Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry (28 page)

“Maybe someone caught her by herself, with none of her posse around, you know, and sort of forced her into a car?”

Skye nodded.

“Then maybe this person drove her away from school and showed her proof of something that Ashley was claiming was a lie. Something that her parents were suing the school
about. Something that would get Ashley in big trouble with her parents, who don’t know what a slut their daughter is.”

Skye nodded again, afraid anything she said would interrupt Xenia.

“And Ashley got out of the car and ran away crying and hasn’t been seen since.”

“So, this person who forced Ashley into the car has no idea where she is now?”

“Right.” Xenia’s attention was focused on peeling the black nail polish from her thumbnail.

“Where do you think this person drove Ashley to?”

“Well, the town’s been sort of full of people, especially over by that factory where they’re having that stupid cooking contest. So, if it were me, I’d go over there, because who would remember seeing any one car when there are lots and lots of them around?”

“Like in the parking lot?” Skye asked.

“Not the one in front, but there’s one around back where the employees park, where people aren’t coming and going that much.”

“And I suppose once Ashley ran off, maybe whoever was with her might have spent some time looking for her. Then maybe been too scared to come home right away, but after a while figured it was better to be home, because if she was missing, that might make people think she was connected with Ashley being missing?”

“That sounds about right.” For the first time that afternoon Xenia looked Skye in the eye.”You know, Ashley’s a twit, but I bet whoever snatched her didn’t mean for any of the rest of this to happen.”

“I’ll bet you’re right.” Skye got up to go. “Thank you for talking to me. If you ever want to talk at school, just put a note under my door and I’ll send you a pass.”

Skye drove back to the factory, parked in the employee lot, and made notes on what Xenia had said. By the time she was finished her legal pad was full of squiggles and arrows. Staring at the yellow paper, Skye chewed on the end of her pen. What had she learned?

Where hadn’t they looked? Skye gazed out of the Bel Air’s windshield. The factory sat on several acres of land bordered by a cornfield, which in early April was nothing but chunks of dirt and the occasional weed, certainly no place to hide.

The buildings were set about a quarter mile back on the property. The front was a large expanse of green lawn with a reflecting pool and a fountain. The water was too shallow to drown in, and besides, it was clearly visible from the road. Surely someone would have noticed a teenager lying in it for the past three days.

The back of the factory was taken up by the employee parking lot, where Skye was sitting, and truck bays that the semis used to load and unload the product. If Ashley were in trouble, inside the factory were guards and hundreds of workers she could go to, or there were phones she could use to call for help.

Which meant Skye still had no idea where to look for the missing girl. She might know what had happened, but that knowledge didn’t help her find Ashley.

After a quick walk around the grounds, Skye checked her watch. It was already three thirty. The employees worked a
seven-to-four shift. Should she wait around and look through the factory after they all left?

No, not unless she was willing to try to get permission for the search. During their tour of the factory the guide had explained that since September 11, because they manufactured food that could easily be poisoned, all of the factory entrances and exits were kept locked except for the employee entrance, which had a guard who checked identification.

During the day, if there was a crisis, workers could get out through doors with alarms wired directly to the fire department. But once the employees left for the day, the emergency exit doors were locked from the inside.

So, unless she had the Fines’ consent, even if she were able to sneak in to look for Ashley, Skye wouldn’t be able to get back out. She’d just have to wait until Wally came over at five; then she’d tell him what she had figured out from her chat with Xenia—not revealing how she had come to those conclusions—and see if he could get a search warrant.

A few minutes later she was pulling into her own driveway. It was a relief to be home for a little while, and after showering she decided to do some laundry. She gathered up the clothes she had worn over the last few days and took them downstairs. Before she stuffed them into the washing machine, she emptied out the pockets—she had a bad habit of sticking Post-its, used Kleenex, and change in them.

As she stuck her hand into the pocket of the jeans she had been wearing the day before, she pulled out the piece of paper May had found by the factory. Flattening it, Skye drew in a startled breath. It was a March schedule for Scumble River High cheerleading practice. Was this proof that Ashley had been around the factory in the past couple of days? Another thing to discuss with Wally.

After she started the machine, Skye checked her messages. The little light was blinking merrily, and she pushed the PLAY button.

The first voice was Trixie’s. “Hi. Sorry I missed you. Owen and I got word that school was canceled, so we stayed another day. I should be home by midnight or so tonight. See
you tomorrow morning before the first bell. Can’t wait to hear what you’ve been up to.”

The second message was from Carson Boyd. “Wally tells me he’s picking you up at five at your house. I’ll be there at quarter to, and we can get set up so you can hear the truth for yourself.”

Holy shit!
Not only was Carson still in town; he still wanted to set Wally up. What should she do?

T
he doorbell rang at precisely four forty-five. Skye looked through her peephole, but almost didn’t recognize the man standing on her front porch. Instead of the khakis and polo shirt he had worn earlier that day, Carson was dressed in a British tan Armani suit with a creamcolored Egyptian-cotton shirt and a chocolate brown Italian silk tie.

On his head was an ivory Stetson, and ostrich-skin cowboy boots had replaced his Wal-Mart tennis shoes. His sunglasses were no longer cheap rip-offs; instead they were expensive Ray-Bans. His current ensemble probably cost more than her annual salary.

