In light of what had happened within the last hour, that plan now seemed ancient.
She thought again to the parking garage—could she be mistaken about the driver’s intentions?
Jack sat down next to her. “Sabrina is still not answering her room phone, her own phone, anything. I’ve called the town’s other hotels and the hospital. The front desk has no record of her checking out. She’s just vanished.”
“People don’t just vanish,” Sophie said.
She saw him flinch and wondered what nerve she’d inadvertently touched. “Actually, people do,” he said softly. “At least for a while, sometimes forever.” He seemed to shake off whatever had distressed him and leaned toward her. “Tell me why you stayed down on the bottom level of the garage and what happened between the time I left and returned.”
“You said something about your phone reception and I stopped to dig my phone out of my purse, turn it on and offer it to you,” she began. “Then I became aware that an engine had started and I turned around. A whitish car inched out of its spot, then turned and started my way. I was still standing in the middle of the lane so I moved aside. The driver gunned the engine and the car sped up. I dodged farther right—that’s when I think I lost my shoe, but the car veered, too, so I tried to get behind the support. As I ran, I think my bag slipped down my arm and then the car tore it out of my hand. It made the corner with screeching brakes and shot upward toward you. I thought it might hit you... I just stood there like an idiot, too rattled to move. And then there you were—well, you know the rest.”
“You felt the attack was purposeful?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Did you see the driver?”
“Kind of.”
“Kind of?”
“I think he was about my age. I don’t know—it was a blur.”
“Sophie, think carefully, does anyone know you’re here?”
“In Seaport? No.”
“Think for a little longer. You must have told someone you were coming to the coast.”
“I didn’t even know I was coming until I was practically here.”
“Okay, you said something about your mother guessing where you were and you’ve mentioned a guy named Danny a few times.”
“My mother could have guessed. I don’t know that she did, but she might have.”
“Would she have told Danny?”
“If he asked. But he would never try to run me down.”
“You positive?”
She thought for a second. “Yes. He’s my boyfriend. Sort of. Probably not anymore. He asked me to marry him this morning and I kind of...left. That’s no reason to kill someone.”
“You’d be surprised,” Jack said.
“Come on,” she joked as she resisted the urge to elbow him. “Look at me. I’m not the kind of woman to excite men to grand passion.”
“You underestimate yourself,” he said. “Okay, we’re going to the police.”
“Why would we—”
“Because you look exactly like Sabrina. If someone wasn’t going after you specifically, then it figures they mistook you for her. The next step could be a great big rock falling on your head. Don’t argue with me.”
She broke into laughter. “You know, that whacko might have been after you, not me or Sabrina.”
“He didn’t aim at me,” Jack said softly.
“Oh. Well, since Sabrina is missing, I think going to the police is a reasonable thing to do.”
“So glad you agree,” he said with sarcasm and she laughed again. She never laughed like this. Obviously the day’s events were catching up with her.
They took Jack’s car and within minutes were speaking to an anxious-looking police sergeant who kept glancing at the clock. Jack and Sophie both produced their identification and the sergeant looked it over without much interest until he got to Jack’s PI license. “Just out of curiosity, were you formerly military or civil police?” he asked.
“I was a cop in Los Angeles for seven years before going out on my own,” Jack said.
“I know a guy who did that, too,” the sergeant said as he handed back their papers with a quick peek at the wall clock. “What can I do for you folks?”
Sophie was content to let Jack explain her garage encounter. He didn’t mention that they’d been searching for Sabrina’s vehicle but she figured he’d get around to it eventually.
“Ah, this stuff happens all the time,” Sergeant Jones said with another glance at the time and a general shuffling of papers. When he saw their interest in his obsession with the clock, he smiled. “It’s my tenth anniversary,” he confided. “I completely forgot about it last year, and let me tell you, my friends, that is not a mistake I am ever going to make again. I made a reservation at her favorite restaurant but I keep thinking I should do something else. She’s always complaining about how old her mixer is—”
“Don’t get her an appliance,” Sophie interrupted.
“Really?”
Sophie nodded.
“Buy her flowers,” Jack said, and Sophie looked at him in surprise. He smiled. “Red roses for passion,” he added as he met her gaze.
The sergeant grinned. “Yeah, and I can pick those up at the grocery store on my way home. Now, what was I saying?”
Sophie spoke up. “Jack just told you about the driver who almost—”
“Oh, yeah. I remember. Thing is, some stupid kid gets all excited because he sees a pretty girl and wants to impress her but he’s not nearly as cool as he thinks he is and goes too far.” He glanced at Jack and added, “And you feel protective, of course, because she’s your girl.”
Sophie opened her mouth, but Jack jumped in. “I hope that’s all it is,” he said. “The guy could have killed her, you know.”
Now the policeman glanced at Sophie again. “I wouldn’t worry about this, Ms. Sparrow. You aren’t hurt, right? And without an ID on the car, there’s really not much I can do. I mean, do you have any idea how many newish white sedans are running around in this city?”
Sophie thanked him—for what, exactly? she wondered—and started to stand. That’s when Jack brought up Sabrina and revealed what she thought must be the minimal amount to drive home the fact that the woman felt threatened enough to elicit Jack’s help. “We were searching for her car when the incident with the wild driver occurred. It’s important to remember that Sabrina Cromwell and Sophie Sparrow look very much alike and that Sabrina seems to be missing.”
The sergeant once again checked the clock before stifling a sigh. “Did you find her car?”
“No.”
Sergeant Jones made a few notes. “Do you have her plate number?”
“It’s her husband’s SUV so run Daniel Thorne Cromwell, Astoria, Oregon.”
“Okay,” Jones said as he jotted notes. “We’ll keep our eyes open, but honestly, people like this are usually off looking at the beach or shopping or something. You know this, Mr. Travers, from your own experience both as a policeman and as a detective. Chances are good she’ll show up. She’s an adult, right? No law says she can’t get a wild