Hidden Falls (8 page)

Lauren reached for her water goblet and watched the stage. Miles Devon stuck his head out and glanced around the banquet hall and then quickly withdrew. A stagehand descended the short set of stairs and bounded down the long wall of the room past the waitstaff. Sylvia reappeared, crossing the apron of the stage without pausing at the microphone. The curtains flapped with the continued bustle behind them.

An obnoxious roar from someone in the back of the room stunned Lauren. Her hand trembled, knocking the ice cubes around in her glass.

“What’s the matter?” the voice boomed. “Didn’t you practice enough?”

Around an entire table, dinner guests guffawed. The rudeness set off a ripple of nervous astonishment that flowed across the banquet hall.

Lauren’s breath caught as her head turned along with every other head in the room, like gawkers at the scene of an accident who can’t help themselves. She cringed at the way the uncouth disruption would further mar an evening already gone awry. But while most eyes fixed on the ogre who stood and shouted in his own amusement, Lauren’s focused on another man at the table. Nevin Morgan passed her on the street just a couple of hours ago, but she’d hoped to get through the evening’s festivities without giving him another thought.

“We’re going to get our dinner while it’s hot, right?” the loudmouth bellowed.

From behind him, Nevin Morgan met Lauren’s eyes. Something inside Lauren shriveled; a moan escaped and she snatched back her gaze.

“Are you all right?” Nicole asked.

Unable to speak, Lauren nodded vaguely.

Sylvia came out from behind the heavy stage curtain and stepped to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, please excuse the delay. We ask your patience as we prepare to continue.”

Lauren didn’t like the color in her aunt’s face as she once again pushed the curtain aside and withdrew behind it.

“Sylvia lost Quinn! Sylvia lost Quinn!” The taunter started a chant, and his buddies joined in. Fortunately, his efforts to incite the crowd failed.

Lauren’s anticipation of humor dissipated. “I think you might be right,” she said to Nicole.

“I’m a reporter,” Nicole said. “I can smell a story a mile away. Something happened.”

Lauren stood. “I should see if I can help.”

Nicole grabbed Lauren’s forearm and pulled her back into her seat. “No. That will just make things look more suspicious.”

“Maybe Quinn is ill up there. Maybe they found him on the floor with a heart attack.” Lauren’s imagination raced.

“No. He’s not there. That’s the issue. He’s not there at all.”

“How do you know?”

Nicole raked a hand through the hair covering the side of her face. “Because they’re still looking for him.”

Sylvia crossed the stage again. Lauren watched her aunt’s face. It was a mask of control and efficiency, an expression Sylvia put on when she wanted to handle a situation in unruffled calm.

This really was a situation.

7:57 p.m.

Sylvia Alexander was again at the microphone, this time holding up a copy of the evening’s program. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for bearing with us. You’ll notice in tonight’s program the invitation to visit the video booth along the side wall at some point in the evening. A videographer will be there to record your personal greetings and remembrances of Ted Quinn. Since it looks like our evening will deviate from the order printed in the program, I invite you to begin availing yourself of this opportunity.”

“We might as well sit down.” Liam held Jessica’s chair.

She seated herself and tucked her long legs under the table. Liam sat beside her. On the other side of him, Cooper’s eyes were taking in the scene.

Thinking like a cop,
Liam thought. A few people drifted toward the video booth.

“What happened?” Jessica asked.

Liam wondered if anyone else heard the edge in her voice.

“It’s fine,” Liam said.

“You don’t know that,” Jessica said.

“I just mean we don’t have any reason to be worried,” Liam said. “They’ll find where Quinn went off to, and we’ll get on with the evening. They’re probably reorganizing now.”

“Don’t be too sure.” Dani spoke from the other side of Cooper.

“Dani, do you know something?” Liam asked.

She shrugged. “Not really. Except Quinn doesn’t like this kind of attention.”

“He probably just needed a minute,” Cooper said. “Maybe he didn’t feel well. He could be in the men’s room.”

“Is that really what you think?” Dani glared.

“I don’t
think
anything,” Cooper clarified. “I’m just saying we don’t need to rush to conclusions or speculate about what was in Quinn’s mind.”

“He’s not in the men’s room,” Dani said.

Liam scoffed. “Unless you’re in one of your socially inappropriate moods, I don’t see how you can verify that, Dani.”

