While Others Sleep

3

Maple Trails

5:45 a.m.

But nothing was okay, and as dawn approached, Campbell had new symptoms to apply to her definition of sick-of-mind and sick-at-heart. Being on the phone again with her father wasn’t doing much to help that.

“No, there’s still no word on Maida,” she told Yancy. “I’m ready to notify the sheriff.” Since they were located just beyond the city limits, the property fell under the jurisdiction of the Gregg County Sheriff’s Department rather than the Longview Police.

“Give her another hour,” Yancy replied. “I know you two have grown particularly close in the last year, but she still has a right to her privacy.”

Campbell switched from rubbing her arm to massaging the intensified throbbing building in the middle of her forehead. “I know, I know. You warned me of this very possibility, of not keeping some professional distance, and whether you believe it or not, I have. But you weren’t the one to witness what happened.”

“I wish it had been me there last night. Then you wouldn’t be hurting now.” Yancy sighed. “Look, you’ve been to the hospital and we’ve both listened to the police scanner throughout the night. There’s been nothing to indicate she’s had an accident, so why not give her family time to wake calmly. I’m still betting she’s over at their place, but even if she’s not, it’s not fair to upset them before we can say with certainty there’s a legitimate problem.”

He was as resistant to what she’d told him about Maida’s deteriorating relationship with her only son and his family as he was to the reason for the woman’s strange departure. Earlier, he’d suggested the sirens going off around town warning of a tornado in the area was what had scared Maida out of her home. That could be, but Campbell wasn’t convinced—and he’d pushed her close to the end of her patience. She wanted answers.

“If you knew a twister was headed here, wouldn’t you call me to make sure I was secure?” Yancy asked. “And wouldn’t you check with me directly afterward to see if I needed anything?”

“Stop with the fairy tales—we aren’t a good example for any of this. What’s more, Maida thinks her daughter-in-law Patsy is more attracted to Dwayne’s pension fund than she is to Dwayne and she’s disgusted that he can’t see that. This is a dysfunctional iceberg, Dad.” Campbell paused as she saw a familiar bronze compact pull in. “Kelsey is here. Have you updated her about this?”

“No. I thought you’d prefer to do that. I didn’t want to risk getting any facts wrong or anything.”

Campbell couldn’t completely repress her annoyance. It wasn’t facts he was concerned about. After all, she’d been careful to be explicit as she detailed information to him. He was, she suspected, continuing to believe she was overreacting. Now she had to update Kels without putting Yancy in a bad light, because a junior partner didn’t challenge the senior one in front of staff, no matter how badly he had stumbled.

“Fine,” she replied. “Just FYI…I’m leaving a set of the notes I made, so all staff will have firsthand data to work from.”

“I’d like to see them first.”

“You’ve heard me over the phone. There are no surprises. Everyone needs to be on the same page—and fast,” she added.

“You’ll bring the original for me to review?” he asked, the command clear.

“After I go over and recheck Dogwood Lane.”

“You said Ike’s been there twice since the storm. Both times he’s reported the same thing—the garage is empty. Besides, you’d have been the first person to see her if she came back,” Yancy said.

“That doesn’t mean there isn’t something of value to note, something that might give us a clue as to what sent her charging out of here. It was dark the last time he checked around the house.”

“It still will be for a while yet. Dyle or Travis should be driving up at any second. Have one of them inspect the house as soon as they check in.”

“They’ll have plenty to do closing off areas around the marina that suffered wind damage, and then checking the vacant homes on the east rim of the lake, which Ike says appears to have taken the brunt of the storm. Besides, one of Maida’s neighbors might be outside inspecting their property. You know they’re more likely to talk to me about her than anyone else.”

“Yeah, but you’re hurting,” her father said again. “Kelsey may not hear it in your voice, but I do. Let Ike go as soon as the others relieve him. You can tell him particular places to check.”

What was draining her faster was convincing her father that she knew how to do her job. “The guys are already on the clock and Ike left the premises five minutes ago. He’s beat, too, Yancy. In any case, I have to stick around. No one has arrived at the administration office yet, and you know they aren’t likely to before 7:30.”

“You can’t sit there half the morning waiting on them. Besides, you and I need to talk first.”

