The Ruth Valley Missing (2 page)

“Are you even paying
attention? I spent the night in the ER last night.”

Dylan leaned against
the counter, examining his cuticles. “That was you?”

I felt a flash of
anger, then calmed myself before asking further. “What do you mean?’

“I heard some girl
drank too much and took a spill into a wall on the way out.” He looked up from
the orange juice, frowning. “Wait, they said she was leaving with her
boyfriend. What were you doing with some other guy?”

“Seriously? Maybe I
wasn’t clear. I was in the hospital. Someone dosed my drink.” I pulled out my
phone and showed him the pictures I had from the party. I pointed out the
stranger in several photos. “Do you recognize him?”

“Yeah, he is a friend
of Jensen’s. Does experimental performance art. Supposed to be a cool guy. Why
do you ask?”

I rolled my eyes.
“Because I am trying to figure out who at that party might be responsible for
my hospital stay.”

“That’s crazy. Jensen
doesn’t need to dose a girl’s drink.”

“Really? Then you have
some ideas on who does?”

“I don’t think anyone
there would do anything like that.”

“Well, apparently
someone did.”

“You don’t know that
for sure.”

My face felt hot, the
anger and frustration clawing its way out. “Someone at that party was trying to
do something bad, Dylan. I don’t know how I can simplify this any further for
you. Bad man want to do bad things to me. Is that better? Do you understand
now?”

“That is unnecessary.”

“No, I think it is
necessary.” I walked over to the front door and opened it. “So is this.”

I extended my arm,
motioning to the open door.

“Oh, come on. You
aren’t seriously blaming me for this.”

“Not at all. I am,
however, blaming you for being so completely self-absorbed that you didn’t even
ask me if I was okay. So, go.”

Dylan tossed his cup
in the sink. He walked over to the door and paused before walking out.

“You’re being
ridiculous.”

“I highly doubt that,”
I said, as I pushed the door closed, with Dylan on the other side.

I locked one deadbolt,
then the second one, slid the chain over, turned the lock in the doorknob, and
returned to the couch. I stared at the milk crate, my makeshift end table, and
then to the floor where my black stilettos from last night lay. I grabbed them,
opened the window over the radiator and tossed them into the alley below.

 
“You look good, James. I wouldn’t notice
the bruising if I didn’t know to look.”

 
“Thanks.” I felt like I painted my face
with a roller in an effort to cover up what was left from my tumble into a wall
the week before, so hearing that it looked ok made me feel less self-conscious.

 
“How are you feeling?”

 
“I’ve been better. I’m a bit jumpy
lately. Pretty sure I scared the FedEx guy the other day when I answered the
door with a bat in my hand.”

 
Dr. Finelli laughed and handed me a
coffee cup. “Should I have brought you decaf instead?”

 
“Not unless you plan on making friends
with my bat anytime soon.”

 
He smiled, familiar with my affinity for
caffeine and odd sense of humor.

 
“So,” I continued, “the police think they
have the guy who dosed my drink. It was part of some ‘artistic expression
experiment’ or something. He was dosing people, then posing them like dolls for
his project.”

 
Finelli shook his head. “I’d say I’m
surprised, but sadly...”

 
“I know. City life.” I heaved a sigh
before adding, “And I broke up with Dylan.”

 
“Really? Hmph.”

 
“What does ‘hmph’ mean?” I poked his arm,
nearly making him spill his tea.

 
“Well, frankly, that’s the best news I’ve
heard all day.”

 
I introduced Dylan to Finelli at a
fundraiser six months ago. Dylan was unimpressed with Finelli, and Finelli kept
reminding me that he had a single nephew who was a lawyer. He never said
anything bad about Dylan, but he would conveniently ‘forget’ I was dating him
whenever he mentioned eligible men he wanted me to meet.

 
“So did you want to meet for coffee to
ask about my nephew? Because I think he has a girlfriend, but I’m sure it’s not
that serious...”

 
This time I smiled. “No, no, I think I
need a little break right now. But thanks.” I took a deep breath. “Actually, I
need a big break, which is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

 
“Oh?”

 
Finelli set his cup down on the table and
leaned forward, folding his arms on the table between us.

 
“Yeah. I’m going to have to stop
volunteering at the hospital.” I stared down at my coffee cup. “I’ve decided that
I need to get out of the city. At least for a while.”

 
Finelli frowned and nodded. “Because of
what happened at the gallery?”

 
“That’s part of it. I’m just, I don’t
know, I guess I’m just tired. Don’t get me wrong, there is so much about being
in the city I love, but I want a break. The crime, the pretentious people, the
constant everything. I just want to be somewhere for a while where I can just
be. Some time for me to figure out where I’m happy.” I watched Finelli listen
without saying a word. “I sound silly, don’t I?”

 
“Not at all. Why do you think I have a
house upstate? I’ve been here too long to leave my job at this point. But there
isn’t a day I don’t think about heading up there and opening a private
practice. Do you know where you’re going?”

 
I nodded. “It’s a tiny town in North
Carolina. It’s funny, I read about it in a magazine. They did an article on the
‘best places to live that you don’t know about’ or something like that. But
there was a side article about this homey little place. The crime rate there is
like, non-existent, which is why it ended up in the article.”

“That’s a big change.”

“I know. I’m going
down there in a few days to check out this house I found for rent. Everything
just seemed to come together.”

Finelli nodded
quietly. “What’s your father think?”

“I haven’t told him.”
Finelli raised his eyebrows, sending me into defensive mode. “You know he
wouldn’t understand. At least here in the city he thinks I might be pursuing
artistic dreams. Hiding out in some podunk town is not something he is going to
get.”

