Page 48 of Vanishing Point
“It’s just Lucy and Cooper, ringing the bell.” Laurel watched the screen and Thomas focused on the road, since he was running code. They were maybe fifteen minutes out still.
“She didn’t answer,” Laurel said. She kept her voice perfectly calm, but Thomas knew her well enough to know she wasn’t as breezy about this whole thing as she had been.
Ten minutes speeding up to and then through Bent felt likehourswith this worry making his muscles so tight theyached.
He pulled up to the house with a screech. Lucy was playing with Cooper in the yard, Mr. Marigold was standing on his side of the fence, clearly chatting with her. “Call the postal inspector,” he told Laurel, already out the door and jogging up the walk to his front door.
“Thanks for trying, Lucy,” he offered somewhat half-heartedly. He had his keys out and unlocked the door in record time. “You guys should go home,” he called.
Maybe it was a mistake, maybe it wasn’t dangerous, but it was no place for a kid.
“Vi?” he called out. Too many thoughts assaulted him. Calls he’d answered as a deputy—falls, accidental deaths, natural deaths. Always a family member who’d just…stopped responding.
But she didn’t answer, and as he moved through the house, it was clear she wasn’t in it. She wasn’there.
He forced himself to stop. Breathe. Look around. Was anything out of place?
Not really. It looked exactly like he’d left it. The kitchen was sparkling clean, but she’d no doubt stress-cleaned before the postal inspector had arrived. She’d even put the highchair away so that it looked like a kid didn’t live here.
“Damn it, Vi. Where are you?” he muttered. He went through one more search, ending up right back at the front door.
Which was when he realized Vi’s purse was still on the hook by the door, and when he opened the purse, her phone was in there.
Laurel came to stand in the front door. “I sent Lucy and Cooper home.”
“Good.”
“She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I talked to your neighbor, and he didn’t see anything either. Postal inspector’s phone was off, but I left a message.”
Thomas nodded. “Vi’s stuff is still here,” he said, pointing at the purse.
Laurel eyed it. “Well, maybe—”
“Her phone is still in it.”
Laurel cursed again. “Okay. Let’s look through the house. Not just big things, even the tiniest things. Kitchen’s as clean as I’ve ever seen it.”
“She cleans when she’s stressed,” Thomas muttered. He didn’t want to go through the house again. He wanted to go around in a rage, screaming for her from the rooftops. But Laurel was right. The smart thing to do was to go over the house one more time.
“She must have cleaned before the inspector got here. Everything out here looks pristine.” He took the hallway, pointed into the bathroom. He studied the sink, the shower, the towel hanging on the rack—where he’d put it this morning. “Her stuff is where it usually is. So is mine, and Magnolia’s.” He moved down to the bedroom. Flipped on the light. “Bed’s made—that’s all her. Closet is closed, just like she usually closes it.” He paused, then heard something odd. And saw the curtain flutter.
“Wait.” He strode over to the curtains, jerked them back. The window was open. “I didn’t leave this window open.” He peered out, realized it wasn’t just an open window, the screen had been popped out. And carefully leaned against the side of the house.
He and Laurel swore in unison.
Thomas was about to jump out the window himself, but Laurel grabbed him. “We’ll call in Copeland. Have him bring outthe fingerprint kit. So go around the front. We don’t want to contaminate the scene.”
She had her phone out and was dialing already. “Breathe, Thomas. Breathe,” she said, and then Copeland must have answered, because Laurel started barking orders. She reached out to him, squeezed his arm.
“Any idea what she’s wearing?”
“No. She would have changed for the meeting with the inspector.”
Laurel put her mouth back toward the receiver. “No purse. No phone. We’re going to canvass the neighborhood. You get what you need to print the house, then get out here. Call the postal inspector on your way. As far as we know, she would have been the last one to see Vi.”
Copeland must have agreed, because Laurel ended the phone call, then turned to Thomas. She was calm. She was in control, and it helped him remember he needed to find that calm and cool too.
Maybe it was Vi. Maybe he was terrified, but it was a case like any other.
