Dawn came and when the sun made it above the distant mountain range, it sent golden rays through Marjorie’s bedroom window, random sparkles that bounced from the fast-drying raindrops of the night before. Her momentary waking appreciation of the beauty of the early morning dissipated instantly as she realized she was still alone in bed. Alan Lockem had not returned. It made no sense. Why had he been abducted? She’d sensed a slight reluctance to believe her in the attitude of the city detective. Why was that? Did he know about her past career as a dancer/stripper? Even so, that should make no difference, but she knew it might. She stomped into the shower, determined to carry on. She knew that’s what Alan would want. They’d faced dangerous circumstances in the past, but never something like this. And far from home and a number of supporters.
Almost by rote she dressed. Twice she had to redo her makeup. Finally presentable, she went to the hotel dining room. She had no appetite, but knew that energy and strength of mind needed the fuel that a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs and toast would provide. Finishing with coffee, she stared at her yolk-smeared plate and began once again to process events of the past two days to see if there were any clues that might lead her to Alan’s whereabouts. Disappointment. Her cell phone buzzed quietly.
“Edie, hon,” came her cousin’s voice. “I couldn’t wait any longer. Is there any word? I’m coming down as soon as I get myself together.”
Marjorie frowned, watching the lone waitress serve a man seated at the counter. “Edie, Edie! You don’t have to do this. You have enough to occupy yourself. Go see Sam at the jail. There’s no word on Alan but I trust the sheriff is doing everything he can.”
“Are you sure? We’ve heard a lot of criticism about the local police.” Marjorie looked up to see the subject of their conversation striding into the restaurant. Sheriff Carter looked neat in his well-pressed uniform. The sun sparked off the badge on his chest.
“Not the city police. The county is handling this.”
She watched the sheriff raise a hand in greeting. He paused to say something to the waitress and then continued toward her. Across the room a couple was just settling into their chairs ready to order. The man seated at the counter looked around at the sheriff and stood. He threw some bills on the counter and left by a side door.
Marjorie waved Sheriff Carter to the chair opposite her and terminated the conversation with her cousin.
“I’m sorry I haven’t any good news,” he said. “On the other hand there’s no bad news, either.” The waitress brought the coffee server to their table and poured for the sheriff.
“Excuse me,” said Marjorie. She leaned toward the waitress and murmured, “Do you know the man you served at the counter? The one who just left?” The waitress glanced behind her.
“Geordy? That’s Geordy Lewis. Huh. He didn’t even finish his eggs.”
“What?” said the sheriff when she’d gone.
Marjorie shrugged. “Probably nothing. He was sitting there when I came in and he seemed more than casually interested. He stared at me a little too long. Then he ordered. He was eating when you came in and he seemed to shift, like he was uncomfortable. He left almost immediately.” She reflexively picked up her coffee cup and sipped. The sheriff regarded her with a calm cool gaze for a minute and then plucked his cell phone off his hip.
“Dispatch. Carter here. Put out a pickup for Geordy Lewis. Yeah, that’s the one. He was last seen leaving the restaurant here at this location. About five minutes ago.”
Marjorie raised her eyebrows.
Sheriff Carter closed his phone and said, “You are an observant lady. Right. It may mean nothing at all but it won’t hurt to check. Lewis is known to us. So we’ll see what he has to say.”
The waitress stopped at their table and topped up the sheriff’s cup of coffee. They were silent for a few minutes, each thinking about their day, their information and their hopes for locating Alan Lockem.
“You planning a search today?” Marjorie finally said, looking sadly across the table at her companion.
Carter nodded. “Already underway. We’re sending several cars into the mountains and we’ve alerted the regular patrols to be extra alert. You know as well as I that until we get something solid to go on, there’s not much more we can do.”
She nodded. “I understand and I appreciate you are doing your best. Is there any word from the city police?”
“Actually, that’s why I came by this morning. I was hoping you might have had word from Detective Carlson.”
Marjorie shook her head. “Nothing. I can’t just sit around and stew. That won’t help Alan.” She sighed and stood up from the table, signaling the waitress. “It won’t help Sam or Alan and it won’t do me any good. So, I’m going to the lockup and talk to Sam. Maybe he’ll tell me something that will help.” She turned to the waitress and said, “Put this all on my room account, please.” She nodded once to Sheriff Carter and walked toward the entrance. She could feel the tears starting and she was determined not to cry in front of him, or anybody else. Biting her lip, she stepped into the sun and started the six-block walk to the courthouse.
She turned a corner and walked in the shade of the commercial buildings, occasionally looking around to see if anybody appeared to be paying more than casual attention. It was easy to do because there were few pedestrians on the street and the vehicular traffic was minimal. From behind her she heard the growing wail of a police car siren. With lights flashing, a white county patrol car roared past her in the direction of the courthouse and screeched around the next corner. The siren died as the car disappeared. Marjorie heard other sirens drawing closer from other directions. They all seemed to stop just out of sight around the next corner. When she arrived there and looked down the side street, three county patrol cars blocked traffic and two deputies were standing by their vehicles, hands on their holsters. The third deputy was holding a man over the hood of his car while he secured handcuffs on the subject’s wrists.
At the distance, Marjorie couldn’t be sure but the man in custody appeared dressed in a similar fashion to the man she’d observed at the restaurant counter only minutes earlier. He was hustled into the back seat of a patrol car and the three deputies dispersed. Marjorie considered calling the sheriff but then decided she and the man just arrested were headed to the same place. She could check after she talked with Sam.
At the jail entrance lobby a young female deputy asked to see Marjorie’s identification. Then she looked at a list on a clipboard. “Is there a problem?” Marjorie asked.
“The prisoner you wish to see is on suicide watch. I have to contact my supervisor. Have a seat please.” She pointed Marjorie at a wooden bench beside the main door. It appeared to have suffered some hard use over the years. It had an unusually low back. A long steel pipe had been affixed to the wall with brackets and Marjorie realized it was probably used to restrain and handcuff prisoners at times. The deputy receptionist talked on the phone to someone but she didn’t look at Marjorie.