MONDAY MORNING
“Mrs. Turnbull, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down and speak more slowly,” Kashi says on the other line. “What’s this about Gretchen Strickland?”
“She was at the wedding. Holly and Robert’s. I saw her. She was waitressing.” I couldn’t sleep last night, thinking about this. At first, I passed off her appearance as a coincidence. Lots of people work catering jobs on the side to pick up extra money, which Gretchen obviously needs. Then, the more I tossed and turned, the more it occurred to me that she would have mentioned this at our meeting.
Unless she’s hiding something, which I’m beginning to think she is.
“What does her waitressing have to do with anything?” Kashi asks.
“Maybe she was the one who let Zeke into the house.”
I can hear Kashi take a sip of something. “Okay. That’s plausible.”
“Which means it wasn’t Erika. But it also means, more importantly, that if she was conspiring with her husband, she might know where Erika is.”
Kashi takes a deep breath. “Mrs. Strickland advises that contact with her husband was limited to telephone conversations about the children. She has a restraining order against him and affirms they have not met in person. Judging from her affidavit attached to that restraining order, I take her statement as credible. There is no evidence Zeke and Gretchen Strickland were physically in the same space at the Barron event, either. MMD Security confirmed that, too.”
This is exasperating. “At least check it out. We’re going on hour sixty of Erika’s disappearance. From everything I’ve read on Google, you can’t last more than three days without water. If Zeke has her tied up like he did Robert and Holly, then her window of survival is closing fast!”
“Like I said, we’ve got all our resources on this case.” Kashi sighs. “When was the last time you slept, Kim? Or ate? Insomnia and calorie deprivation can totally mess with your head. I see it all the time.”
I have to pinch the bridge of my nose to keep the focus on my daughter and not on how much I resent the inefficiency of the police. “All I want for you to do is shake some info out of Gretchen Strickland. Please!”
“I’ll reach out and ask her about the wedding, if that sets your mind at ease,” Kashi says. “Meanwhile, why don’t you call your doctor and get him to prescribe some medication for your nerves. It’ll help.”
Click. That’s it. There goes my last chance. I place my head on the kitchen table, defeated.
“She’s not wrong about food.” Doreen waves a bowl under my nose. “Yum. Yum. Instant oatmeal with apples and cinnamon. Just like grandma used to make, right out of the microwave.”
I push it way gently. “Please, I can’t.”
Doreen places the bowl on my kitchen table and pulls up a chair, leaning in close. “It’s Monday, Kim. You haven’t had anything to eat since Friday night.”
“And I won’t until I find her.” I fold my arms and bury my head in them, exhausted and drained. Text me, Erika, I will my phone that’s always on, always powered up, and always in reach. Call me.
I mentally recite my mantra: Erika is tough. Erika is smart. Erika is a survivor. As long as her body hasn’t been found, there is hope. This is out of my control. Erika is tough. Erika is smart. Erika is a survivor. As long as her body hasn’t been found, there is hope. This is out of my control.
The kitchen door opens and I snap my head up. Erika? But it’s only Tammy, back from the Burlington Marriott. She kicks off her shoes and shrugs off her coat, going directly to the woodstove to warm her hands. She doesn’t say hello.
She didn’t come home last night, having stayed in Burlington in case Holly changed her mind about meeting. Judging from her subdued demeanor, my guess is she didn’t. I’m glad she feels comfortable enough around us to feel welcomed here. I need every ounce of support I can get.
“Car hold up okay?” Doreen asks.
Tammy, lost in thought, takes a beat. “Um yeah. Great. I can see why y’all drive Subarus up here. This funny white stuff came out of the sky and it handled it like a champ.” Her tone is flat. Definitely not her usual upbeat southern lilt. “The press outside are playing games on their phones, which I’m taking to mean there’s nothing new about Erika.”
“Unfortunately, not,” I say. “The cops aren’t taking my concerns about Gretchen seriously.”
“Been there, done that,” Tammy says. “Unholy aggravating.”
“Fresh pot of coffee,” Doreen says, holding up a pot. “Want a cup?”
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks. I’ve had so much coffee, I’ve burned a hole in my stomach.” Tammy sits on the hassock in front of the stove, keeping her back to us, her hands outstretched. “I was sure Haylee was gonna see me, but the producers said no way. Not until the show airs tonight.”
At least you know where she is, I think.
“I’m sorry, Kim.” Tammy turns from the stove appearing as wan and drawn as I feel. “I have been in your situation and it stinks. I wish I had a magic mirror that’d show us where Zeke’s got your daughter hidden. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
“From your lips to God’s ears,” I answer, the clock forever ticking my head. Where are you?
