Chocolate Dipped Death (11 page)

“I’m trying to understand,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Really? Well, you’re not doing a very good job, are you?” She shoved past me, surprising me with her strength, plowed through the volunteers, and out onto the street.

I stared after her, trying to figure out which one of us was wrong. She was so determined to believe the worst, but was I going overboard the other direction? Maybe I should go after her and try again, but would she even listen?

“Abby?” Bea called before I could decide what to do. “Could you come here for a minute? I need your help.”

I turned reluctantly. “What is it, Bea?”

She smiled at a middle-aged man with ill-fitting clothes and a comb-over. “This gentleman would like to buy a three-pound sampler, but I can’t find the three pound boxes. Are you out?”

“No, the boxes are on the top shelf.”

“The top—” Bea looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “But they’ve always been on the middle shelf, right at eye level.”

Irritation left over from the argument with Karen made my skin itch. I wasn’t in the mood to defend my decisions, and I hated that I felt the need to. I’d had it up to
here
with Karen’s attitude and, frankly, I was losing patience with both of my cousins. “Divinity isn’t a family business, Bea. I don’t have to clear every change I make with you and the others.”

Her mouth fell open, and her eyes narrowed. “I’m only trying to help.”

“And I appreciate it,” I assured her. “I just want you to stop chewing me out every time I move a paper clip, okay?”

Ignoring the internal whisper that told me
I
was overreacting, I reached into the cupboard, jerked out a handful of three-pound boxes, and tossed them onto the counter. But as I strode away, I knew it wasn’t the conversation with Bea that had me feeling nervous. It was something else.

The whole time I’d been arguing with Karen, something kept trying to get through to me, and I’d managed to ignore it for hours. Much as I hated to admit it, there was one place I hadn’t looked for Savannah. It was probably the first place I should have gone, but the more Karen insisted, the more I resisted.

I guess I didn’t want to find Savannah with Sergio any more than Karen did, but like it or not, one of us was going to have to look.

With Bea tied up organizing the search effort
(not to mention not speaking to me) and Karen off feeling sorry for herself, I had to stay behind the counter to wait on customers until we finally closed our doors at seven o’clock. Searchers stayed out until well after nine, but it was cold and dark and hard to see, and the volunteers finally drifted home with promises to come back in the morning.

At a few minutes after nine, I watched Dylan drive away with Miles in his car. He’d finally convinced Miles to at least try to sleep, for which I was profoundly grateful. I was aching and tired, battling a throbbing headache, and ready for a good night’s sleep myself. I couldn’t have stayed awake with Miles for even another hour.

Yawning noisily, I climbed the stairs to my apartment. I wasn’t sure I had enough energy to even get undressed. Inside, I found Karen curled up on the couch, surrounded by a pint of pralines-and-cream ice cream, a bag of Oreos, tortilla chips and salsa, and my nearly depleted stash of toffee. Max lay on the bed beside her, a couple of chew toys and his rawhide bone contributing to the disarray. His leash was draped over the back of the couch, which meant Karen had walked him at some point during the day.

My cousin glanced up and away as I came through the door, acknowledging me while making it crystal clear that she didn’t want to talk. Too bad. There was a lot that needed to be said.

I sat on the foot of her bed and tried not to notice the way she shifted her feet away so she wouldn’t have to touch me. “We have to talk, Karen.”

She looked toward me from beneath lowered lids, but her gaze didn’t actually connect. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I think there is. It’s not that I don’t believe you, or that I don’t take you seriously . . .”

“Could have fooled me.” Her voice was sullen, her face a cold mask.

“I know you were hurt when you found Sergio having a drink with Savannah, but by all accounts Savannah went back to the hotel after that.”

“So
he
says.”

“Why would he lie?”

She dragged her gaze up to my face, but it was pretty obvious she didn’t like what she saw. “I don’t know, Abby. Maybe he’s embarrassed to admit that she’s cheating on him. Maybe he doesn’t care. He’s got that fancy new job in New York—maybe he’s more worried about his reputation than the truth.”

I refused to let her get to me, so I shrugged and stretched my aching legs out in front of me. “You could be right. I really don’t know him. But he does seem to genuinely love Savannah, and I think he’s really worried about her.”

“I never said he wasn’t worried,” Karen said with a stony smile. “I just don’t know what he’s worried about most.” She scooped a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and closed her eyes. “If you ask me, anybody who’d marry Savannah and stay with her for more than ten minutes has a screw loose.”

I laughed. The sound bounced around in my head, but a more companionable silence than we’d shared in a few days fell between us. I waited a while to break it. “Have you talked to Sergio today?”

She didn’t open her eyes, but she nodded. “He was at work.”

“So Savannah isn’t with him?”

“Not now.”

“Did you ask whether he’d seen her today?”

“I asked. He
claims
he hasn’t.”

I honestly didn’t know whether to feel relieved or worried. I settled for a little of both. If Sergio was telling the truth, Karen’s marriage might actually stand a chance. But Savannah had been missing for more than fourteen hours, and the volunteer searchers had already been through most of the downtown area and the streets and businesses around Savannah’s hotel with no sign of her. That made it hard to feel truly relieved.

I reached for the toffee tin, broke the corner from one piece, and slipped it into my mouth. “So what are you going to do?”

“About Sergio?” Karen shook her head and absently scratched Max’s head. “I don’t know. I can’t decide anything tonight.”

“So you’re staying here again tonight?”

Her eyes inched open. “Do you have a problem with that?”