She scowled at him.

Cabe Mueller and his wife sat across the table. “Maybe someone needed him. Somebody backstage. Some situation. When I was a student, Quinn was always thinking of someone else before himself.”

“He still does that,” Cooper said.

“Then I’m sure that’s what it is,” Cabe said. “Somebody else got sick. It will sort itself out soon enough.”

“No doubt,” Liam said.

Jessica leaned toward Liam, her hand stroking his knee beneath the table. Her hair brushed against his cheek in that intoxicating way that made him think she did it on purpose.

“I thought you promised this would be a short night,” she said, the heat of her breath against his ear.

He touched her face, wondering if her skin tingled as much as his did. “It will be. This is nothing.”

Her eyes spoke volumes of doubt.

“Have I told you how fabulous you look tonight?”

She smiled, but not in a persuasive way. “You’re going to owe me big-time for this one.”

“And I will gladly pay my debt. Every cent I owe.”

Liam glanced at Cooper, wishing the subject of debt hadn’t entered the conversation. He was doing his best to act normally around his brother. But Liam knew Cooper’s face as well as his brother knew his. This wrinkle in events had shifted Cooper’s mind into his professional training, and Liam didn’t want to be on his radar.

Cabe Mueller scooted his chair back. “Perhaps I’ll have a word with Principal Devon. If this were happening at a function associated with the school where I teach, the principal would want reliable assistance.”

“I’m sure Miles has it well in hand,” Cooper said.

“Still, I’d like to offer assistance.” Cabe glanced at his wife. “You’ll be all right?”

She nodded, and Cabe left the table.

“I’m sure your husband means well,” Dani said, “but he’ll find there’s nothing to do.”

Stubborn as ever.
Why did she think she knew more about Quinn than anyone else?

“Did Quinn say something to you?” Liam tilted his head to get a good look at his cousin’s expression.

“Just that he’d like to go fishing,” Dani said.

“He couldn’t have meant tonight.”

“Sure he could.”

“People are getting restless.” Cooper’s gaze slowly arced the room.

“Can you blame them?” Jessica said. “I don’t recall anything on the invitation describing a mystery disappearance and a delay of dinner.”

“There is no mystery disappearance,” Dani said.

“Dani.” Liam loaded his tone with as much warning as he could muster.

“People need to stay calm,” Cooper said. “There’s no reason to worry prematurely.”

“Or at all,” Dani said.

“Who wants to go to the video booth?” Cooper asked. “Dani? Liam? The three of us can make a message together.”

“I’ll pass,” Dani said.

Liam wasn’t surprised. He glanced at Jessica. “Jessica doesn’t know Quinn, but I’ll go.”

“Let’s do it.” Cooper slapped his palms together.

The brothers scooted around several tables and found clear walking space. The line seemed to move quickly. They stood behind a young couple.

“Hello, Gallaghers.” Cooper’s bright tone cut through the subdued waiting. “Do you know my brother, Liam?”

Liam extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“This is Raisa and Bruce Gallagher. They have two adorable little girls you’ll have to meet someday.”

Raisa visibly flushed with pleasure at the mention of her children.

“I look forward to it,” Liam said. He sized up Bruce, whose suit suggested he made a steady but not impressive income.

“Honey, it’s our turn.” Bruce Gallagher took his wife’s elbow, and they entered the booth, an area about six feet by nine feet screened off by a system of PVC pipe and lightweight beige print fabric.

Liam felt a touch on his back and turned toward a member of the waitstaff.

“Excuse me, I need to get through with a message for the kitchen.”

Liam knew the teenager firmly pressing his way through the gathering line. He was Dave Plainfield’s boy. Liam had met him once on an evening visit to the Plainfield home.

Liam saw the boy’s long foot go down in the wrong place, too close to a joint in the PVC frame. He tripped and fell into the booth’s frame, knocking apart a support pole. Once one wall of fabric gave way, untethered, a second wall caved in, and a third. Yards of fabric lost their skeleton and fell into a heap. A sound that could only have been the clattering tripod and tumbling video camera made Liam wince. From inside the toppling mound of pipe and fabric, Raisa Gallagher screamed. Gasps went up from the nearby tables.

