Helen R. - Lost

“My first priority was to make sure you were all right.”

“Of course I’m all right. I’m here!”

Jared took off his hat and ran his other hand over his hair. “Michaele, you don’t know what’s—” He signaled her to give him a moment, then replaced the hat. “It’s not going to help anything to get sarcastic.”

Although not ready to admit she was out of line, she did back off by getting a mug from an open cabinet. “Faith never got home from school,” she told him. “And there’s been a phone call.”

She repeated everything the caller had said. When she finished, she glanced over her shoulder. Jared just stood there, his eyes closed.

“You’re thinking someone’s pulling one over on me, that I’m being melodramatic. I hope I am. But the more I think about it, the more I feel—He was smiling when he spoke, I could tell. That’s what unnerved me. He was enjoying himself.”

Once Jared met her gaze again, not only did his expression tell her that he didn’t think she was overreacting, but he looked sick to his stomach. “Did you recognize the guy’s voice?”

“No.” She suffered a new pang of guilt. “To be honest, I’m not even sure it was a man.”

“You just said—”

“I’d fallen asleep and was disoriented. The call lasted only a few seconds.” As she replayed the awful conversation in her mind, she tried to portion out a spoonful of coffee granules. Most spilled onto the counter.

Jared took over and completed the task. “Could the caller have altered his or her voice?”

“I guess. I don’t know. No, it had to have been a man.”

“Because…?”

“Because.”

“Harold Bean, maybe?”

One of the less appealing things about small towns was that everyone knew everyone else’s business, including who was or had been paired with whom. Michaele shook her head. “Jeez, no. He’s still nuts about her, sure, and as far as I know they’ve remained friends, but…no. Faith’s moved on.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Harold’s voice cracks like a thirteen-year-old’s when he’s the slightest bit emotional.”

“You sound more like a protective parent than a worried sister.”

“Damn it, Morgan, I’m not protecting him. I’m simply not going to say what I don’t believe, so back off!”

Jared held her angry stare. “When did you receive the call?”

“At midnight. I phoned you right afterward. Maybe I should have called the station or 9-1-1.”

“You did the right thing.”

Then why did he look as though she’d become his worst nightmare, as though he were about to excuse himself and charge for the bathroom?

Before she could say as much, he stepped around her, turned off the flame under the pot and poured the boiling water. “Have you searched the house thoroughly? There’s no sign that she might have been here while you were at work? Maybe she packed a bag or something, planned to stay with friends for a few days?”

“No, I didn’t notice anything when I was going around opening windows, and she didn’t say—”

The pot clattered as he slammed it back onto the burner. “You had the windows open?”

“Hello! This is Split Creek, not L.A. What’s more, two of the three people living here think we have round-the clock maid service. Maybe you can tolerate that kind of stench, but not me.”

“Okay, okay. Go lock up. Then check the closets, under the beds…Do it,” he intoned when she didn’t budge. He started for the door. “And yell like hell if you find anything. I’m going outside to have a look around.”

“For what?”

The glance he cast her over his shoulder left her feeling like a slow five-year-old. As the screen door shut behind him, she muttered, “It’s my house, buster. I have a right to at least ask.”

What did he think he was going to find out there, anyway? She’d told him Faith wasn’t here. And what did he think she’d run into upstairs?

Somewhere above her a board creaked. It was the same sound Faith used to make when she tried to sneak out of the house for a date on a school night. Of course, this time, Michaele thought, it was the house cooling, a board expanding—

Another creak sounded.

“So I’ll placate him.” She might as well, she decided. Otherwise he would do it for her and know once and for all what slobs the Rameys were. The heavy flashlight she snatched up along the way was for her own peace of mind.

Five minutes later they were both back in the kitchen.

Jared reached for the still steaming mug of coffee. “I’ve radioed the station and told them to keep an eye out for Faith, and to check on Buck. You know we can’t initiate an official missing persons search for twenty-four hours, but I’ll set in motion what I can. If you could give me a recent photo of her, that would help.”

For what? Everyone in the area knew what Faith looked like. She was one of those people who never met a stranger and talked to everyone.

“We’ll need it if we have to broaden our search,” Jared said gently. “Also, come morning, if…well, you’ll have to come into the station to fill out some forms.”

As he spoke he made less and less eye contact. That, more than anything, triggered a new dread in Michaele. “You don’t think she’s going to show up, do you.”

“I’m merely explaining procedure.” He put down the mug. “Could you get me that photo?”

The one she chose was from the top of the TV in the living room—a Glamour Shots creation, yet another indulgence the girl couldn’t afford. At the time it was taken, Michaele had been too angry to admit her sister looked gorgeous, more stunning than most of the empty-eyed skeletons in the countless fashion magazines the kid bought. It wasn’t just the filtered lens, the way Faith’s long black hair was brushed in uncharacteristic but sexy disarray, or the artful makeup that gave her eyes an almost Far Eastern tilt, her mouth a pouty just-kissed look. Faith simply had…something.

Returning to the kitchen, Michaele handed the picture to Jared. “All I was trying to say before was that if you know something, I think I have a right to be told what it is.”

Jared slipped the photo into his shirt pocket without looking at it. “I’ll be in touch.”

That was it? “Fine!” she snapped, as he headed for the door. “Then hear this—as soon as I change, I’m going to start searching for her, too.”

“The hell you will.”

Before she could move he’d spun around and grabbed her upper arms, almost lifting her off her feet to bring her face-to-face with him. It wasn’t hard to do. He might not be the tallest guy in town, but he had to be one of the strongest, and if he wanted, he was capable of making a larger man feel like a Chihuahua confronting a rottweiler.

“You stay put,” he growled. “And don’t think I won’t be checking in to make sure you’re here.”

“I can’t sit and do nothing.”

“Then pray.”

Jared Long Morgan talking about prayer? Next to her, he had the worst church attendance record in town. “Now you’re frightening me.”

“It’s about time.” But he frowned once he noticed his grip on her, and abruptly let her go. “Stay here. If she shows up, you’ll be able to let me know all the sooner.”

He started to leave again.

“Jared.” When he looked back, Michaele chewed on her lower lip. “You might as well know something. We fought before she went off to school this morning.”

“So what else is new?”

Despite his wry, even kind tone, she didn’t allow herself off the hook. “This time I threatened to shut her off financially if she didn’t start helping out more. She left crying and cussing.” Remembering the awful scene, Michaele felt her own throat ache. “What am I going to do if…?”