“Does he have to get
it?”

“No, but I can only
expect him to pull the purse strings and reopen again so many times. Until I
know what the next move is, it can’t hurt to just let him think I’m still here
in Brooklyn.”

“Looks like you’ve
made up your mind, James. I’ll miss you, but it sounds like this is what you
want to do, and I’ve learned not to stand in your way.”

“Wow, you almost make
me sound evil.” I reached across the table and squeezed his hand, my voice
softening. “You know I’ll come visit you. It’s a short flight. Even drivable.”

He squeezed my hand
back and started to speak, but stopped and cleared his throat. “Are you coming
by the hospital before you go to say bye to the staff?”

I knew he was trying
to change gears just enough to keep from getting emotional. “Of course. I’ll
bring cake.”

“You shouldn’t bring
your own farewell cake.”

“Eh, it’s the least I
can do.” I looked down at my watch and decided to give him an easy out. “You
have to get back don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. I’ll see
you tomorrow, then, right?”

I nodded and leaned in
for a hug. He squeezed me tightly while I tried my best to keep it together for
his sake and mine. He let go and I stepped back. “Yes. Tomorrow!”

I turned and headed
towards my apartment, so he couldn’t see my eyes filling with tears.

The winding road I was
following was surrounded by thick forest. It had been years since I’d seen
woods so dense and green. I drove with the windows cracked, breathing in the smell
of pine and earth. I hadn’t passed another vehicle in over an hour and the only
sound around me was the whooshing of the air and a random country station
playing on my stereo. I hated country music, but in the last few miles it was
the only thing that would come in clearly.

I began to wonder if I
had made a wrong turn somewhere along the way when the woods started to thin.
Up ahead I spotted a sign welcoming me to the town of Ruth Valley, and as I
turned the bend in the road, the tiny town started to form ahead. Small shops
lined the old cobblestone roads. The butcher, barber, and bakery sat in a row
like a something from a nursery rhyme. I spotted a diner up ahead and decided
I’d get a bite to eat before heading to the B&B for the night.

As I slid my black
coupe into a parking space, I couldn’t help but notice how wrong it looked next
to the hulking mud-covered trucks parked alongside it.

I walked into the
diner and noticed the shiny white counters, the chrome stools, and the red
vinyl booths. The customers glanced up at me for a moment then returned to
their conversations and meals.

“Have a seat where you
like, hon, someone will be with you in a minute.”

The voice came from an
older woman behind the counter. She had jet black hair which clearly came from
a box and her uniform was a size too small. I slid into an empty booth, sinking
down slightly to avoid any more looks from the locals.

“Hello, Miss. I’m
Emma. What can I get you this evenin’?” A plump blonde with rosy cheeks, a
southern drawl, and the same yellow dress as the older woman laid a menu in
front of me. “Somethin’ to drink?”

“Can I get a water
with lime for now?”

“I dunno if we have
any limes.”

“Lemon is fine then.”

Emma blinked, a blank
look on her face.

“Or just plain water
is good, too.”

“I’ll be back with
that in a sec.”

I glanced over the
menu and was happy to see a lack of French words and sun-dried tomatoes. Good
old fashioned home cooking was all they offered. I couldn’t remember the last
time I ate pot pie or meatloaf. Dylan would have died if we ate anywhere like
this.

“Here you’ go, Miss. I
even found some lemon for you.” Emma set the glass down on the table, whipped
out her notepad, and leaned to one side. “So what can I get you?”

“I was thinking about
the meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”

“Are you gonna be in
town for long or are you passin’ through?”

Now I was the one
blinking with a blank look. “I’ll be here for a while.”

“Then the meatloaf is
a great idea. Our chicken and dumplins’ are amazin’ though, so if you were just
gonna be here for the night, I would recommend you not miss ‘em.”

I smiled. “Then next
time I’m in here, I know what I will be getting.”

“Great! You’ll love
the meatloaf, too.”

“Thanks,” I paused
before adding, “Emma.”

She smiled as if I’d
just asked her to be my best friend and practically skipped to the kitchen. I
shook my head, trying to imagine a waitress at any of the restaurants we
frequented in New York having the same reaction.

I looked out the
window at the shops across the way. There was someone sweeping out in front of
one, although what they were sweeping, I couldn’t be sure. I’d never seen
streets so clean. I started to reach into my camera bag, but then stopped. I
had already received a few looks, albeit friendly ones, and wasn’t really
looking to draw additional attention. Instead, I grabbed a paper tucked behind
the condiments on the table.

It was only a few
pages thick, more of a newsletter than an actual newspaper, filled with the
latest on what was happening in town. There was a sale at the Sally Mae’s, a
local clothing store from the looks of it, right next to a notice about hunting
season and a town barbecue and rummage sale this weekend.

Quaint. Just what I
was hoping for.

As I scanned through
various announcements, like who won the local school spelling bee, my meatloaf
arrived.

“Here you go. Let me
know if I can get you anything else.”

It smelled amazing.
“Thanks so much.”

Emma smiled and bounced
off to another table, chatting and laughing with some friendly looking men
dressed in flannel.

I dove in, famished
from surviving on sunflower seeds and water during my drive down. The potatoes
were buttery and smooth, definitely not from a box, and the meatloaf was full
of flavor, not one of them being ketchup. More than I expected from a tiny town
diner. As I ate, I scanned the last page of the paper and spotted the rental ad
that brought me down here in the first place.