She bent her head to listen. “Police?”
I nodded. Their voices grew loud enough so that we could hear clearly.
“It’s in her best interests to speak to me now,” Norma said. “We need to know what she knows.”
“They won’t let her back here, will they?” Mira whispered. She looked terrified.
“Of course not,” I answered. “Not until you’re ready.”
We listened to their argument. Norma wasn’t backing down. “Tomorrow morning is too late.”
“Lani.” Piper was using her firm voice. “Mira needs to speak to the police.”
I winced, turning to look at Mira.
She was gone.
Chapter 4
Norma was not happy to see me hiding in the kitchen, especially without Mira. After a quick search, it was clear that Norma’s target had grabbed her backpack and exited via the guest room window. We all searched the neighborhood but Mira was nowhere to be found.
Worse, she’d left behind her phone, tossed on the bed like a message. But what did it mean?
“Can you tell me why you’re so interested in Mira?” Lani asked Norma as we all joined together on the front porch. She put her hand on her chest in a dear-me gesture that I could tell she was faking. “I mean, should we be worried about our safety?”
Norma had to know she was making it up as well, but answered anyway. “A family member seems to believe she had a motive.”
Inside I seethed, knowing immediately it was Sybil. “You mean the same person who viciously slapped Mira across the face yesterday?”
Norma’s jaw tightened. “Do you have something to tell me?”
I told her what happened outside the kitchen, leaving out no details.
“Why didn’t you report it?” she asked.
“Mira asked me not to,” I said. “She believed that once the information in the play was out, they’d have no reason to threaten her.”
She nodded but I could tell she wasn’t happy that we’d kept that from her. “Has Mira mentioned a boyfriend? Her roommate believed she was dating someone.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so, but I doubt she’d discuss that with me.”
Norma closed her notebook. “I advise you to call me if Mira returns.”
“Of course,” Lani said.
I didn’t answer.
* * * *
I drove around, all over Sunnyside, but came home in time to get Elliott off to school. Lani texted me that she and Piper were still searching.
On Tuesdays, I usually woke up very early to make a special line of food for cat owners who had been my earliest customers while Zoey held down the fort at the commercial kitchen. I’d used small jars back then, and this group demanded the same packaging, instead of switching over to my canned products.
Trouble grumbled as if she knew what day of the week it was and was upset that I wasn’t giving her samples. While I’d been gearing up production for the big opening-day celebration at Twomey’s, I’d deliberately pushed new product development to the back burner. Increasing my business had meant letting employees handle cooking, the most important part of all. Somehow becoming “management” made me feel less in control.
My first step was to make a pot of strong coffee, and then I opened up my laptop. I wanted to see what the news was saying about Dennis Franklin’s death. Oh man. The death of the wealthy developer had hit the national news. One website—sandiegounderbelly.com—sounded very inflammatory, with lots of exclamation points and usage of words like “horrific,” “gruesome,” and “heinous.” It claimed that Dennis had been killed on the site of his new development in Sunnyside with a nail gun.
A chill ran down my spine.
None of the other stories mentioned the cause of death. I hoped it wasn’t true. I clicked over to videos from the local station. It was barely light out and they were broadcasting from the street in front of the development site. They seemed to be repeating the same details. That a wealthy philanthropic developer was killed during the evening in a murder that apparently was shaking the community.
It had certainly shaken me.
When I heard my dad moving around upstairs, I stopped the video to get his breakfast ready.
Dad came down and must have noticed how tired I looked. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he sat at the kitchen table.
I handed him his mug. “Take a sip first and I’ll tell you.”
I filled him in on the whole story—Dennis Franklin’s death and Mira’s disappearance act. When I finished, the doorbell rang. Our eyes met and I pushed back from the table, hoping Mira had decided to come here.
Then I heard Trouble growl like a hell-hound and knew it was Charlie, one of Joss’s special Buff Laced Polish chickens that managed to escape his pen regularly. Charlie had been the subject of psychological tests and poked anything that looked like a button. For some reason, our doorbell was his favorite.
Usually I didn’t mind. A visit from this chicken with the fancy feathers on his head meant he had to be returned home, which gave me an excuse to see Joss.
“Dammit,” I said. I waited for my dad to grab Trouble before I opened the front door and saw Charlie.
My dad looked as worried as I felt. “You want me to wake up Elliott while you take Charlie back?”
Trouble squirmed, wanting to attack her arch enemy, but my dad had become an expert at holding the fighting mad cat.
I nodded, wondering if I could take the time to throw on some makeup before seeing Joss. I grabbed a pair of sunglasses instead.
Charlie came along willingly in what had become our normal process—him meandering and pecking at interesting things on the ground and me walking patiently behind him. We headed back toward the farm, me with my homing pigeon. Or homing chicken.
I opened the outside gate and was about to lift him into his pen when I noticed something on the ground. A yellow emoji clip like one that had been on Mira’s backpack. This one had a smiley face with its tongue sticking out.
Could Mira be hiding at Joss’s farm?
Unfortunately, Charlie saw it at the same time I did and we both dove for it. I ended up wrenching it from Charlie’s mouth. After dumping the protesting chicken back in his pen and brushing dirt and I-didn’t-want-to-know-what-else off my knees, I looked around the farm for the most likely place for Mira to be hiding. The chicken coop? One of the barns?
“Hi, Colbie.”
I turned and saw Mira with Joss on the front porch of his house. I let out a huge sigh and rushed up the stairs. “Oh my God,” I said and gave her a hug.
She hugged me back, a testament to her vulnerability. She wasn’t a hugger.
I pulled away. She looked exhausted.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“I found her asleep in the barn,” Joss said. He seemed more curious than upset.
“Do you want to come over and, I don’t know, talk this through?” I asked, feeling like she was a jumpy fawn that could spring away at the slightest provocation.
Her shoulders slumped. “Yeah.” She turned to Joss. “Thanks for the…everything.”