While Others Sleep. Helen Myers R.
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correct address, she parked in front of the two-story Tudor, badly designed in gray brick. As she approached the leaded glass and oak front door, she took special note of the teal-colored Ford compact with the battered front end tucked in the upper corner of the driveway. It reminded her of Maida’s concerns about her granddaughter’s poor driving record to date. Right now, though, all she cared about was that the senior Saunderes’s vehicles were still in the two-car garage.
A considerable amount of noise from inside the house reassured her. She rang the front doorbell, waited a good half a minute and rang again.
Suddenly she saw blurred movement beyond the thick glass, then the door swung open and Dwayne Saunders scowled at her. He was dressed in the uniform of an executive—starched white shirt, red tie, soft-leather gray loafers and belted gray slacks that did little to conceal a slight paunch momentarily sucked in. Campbell allowed that he cleaned up well. She was less impressed with his puffy face and unhealthy coloring.
“Yes?” he demanded.
Amazons weren’t his type; she could see it by the stiffness entering his features as he registered her uniform and that they stood eye to eye. In turn she schooled her expression into what she hoped was something less icy than her usual countenance of late. Maybe he remembered her from Maida’s last birthday party—or maybe not, since he’d behaved like a petulant teenager dragged to a family event against his will. She had not forgotten that sullen mouth and close-set eyes.
“Sorry to intrude, Mr. Saunders, but I’m—”
“Yes, yes. I remember.”
“Good. I need to ask you about your mother.”
“What? Why? Is she sick?”
“I hope not, sir. We’re being thorough, nonetheless. Are you aware that she left the estate late last night in a rush and hasn’t returned?”
“My mother? She never drives after dark. She has night blindness.”
Jerk, she thought. He clearly had forgotten about the cataracts. “I witnessed it myself, sir. And although it was quite stormy—”
He shook his head and began shifting, ready to close the door. “It didn’t get bad until late, what…midnight? She would have been asleep for hours. You must be mistaken.”
Campbell softened her tone. “There’s nothing wrong with my vision, Mr. Saunders. Have you been in touch with your mother?”
Before he could answer, a svelte blonde dressed in chilled-peach satin appeared at his side followed by a waft of Organza perfume. “What’s going on, Dwayne? You promised you’d take Debra and Marc to school so I can make my hair appointment. They have to leave. Now.”
“I said I’d do it, Patsy.”
Campbell pretended not to notice the rising notch of tension in his voice. “Hello again, Mrs. Saunders. I’m Campbell Cody with Cody Security. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but we’re concerned about Maida.”
Despite the early hour, the woman looked fresh and fashionable even in a house robe. In contrast, Campbell was never more aware of her appearance—stained and torn uniform and frizzing hair. Whatever mascara and lip gloss she’d put on last night had been bitten off or washed away hours ago. Add to that, she was almost half a foot taller than the woman. No amount of slouching would improve that contrast, so she stood tall and let Maida’s son and daughter-in-law think what they would.
“What’s she done now?” Blue-eyed Patsy sighed.
Campbell was aware of Dwayne momentarily shutting his eyes.
“I swear, that woman should sell that house once and for all before we all go as loopy as she is.”
“She’s missing, Patsy.”
Bristling at the subtle rebuke from her husband, Patsy directed new disdain at Campbell. “Excuse me? How can she be missing in her own house with security all around her? You mean you’ve lost her.”
“She’s not ours to lose.” Campbell had met her type too often to be annoyed. “She is a free citizen, fully cognizant and deserving the respect due to anyone her age. That said, she left the estate under unusual circumstances last night and hasn’t returned. We’re hoping you might know something about the matter.”
“Unbelievable,” Patsy drawled. “In the same breath you insist she’s of sound mind and then have the gall to admit—”
A sudden crash in the kitchen followed by a pained cry had both husband and wife racing into the interior of the house. Since they didn’t slam the door in her face, Campbell followed.
In the middle of the kitchen, amid shattered glass and splattered orange juice, Debra Saunders, Maida’s seventeen-year-old granddaughter, stood staring at the TV. On the screen was Wanda White of KLTV, the Longview-Tyler station, sharing the overnight tragedy regarding the teenage girl found mortally wounded behind a local restaurant.
“EMTs worked valiantly to save the teenager, but Stacie Holms was pronounced dead shortly after arriving at Good Shepherd Medical Center.”
“Stace.” The word was both an anguished whisper and a protest. Then with a wrenching sob, Debra Saunders covered her face with her hands. “Oh, my God. Oh, no…”
Campbell felt for the teen. She couldn’t forget that she herself had crossed paths with the victim last night at Good Shepherd. A girl who, as luck would have it, had driven the same car Maida did. Was there information here that needed to be reported to the investigating team?
“You’re a good friend of Stacie Holms, Debra?” Campbell asked.
Patsy Saunders spun around. “What do you think you’re doing? You need to leave, Ms.—Officer. This is a family moment.”
“Mrs. Saunders, I’ll make this as brief as possible, but I’d like to ask Debra—”
“Get out!” An adamant Patsy pointed with fierce determination to the door.
Knowing she was way out on thin ice jurisdiction-wise, Campbell held up her hands and obeyed, with a veneer of calm that vanished once she was back in the car.
“Dammit!” She struck the steering wheel with the palm of her hand.
She’d had no business trying to quiz the kid. Not only was she overreaching her authority, she was jeopardizing any form of cooperation with the adults. At this point she doubted Dwayne or Patsy would ever talk to her unless it was to press charges for neglect.
6
8:03 a.m.
“Why didn’t you call?”
Back at the offices, Campbell took her father’s annoyance as the minimum penance due. “I thought what I had to report was better said in person.”
Ushering her in, Yancy shut the door to his office, leaving Beth Greer, his efficient though curious young receptionist-dispatcher to wonder. Normally, he had an open-door policy, unless he was interviewing a prospective client, or was on a conference call, or was lying down when it didn’t pay to fib about his weakened state. This didn’t look like one of those.
“So?”
Campbell eyed the TV remote in his hand. “Have you heard anything more from Maple Trails while I was gone?”
“There’s additional damage to the houses down from the marina. Never mind that, what did the Saunders say? Was the daughter there by chance?”
As he spoke, Yancy aimed the remote at the unit behind his desk. When Campbell saw the screen go blue and read Video, she understood. He’d seen the news, too.
“Debra, yes. She was watching TV in the kitchen. She took the news hard.”
“Figures. There may be about twenty-five hundred students at the high school this year, but I reckon, by