Liam and Cooper scrambled to scoop away the remains of the booth and reveal the startled Gallaghers. The videographer probed the yardage until he located the camera.

“Everybody okay?” Liam asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Bruce Gallagher said.

“Sorry,” Zeke Plainfield mumbled as he sprang to his feet.

“You should be,” the photographer snapped. He held up his camera. “It’s broken.”

“It was an accident.” Cooper spread his hands, palms down. “Let’s be thankful everyone is all right.”

Liam pushed pieces of the booth against the wall, out of the way. Zeke continued his path toward the kitchen. The line for the booth scattered.

Back at the table, Jessica said, “What was all that?”

“An unfortunate mishap.” Liam squeezed her hand.

“The evening seems to be full of those,” she said.

“Let’s relax.” Cooper picked up a pitcher of iced tea from the center of the table. “Can I top anybody off?”

Jessica nudged Liam’s elbow. “Does your brother not see that no one has even touched the glasses yet?”

“I’m just trying to help.” Cooper reached across Liam and splashed a few drops into Jessica’s brimming goblet.

“I don’t need your kindly efforts at distraction,” Jessica said.

Mrs. Mueller lifted a water glass. “Actually, I’ve been sipping on this and wouldn’t mind a refill.”

“Gladly.” Cooper exchanged the tea for the water pitcher, rose to circle the table, and filled the glass.

Liam stood as well. “I’ll be right back.”

“You just got back.”

Liam pretended not to hear the warning in Jessica’s voice.

“Quinn is not in the men’s room,” Dani said.

“I didn’t say I was going to look for him there.” Liam didn’t meet his cousin’s eye, instead looking at his fiancée. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”

He cut through the line of slouching waitstaff and exited the banquet room into a side hall that ran the length of the building. The restrooms were at the far end, and a handful of people straggled in search of them. Obviously Quinn had left the stage area. The reason didn’t matter to Liam. What mattered was finding Quinn, who more than likely had ducked into one of several rooms generally considered to be off-limits to the public but also unlikely to be locked. Liam wanted to find him to get the evening back on track before Jessica lost her patience altogether. And a moment alone with Quinn wouldn’t hurt. Liam could drop a hint about his ideas for investments and casually suggest a meeting time to lay out the full plan. Soon.

And then he would have to construct a full, convincing plan and practice his presentation so no vestige of doubt remained about the strength of the plan—for Quinn or for himself. He could give Jessica the attention she wanted tonight and work on the presentation the next day while she was at her friend’s baby shower. The papers would be printed and ready for Quinn to sign. Liam took out his phone and entered a note about a fund to suggest to Quinn—one that few at the corporate offices paid attention to. It would only be temporary.

Quinn. Jessica. The money. It would all work out. It had to.

Liam jiggled a door he was fairly certain led to a storage closet. When it opened, he felt along the wall for a light switch before swinging his hand into the middle of the room to catch hold of a string. He pulled it, and the bulb in the ceiling illuminated the cramped space full of folders and records from years gone by and ladders in three sizes. The bottom drawer of a file cabinet hung open.

He moved down the hall to the next door. The identifying tag on the wall next to it said it was the marketing coordinator’s office. When, to Liam’s surprise, it was locked, he slipped a credit card out of his pocket and easily entered. A few things he’d learned during college proved handy in real life, and Quinn somehow could have trapped himself in this office. Liam left the door cracked for a shaft of hallway light. His eyes adjusted quickly. It was a tidy office with the computer turned off and folders neatly stacked in a silver wire rack. He saw no sign that it had been disturbed. Even the guest chair remained at a precise angle.

Only one item appeared untended, an ordinary business envelope laid at a peculiar slant in a room of right angles, as if left out for particular attention and perhaps forgotten. Liam flipped it over. The printed label was addressed to the marketing coordinator at her business address, but it was the return address that caught Liam’s eyes. A Chicago bank with a branch in Birch Bend.

The envelope seemed to burn his fingers as Liam slid it into his inside suit pocket. His heart pounded at the thought that the contents would include an account number—maybe more than one. A random account number with which Liam had no trail of history could be an even better way to buy time than new legitimate accounts. Liam had several clients who used the Birch Bend branch of this Chicago institution. Somewhere in his system he must have routing numbers for moving funds. The account number would complete the equation.