Cold Case, Hot Accomplice

Chapter 2

At precisely five o’clock that evening Roxy changed the open sign to Closed and locked the front door. It had been a busy afternoon that had kept her jumping from one dining room to another to assure that all her customers had what they needed.

Throughout the afternoon, whenever there was a lull in business, Roxy had been on the phone, calling her aunt’s friends, the nearest hospitals and her sisters, but nobody had seen or heard from Liz all day.

After locking the restaurant, she raced up the two sets of stairs that led to her private quarters. The second floor was strictly storage and the top floor was her personal sanctuary, but as she opened the door to the large apartment she knew there would be no peace at the moment.

She called her sisters, Marlene and Sheri, and then grabbed her purse and car keys. Hopefully by the time they all arrived at the Wolf Creek police station, Detective Steve Kincaid would be off duty. Somebody had to take her seriously about Liz’s disappearance, and if he wouldn’t, then she’d find somebody who would. There was no way she intended the night to pass without somebody official out looking for Aunt Liz. She didn’t care about some stupid twenty-four-hour rule.

She had to stay calm. Nobody would take her seriously if she lost it.

To the outside world Liz Marcoli was a pleasant, kind woman who excelled at baking and quilting, but to Roxy she was the person who had made order out of chaos, security out of danger. She had saved Roxy’s life and the lives of her sisters, and now Roxy wouldn’t rest until somebody was doing something to find her.

Where could she be? What could have possibly happened to her? Since the age of seven, a day had never gone by that Roxy hadn’t seen or spoken to her aunt.

She tightened her hands on the steering wheel as she thought of the handsome detective who had been like a chigger under her skin for months.

She didn’t know how any crime got solved with men like him on the job; not that there was that much violent crime in the area. Still, if he investigated as often as he flirted with all the women in town, they would have no unsolved crimes on the books.

The Dollhouse was at the opposite end of town from the police station, but it only took her minutes to get there, for the business district of Main Street was only three blocks long.

She parked in front of the brick building and sat to wait for her sisters to arrive. They would be a force of three, and hopefully somebody would take their concerns seriously.

Lowering her window, she breathed in the late spring air, trying to staunch the panic that threatened to crawl up the back of her throat and release itself in a scream.

She tapped the steering wheel impatiently. Marlene would arrive first. She rented an apartment above a shop that sold antiques, trinkets and souvenirs. She’d moved there almost a year ago after her divorce.

Roxy frowned as she thought of Marlene. She’d left Wolf Creek as a happy bride to move to Pittsburgh with her new husband and had returned home two years later a different woman, not only divorced, but withdrawn and unwilling to talk about the failure of her marriage.

It would take longer for the youngest of the sisters to arrive. Sheri lived farther up the mountain in a small cabin surrounded by thick woods.

Roxy was in the process of tapping the leather right off her steering wheel when Marlene pulled up next to her. She got out of her car and slid into the passenger seat in Roxy’s.

She met Roxy’s gaze, the frantic worry inside Roxy’s stomach reflected in her sister’s blue eyes. “What do you think happened to her?” Marlene asked.

“I don’t have a clue, but I’m not leaving here until we have a full investigation under way to find out where she is,” Roxy said.

The two sat silently as they waited for Sheri. “How’s business?” Roxy finally asked when she could take the silence no longer.

Marlene and Sheri owned a roadside storefront closer to Hershey that specialized in Amish-made furniture, cheeses and fresh-grown fruits and vegetables.

“Getting better every day now that the weather is warming up,” she replied. “Abe and Jennifer are working this evening. Sheri called them in to take over after we found out Aunt Liz was missing.”

Missing.

The word hung in the air, horrifying...heartbreaking. At that moment Sheri’s black pickup pulled into a parking space nearby. The youngest of the three got out and approached them, her shoulder-length chestnut hair shimmering in the sunshine.

When the three women stood side by side, few people realized they were sisters. While they all shared the same mother, they each had different fathers.

Roxy was short and compact, with dark hair and dark eyes. Marlene was a tall blonde with ice-blue eyes, and Sheri liked to refer to herself as an ordinary mutt, with brown hair and whiskey-colored eyes.

Roxy and Marlene got out of Roxy’s car and greeted Sheri, who looked younger than usual with worry darkening her large eyes.

Roxy knew she would be the one to take the lead here. She’d always been the strong one, the big sister who would take care of her younger siblings at any cost.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Roxy said. She wouldn’t be turned away. She refused to be dismissed like she had been that morning by Steve. She wanted boots on the ground and search parties beating the bushes. More than anything, she wanted Aunt Liz to be found safe and sound.