“Administration deserves to know something could be wrong.”

“Damn, Belle, what are you trying to do, send me back to the hospital? Slow down. Maida Livingstone is downright obdurate about people invading her privacy.”

“I’ve had nothing but time to sit here contemplating worse-case scenarios. We don’t want Bryce Tyndell undermining us with the Residents’ Committee and suggesting that we kept things secret due to misconduct or neglect.”

“That tight-collared prick would do it, too,” Yancy muttered. “How he’s managed to keep his job as operations manager for this long, I don’t know.”

Campbell could visualize Yancy’s sun-bronzed face hardening into a craggy mask. Bryce remained a chink in Cody’s well-oiled machine and she saw no sense in rehashing what wasn’t going to change, at least not today.

With her characteristic burst of energy, Kelsey Mc-Graw swept into the small building swinging her knapsack routinely full of bottled water and assorted veggie or fruit munchies. During her last physical, the ex-lifeguard, former Miss Galveston had learned she was borderline diabetic and had announced she wasn’t succumbing to pills or injections.

This morning her focus was all on Campbell. One look at Campbell’s coloring and overall condition and she demanded, “What’s wrong?”

“Hear that?” Campbell said into the phone. “Kels just walked in. I’ll see you as soon as I’m through.”

“All right. But under no circumstances do you use your key over at the house, understood? I don’t care what understanding you have with Maida. You don’t have it in writing, you protect your—our asses.”

She rolled her eyes as she caught Kelsey’s questioning glance. “I know the drill. Unless we spot Maida through a window bleeding or otherwise in distress, we need authorized personnel—namely Bryce Tyndell or a member of the Gregg County Sheriff’s Department—to give us permission to enter her residence.”

As soon as Campbell hung up, Kelsey stopped putting away her supplies and faced her. “What’s up with Maida that has you and Boss One all tied in knots?”

Campbell took a moment to get her breathing back under control. One of the problems she was experiencing as a result of the lightning strike was muscle and nerve pain. The more agitated she became, the worse the throbbing became down her left side.

“She went off in a crazed rush during the storm last night.”

“Madam Livingstone on Dogwood, who’s been warned how many times about speeding on the grounds?”

“The very one. The same person who happens to hate driving in the rain so much so that she’ll cancel an appointment. It’s her cataracts.”

“Apparently they weren’t bothering her last night.” Blue eyes that usually twinkled with goodwill darkened with concern. “This is for real? It didn’t start raining until almost midnight.”

“And she has yet to return,” Campbell added.

“Huh.” Kelsey stashed her satchel and purse in the file cabinet she used as a locker. “Was she alone?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe not for long,” the model-thin blonde said.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe she decided to ride out the storm with a gentleman friend.”

Even miserable, Campbell appreciated the idea. “No one would be happier than me if she was rushing to meet some pill-invigorated dish.”

Another wave of gnawing pain struck Campbell, all but stealing her breath. She quickly reached for three more Tylenol, downing them with what was left of her bottled water. One more dose remained in the container and she doubted it would help any more than the others had. Her next choice would be Scotch—at Yancy’s where she could crash in the spare bedroom. This would be her smartest move if she wanted to avoid being targeted by cops with long memories and deeper prejudice. She spent far too much time keeping the past from crushing her, and now those memories compounded her physical condition and sent her into another spasm of pain.

She doubled over at the waist. It didn’t fool Kelsey, who dropped to her knees to peer at her.

“Campbell? Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I told you. It was a rough night.”

“Got it, Ms. Understatement. Tell me the rest…did Maida clip you with a fender or something as she left? What?”

Campbell thought of what the internist told her. “It would have been better long-term, if she had.”

Those intelligent blue eyes under the curtain of shaggy, genuine blond bangs exhibited some fast calculations. “Long term…oh, hell. You were struck again, weren’t you? Why aren’t you at the hospital? You need X rays, an MRI.”

Aside from being a health nut, twenty-seven-year-old Kels was a quick study. These days, Campbell rated her memory better than her own. Kelsey had also been present during Campbell’s last close encounter with lightning.

“I’ve seen a doctor,” she told her. “Don’t give me that look.”

