Treacherous Tart (24 page)

D
ad!” Ryan lifted
his father's head and tried to get him to respond.

Maggie dialed 911 as she ran through the downstairs area of the house, calling for her aunt, and switching on lights as she went. “I can't find her,” she yelled back at Ryan. “She's not down here.”

“Try upstairs.” Ryan was still trying to revive Garrett. His father's head was limp and white-faced on his lap. “There's a lot of blood, Maggie. I don't know if he fell and hit his head or what.”

Maggie was going through the bedrooms and
bathroom upstairs. There was still no sign of Aunt Clara. Had she run out to look for help when Garrett fell? Why didn't she use the house phone? Where was she?

She ran back downstairs and noticed as she looked out the side window, that there was a light on at the Walkers' house next door. Scratching sounds at the back door got her attention. She opened the door, and Fanny shot into the house.

“I'm glad you're okay.” She stroked the cat as she ran to her babies. The tiny kittens made their usual meowing sounds as they realized she was back. “I wish you could tell me what happened.”

Fanny pushed her head against Maggie's hand and purred loudly.

“I'm going to find out if David saw her,” Maggie shouted to Ryan.

“Wait,” he called back. “I think there may be more to this. Don't go until the police get here.”

Maggie heard him, but ignored his warning. She ran out the back door, heart pounding. She rang the doorbell and then pounded on the sturdy wood portal when no one answered immediately.

David finally came to the door and turned on the porch light. “Maggie? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

“Aunt Clara,” she blurted out. “She's missing. Did she come here? She might've wanted to use the phone. Have you seen her?”

“I've been here all night working on my laptop. I haven't seen or heard anything. When did you see her last?”

She briefly explained that her aunt should've been in the house with Garrett. “He was unconscious in the foyer. That's why I thought she might've panicked and come here for help.”

He pulled on a jacket and went outside with her. “Let's ask the other neighbors. She might be at someone else's house. Don't worry, Maggie. We'll find her.”

 • • •

A
unt Clara wasn't
at any of the neighbors' houses.

Maggie went tearfully from house to house with David at her side while Ryan waited for the ambulance to come for his father. Where the houses had all been quiet and settled in for the night, suddenly lights were blazing in every window as police officers arrived on the scene.

“Where could she be?” Maggie asked David as a light, freezing rain began to fall. “Could someone have taken her to the hospital? She couldn't simply disappear.”

David put his arm around her as they started back toward her house. The ambulance was arriving. Some of the neighbors got out of their beds to help look for Maggie's aunt. They arrived with radios, cell
phones, and flashlights, ready to do what they could to help.

Officer Jack Harding joined them and took Maggie's hand in his. He was a regular at the pie shop—a slightly older, rounder version of Frank, dressed in his uniform. Maggie ran to him when she saw his familiar face in the crowd.

“We've looked everywhere,” she said. “I don't understand where she went.”

“Come in and warm up,” he told her. “You're chilled to the bone. Let's talk about this.”

The paramedics were taking Garrett's vitals in the front doorway. Maggie and Jack walked around to the back door and went inside.

“Is he going to be okay?” Maggie asked him.

“I haven't heard yet, but it seems obvious to me that his injury is involved with what happened to your aunt.”

Maggie sat on the edge of the sofa with David beside her. She only half noticed that he'd taken her hand in his. It didn't matter—she was focused on what had happened to Aunt Clara.

“This is the way we see it right now,” Officer Harding said. “We think someone came up behind Mr. Summerour and hit him with a rock we found on the porch. There's some blood on it. Do you know what I'm talking about?”

Maggie nodded. “It's that stupid decorative rock
that holds the front door key. Like anyone couldn't tell that's what it was. I've asked her a hundred times to get rid of it. We each have keys to the house. We don't need a spare on the porch.”

“That's it,” he agreed. “Mr. Summerour went down in the doorway. We believe that whoever hit him has taken your aunt.”

“Someone kidnapped Aunt Clara?” Maggie couldn't believe it. “Why? You can tell we don't have much money. What would someone hope to gain?”

“I don't know all the answers right now. We'll have crime scene take a look around and see what they can find. After that, we'll wait for a phone call. It may not be about money. Sometimes people are kidnapped for reasons other than money. Can you think of anyone who might have done this?”

“Kidnapped Aunt Clara?” Maggie's mind raced. “No. She doesn't have any enemies. You know her. I can't even imagine why anyone would do such a thing.”

There was a commotion near the front door. Ryan, appearing shocked, tears in his eyes, told Maggie that he was riding in the ambulance with his father.

“They think it's a concussion,” he told her. “I'll let you know what happens.”

“Stay strong,” David remarked.

Ryan glanced at him—and at his hand linked with Maggie's. He turned away without another word.

“Good luck, Summerour,” Officer Harding returned.

Frank walked carefully through the doorway a short while after Ryan had gone. Crime scene techs were already looking for prints, and whatever else they could find, to figure out what had happened and who might be responsible.

“I came as soon as I heard,” Frank said to Maggie. “What's going on? I leave you alone for a couple of days, and everything falls apart.”

Officer Harding explained what he'd said to Maggie and David. He walked Frank through what they thought had happened. Frank sat down with them after the explanation.

“I take it Ryan is with his father.” Frank gave David a significant look—his eyes focusing on his hand, which was still holding Maggie's. “And you are?”

David got to his feet and shook Frank's hand. “David Walker. I live next door. Maggie and I go back a long way. I want to do whatever I can to help.”

