Hidden Falls (12 page)

“It’s over,” he murmured in Gianna’s ear as he took his seat.

She turned quickly toward him. “What do you mean? Is Quinn—?”

“They can’t find him. That’s what it comes down to.” He lifted one finger toward the stage. “The mayor’s going to send everyone home. We’re done here.”

“How do you know this?”

“I’m a good lawyer. I know things.”

Sylvia stepped to the microphone for the fifth time that evening. This time the spotlight stayed off and the houselights up.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you enjoyed your meal. Let’s show our appreciation for the fabulous team of people who prepared the dinner and served us. Haven’t they done an outstanding job?”

Mayor Alexander put her hands together to start a round of applause, and the audience complied.

“See what she’s doing?” Jack whispered. “Acting like everything’s fine.”

“Perhaps everything
is
fine.” Gianna clapped.

“I think we waved good-bye to ‘fine’ at least an hour ago.” Politely, Jack contributed to the applause.

The mayor continued. “What an amazing sight it is to look out from the stage and see so many of you here tonight. I know Hidden Falls is as dear to your hearts as it is to mine. Whether you came from across the county or across the country, you’re here because of a remarkable citizen whose contribution to all of us calls you home.”

She was smooth. Jack gave her that. This was probably the speech she had prepared, but she would have to go off script soon.

Sylvia paused for a breath.

“Here it comes,” Jack muttered.

“Unfortunately,” Sylvia said, “at this point we will bring our evening to a close. Drive carefully as you make your way to your homes or hotels.”

Sylvia stepped away from the microphone.

The air went out of Gianna, and she put her hand on Jack’s knee. “Is that really all she’s going to tell us?”

“What else do you want her to say?” Jack said.

Sylvia walked across the stage and started down the steps at the side.

“Where’s Quinn?” a voice demanded.

“That’s the $64,000 question,” Jack whispered.

Sylvia waved her hand and called out, “Thank you again for coming.”

Jack stood up and picked up his wife’s wrap from the back of her chair. As he dropped it around her shoulders, he kissed her cheek. “I knew there would be something interesting in this town if we dug deep enough.”

9:29 p.m.

Dani folded her arms across her chest, resisting the tendency for them to slide across the unfamiliar satin. Frankly, the mayor’s announcement didn’t entirely surprise Dani. Yes, Quinn was the sort to persevere and finish what he started or to follow through on what he promised, but everybody had a breaking point. People had to stop thinking Quinn was next to God. Who could take that kind of pressure? Sylvia didn’t say why Quinn didn’t show up, so either she had no idea or thought it was nobody’s business. Either explanation satisfied Dani.

Although Dani didn’t expect to marry and was 108 percent sure she would make a terrible mother, she thought Sylvia should have married Quinn years ago. Everybody thought so—not that the topic was anybody’s business, either. But if they had, their kids should have been bursting with pride at an event like this one.

Except for the part about their father disappearing. They might have found that slightly embarrassing. Or mortifying.

Dani had spent an awkward evening in an awkward dress lurking on the edges of awkward conversation. With enough people in her day to last her a week, she was exhausted. And for what? If she had left for the lake ten minutes sooner or fifteen minutes later that afternoon, she wouldn’t have seen Quinn and she wouldn’t be wishing she had a dress that covered her knees. Or instead of letting Quinn talk her into coming, they might have made another choice together. Dani replayed the encounter in her mind with alternate endings.

She didn’t take Quinn home. She took him to the lake, and they decided to do some night fishing.

Instead of dropping him off, she went in the house with him to look at his old laptop that might as well have been held together with chewing gum.

Quinn got in her Jeep, and Dani aimed it for the far side of Birch Bend, where the bridge spanned the river. Quinn liked to park at one end and walk along a narrow sidewalk to the crown of the bridge. There he would stop and stare into the distance. Always east, never west. And he didn’t like to talk while he stared.

But they hadn’t done any of those things. Quinn asked Dani to come to the banquet and she came. And then he left, confirming Dani’s opinion that he hadn’t wanted to be there in the first place.

