Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
“Can we do this as a zoom meeting?” Mrs. M.’s voice asked. “I’d so much rather do this face-to-face.
“Absolutely, Mrs. M.,” Danni assured her. “Hang on and I’ll set it up for us so I can use my laptop. I didn’t know you were familiar with this kind of technology.”
“When you have grandkids, you learn to keep up,” Mrs. M. declared. “Send met the link.”
“Mrs. M?” Patrick asked.
Danni smiled. “You’ll see.”
A moment later the image of a slender, youthful woman with silver hair flashed on Danni’s laptop screen. “Danni, I hate to bother you,” she began. “I know you’re busy–”
“Don’t be silly, Mrs. M.,” Danni chided. “I’m never too busy to talk to you.” Heart pumping with anticipation, she pulled her chair closer to the desk. “Have you heard anything about Sara? Heard from her?”
“Don’t I wish,” the woman sighed, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “But I thought you might want to know that Mr. Turner fired me late yesterday.”
“Good heavens, why?” Danni stared at her friend in disbelief. “What reason did he give?”
“He says if I’d been at home to meet Sara when she got off the bus that day, no one would have taken her,” Mrs. M.’s voice tremored with anger. “That this is all my fault.”
“But that’s crazy!” Danni insisted. “You told him you were caught in that traffic snarl, didn’t you? A ginormous Second Harvest Food Truck turned over and you were stuck for over an hour.”
“That’s right.” The older woman choked. I told Mr. Turner that but it didn’t matter. He said if I’d been home, this never would have happened.”
“Can I get an introduction here?” Patrick cut in. “I might have a question or two I’d like to ask this lovely lady.”
“Sorry,” Danni apologized. “Fiona McGillicuddy, this is my friend, Patrick Danton, who’s going to help us find Sara. Patrick, this is Mrs. Fiona McGillicuddy, aka Mrs. M.”
“I’m happy to meet you, ma’am,” Patrick said. “Why Mrs. M? Does Sara call you that?”
“She does.” Mrs. M. managed a smile. “She was four when I started working for her grandfather and she couldn’t get her tongue around a mouthful of a name like McGillicuddy, so I became Mrs. M.”
“Mrs. M always meets Sara at the school bus stop,” Danni explained. “And then they walk back to the house to have tea.”
“She’s getting very good at making scones and cream puffs,” Mrs. M. said proudly. “And she never complains about the washing up.”
“Sounds like my kind of young lady,” Patrick praised. “And that you take very good care of Sara, Mrs.
His kindness broke any reserve she had left, and Mrs. M. began to cry. Frustration curled Danni’s fingers into fists as she watched the woman fight to gain control of herself. Patrick’s hand on Danni’s shoulder brought a measure of comfort and her heart’s rapid pace began to slow into a steady rhythm.
“It’s his fault,” Mrs. M. finally huffed, wiping her face with a quickly produced handkerchief. “If Mr. High-and-Mighty-Turner had let Sara have a phone, she could have called for help.”
“Not to support him, but a lot of parents and guardians don’t let kids as young as eleven have phones,” Patrick pointed out, and Danni was pleased he’d remember ten-year-old Sara’s birthday was coming soon. She would like that.
“Aye, and that’s the irony of it all.” A steely anger replaced Mrs. M.’s sorrow. “That day I was caught in the traffic snarl? I was coming back from buying Sara a phone as an early birthday present.”
“Oh, dear,” Danni propped her elbows on the desk and rested her chin in her hands. “Really?”
“I had it set up with passwords and all the blocks in place so she wouldn’t go searching places she has no business going. She’s smart, but I’m smarter. Having grandkids, I learned long ago how to do that. They’re always amazed when I find out what they’re up to and confront ‘em with it.”
Patrick’s ringing laugh lightened some of the tension in the room. “Every kid should have a Mrs. M. for a grandmother,” he declared. “I used to think mine could read my mind, so if I even considered doing something wrong, they’d know about it before I tried.”
Their shared laughter brought them another layer of comfort. “There’s something else, Danni,” Mrs. M. said. “I found Sara’s diary about an hour before her granddad sacked me and found something in it that might help.”
“Do you have it?” Danni sat up so quickly her chair wobbled. “The diary, I mean.”
“That I do,” Mrs. M. declared, holding up an old-fashioned diary bound with a metal hasp. “Himself doesn’t know I took it, may not even know she kept one, but since he’s doing precious little to find her, I don’t care. He’s already sacked me.”
“Have you read it?” Patrick asked and Danni heard the eagerness in his voice. He’s excited too. He cares about finding Sara.
“Yes.” Mrs. M.’s raised chin suggested a stubbornness she shared with her charge. “I can take pictures of the pages I thought were most important and send them to your phone and laptop.”
“That would be great!” Excitement flowed through Danni again. “Did she mention anything in particular?”