With a deep breath and her sisters following just behind her, Roxy stepped into the police station, where plastic chairs lined a wall and a uniformed officer she didn’t know sat at a desk. A door to his right led to the room that she knew all the other members of law enforcement called home away from home.

“We’re here to file a missing-persons report,” Roxy said, relieved that her voice sounded strong and confident, even though she wanted to melt into a puddle of worried goo.

“Then you need to speak to one of our detectives.” There was a sound of a buzzer, and he gestured toward the door. “They’re at the desks on the right side of the room.”

Roxy nodded and pushed through the door. Her gaze automatically went to the three desks on the right, and her heart sank to her toes as she saw that the only one occupied was by her shaggy-haired nemesis.

An attractive long-legged blonde in the traditional blue police officer uniform leaned over his desk, and they were laughing as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

Roxy was vaguely aware of other people in the room as she cleared her throat with the force of a snorting bull. The smile on Steve’s face fell as he turned partway in his chair to see the three of them standing there.

He said something to the blonde, who sauntered away with a sexy swing of her hips. Roxy marched toward him, trying to balance temper and fear.

She wasn’t sure why it irritated her that he’d obviously been enjoying the company of the blonde bombshell, but it did. “We hate to mess with your social life, but we want to file a missing-persons report,” she said as he got up from his desk.

He frowned. “You still haven’t heard anything from your aunt?”

“Not a word, and I don’t care that it hasn’t been twenty-four hours. She’s in trouble, and you need to put out an Amber Alert.”

“That’s for kids. A Silver Alert is for adults and is usually put into effect when an elderly or disoriented person goes missing.”

“She’s disoriented,” Roxy exclaimed. “She has a touch of early onset dementia.” Sheri gasped at the blatant lie, while Marlene merely released a small groan.

Roxy would do whatever it took to get somebody to look for her aunt, even if it meant telling a little white lie, even if it meant Aunt Liz would kill her if she ever heard what Roxy had said about her.

Roxy raised her chin as Steve’s eyes narrowed in obvious disbelief. “Early onset dementia. Well then, if that’s the case I guess we’d better file a report,” he finally said. He pulled up two more chairs to join the one that sat before his desk and gestured for the three to have a seat.

“I don’t just want to file a report,” Roxy said as she sat down in the chair directly opposite him. She leaned toward him. “I want a search party started. I want a full investigation going. I want...I need...” To her horror, tears burned at her eyes.

“How about we start with some paperwork,” Steve replied with a hint of kindness in his voice.

“Fine, and then we’ll start a search party,” Roxy exclaimed as she quickly reined in her emotions. The last thing she wanted to do was show weakness in front of her sisters. Still, Sheri placed a gentling hand on Roxy’s arm, and Roxy drew a deep breath and leaned back in the chair.

For the next hour and a half Roxy held on to her patience as Steve asked question after question about the missing woman. Even though she was screaming inside for some kind of action to be taken, she knew that each and every question he asked and the answers they could all provide might hold a clue as to where Aunt Liz might be.

Twilight had fallen when Steve finally asked for a picture. As Roxy pulled a photo of her aunt out of her wallet, the encroaching darkness of night crept deep into her soul.

“So what happens now?” Marlene asked.

“You all go home,” he said.

Roxy stared at him in stunned surprise. “Go home? How can we just go home? We haven’t found her yet.”

“I suggest you go home and continue to contact friends and acquaintances, and let me know if you hear any information that might help me in the investigation.” He stood, and it was obviously a dismissal.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to fit an investigation into your busy social life?” Roxy asked as she noticed the blonde pointedly looking at her watch and then at him from across the room.

Marlene shot her an elbow in the side. Roxy’s cheeks warmed as she realized she was insulting the very man she needed to help her, to help them.

* * *

It had been the most frustrating hour and a half Steve had spent in recent years. While he’d found Marlene and Sheri to be simmering with anxiety, yet calm and cooperative, Roxy had been like a bomb on the verge of explosion.

She’d bitten her nails, snarled out answers and insulted his work ethic, but looking into the depths of her beautiful dark eyes, with lashes that were sinfully long, he could tell a panic screamed inside her and he knew that feeling intimately.

When the three of them left, it was as if Roxy sucked all the energy out of the room with her. He leaned back in his chair and only looked up from the notes he’d taken when Officer Chelsea Loren sidled up to the side of his desk once again.

