Zack stopped outside Maggie's bedroom door and tapped lightly. He found her sitting on the edge of her bed, her eyes red and swollen. He closed the door. "How are you holding up, pretty lady?" he asked as he sat beside her and placed his hand on her knee.
She looked at him. "I need to be out there searching for my daughter, Zack. I'll go mad if I have to just sit here and wait."
"Babe, you need to be here in case you get a phone call."
She wanted to tell him she had already received a phone call, but she hesitated. She didn't know if McKelvey would be able to help or not, didn't know if the man was even competent or if Carl Lee would listen or sooner kill him than anyone. But the police had given her nothing, nothing, and now her daughter was missing, and Maggie was frozen with fear. She couldn't think or make the slightest decision. It was like trying to find the shallow end of a pool and discovering both ends were deep and well over her head. She pressed her fists against her head as though it would push aside the mental pictures, all worst-case scenarios that her daughter might be experiencing at this very moment.
"Maggie, we're going to find her," he said. "I won't stop looking until we do."
She swung her gaze in his direction. She tried to read his expression. Sorrow? Dread? Pity? "What if it's too late?"
"Maggie, you have to trust me. I care about Mel, too. I will do whatever it takes."
Maggie's eyes were suddenly hard. "I know you will, Zack, but there's something else I want you to do for me. Once you find Mel, I want Carl Lee dead."
* * * * *
Zack disabled the alarm for Queenie. She looked weary as she came through the back door. In one hand she grasped her purse and a plastic bag emblazoned with the Full Scoop name, beneath it a strawberry ice cream cone dusted with colorful candy sprinkles. In the other hand she gripped a worn and faded gift bag announcing someone was fifty and over-the-hill. "Reinforcement," she said, putting the bag of ice cream in the freezer. "If Abby Bradley didn't have our favorite flavor I would never set foot in her place again."
Maggie sat at the kitchen table in the chair nearest the telephone. Waiting. Checking her caller ID each time it rang, avoiding calls from the well-wishers and the concerned. Lamar and his men had cleared off the property, but they weren't far away. Zack's rifle sat at the bottom of the stairs.
Max walked into the room. "Okay, sorry it took so long, but the phones are up. The calls are routed to my computer where they'll be scanned immediately. We'll be able to check numbers that are otherwise unavailable. "Jamie's still lying down?"
Maggie nodded. Jamie had felt queasy so Maggie had insisted she lie down in Mel's room. "I gave her a couple of magazines. She'll be fine."
Max and Zack returned to the living room. Queenie stared at photos clipped to a magnet on the freezer door. Maggie and Mel had taken pictures of each other during Mel's spring break when they'd gone to Disney World in Orlando. Queenie's face drooped, Maggie noticed, and the light had gone out of her eyes. And Maggie was unable to comfort her because she had nothing left inside.
"You should have seen Abby Bradley holding court with the women customers in her new Gourmet Coffee Parlor, as she calls it. You would have thought the Queen of England had personally flown over and crowned that woman Duchess of Blabberville. And there's poor Travis, just getting out of school and working like a one-armed paper hanger trying to keep up with customers. You'd better believe Abby shut her face when I walked through the door, let me tell you. Next time I give her laryngitis I'm going to make sure I—" Queenie winced, but the words were already out. She averted her gaze.
"Make sure it lasts longer?" Maggie said dully.
"That stupid bird hasn't laid egg one." Queenie sighed. "I've been hexed by a hexing hen." She set her purse and birthday bag down on the table and joined Maggie. They sat there for a moment, thinking their own thoughts.
Maggie could hear Zack on his cell phone in the living room. Agents had searched every house on Zack's list and found nothing, and Maggie's hopes had plummeted to new depths.
Queenie reached into her bag. "I ran by the house and put together a few things," she said. "Oops, I almost forgot, I brought Zack some smart weed. Snake weed would have done just as well, but I didn't have any on hand." She set a small homemade pouch on the table. "He needs to carry it in his pocket. Clears the mind," she added. "It also attracts money, so that's an added feature." She reached into the pocket of her blouse and unfolded a square of tissue. "Silver dime," she said. "You need to put this in your shoe to keep you safe. I brought a bunch of stuff," she said, rummaging through the sack. "Always be prepared, I say."
For once Maggie didn't comment on Queenie's practices. She could see that the woman was upset but doing her best to hide it.
"And look, I brought goofer dust. I always keep it in this can because it's so powerful. You want to lay a good jinx on some old mean person, this will surely do the trick." She paused and rubbed one eye. "I remember when we lived in Charleston and Mel got her hands on my goofer dust and flushed it down the toilet. Do you remember that?"
Maggie nodded. "I remember the plumbing bill."
"That toilet never worked the same after that. I told that girl then if she belonged to me she would have gone down that toilet right behind my goofer dust on account of it takes forever to make a batch."
"Queenie?"
Maggie propped one elbow on the table and leaned against her fist. She knew Queenie talked a lot when she was nervous or upset. Like the night Maggie had gone into labor, the time Mel had fallen from her bicycle and needed stitches. "Are you going to go on like this much longer?" she asked. "You're going to end up with laryngitis like Abby did."
Queenie looked at her. Her black eyes were moist. "I'm going to beat that girl into next week when she gets home." She waited. Hesitated. "I don't guess you've heard anything."
Maggie shook her head. "You know, I've been sitting here thinking." Maggie said. "Mel should have a little Halloween party this year. Not a kiddie party like in the past, something a little more, um—"
"Age appropriate," Queenie supplied. "Meaning no tequila shooters."
"Right. And since you and I would be here acting as chaperones, I don't think parents would have a problem with boys attending. And I think it would be okay if Mel and Travis got together once in a while, like on Saturday. They could play putt-putt or go to the library. I would drive them, of course."
"Travis is really worried about Mel," Queenie said. "He wants to get a bunch of his friends together on bicycles and look for her. I told him you'd call him if you wanted him to set it up. I hate I had to lie to him about Zack being gone. He's such a nice boy. On the honor roll too," she added.
"Yes, he's very polite," Maggie said, remembering how respectful he'd been when she'd called and taken him to task for slipping out of the theater with Mel.
"Of course, Mel is going to have to realize that if she wants to have a little more freedom, she has to earn it," Maggie continued. "She'll have to take on more responsibility around here, and improve her attitude."
"Amen to that," Queenie said.
"And she has to regain my trust."
"Are you going to ground her when she comes home?"
"Damn right I am. She's going to read David Copperfield." Maggie gave a tremulous smile. "This is too hard, Queenie," she whispered.
Queenie took one of her hands and held it tightly. "Hold on, Maggie. I'm not going to let you fall."
* * * * *
Carl Lee sipped his beer on Lydia's sofa in silence while she sat across from him and glared. He had been drinking for two hours, his mood becoming progressively worse. "Does Maggie still have that old trunk that belonged to her grandma or her great-grandma or somebody or other?"
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