My mother always raised me to tell the truth, and there’s not much I hate worse than a lie—but nothing could have compelled me to answer that question truthfully. I dug up a smile from somewhere, forced my aching legs to stand, and carefully shook my pounding head. “No, of course not. Stay as long as you need to.”

“Because if you do, I can leave. There are a hundred other places I could go.”

“Stay,” I said again. “I
want
you to stay.” Even Mom would forgive that lie—I think.

Karen didn’t look completely convinced, but she sank back against the pillow and plunged a chip into the salsa, and I figured she wouldn’t be going anywhere soon.

I left her lying there, surrounded by junk food, and seriously annoyed that her binge wouldn’t add one single pound to her delicate frame. Inside my room, I stripped off my clothes, tugged on my favorite ratty sweats and a wrinkled T-shirt, and crawled between the covers. After about five minutes, Max lost interest in the pity party and came to lie on the bed at my feet.

Good dog.

Even with Max’s company, I had a hard time sleeping. Worry about Savannah got all mixed up with irritation over the way Karen and Bea had been acting, and that got me tossing and turning and punching the pillow which, for some reason, just didn’t
feel
right. I kicked the covers off, thinking I was too warm. Ten minutes later, I decided I was freezing and pulled them back up to my neck, but I still couldn’t sleep.

Savannah Horne was out there somewhere. It was just a matter of time until we found her.

I had to keep believing that.

 

I was up by sunrise on Sunday morning, gritty-eyed with exhaustion but too agitated to even pretend to sleep any longer. I downed two cups of coffee and a scrambled egg, then hurried downstairs to join the volunteers who were already starting to gather. Bea still wasn’t happy with me, but she didn’t let a little thing like irritation with me get in the way of her volunteer effort. I don’t know, though, if it had any bearing on the assignment she gave me.

I spent two hours combing the brush along a stretch of riverbank, alternately praying that we’d find Savannah and hoping that we wouldn’t. By ten o’clock, I stopped and went back to the store so I could open at noon. Sunday is one of our busiest days during tourist season, so the number of volunteers dwindled rapidly as shopkeepers returned to their own stores, but those who didn’t have to be somewhere kept searching while the rest of us manned the cash registers.

Business was steady all morning long, but I still managed to steal a few minutes to place an online order with our paper goods supplier and a few more for a quick talk with Jawarski, who called to find out how the search was going. If Savannah stayed missing for another forty hours, we could officially turn the search over to the police. That made my stomach hurt.

Unless she was inside somewhere, safe and sound and laughing at all of us for scurrying around like ants, she was outside in the elements. I had serious doubts about anybody’s ability to survive a January night in these mountains without the right gear.

Early in the afternoon, Dooley Jorgensen sent one of his part-timers down the hill to help out so I could rejoin the search. I gave the girl cursory instructions, told her to check with Bea if she had questions, and loaded Max into the Jetta a little after two o’clock.

Like it or not, I told myself as I drove away, it might be time to consider hiring someone else to help out around the store. Adding another staff member would cut my profit margin significantly, but I couldn’t handle the business on my own, and unless Karen pulled her head out and I found a way to spend several mornings each week in the kitchen, we’d be in serious trouble soon.

Now that I was free to start looking again, I didn’t know where to begin. Maybe I should have let Bea assign me a quadrant to search, but I had a feeling I’d be more effective listening to my own instincts.

Now, if only my instincts would start talking. I pulled to the side of the road and stared at the mountain peaks for a little while, as if I thought I’d find answers there. I didn’t care what Delta said, I couldn’t imagine Savannah simply disappearing without telling someone, and I wasn’t convinced that she’d taken off to avoid Evie’s accusations.

After a few minutes, I realized that the building I could see stretching across the hillside was the Summit Lodge—Savannah’s hotel. Since that’s the last place anyone saw her, that seemed as good a place as any to start looking.

The Summit Lodge is one of three new hotels built in recent years to accommodate Paradise’s increased tourist traffic. Nestled against the mountains between ski runs and the new golf course, the lodge is a majestic collection of varnished wood and polished glass. From the look of things as I pulled into the parking lot, business was booming. I drove around at a slow crawl for a few minutes before I found a parking space between the Dumpster and the tarp-covered outdoor pool.

The walks had been cleared, but a thin layer of ice had formed over most of the parking lot, so it took a few minutes to reach the lodge’s front doors. Inside, a fire blazed in the center of the lobby, and the honey-colored wood gleamed as if every inch of the building had recently been polished. I had to wait in line while a twenty-something clerk with a thin blonde ponytail checked in a handful of visitors, but at last she turned a practiced smile in my direction. “May I help you?”

“Yes, I’m looking for Savannah Horne, and I’m hoping you won’t mind answering a few questions.”

The clerk, whose nametag read Julie, smiled blandly and typed something on the computer in front of her. “Savannah Horne? I don’t show her registered. Are you sure she’s staying here?”

Her reaction confused me. Didn’t the staff know Savannah was missing? I nodded slowly. “Yes, I’m sure. She’s here with her husband, Miles.”

She tapped something else on the keyboard and smiled with satisfaction. “Ah, yes. Here they are. Have you checked their room?”

“I don’t know their room number, but that’s not—”

The satisfaction on Julie’s face turned into something closer to pity. “I’m so sorry. I can’t give you that information.” She brightened and said, “But I could put a call through to the room. You’re welcome to use the courtesy phone at the end of the counter. Just dial zero.”

I actually felt a flicker of hope as I followed her instructions. Maybe Savannah had come back last night. Maybe Miles would pick up the phone and tell me that everything was fine now.