Buried in a Book (16 page)

“S…T…O…P,” I read aloud. “I think the next letter is an ‘L’ followed by—” I couldn’t continue. I now knew what the words said. They gave me the chills and I stepped back, retreating from the warning, but it seemed to follow me.

STOP LOOKING STOP LOOKING STOP LOOKING

Ginny was still peering at the letters. “Oh! I see it now!” She repositioned the black light, propped it against the doorframe, and came to stand beside me. “Who is this message for? Vampire home buyers?”

I shook my head, dread tiptoeing up my spine and raising the fine hairs at the nape of my neck. “I believe it’s meant as a threat, but not to a potential homeowner. To me.”

“But what are you supposed to stop looking for?” she wondered.

I pretended to be too busy taking photographs of the vandalism with my cell phone to answer. This warning had to do
with Marlette’s death; I was sure of it. I had no proof, but I felt it in my bones. I put my hand on Ginny’s arm, trying not to tremble. “If your husband would be willing to paint over this, I’d be really grateful, but I need to tell the police about it first.”

Thanking her again, I promised to fill her in later, but all I wanted to do now was get back to Althea’s, track down Trey, and take a very long, very hot bath.

As I headed into Inspiration Valley, lightning scored the sky and the rain began to slap against the windshield. As it formed a steady rhythm against the glass, it seemed to take on the voice of the skull and crossbones, whispering its warning through the water.

“
STOP LOOKING STOP LOOKING STOP LOOKING….”

MY VERY LONG
, very hot bath was not to be. My mother was pacing on the porch when I arrived, her features pinched with more worry.

She rushed out to greet me as I opened the truck door. “Lila, Trey still isn’t home!” My mother stared at me wide-eyed, her wet hair clinging to her face. “I’ve got a real bad feelin’. The cards won’t show me what’s goin’ on with him. I get nervous when they go quiet.”

I grabbed her hand, and we dashed up the steps to the shelter of the porch. The rain pummeled the roof, battering my already frayed nerves. Seeing my mother’s frantic expression, my anxiety intensified. Trey had never stayed out this long before. “Did he leave a message? He didn’t call to say he wasn’t coming home?” I couldn’t help asking these questions, even though I knew the answers. My mother wouldn’t be this worked up if she knew something I didn’t.

“Not a word. If I wasn’t already worried about you, I might be able to focus on where he is, but I’m right overwhelmed!” She clutched my arm. “We haven’t seen him since yesterday, sug. It’s time to call the police.”

Her trepidation was serious if she was suggesting we turn to the police instead of relying on her special powers. I was torn, vacillating between thinking that something was truly wrong and believing that Trey was just being rebellious in the aftermath of his accident and our abrupt move. I hoped it was just rebellion. The other alternative, the possibility that something horrible had happened to him, was too frightening to consider, and I pushed the unwelcome thought firmly aside.

“Do you think the truck would make it up that dirt road? Maybe we should go to the Red Fox Co-op and look for him,” I suggested, already fingering the truck keys. The last time I’d seen Trey was at supper the day before, when he stomped off in a huff at my insistence that he be more proactive in his job hunt. I’d been so wrapped up in my own concerns, I’d failed to pay attention to what might be going on with him, and in my guilt I wanted to find him myself and fix the problem.

“But we don’t know for sure he’s there. And drivin’ up the mountain in the dark in this kind of rain…There are no lights up there. I don’t like it.” My mother wrapped her hands around mine. “He’s been gone for twenty-four hours, Lila. That makes him an official missin’ person. Let’s get someone official to look into it.”

I had to admit her idea was warranted. Any chagrin about my failings as a parent should not get in the way of finding Trey. If I contacted Sean I could also tell him about the vandalism. Abruptly, a disturbing thought invaded my mind,
making my mouth go dry. What if Trey’s disappearance was connected to the message on my front door?

