside.

Where was Amelia? Why didn't I let her have a cell phone? Josie asked herself. She could be texting me a message now. If someone kidnapped her, she could be trying to contact me.

Josie's cell rang at ten p.m. She jumped, then pulled the car over. She was too shaky to drive and talk to Jane.

"Mom?" Josie said. "What's wrong?"

"Did you drink any of those wine coolers for the party?" Jane asked.

"No," Josie said. "Why?"

"I opened your fridge looking for some milk for my coffee, and saw that six bottles were gone. Did Amelia take them?"

"I can't imagine why," Josie said. But now Josie could think of many reasons. Her crafty daughter was up to something. She knew it. But what? Amelia had never showed any interest in alcoholic drinks. She didn't like the taste. So why would she take the wine coolers?

Josie called Mike and Stan, but neither one had seen anything.

"I'm sorry, Josie," Mike said. "I'm over by DeMun now. n.o.body's outside, except a guy walking his dog. He hasn't seen anyone. I'll keep looking."

"Me, too," Josie said. "I'm about to finish the Maplewood area. Then I'll head over to Forest Park."

Josie kept driving. The temperature was dropping, and the slush on the streets was starting to freeze. Twice her car skidded, but she brought it under control. Josie couldn't drive into the Highway 40 construction area, but she got close enough to check for signs of people moving around. Nothing. The big yellow earthmovers looked like prehistoric beasts. The concrete bridge pillars seemed to belong to a lost civilization.

She drove into the city's majestic Forest Park, nearly thirteen hundred acres of twisting paths and more lagoons and lakes than any mother wanted to think about.

At ten minutes to midnight, Josie's phone rang. She pulled over in the park and grabbed it.

"Josie," her mother said, "any sign of Amelia?"

"Of course not," Josie said.

"Then I'm calling the police and have them issue an AMBER Alert for a missing child."

"No!" Josie screamed.

"Why not?" Jane said. "My granddaughter is missing. We need to face facts. This is when we call in the police."

"Mom, the police have to confirm there's been an abduction, and there has to be a serious risk of injury."

"Bah! What are they going to do, arrest a worried grandmother?"

"And what do we do when her grandfather finds out and decides to take your granddaughter back to Canada because I'm an unfit mother? He's already angry at us. Amelia told me that her grandpa said she could live with him all year round and she'd love winter in Toronto. If he takes her, we don't have money to fight the legal battles or hire the detectives to find her."

"And what do we do if she's dead, Josie? Because of your foolish pride."

"Just give me a little more time, Mom."

"You have until twelve thirty, Josie Marcus. Then I call the police, and to h.e.l.l with the consequences. I'd rather have a live granddaughter in Canada than a dead one close to home."

Josie hung up the phone and wept.

Chapter 29.

Midnight.

Josie heard a church bell bonging somewhere, but the sound brought no comfort. Where was Amelia? Why would she do anything so foolish? She'd never run off before. Where did she get the idea she could investigate a murder?

From her idiotic mother, Josie decided. I've set a fine example for my child. After that pile of gifts we got when I solved the last murder, my daughter probably thinks she'll be richly rewarded.