“Why not? You leaving your post?”

“So I went to Good Shepherd for more than one reason.”

Kelsey narrowed her eyes. “There was a shooting. I was listening on my radio. The victim was just a kid. Wait…you thought it could have been Maida?”

“All I heard was that a white Grand Am was involved. There was no question in my mind but to rush to the hospital to find out more.”

“Stacie,” Kelsey said, thinking out loud. “Stacie…”

“Holms.”

“It drives me nuts to think of kids driving around in that kind of weather, never mind at such an hour.” It was then that Kelsey focused on the tear in Campbell’s slacks. “That bolt really flattened you. It didn’t happen in here on the linoleum, did it?”

“No, and not outside. Well, not here. Some creepy biker dude knocked me over outside Emergency.”

Kelsey looked practically starstruck. “You were run over by a Harley after being struck by lightning?”

“No.” Campbell rocked until she didn’t feel the need to scream. “He just looked the part—I didn’t see any bike. I don’t know who he was other than someone in a hurry.”

Looking somewhat disappointed, Kelsey inspected her from head to foot. “Tell me straight, how bad was the jolt this time?”

How bad…? She thought of the movie Six Degrees of Separation, of astronauts at NASA struggling against Gs…all the comparative situations Campbell’s tired mind could rattle to the surface. “You might say I shook hands with the devil,” she said, massaging the worst area.

Kelsey rose. “This is nuts. Can we shift someone around and I’ll do your running for you so you can rest? I know you’re off tonight, but—”

Catching on, Campbell put a quick stop to the idea. “If we fiddle with that schedule one more time, none of us will know who’s on deck when or where. Not to worry. I’d as soon stay busy. Lying there trying to sleep would turn me into an AA candidate.”

Looking as if she wanted to press the issue, Kelsey refocused on the clipboard containing the list of those who had entered the park in the last twenty-four hours, and any notes about unusual conduct. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Maida’s odd departure isn’t listed there because I just didn’t have time last night to include it. My priority was to make the most accurate notes I could in case we need to call in reinforcements,” Campbell said, to get the jump on Kelsey’s next question. The idea of needing the next level of law enforcement made her stomach roll; nevertheless, she calmly indicated the other pad on the desk. “Do me a favor. After you go through the list, add an abbreviated version in the log.” A copy of it would be forwarded to Administration and the other copy would be filed at Cody Security.

“Will do.” Kelsey studied the detailed notes. “How strange…maybe she had a bad reaction to medication.”

“The way she was driving, I could believe it. But then why hasn’t anyone found her?” Campbell collected her things, including her two-way radio that would be dropped off at the office for recharging. “Don’t hesitated to holler if you hear or see anything while I’m up the road.”

“Do you want me to feel out her buddies if they happen to pass by?”

The residents of Maple Trails were guaranteed their privacy, and it was a rule that kept echoing in Campbell’s mind. “Only if they pause while exiting and bring her up first. We don’t want to start a panic, especially when we don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

“True. Okay.”

Kelsey’s gaze dropped momentarily to the gun on Campbell’s hip. Kels was about to take her second-grade qualifications and wouldn’t be eligible to carry a weapon for a while yet. She had recently voiced doubts about wanting to go that far in this field, and the mystery behind Maida’s whereabouts brought the reality of the job into a clearer perspective than ever.

“Be careful.”

With a nod, Campbell headed for Maida’s residence. It didn’t offend her that Kelsey had exposed a hint of reserve or doubt about her as much as the job. They’d only known each other for a year, and she knew true trust took far longer. Besides, rumors remained fluid throughout the grapevine about her much-publicized resignation from the Longview Police Department.

The Jeep’s heater had just begun to thaw her aching body by the time Campbell made it up Dogwood Lane. Parking in front of the ranch-style dwelling, she thought again how much it resembled a smaller version of Cody headquarters, Yancy’s own home. This creamy white-brick rendition was more elegant though, comparable to anything in Dallas’s Highland Park or Houston’s River Oaks. Most of the credit had to go to Maida. Despite her age and the number of trees on the lot, she kept the lawn meticulous, the flower beds free of weeds and debris. She loved puttering in the yard, even through the cold snaps during winter. But this morning a large branch from her favorite pink dogwood dangled like a broken arm. On the lawn lay the culprit—a heftier limb from a towering black oak. It would break Maida’s heart to see such loss.