Frank's raised eyebrows spoke volumes about what he thought of that statement.

“Listen, Maggie, I don't want to point any fingers, but there are a lot of people who have grudges against Garrett. Ryan too. It goes with the territory. Newspapers aren't always popular. It basically happened at the same time that the
Durham Weekly
's office was
torched,” Frank said. “I know I'm a suspicious man, but what are the odds?”

“Are you saying Aunt Clara might not have been the target?” Maggie asked. “That she might've been kidnapped because she was with Garrett?”

“I'm saying it's one possibility. Garrett has been shot at, almost run down, and threatened because of his newspaper. Someone might have taken Clara as a warning to him.”

Maggie put her hands to her head. “We both know the only controversial thing Ryan has been writing about lately is Donald Wickerson.”

“That's right. Sometimes I feel like I'm chasing my own exhaust.” Frank patted her hand. “I think we should let the crime scene investigators do their job. Let's see what they turn up. Arson investigators will probably start on the office tomorrow, or the next day. In the meantime, keep your phone handy. If you receive any kind of unusual message, let us know. It could be as innocuous as a note left at the front door. Just stay focused.”

Maggie scrubbed her eyes with her hands. She wasn't sure how to stay focused on something like this. Just the idea that someone was out there with Aunt Clara made her want to run into the night screaming.

“I'll do my best. Thanks, Frank. You too, Jack.”

“What about surveillance?” David asked. “Shouldn't
you set up to record and answer all of Maggie's calls until this is resolved?”

Frank chuckled, and Officer Harding joined him.

“This isn't TV, son, or some thriller novel,” Frank said. “There's no FBI—no money for that kind of thing, at least not until we have some real clue about what happened to Clara. Right now, for all we know, she called a friend and went to her house because she was upset. Anything is possible.”

Maggie accepted everyone's condolences and convinced David that she didn't want him to stay with her. She tried to stay positive. Aunt Clara was going to be fine. She tried not to think about what had happened, but it took on a nightmarish quality in her mind.

Long after the police cars had left, and the crime scene people had packed up, Maggie lay in her bed, thinking about her aunt.

Ryan had called from the hospital. After an MRI and other tests, the doctors had determined that Garrett had a hairline skull fracture. He'd regained consciousness. Ryan planned to spend the night with him.

“I'm so glad your dad is all right,” she replied. “Take good care of him tonight. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

“We'll figure out where Aunt Clara is, Maggie.”

Fanny and her kittens joined Maggie upstairs on
her bed. Both doors were securely locked. Maggie still felt uncomfortable in the house. Tossing and turning, she finally moved herself and the family of cats into Aunt Clara's bed. Maggie kept her cell phone in her hand to wait for daylight.

She didn't know why, but it made her feel better to be in the old bed her aunt and uncle had shared for so many years. She wished Uncle Fred were there to help find her aunt. She wished that there was something more she could do. Patience and waiting to see what was going to happen were driving her crazy.

 • • •

E
verything was covered
in a thin layer of ice the next day. Trees, power lines, cars, and rooftops were frozen in place. Power outages were reported all over the city. Icicles hung from the gutters and the doorways as Maggie looked out at the world.

The long night was finally over. It was still dark, but it was time to get up and open the pie shop.

She wanted to stay in bed all day with her phone tucked against her ear, waiting for information about Aunt Clara. She felt helpless and angry that she couldn't do anything to make a difference. She had to rely on the police. It was harder than anything she'd ever done.

She was up and awake. Spending the day in bed was out of the question. She didn't know what to do
except what she would normally have done. Aunt Clara wouldn't want Pie in the Sky to close because she was gone. Maggie made herself get out of bed to do this for her.

Maggie got up, took a shower, and got dressed in warm clothes. She made toast but couldn't eat it. She fed the cats. Fanny wasn't interested in going to the pie shop that day. Maggie didn't blame her. It was a cold, dark morning. Why not stay home where it was warm, and snuggle in her box with her kittens?

She watched Fanny clean her babies meticulously, even holding one of them down with her paw when he resisted his bath. Maggie wished she could climb in there with them and hide from the world. They were lucky to have their mother.

Maggie put on her boots, jacket, and scarf and pushed herself out of the house. She put one foot after another on the frozen sidewalk. The Christmas lights were gleaming red and green through the ice that covered them, illuminating the early morning. Traffic was lighter than usual. Most people either went in late or stayed home on a day like this.

The power was still on in the block with Pie in the Sky. She went inside and switched on the lights to begin the morning rituals she normally performed with her aunt. She didn't let herself think about how much she missed Aunt Clara's nonstop conversation and her sweet smile.

Mechanically, she made a few fresh apple pies
and put them in the oven. She started the coffee in the big urn and then mopped the floor and wiped everything down.

The shop wasn't dirty—she and Aunt Clara had cleaned up before they left last night. It was more having something to do than anything else. She needed to get her mind off the fact that there had been no phone calls, no messages about her aunt. There was no word from the police on where Aunt Clara had gone or if someone had taken her.

What was she going to do? How was she going to greet her customers and act as though everything was fine when her whole world was wrong?

Maggie was ready for her customers by six. The pie shop was so quiet and she felt so alone. There was a new batch of pumpkin pies in the oven. She made herself a double-shot mocha and switched on the Hot Pie Now neon sign on the window.

She was looking out at the dreary, nearly empty streets outside as the gray light of morning crept up on the city.
Where are you, Aunt Clara?