It was not without reservations that I dialed Sean’s cell phone, knowing I should phone the police station and not be taking advantage of my personal connection with Sean. But I figured I’d get faster results dealing directly with him. Besides, I wanted to see him, to be comforted by his air of authority and assurance.

When his phone began to ring, I almost hung up. Why was I disturbing him so late? He was probably off duty, enjoying his Friday night. Perhaps he wasn’t alone. Perhaps he would think I was a silly, easily frightened woman. However, I didn’t hang up. My son was missing, and I needed the help of someone I could trust.

“Sean Griffiths here.”

His welcoming, rich voice broke through my doubts. “Sean? It’s Lila Wilkins. I’m sorry to call so late—”

“No problem. What’s up?” He sounded glad to hear from me. A cacophony of voices and laughter reverberated in the background.

“It’s Trey. He hasn’t been home since yesterday and we, that is, my mother and I, don’t know where he is.”

My mother poked me. “Tell him he’s been missin’ for twenty-four hours,” she whispered loudly.

I waved my hand at her. “We want to report him as missing. Can I do that through you?”

“Usually you’d call the station to do that. Just a sec.” His voice became muffled as he said something indistinguishable, presumably to someone in the room with him. “Tell you what, I’ll come over and you can fill me in. You’re staying at your mother’s place, right?”

Relief streamed over me like raindrops. “Yes, thanks,
Sean. My mother is, um, her professional name is Amazing Althea, and her place is just south of town, at the end of Magnolia Lane.”

“I know where she lives,” he said. “See you in a bit. And Lila?”

“Yes?”

“Hang tight. Trey is probably fine.”

THE VERY PRESENCE
of Sean in the house helped to alleviate some of my mounting dread. His calm demeanor and the concern that shone out of his blue eyes instantly settled the panic that had taken hold of me. I was able to describe Trey’s situation in a composed manner, even with my mother interrupting me in order to ply Sean with banana bread and coffee.

And yet, my heart raced when I’d finished talking and he put down his mug to reach over and touch my hand in reassurance.

“Trey wouldn’t be the first seventeen-year-old to seek solace at the co-op.” He flipped closed his notebook. “I’ll take my truck and see if he’s up there. Mind you, this time of night, things’ll be pretty quiet on the mountain.”

“They do sack out kinda early. Up with the sun, down with the sun,” Althea concurred, nodding. “Officer Griffiths, I’ve never had a bit of trouble with the co-op folks, so if he’s there, I’m right sure they aren’t doin’ anything wrong. I think there’s another force at play in this case.” She tapped her temple. “You keep that in mind, ya hear?”

“We’ll see, ma’am. I’ll let you know what I find out. And if Trey isn’t there, then we’ll decide on the next step.”

I walked Sean out to the porch. The rain had stopped,
and the night was quiet. The scent of after-rain freshness hung in the air. “There’s something else I need to tell you,” I said as I pulled out my cell phone. “My house in Dunston was vandalized with what I believe is a threatening message.” I showed him the photo I’d taken with my phone. “It was painted with glow-in-the-dark paint, so it only shows up at night. I think the person who did it doesn’t know that I’ve moved out.”

In the dim light of the porch, Sean’s face darkened. “This is serious. What is it you’re supposed to stop looking for?”

“I think it has to do with Marlette. I’ve been asking questions at work and looking around the places where Marlette used to go. Nothing that would interfere with the official police investigation,” I hastily added when I saw a glint appear in Sean’s eyes. “I think somebody wants me to stop.” I closed the phone, not wishing to see the photo anymore. “Somebody doesn’t want me to find out what really happened.”

Sean expelled a loud sigh. “You have to report this, Lila. The Dunston police need to send a unit to your house. And you need to stop trying to do our job. Stop putting yourself in danger.”

“But you said yourself the police aren’t dedicating any manpower to Marlette’s case. Nobody even came for the diary until today?”

He shrugged. “It’s not high priority at the moment. The arson case has become our priority. See, someone was locked inside the building when the fire was set, and so now we’re dealing with murder, arson, and insurance fraud all wrapped up in one case. It’s got precedence, especially with all the media attention surrounding it. We’ll figure out what happened to Marlette eventually. Heed the warning and stop poking around.”