Strolling up the curved sidewalk, Campbell picked up the newspaper, setting it on the iron-and-redwood bench at the front door. If the Jeremys or the Smarts were watching from their living-room windows across the street, they would observe typical behavior, since she often stopped by Maida’s for a cup of coffee at the end of a shift. But once she glanced around, she concluded that she was the only person up and about this morning, for every house she could see had plastic-wrapped newspapers lying untouched in the yards.

Relieved, she made her way to the back of the house, testing locks and peering into the windows of the garage door to make sure she was also correct about the Pontiac being gone. The rear patio doors had sheers covering them, but the heavier drapes were wide open. That struck her as unusual.

Typical of many in her generation, Maida was always concerned with discretion and safety. “Be paranoid and live another day,” she’d declare in her musical voice, a finger wagging at whomever she felt needed a warning. Why hadn’t Maida closed the drapes last night? Had she been watching the storm from here before rushing from the house? Not likely. The storm had approached from the northwest, which was her front yard.

Glancing down, Campbell saw the shortened broomstick that was lodged in the aluminum track of the sliding glass door—Maida’s economical version of a dead bolt. The woman could spend thousands on a couch no one would ever sit on, but if a piece of wood could offset the expense of a computerized alarm system, she would rush to the discount store and buy out their stock of cheap brooms.

Cupping her hands beside her eyes, Campbell peered inside. No lights had been left on, and overcast skies were slowing dawn. For once, she wished Maida had a dog or cat: a curious, devoted pet that would move the damn sheers so she could get a better view.

With a sigh, she cast a frustrated glance up and down the alley. In keeping with the neighbors’ landscaping decisions, Maida had opted not to close in her yard. That was all right, since she didn’t have to worry about a pet disturbing the neighbors. Also, the Trails’s privacy fence on the far side of the alley blocked intrusion and noise from the farm-to-market road beyond. But it did feel rather bare and lonely this winter day. More leaves and branches littered the alley, but there was no real damage…

Her gaze fell on Liz Junior.

Maida had won the life-size black ceramic cat with violet eyes—à la namesake Elizabeth Taylor—in a bingo game at the recreation center along with its purple ceramic ottoman. It sat at the corner of the patio…or it had. The wind must have knocked the gaudy, but amusing, figurine onto the concrete.

“Now who’s going to help her do the newspaper crossword puzzles?” she murmured to the beheaded figurine.

Wondering what else was going to go wrong today, Campbell reached for her radio and returned to her vehicle.

4

6:27 a.m.

Finding that the Maple Trials administration office was still locked, Campbell continued on to Cody headquarters. This time she beat receptionist-dispatcher Beth Greer, and punched the entry code on the keyboard lock to gain access inside. She found Yancy in the kitchen pouring himself a mug of coffee.

“You want one of these or something stronger?” he asked.

He didn’t so much as glance over his shoulder, but Campbell refused to be impressed, guessing he’d spotted her arrival on one of the outside cameras. Or maybe he’d called Kelsey after she’d left the Trails. What she cared about was whether he’d taken his medicine—and the vitamins she’d bought for him.

She went straight to the refrigerator and helped herself to a Diet Pepsi.

“Poison.”

As he muttered, Yancy lifted and dropped her braid as though it was a door knocker and continued by. It was the only gesture of physical affection she would get from him for a while, a sign of how concerned and upset he’d been over her experiences last night.

“Be glad it’s not chardonnay,” she replied with equal crustiness. But Campbell’s lips twitched as she followed him. For all his insight into what made people tick, he was a big, clumsy lug when it came to personal relationships.

At six-three, and with his steel-gray hair cut in the renowned marine burr, he continued to resemble the toughie she’d always called him, although he was a good twenty-five pounds lighter since the prostate surgery he’d recently undergone. The white shirt and jeans that had become his uniform since establishing Cody Security were still too loose, but he never stopped trying to fool people that he’d gotten back all of his robust energy and gung-ho personality.