“I thought maybe you’d like to head out of here and get a drink with me,” she said, her sexy smile attempting to lure him in. She’d been trying to entice him into a relationship for months without success.

He grinned at her. “Ah, Chelsea, how many times do we have to go through this? You know you’re utterly irresistible, but I don’t do workplace romances.”

Her enhanced lips puffed into a pout. “Obviously I’m not that utterly irresistible if you always turn me down.”

“Go find somebody else to play with, Chelsea. I’ve got work to do,” he said, his mind instantly filling with a vision of dark eyes and that barely suppressed panic that had lit them from within.

Chelsea flounced back across the room, and within minutes she had left with a couple of other uniforms getting off duty. Steve looked toward the window, where darkness had completely fallen.

The first night of dealing with a missing loved one was the absolute worst. There would be little or no sleep for the Marcoli sisters tonight. It would be the most agonizing night they’d probably ever suffer.

They would jump at every phone call and hear every creak and groan of their homes, anticipating some answer, a sudden appearance of their aunt Liz. By morning they’d all be exhausted, and still the fear would be like a living, breathing entity eating at their insides.

He shoved aside those thoughts and got up from his desk. There wasn’t much he could do this late at night as far as a real investigation, and he still wasn’t sure that any foul play was involved or that Chief of Police Brad Krause would even issue orders for an investigation.

But it was time for Steve to get out of there, and it wouldn’t hurt him to take a drive for the next hour or two and look for a woman who had somehow gotten lost from her home. Most nights he either met with his work buddies for a few beers or drove around, putting off returning to his own house until the very last minute.

He left the building and got into his car, and he thought of Roxy telling him that Liz Marcoli had early onset dementia. It had obviously been a lie, but he’d forgive her, as he knew the forces that were driving her at the moment.

The woman who for the past three and a half years had been responsible for the luscious cakes, pies, pastries and muffins at the Dollhouse didn’t suffer early onset dementia or anything else, except maybe a touch of arthritis. The sisters had mentioned no other health issues, but rather had insisted that Liz was in perfect health.

He was just about to start his car engine when Officer Joe Jamison pulled his patrol car in next to Steve’s car. As Joe got out, Steve rolled down his window and grinned at the bear of a man.

“What’s up, big man?”

Joe shrugged broad shoulders. “The usual, writing warnings and tickets for folks who can’t read speed limit signs. Later I’ll be looking out for the usual Friday night drunks. What about you? Who’s the lucky lady tonight?”

Steve laughed. “You know my reputation is mostly based on rumor and fiction, but actually there is a lady on my mind this evening, and I’m going to do a little hunting for her.”

Joe raised a dark eyebrow. “Hunting? Since when did you ever have to hunt for a woman? It seems to me that every time we’re out together, there are a couple of hot women throwing themselves at you.”

“You don’t do so bad yourself,” Steve replied with a grin. Joe often joined Steve, Frank and Jimmy for Saturday night drinks at the Wolf’s Head, a popular local tavern.

“For me it’s got to be the uniform. We all know women like guys in uniforms, even if they do look like grizzly bears.”

Steve laughed. “You don’t look like a grizzly bear. You look like a big guy who can take care of any trouble a damsel in distress might have. And speaking of damsels in distress...”

Steve quickly explained about Liz Marcoli. “I’m planning on driving around a bit now before heading home to see if she’s anywhere on the streets. I’d appreciate you and anyone else who’s working the night shift doing the same on the nightly patrols. There’s a photo of her on my desk.”

“Will do,” Joe agreed. He backed away from Steve’s car. With a wave Steve pulled out of the parking lot and headed slowly down Main Street.

He’d learned from the sisters that Liz Marcoli had been a young widow; she’d lost the love of her life in a car accident when she’d been only thirty. According to the sisters, Liz had never dated again, had never expressed any interest in marrying or having any kind of a romantic relationship.

But would Liz share the details of a man in her life with her nieces? Wasn’t it possible that Liz might have a secret lover? That she’d been whisked away for a spontaneous romantic couple of days and hadn’t told her nieces anything about it?

Still, that didn’t explain the baked items neatly packed for delivery and her purse on the kitchen counter. Although walking away from responsibilities was not a crime, it was also not normal, and anything abnormal like this had the potential to be a crime.

However, a friend the women didn’t know about might have needed emergency help, and the possibility of a spontaneous absence because of a man in her life was equally plausible.

