Page 70 of After Midnight

My answer seemed to mollify the girls, at least for the time being, and they both began eating. I figured since they’d seemed to enjoy making the treats, I may as well keep them in the kitchen a while longer. “Now, Miss Rita,” I said, purposefully trying to sound upbeat. “What were the plans for dinner? I know you’d said you prefer cooking, but I brought along a recipe I think the girls could help me with.”

Miss Rita smiled and shook her head. “I had plans to cook pasta, but if you can do me one better, I may just let you have another turn at the stove.”

“In that case, girls, we’re on dinner duty. You finish your treats while I clean up the mess we made, then you can both help me get everything out.”

I found the ingredients we needed for a meal my dads used to make with me when I was little. I made the girls wash their hands after they’d licked the sticky Rice Krispies treats off them, then stationed both at the counter.

I pulled a can of biscuit dough out, and the girls giggled when I opened it to a loud pop that made me jump. “We’re going to make personal pizzas, so you need to spread each of your biscuits out so they’re thin like regular pizza dough.”

Just as the girls and Miss Rita were finishing up that first step, Jeffrey and Ashton joined us in the kitchen.

“You’re all just in time to make your own pizzas,” I said. It looked like Jeffrey was going to argue, but when he saw how happily distracted the girls were, he nodded and saddled up to the counter.

When we were done applying cheese and toppings, I slipped our mini pizzas into the oven and asked the girls to be on pizza watch. They took the task seriously and literally sat in front of the oven, staring at the pizzas through the oven window. I also set a timer, just in case.

With nothing else to do but wait, I pulled the adults into the living room to talk. Ashton said the cops had left about ten minutes ago, and they’d stationed an officer in a parked police vehicle across the street.

“The hostage negotiator is coming. When he gets here, we’re going to make contact using the phone number in the letter.”

“Have they tried tracing it?”

Both Ashton and Jeffrey shrugged. “I’m not sure. We weren’t told a whole lot more than that,” Ashton said. “One of the detectives said they’re walking a tightrope between keeping usinformed and not jeopardizing their investigation, whatever the hell that means.”

“It means I’m still considered a suspect, at least in the back of their minds,” I said on a sigh. “I’ve seen enough crime shows to know they always suspect the partner first, but damn. Margarette couldn’t possibly wear a bigger neon sign that screamssuspect number one.”

“That’s what I keep telling them. No one believes the maid,” Miss Rita scoffed.

“You’re so much more than that, and you know it,” I said. “Besides, you’re hardly a maid these days. I saw how you had the girls vacuuming and dusting the house yesterday.” All three of them chuckled softly at my joke, and the fleeting moment of levity felt good.

The ding of the oven timer signaled dinner was ready, so we all headed back into the kitchen.

The negotiator arrived just as we finished eating.

“Why don’t you all go into the living room to talk while the girls and I clean up?” I suggested, despite wanting to hear everything the man had to say.

The girls kept quiet as the three of us went about clearing plates and setting the kitchen to rights. Olivia had that contemplative look on her face again, so I assumed a question was coming. “Why does the negotiator want to talk to whoever sent the letter?” she asked. “They are bad people.”

I nodded. “They are not nice people, you’re right, but theyarewith Dominic right now. I think the negotiator is going to help us call them to see if we can make a deal for him to come home. The police officers who were here earlier are still out there searching for him, though. It’s still possible they could find him first.”

Olivia listened intently, biting her lip. I expected her to ask another question when she said, “I think I know where he is.”

“Really?” I asked, mostly to placate her. I couldn’t imagine how she would have any idea where a gang of criminals, or whoever the hell Margarette had helping her, would hide out in this city. That’s assuming they were still in the area, but I quickly shut down that train of thought.

“I think he’s at the Can-Can factory.”

Just then, Alli began singing some song about can-can dancing, which made me smile. “So why do you think he’s at the Can-Can Factory?” I asked. But before she could answer, Miss Rita came in and sent the girls upstairs to get ready for bed and the moment was forgotten. I would later regret not hearing her answer.

When the girls were gone, Miss Rita patted me on the back and helped me put the rest of the dishes into the dishwasher.

“I can’t thank you enough for taking on those two girls tonight. I was in such shock after Olivia found the letter, and seeing that dreadful photo. I couldn’t quite get my head together.”

I hadn’t been shown the picture and, to be honest, I’m glad I hadn’t. I wanted to keep my hopes up for myself and the rest of the family. I knew if I saw what they’d described, I’d be just as lost in despair as they’d been when I arrived tonight. “It was my pleasure, but it wasn’t all one-sided. They kept me occupied while you all were managing all the other stuff. So, fill me in on the negotiator.”

“We’ve been instructed to not answer our phones unless an officer is with us, and we’re to report any texts we get from people we don’t know.”

“Isn’t the negotiator going to contact them using the number in the letter?”

She shook her head. “No, they want to wait until tomorrow to see if they can trace the number in the meantime.”

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