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Dottie tossed and turned in her bed. She’d taken half of her sleeping pill, but for some reason it wasn’t working. Of course, she didn’t believe in that herbal stuff anyway. Melatonin was like taking nothing. She really wanted her Ambien back, but her doc wouldn’t prescribe it. She flipped over in the bed and pulled the down comforter over her. It was useless. She couldn’t fall asleep. She’d counted sheep, tried some meditation but nothing worked. Finally, she got out of the bed and sat in her large recliner by the window.
It was a little after one in the morning. Dottie shook her head and cursed softly. She’d be dead if sleep didn’t come soon. She lay back in her recliner and looked at the street below.
There was very little traffic on Monument Avenue that time of night, and the lights from neighboring homes twinkled in the darkness and reflected in the snow. The street lights made the ice on the streets glisten. Snow was piled several feet high on both sides of the avenue, the aftermath of the snowplows that had cleared the roads earlier in the day. She listened intently but didn’t hear anything. Dottie returned to her musings and replayed the tapes in her brain from the previous day, convinced she’d forgotten something important or that there was something she should or could do to help Allison.
She heard the elevator moving slowly to the third floor where Cookie and Henry lived. She listened to the slow drone of the motor as the iron monstrosity climbed. She supposed Cookie was finally going to bed for the night. Dottie’s eyes closed again, heavy with the need for sleep and rest. Finally sleep came, and she slept deeply.
A while later, her eyes popped open. She heard something. She swallowed deeply and looked around her room. She could hear the soft ping of an alarm. There! She heard it again, and she looked quickly around her room for the source of the noise. She knew the sound, but she couldn’t put it into perspective. It wasn’t her cell or, iPad nor was it her alarm clock. She was puzzled as she continued to listen to the soft sound. It seemed to be coming from her highboy. She rose slowly from her recliner and moved as quickly as she could to her tall chest-of- drawers. She opened the top drawer. She saw it and blood rushed to her head and made her dizzy. She clung to the massive chest for support. She stared, mesmerized at the flashing glow of a tiny red light and the origin of a soft sound.
Her heart fluttered in excitement as her soul sprang to life. It was the medical-alert GPS tracker for Allison Massie. Margaret had given it to her last fall when she and Beau had traveled abroad and she had never given it back. Did this mean they could find Allison? Why had the alarm just come on? Dottie was so overcome with excitement, she was dizzy and took deep breaths as she moved back towards her four-poster bed, holding on to the posts as she moved. She eased herself into her recliner and elevated her feet. This meant she could locate Allison, or at least a specific area where Allison was being held. She steadied herself, grabbed her cell phone and called Michaela, who answered her home phone on the first ring. She heard Angel yip in the background.
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong, Dottie,” Mic barked. “Are you okay?”
Dottie was so excited she couldn’t speak.
“I’m gonna call 911 and I’ll be there in a minute. Can you ring for Cookie?” Mic asked. There was silence.
“Dottie, Dottie, speak to me,” she said in short gasps. Mic hadn’t ever realized until recently how much she loved this woman.
“I’m, I’m okay. I think I know where Allison is. I have her GPS unit for her medical alert sensor. It’ll tell us,” Dottie said, a note of pride in her voice.
“Her med-alert has a GPS sensor? Huh?” Michaela’s voice was dubious.
“Yeah, yeah, it does,” Dottie said impatiently. “Margaret and Beau got her the very best system available. The medical alert system has GPS as part of its safety checks. The technology can track where you are at all times that is, if you press the help button on the GPS mobile alert device. I know, I have one.”
Excitement shot through Michaela. “Who takes the calls? Is there an emergency number?”
Dottie turned the device over. “I have to get my glasses. The print’s too small. Hang on.”
Michaela sighed deeply. She put her landline on speakerphone, picked up her cell, and called Slade. He answered quietly, “What’s up, Mic?”
“Where are you?” she asked breathlessly.
“Stakeout at the port.” His voice was soft, his words terse. “We’re getting ready to rock and roll.”
Mic took a deep breath. “Listen, we think we know where Allison is. Dottie has her medical-alert device monitor. The device has GPS tracking, and it’s beeping.”
“Where? I’ll get a unit out there immediately,” Slade said softly, his heart pounding in anticipation. Finally, a break and maybe they weren’t too late.
Mic could hear the veiled excitement in Slade’s voice.
“Just a sec, Dottie’s getting us the number on the back of the monitor. It rings somewhere into an emergency control center.”
Slade could hear Dottie repeat the number to Mic. He committed it to memory.
“Got it, Mic. I’ll follow up and get a couple of units out there. Will call you back,” he promised. “Things are heatin’ up here.”
“Stay safe,” Mic added but Slade had signed off.
Mic returned to her conversation with Dottie. “Okay, I’m gonna wait to hear back from Slade, and then I’m going out there to find her.”
“You and I are going out there to find her,” Dottie retorted crisply. “Don’t think for one small minute that I’m not going to be a part of this.”
Mic rolled her eyes. She could sense the intensity and determination in Dottie’s voice and see the glare in her blue eyes. There was no way she was getting out of taking her, but it was worth a try.
She sighed deeply, “Dottie, for heaven’s sake. It is after one in the morning, and you were exhausted at seven this evening. There is no earthly reason why you should be making this trip.”
The silence was deafening.
“Besides, it’s freezing cold, and the ice is treacherous,” Mic added weakly. “If you slip and fall, you’re a goner.”
“Maybe in your mind I shouldn’t be going, Michaela,” Dottie said in her haughty Countess voice, “but I am... besides, I’ve had two naps,” she snapped crossly.
Mic backed down. “Pick you up in fifteen minutes. Slade or Lt. Stoddard will back us up with a couple of units.”
“I’ll be at the front door,” Dottie promised as she struggled into her long underwear, sweat suit and boots. Adrenalin pumping through her veins was a wonderful thing. She felt thirty-five again.
“If you’re not out front, I’m gonna keep on driving, Dottie,” Mic warned. “We’re not dressin’ for fashion tonight,” she said in a fit of frustration. “I don’t think this is necessary anyway. You should stay at home.”
“I’ll be downstairs,” Dottie repeated as she clicked off.
For half a second, Mic considered calling Cookie and asking her to pull the plug on Dottie’s midnight escapade. But she didn’t have time and Dottie would kill her.