“But—”

He touched his finger to my lips. “Shh. You have enough to worry about.” His touch seemed to burn me with a delicious warmth, and for a moment, I forgot why he was there. I was jarred back to reality when he dropped his arm and said, “I’d better go look for Trey.” He started down the steps, then stopped and turned. “Try not to let too many people know you’re living here. If the vandal is an unstable individual, we don’t want him or her to be able to find you.”

As I watched Sean walk to his car, my gaze fell on my mother’s blue truck, looking in the darkness like an oversized, shadowy creature of the deep. Tomorrow I would look for some mode of transportation that didn’t scream
I live with a fortune teller
.

“Sean?” I called just as he was climbing into the car.

“Yes?”

“Is there a chance that Trey’s disappearance is related to the vandalism?”

Even in the dark, I could see his frown. “No. I think Trey’s just being seventeen. But you can’t be too careful.”

I hoped Sean was right about Trey, but I wasn’t going to heed his advice about my investigation into Marlette’s murder. Someone had to find justice for the poor man, and I seemed to be the only one trying to do that. My probing may have made the murderer nervous, and if that person thought a little spray paint was going to deter me, he or she was dead wrong. If anything, I was even more determined to find out the murderer’s identity. I would just have to be more careful.

My mother joined me on the porch, and we both watched the red taillights of Sean’s truck burn through the night.

“That man’s got a fascinatin’ aura, Lila. He could be trouble for you.” She smiled enigmatically. “Then again, he could be just what you didn’t know you needed.” She handed me a cup of coffee. “No sense goin’ to bed. It’s gonna be a long night.”

ONCE AGAIN, ALTHEA WAS RIGHT. IT TURNED OUT TO BE
a very long night.

When I heard the rumble of Sean’s truck and saw the headlights twinkling like will-o’-the-wisps through the trees lining the mountain road, it was quarter past one in the morning.

My mother was asleep in her chair with her head rolled back and her mouth hanging open. She snored gently, a tumbler holding an inch of whiskey dangling precariously in her right hand.

I stood up, my body aching with stiffness from the rocker, and eased the glass from my mother’s hand. The rain had stopped hours ago, leaving the air steamy and thick with moisture.

The lengthy wait had calmed me a bit. I assumed Trey must have been up at the co-op, because Sean was there for a
long time. That meant my son was safe, but just as stubborn as always. Sean would have needed to sit down and talk some sense into my love-struck teenager before coercing him to come back home.

Being the kind of man I sensed he was, Sean probably spent the return trip gently scolding Trey for having worried his mother and grandmother. Hopefully, he also gave my son a few sound pieces of advice on how becoming an adult meant accepting one’s responsibilities. In my mind, I could already hear Trey’s words of contrition.

Of course I’d forgive him, wrapping my tired arms around his broad back. Then, after I’d thanked Sean effusively, we would go inside and get some much-needed sleep.

So when Sean’s truck finally cleared the trees and drew alongside the porch close enough for me to see that the passenger seat was empty, I felt the knot of fear form in my belly again.

I covered my mouth with my hand as though I could hold back the question I was too scared to ask.

“Trey’s okay,” Sean said the moment he got out of the truck, and I drew in a deep breath. He hurried to my side. “Your son is all right. He was sitting around a campfire playing the guitar when I got there. He had an open beer can at his side, but he wasn’t inebriated. He was well fed and relaxed and completely…happy.”

As my body sagged in relief, Sean’s description hit home. “Is that why he didn’t come back with you? He’s not happy here?”

Sean shifted uncomfortably, and I felt ashamed for putting him on the spot. He was a police officer, not a therapist, and he’d done me a huge favor by driving up the mountain
in search of my son. “Sorry,” I said. “I’m just tired. You must be exhausted, too. I know how much you have going on…professionally, I mean. Would you like to come in?”