Every clink of fork against china, each slosh of liquid poured from pitcher to goblet, the mindless inquiries from strangers about “How do you know Quinn?” Dani’s head was ready to burst from the pointlessness of it all. No one all evening had said a sentence to her that mattered, but she sat politely through every tortuous phase of the deteriorating event.

Dani pushed her arms into the sleeves of a brown sweater with a blue stripe, which she knew didn’t match her gray satin dress. “I should have gone fishing like I wanted to do. I can still get to the lake tonight. So good-bye, everyone.”

When Dani stood up, Liam looked up at her from his seat. “You’re going to leave, just like that?”

“Yes, just like that. Putting on my sweater. Getting out my keys. That’s the general pattern for leaving.”

“I’m surprised you’re not more worried about Quinn.”

“That’s because you don’t know Quinn as well as I do.” Dani plunged one hand into the bottom of the tattered leather bag that passed as a purse when she absolutely had to carry one and felt around for her keys. “Quinn changed his mind, and everyone should leave him alone.”

Jessica spoke up. “I agree with Dani.”

Dani’s eyelids flicked up and she looked at Jessica directly for the first time in at least an hour. If she and Jessica found something to agree on, the universe must have rent in two. Dani could almost hear the rip vibrating against her eardrums.

Jessica lifted the long strap of her own dainty gold bag from the back of her chair and slung it casually off one shoulder. “We should go, too, Liam.”

Liam made no move to leave. “How can you two just go home like everything’s fine?”

“I’m not going home. I’m going fishing,” Dani said. “And everything
is
fine. The more everyone sits around dreaming up gloomy scenarios—well, what’s the point?”

“Quinn is gone. That’s the point.”

Jessica stood up now, and still Liam didn’t move. Dani was beginning to think she was going to have to dump the random contents of her handbag to find her keys.

“Are you all right, cuz?” Dani’s pinkie finally grazed her key ring, and she hooked it through to bring the keys to the surface.

“I’m concerned about Quinn,” Liam said. “You should be, too.”

Jessica tapped Liam’s shoulder. “Dani already told you what she thinks. Quinn changed his mind. Come on. Let’s go. The night is young.”

Liam finally pushed his chair back and stood up in slow motion. Dani saw the sweat beading at his hairline, evidence of the great effort it took to compose his face.

The “innocent look,” Dani used to call it. When they were kids and somebody’s mother came looking for the pack of cousins to ferret out who had split open the bag of flour at the back of the pantry or let the puppy loose in the flower beds, a chorus of “Not me!” inevitably rang up. Liam made the same claim as the rest of them, but his face took on the carved stone expression it bore now. He looked like he was about to be found out for doing something naughty and pushing the blame to another suspect.

Maybe it was Liam’s guilty expressions that made Cooper decide to become a cop.

Cooper returned to the table now. “So that’s it, folks,” he said. “We can be on our way.”

“What did you find out?” Liam asked.

Cooper had a stone face of his own. Liam tried too hard to appear innocent. Cooper never gave anything away.

“They’ll find Quinn, or he’ll come home on his own,” Cooper said. “Everybody should just relax and go about their usual business.”

Dani looked at the trickle of people drifting toward the doors. Like Liam, most of the crowd seemed hesitant to abandon their tables. “People aren’t in a hurry to leave.”

“If they think they’re going to learn something by hanging around,” Cooper said, “they’ll be sorely disappointed. The cleanup crew will start any minute, and I promise you that will be the most exciting thing happening here.”

“See, Liam? Your own brother says there’s nothing to wait around for.” Jessica laid a hand on Liam’s chest. “What’s this lump?”

When she started to open his jacket, Liam grasped her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Something from a client.”

“You were working tonight?” she said.

“Just a chance encounter.”

Dani wasn’t going to get involved. Whatever was going on between Liam and Jessica was none of her business, but she wished they’d get their act together.

She would have to swing by her house in town and divest herself of the dress, but she could still drive out to the lake, sleep under the stars outside the cabin, and be ready to fish before dawn. Two days on the lake, or maybe three, and this would all blow over. She had not the least curiosity about the details. Dani wouldn’t be surprised to find Quinn on the shores of Whisper Lake, too. If she did, she wouldn’t interrogate him. His choice was his business, and Dani was the last person interested in demanding an explanation.