“Hey, Tammy, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.” Doreen brings her own cup of coffee to the couch and takes a seat next to me. “Last fall, was Haylee hanging with a guy with a blond ponytail, stocky, who might have had an affinity for marijuana?”
“Sounds like Kyle. They dated off and on for a couple years. He’s a cook at this barbecue place called the Blind Pig down in Homosassa where Haylee used to bartend. I didn’t care much for the man, what with him being such a pothead. They broke up last winter, before she came up here. Why?”
Doreen and I exchange looks. Doreen winks, signaling for me to let her hit this ball. “I’d like to ask Kyle a question. You don’t have his number, do you?”
“Not on my phone. But he’s probably at the Pig. They do a pretty decent lunch service. He might be working days. If he is, this would be a good time to reach him. Not too busy. I can call him, if you want, since he knows me.”
“Worth a shot.” Doreen Googles the bar on her phone and hands it to Tammy. She doesn’t put it on speaker until Kyle gets on, whereupon she introduces us and explains our situation.
“Saw that on Twitter,” he says. “Been following Haylee pretty regular. Glad to hear she’s okay.”
“Amen to that,” Tammy singsongs. “I wish Kim here has the same good fortune. Her daughter’s been missing since Friday and we’re worried awful sick that the same dude who took the Barrons took her.”
“Whoa. For real?”
“Afraid so. Look, I’m gonna put on my friend, Doreen. She has something to ask you.” She turns it over to Doreen.
“Hi, Kyle. Listen, I work in the town clerk’s office up here in Snowden, Vermont. This might be a long shot, but I wondered if you ever accompanied Haylee to our town when the two of you were dating.”
Tammy widens her eyes. “New one on me.”
Kyle groans. “Uhmm, I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure?” Doreen makes a face. “Like, you don’t remember?”
“Oh, I remember. Just that Haylee made me promise to keep it between us. I hate to go back on my word.”
If my arms could extend down to Homosassa, I would wrap my hands around his throat and make him sing like a canary. Instead, I snatch the phone out of Doreen’s hand. “Excuse me, Kyle, this is Kim Turnbull. I’m the mother of the missing woman and any information, no matter how insignificant, might save her life. This is not the time to be keeping secrets.”
“Why don’t you just ask Haylee?”
“Because the producers of the show she’s on cut off all contact, okay?” Tammy interjects. “Now, I had no idea Haylee came up here last fall. Can you recall why she would have made such a long trip?”
He hesitates and sighs. “There was a guy who came into the bar. He had some connection to where y’all are up there, I forget what. Anyway, he was going on and on about he had this million-dollar property in this Vermont ski town that was stolen from him. He just needed to hire a lawyer or whatever to get it back. Claimed he was gonna sue.”
Holy shit. “Was his name Zeke Strickland?” I blurt.
“I don’t know. Haylee talked to him way more than I did. She came up with this cockamamie scheme to fly up to where you live and personally check out the situation to see if it was true. I guess you guys refused to email records or whatever.”
“That’s right,” pipes up Doreen. “That’s our policy.”
“So what happened?” I ask, on the edge my seat. This feels significant.
“She found what she was looking for. I don’t know what. But I do know it ended our relationship because she called that guy, the one on the show, the one she ended up marrying, you know? Anyway, she told him about the records. He was quite interested. The next I knew, I was history and she was off with him. End of story.”
I’m stunned.
And energized. Holly lied, which, now that I think about, makes sense.
She lies about her name, about how she and Robert met, and I suspect she’s the one spreading lies about Erika online. She’s no innocent victim. At the very least, she’s an accomplice.
Maybe more.
“Well, I’ll be,” Tammy says, shaking her head. “You got an inkling of what scam she was pulling?”
“Yeah, but I ain’t gonna say. Haylee would kill me.”
“Aw, c’mon, Kyle,” Tammy coos. “She dropped you like a cold fish. You don’t owe her doodley-squat. She probably has forgotten all about you by now, seeing as how she’s so rich and famous.”
He thinks about this. “If I had to say, and it’s only a guess: blackmail.”
Tammy clicks off and turns to me, lips pursed so tight, they’re purple. “I’m gonna step outside and have a smoke. Maybe two. And after I get my fix of nicotine, I’m gonna come back in here, Kim, and you, me, and Doreen are gonna hatch a plan. What time is that stupid property rehab show live-streaming?”
“Eight p.m.,” Doreen answers. “Erika sent Kim and me e-vites before she disappeared.”
“Make that three. Haylee may not want to face up to her mother, but I’m her mama and I’m telling you right now, I am so mad at my only child, I could chew nails and spit out tacks.”