For a moment Skye felt her throat tighten. This was what Wally would be giving up if he stayed in Scumble River, which was why it had to be completely his decision with no influence from anyone, including her. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and let Carson Boyd inside.

He immediately took off his hat and said, “Miss Skye, I’m real grateful you’re allowing me this chance to get my boy back.”

“Well…” Skye noted that he now had a Texas accent. He hadn’t had it that morning.

“I know that with your help, Walter will be home with me soon.”

“Uh …” Skye’s heart pounded. She hated this. Why? Why had she been forced into this position, and more important, had she made the right choice?

“Right?”

“Please.” She swallowed with difficulty and found her voice. “This is between you and Wally.”

“If that’s what you want to believe. But you’ll keep your word?” His stare drilled into her. “If you hear Wally say he wants to come back to Texas, you’ll either agree to go with him or break up with him. And if you break up with him, you’ll convince him you love that other fella.”

Skye nodded. “If I hear him say he wants to live in Texas, I’ll keep my word.” She led him into the parlor and sat on the settee. “So, how are you going to do this?”

“When he arrives, I’ll answer the door and say you had to run to town for something, but you’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll tell him I’m leaving and I know he’s only staying here because of you, and I understand and respect his decision, but I would like to hear the truth. Would he come home if you agreed to go with him or if you were no longer in his life?”

“So you’ll lie, because you don’t really respect his decision?”

“That’s a minor detail. A means to an end.” He glanced at his Rolex. “He’ll be here soon. Where will you be so you can hear?”

“She can have my spot, Dad. You can hear really well what’s said in the parlor if you stand in the hallway.” Wally strolled through the archway and took a seat next to Skye.

“Walter.” Carson’s tanned face paled. “I can explain, son.” He shot Skye a confused look.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Boyd, but I couldn’t set Wally up that way. It just wasn’t right,” Skye stammered. “It’s better all around if the three of us discuss this openly and together.”

Carson slumped in the chair. “You’ve ruined everything.”

“No.” Skye leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Really, I haven’t. Not if what you want is a better relationship
with your son. This is the way to get it. Not by deceiving him.”

“But he’ll never come back to Texas now. He’ll never take over for me as CEO of CB International.”

“That would never have happened anyway, Dad.” Wally shook his head. “I told you more than twenty years ago when I was in college that I didn’t want that kind of life. I’m happy here. Yes, a lot of that is due to Skye, but even if she dumped me or agreed to move to Texas with me, I don’t want to be a CEO.”

“I’m getting old. I want to retire.” Carson tried to regain some ground. “Who’ll take over for me?”

“I hear my cousin is doing a mighty fine job. He’d be the clear choice to take over.”

“You have a nephew who works for you?” Skye demanded, outraged that Carson had let her believe that he was alone, with no one to turn to. “You never mentioned a nephew.”

Carson nodded, not meeting her stare. It was clear he was beaten. He stood up and thrust his hand out at Wally. “I hope that we can at least stay in closer touch. I’ve enjoyed visiting with you the past few months.”

Wally shook his dad’s hand, then put his other arm around the older man’s shoulder and hugged him. “Anytime, Dad. You’re always welcome here. And maybe Skye and I can take a vacation to Texas this fall.”

“I’d really like that.” He put his hat on. “Well, I’d better go. I told my pilot to have the Cessna ready for takeoff by eight.”

“Wait one minute.” Skye struggled to put together the bits and pieces that had been bothering her. “You were here for another reason, besides to bring Wally back into the fold. What was it?”

“I guess it won’t hurt to tell you now.” Carson shrugged. “It’ll be in the papers by tomorrow.”

Where had she just heard that?

She glanced at Wally questioningly and he gave a slight nod and murmured, “Tammy Fine.”

“That’s right.” Carson nodded. “For the past several
months CB International has been in talks with Fine Foods. I’ve been traveling here to negotiate the deal.”

Skye wondered if Wally felt betrayed that his father hadn’t been coming just to see him.

“Why the disguise this time?” Wally asked.

“Previously I was meeting with the Fines to look over profit-and-loss statements, check out the condition of the factory, and examine their distribution networks, but this time I was interested in their morals and values. I only acquire companies that have a good reputation, which is why I usually only go after businesses that are family-owned.”

“That seems a little hypocritical, Dad, considering your own morals aren’t exactly squeaky clean.”

“Nothing personal.” Carson shrugged. “It’s just good business.”

Skye and Wally exchanged a knowing glance. Evidently Carson’s thinking was like that of a lot of the parents she dealt with, who wanted their kids to do as they said, not as they did.

“So, that’s why you toned down your appearance and lost your accent—you wanted to fit in to Scumble River, be able to hang out and ask questions during the contest,” Wally guessed.

“That, and I didn’t want the Fines to recognize me, although I think a couple of them did.”

“Quite a coincidence that you decided to buy a factory in Scumble River,” Skye commented.

“Not really,” Carson corrected her. “I was hoping that if all else failed, maybe Walter would at least agree to run that part of my company. He’s the reason I got interested in Fine Foods. I had my people look for something for us to buy that was within thirty miles of Scumble River.”

“So, why didn’t you offer me that job, Dad?” Wally looked puzzled.