Sheryl Lynn - The Case Of The Vainshed Groom

On either side of the desk, Megan and Kara Duke traded stories about Ross as a teenager. Megan said, “Remember when he got caught skinny-dipping?”

Kara laughed and added, “Three girls! What were their names? Debbie Parsons—”

“Not Parsons,” Megan interrupted. “She was Janine’s friend. It was Debbie Calloway. Remember? She started dying her hair in the sixth grade.”

In the middle of all this chaos Ross appeared resigned, as if this sort of fracas were business as usual. How this family functioned when everyone talked at once and nobody paid any attention to anyone else baffled Dawn. In her family communication had been simple: Father had spoken, Dawn and Mother had listened.

A wan, cold sensation gave her gooseflesh and she rubbed her arms. Except the chill came not from the room temperature, but from deep within her soul. Now that the initial shock of Quentin’s disappearance had passed, she felt numb. Witnessing this crew in a free-for-all did nothing to clear her confusion or ease her fear.

She stepped away from a filing cabinet, clearing her throat with a loud, “Ahem.”

“If you saw a prowler,” the Colonel continued grilling Ross, “on the walkway, which is well-lighted, why can’t you describe him? ‘Some guy’ is not a description.”

“Pardon me,” Dawn said.

“Nobody hit you. You tripped and banged your head,” Janine said. “This whole story is fishy. Come clean, Ross. What really happened?”

Noticing a telephone book atop the filing cabinet, Dawn picked it up. Weighing it and her intended action, she decided desperate times called for desperate measures. She whomped the book against the filing cabinet. The resulting bang shut every mouth and turned every eye toward her. Embarrassed, but determined, she replaced the telephone book where she’d found it.

“Pardon me.” She straightened her shoulders. “My husband has been kidnapped. I appreciate very much the way everyone helped me search the grounds for him. As you all can see, he is definitely missing. I should call the police now.”

The Colonel harrumphed. The three sisters exchanged sheepish glances. Elise hurried forward and grasped Dawn’s arm, urging her to sit. Ross gave her a look of unmistakable approval, so warm and focused that for a moment she forgot her situation. Everything centered on his slight smile.

“I agree your husband is MIA,” the Colonel said. “But I do not agree he has been kidnapped. His vehicle is no longer parked in the POV lot. That suggests he is AWOL.”

“Speak English, dear.” Elise patted Dawn’s arm. “Your acronyms are confusing her.”

But Dawn understood the Colonel. Everyone believed Quentin had left on his own. “My car is missing, too.” Her cheeks flushed. At Quentin’s insistence, she had purchased the brand new Lincoln Mark VIII only three weeks ago as an early birthday present for him. It was his car rather than hers, but to have it stolen, leaving her stranded, added insult to injury. “If my husband left of his own volition, he could not have taken both cars.”

“She has you there, Colonel,” Ross said. “Call the sheriff. Let him figure it out.”

“You are not given permission to speak.”

Ross half rose from the chair. Muscles tightened in his jaw and his smile turned thin and tight. The Colonel tensed and his hands curled into fists. The enmity between father and son turned the air electric. Fearing she was about to see them start swinging at each other, Dawn pressed a hand to her mouth.

Ross glanced at her. He dropped back onto the chair.

For a moment the Colonel looked disappointed that Ross refused to fight. “Logistically, given the scenario you present, Mrs. Bayliss, I do not see how it is possible for kidnappers to have accomplished their mission.”

“But we’ll call the sheriff anyway.” Janine picked up the telephone. “This is way too strange, Colonel. Let the sheriff figure it out.” Glaring at her brother as she dialed, she muttered, “If you need to come clean, you’d better do it before the cops arrive.”

Elise took Dawn’s hand. “Come to my office, dear. I have a couch. You can put your feet up. Megan, bring us some coffee.” She looked to her husband again and spoke in a calm, somewhat dreamy voice. “Dear, perhaps it might be a good idea to take one more look around.”

The couple exchanged a significant look, fraught with meaning. Dawn supposed the Dukes were as her parents had been, gifted with a type of mental telepathy developed over many years of marriage. A catch gripped her throat. She and Quentin might never have the chance to develop the art of reading each other’s minds.

Numbly, she allowed Elise to escort her out of the business office, down the hall to the small office where Elise organized receptions, parties and conferences for the resort guests.

“Do forgive my family, dear,” Elise said. “Despite the Colonel’s insistence on strict discipline, my children tend to be willful.” She sounded proud of them for it.

“They are…energetic.” At Elise’s urging, she sat on a camelback love seat.

Ross entered the office and joined Dawn on the love seat. “You’ve got a knack for crowd control. I’m impressed.”

“Uh, dear, perhaps you should leave Mrs. Bayliss alone.”

“Dawn needs me.”

She did need him and that was reason enough to keep as far away from him as possible. She’d come within seconds of committing adultery with him—intentional or not. Having him so near now reminded her of caressing his body and kissing him, and of the fun they’d had last week. The walks in the forest, the countless times he’d reduced her to helpless laughter with his silly tall tales…and how gazing into his eyes made her soul sing, as if with bells. If Quentin had left on his own, then he knew of her attraction to Ross. Accepting Ross’s support now would do little toward soothing Quentin’s jealousy.

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