He knew how busy Roxy stayed at her restaurant, and from what he’d learned talking with Marlene and Sheri, they were business owners, as well. Running the roadside building near town would require a lot of time and energy on their part.

So how well did they really know their aunt? What he needed to do tomorrow was talk to the friends and neighbors the ladies had provided him with in a list and see what Liz Marcoli did when she wasn’t with her nieces.

Steve knew better than most that you could think you knew somebody, that you could love and trust somebody, and in the end realize that person had secrets and that you really didn’t know them at all.

A thick band of pain inched around his chest, and for a moment it felt like an old familiar friend. There were now days at a time when he stayed so busy that he didn’t feel the ever-present heartache—minutes in time when he almost forgot, but not quite.

He shoved away thoughts of his own issues and instead focused on the street he slowly cruised, looking for a sixty-five-year-old woman who might be walking in the dark after suffering a head injury or some other medical issue that might have her disoriented.

The streets were nearly deserted. The small town of Wolf Creek closed up early, with most stores shutting down by eight in the evenings. Although many of the businesses were geared toward the tourism the town enjoyed, there were also the normal stores found anywhere.

He drove slowly, occasionally using his high beams to peer into an alley or a recessed storefront.

At this point he didn’t feel the frantic panic over the missing woman that he’d seen in Roxy’s eyes. It was too early to panic.

As he passed the Dollhouse, his gaze went up to the third floor, where lights appeared to glow from every window, like beacons calling out in the night to the missing woman.

He couldn’t help but think of the woman who lived on that third floor. Roxy was a wildcat, driven by her emotions, and while he found himself impossibly attracted to her, at the same time she scared the hell out of him.

Right now what he felt toward her was an empathy born in a common trauma. Hopefully Liz Marcoli would be found soon, alive and well, and this vanishing would have simply been some sort of miscommunication.

His own missing-persons case was an ongoing heartache that he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. The pain of the absence of a loved one had built a shell around his heart, forcing him to pull on the facade of a carefree, flirtatious, shallow man in order to survive his emotional pain.

He hoped Roxy and her sisters never had to deal with days, weeks, months of such ongoing agony. He knew better than anyone that the lack of closure in such an event transformed a person—and, in his case, had the power to completely break a man emotionally.

Chapter 3

Roxy jerked awake just after five in the morning. She was on the sofa, still dressed in her clothes from the day before and appalled that she’d fallen asleep at all.

She’d spent most of the night before on the phone with her sisters and then checking and rechecking with Liz’s friends until it had gotten too late to make any more calls. Then she’d paced the floor, waiting to hear something, anything, about Liz’s whereabouts.

Her body’s need to rest had apparently finally overwhelmed her panicked fear, and even though she’d only been asleep a couple of hours, she felt guilty for sleeping any length of time while her aunt was still missing.

As she roused herself from her awkward position on the sofa, muscles ached and protested the time spent on the sofa and not in her comfortable bed.

Coffee, her brain screamed. Coffee and then a long, hot shower. Although she’d like to call Detective Steve Kincaid and see what he’d done the night before to find her aunt, she knew it was an unreasonable thought at an unreasonable hour of the morning. She doubted that much work had been done overnight, and, in any case, if he’d found out something pertinent, surely he would have called her.

She turned on the kitchen light and stumbled across the room to the coffeemaker. This was her usual time to get up in the mornings, and she normally enjoyed the half hour or forty-five minutes she gave herself before heading downstairs to start the prep work for the day.

Even though it was Saturday, the busiest day in the Dollhouse, Roxy had told Josie to make arrangements for extra help, as Roxy wouldn’t be working. She couldn’t work with her head in utter turmoil, with the fear that had already begun to possess her entire body as she thought of the one woman in the world who had always managed to center her.

It was too early to call her sisters, too early to do anything but sit at her table and sip her coffee and think, but she quickly realized she had no viable ideas about where Aunt Liz might be or what might have happened to her. She’d already considered most of the possibilities, and they’d proved fruitless.

She leaned back in the black-cushioned chrome chair and gazed around the kitchen. It was funny, really, that she’d decorated her restaurant with antiques and kitschy items, but her personal domain was sleek and modern, from the stainless steel kitchen appliances to the glass-topped tables and black-and-white decor of her living room.

Even her bedroom was simple, a king-size bed covered in a black-and-white patterned spread, a dresser holding a couple of bottles of perfume, a jewelry holder and two nightstands with small black-and-silver lamps.