“The best thing any of you can do for Quinn,” Cooper said, “is depart in a normal manner. Set an example by not freaking out.”

Dani gripped her keys in her fist. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

10:17 p.m.

“I’m going to change my shoes.” Lauren reached under her chair for her bag.

After more than half an hour since the mayor’s announcement, the hall was finally showing signs of emptying. Women gathered their wraps and bags. Men jangled keys.

“You carry spare shoes to a banquet?” Nicole bunched her features.

Lauren shrugged. “I always keep comfortable shoes handy. I don’t drive, so I have to be ready to walk.”

“You don’t have to walk. I’ll take you home.”

Lauren shook her head. “I don’t want to leave yet. I’m going to help clean up. Or something.”

Or something.
Anything to stay around and feed her hope that this evening might yet have a happy ending. Flat black shoes with thick, grooved soles sat side by side in the base of her bag. Lauren pulled them out, exchanged them with the three-inch strapped heels, and examined the resulting effect.

“Not much of a fashion statement,” she said, “but efficient.”

Lauren stowed her bag on an out-of-the-way ledge before snagging a rolling cart with plenty of space to load dishes.

“I’m sure the caterer has people lined up to do that,” Nicole said. “They’ve already started with the tables in the back.”

“You miss the point.” Lauren transferred four coffee cups, six goblets, and three dessert plates to the cart. Then she bundled a white tablecloth and tossed it against the wall.

“You seem to know what you’re doing.” Nicole added two empty water pitchers to the cart.

“I used to work events like this in college.”

“You’re just waiting to talk to your aunt without the crowd around.”

“Ah, your reporter’s nose is in good working condition.” Lauren glanced around. “Where did Ethan disappear to?”

“
Disappear
might not be the best choice of words under the circumstances.” Nicole circled a table, picking up cloth napkins. “And the answer to your question is, I don’t know.”

“Are you guys going to figure out what this stuff is between you?”

“What do you mean?” Nicole tugged a tablecloth and tossed it into the laundry pile Lauren had begun.

“You invited him to sit at our table.”

“We had an empty seat.”

“I saw the way he was looking at you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do.” Lauren pushed the cart toward another table. “You should find him before he leaves.”

“Maybe he already has.”

Lauren didn’t think so. Ethan ate his dinner, but he spent much of the evening watching Sylvia’s movements. He was as puzzled and concerned as Lauren was. As Nicole was. As Sylvia was. As Miles was.

Cooper Elliott was oddly calm about the whole business. Was that his professional demeanor, or did he genuinely think the evening’s surprise meant nothing?

“He could have left, you know,” Lauren said.

“Ethan doesn’t owe me any explanation for his departure,” Nicole said.

“Quinn, I mean,” Lauren said. “I know he’s incredibly reliable, but it was no secret that he tried to avoid the attention of this banquet. When they first asked him, he said no. Three times.”

“I didn’t know that.” Nicole grabbed two goblets in each hand. “But eventually he said yes. Isn’t that what matters?”

“Even so, his hesitancy might mean something.”

Sylvia still wore her heels, and Lauren recognized the sound of her aunt’s determined steps as she crossed the stage one last time and picked up her notes from the podium.

“Did that sheriff’s deputy leave?” Lauren paused with another tablecloth gathered against her chest.

“Cooper? Yes. A while ago.” Sylvia folded her papers in half and pressed the crease.

“So he doesn’t think there’s … I don’t know, evidence or anything?”

“He had a look around backstage.” Sylvia descended the steps and approached Lauren and Nicole. “But there was no sign of disturbance other than that silly air cannon going off during my introduction. Everything was just the way it looked when I put Quinn’s mark on the floor myself.”

Lauren sat down. “So you think he left? Or should we be worried?”

Sylvia blew out her breath. “I have no idea. Cooper says they aren’t calling it foul play because they have seen nothing to suggest Quinn didn’t leave of his own accord.”

“Other than being contrary to his character.” Nicole moved glasses around on the cart to make room for three more.

“And he didn’t go home.” Sylvia dug her fingertips into her closed eyelids. “I have a splitting headache.”