“She mentioned someone named Silas a lot and calls him the ‘almost Amish boy’ and that she ordered a man’s straw hat from him,” Mrs. M. said. “We’ve started going to The Main Place on weekends and sometimes there would be a vendor family there, wearing old-fashioned clothing. I don’t think they’re Amish, but Sara is crazy for YA books about them, so maybe that’s why she described him that way. They have a booth where they sell lots of different things, including men’s hats. Tomorrow is Friday, so I think he and his family will be there.”
“That’s a good place to start,” Patrick said. “And a very good idea. Thanks, Mrs. M.”
“Did she say anything else?” Danni uttered a hasty silent prayer for more good news. “In her diary, I mean.”
“There are entries with her wondering why her granddad doesn’t love her,” the housekeeper said angrily. “Him with his fancy ideas about getting richer by working all the time, leaving none for her, and her having lost her mother just two years ago. Letting your kids and grandkids know you love them is more important than how much you have in the bank. It’ll tear your heart out to read it.”
“I’m going to tear his out when we find her,” Danni promised. “You can help if you like. What a monster!”
“She’d saved her spending money to buy him that hat for Christmas,” Mrs. M. sniffed. “It favors those you see some Amish and Mennonite men wearing. As if Mr. La-di-da Ed Turner would wear such a thing.”
“We’ll go look for him tomorrow,” Danni said. “Hopefully Silas will be there and remember Sara, but we’ll take a photo just to be sure.”
“I’ll send you some from my phone,” Mrs. M. said. “Maybe one of us together to help Silas remember us and the one of the receipt for the hat. In fact, I’ll send you the entire diary.”
“That’s good,” Danni agreed. But Mrs. M., where are you going to go? You were Sara’s live-in housekeeper.”
“I’m going to spend the holidays between my children and spoil my grandchildren rotten.” A smile lit up Fiona McGillicuddy’s face. “But I can stay in touch if you want.”
“I want,” Danni confirmed. “Anytime you want or need.”
“That I will,” Mrs. M. said. “Lovely to have met you, Lieutenant Danton.”
“Patrick,” the lieutenant replied, inclining his head again. “We’ll let you know what we learn from Silas.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. M. said simply and the screen on Danni’s laptop went dark. She blew out a sigh and then heard Patrick say, “Quite a woman, your Mrs. M. What now?”
“I don’t know,” Danni admitted. “Hopefully this Silas can tell us something.”
“Do you think we should have told Mrs. M. about Mrs. Everett and what she saw?” Patrick asked.
“Only if we could raise the money for her bail,” Danni laughed. “Mrs. M. would tear Mrs. Everett from limb to limb if she knew and claim it was justifiable. We’ll keep it from her for now. We better get back to the meeting.”
But in Stanley’s office, everyone but the editor was gone. “Mac said to tell you they might see you later at the Safehouse,” he announced. “Danni, I want you to write a special article about Sara Turner.”
“Are you sure?” Knees suddenly shaky, Danni half-tumbled into the chair beside his desk. Mrs. M.’s news of Ed sacking her had rattled her more than she realized. Behind her, Patrick was a silent and comforting presence.
Harris nodded. “My granddaughter Marcy goes to church at St. Nicholas. She and Sara made their First Communion there together and play on the same soccer team. Marcy is crazy about Sara.”
“I remember her talking about a friend named Marcy,” Danni admitted. “But I didn’t realize she was your granddaughter.”
“Well, Marcy’s last name is Brooks, my youngest daughter’s oldest daughter,” Stanley explained. “Different last name. Do you know what Marcy told me she wanted for Christmas?”
“No idea,” Danni admitted, trying to recall Sara’s wish list. “But she’s ten, right? A horse? A new phone? Don’t tell me she wants a car.”
“She wants Sara to come home,” Stanley said. He had to clear his throat before saying, “She reads Excelsior every day and read the police report about Sara disappearing. I don’t think a day has passed without her crying about it.”
“Yeah,” Danni choked. “Me too.”
“So, do a story about Sara, but don’t mention you’re her godmother. No sense in giving The Cadre–if it is them– more ammunition than they have. They’ve already tried to kill you twice.”
Danni stared at him, open-mouthed as apprehension did a slow roll through her stomach. “How did you know–”
“About The Cadre?” Stanley’s smile held no trace of humor. “I was with Anne’s case from the beginning and know more than enough about those monsters to last three lifetimes. That they’re probably behind your attacks is a guess. And you did ask me to call Brotherhood Protectors after someone vandalized your car, remember?”
“Yeah,” Danni said, exchanging looks with Patrick. “I’m grateful for your willingness to reach out to them for me. I knew a little about them from Anne, but of course she and Mac just got back from Scotland, so we’ve not had much time to talk about BP, as they call themselves.”
“I was glad to do it,” Stanley told her. “And amazed at how calm you seemed that day. After you left, I asked Miller to keep me informed as much as he could, and he’s told me everything that’s happened since Leo died.”
Recalling everything Mac, Anne and Patrick had told her, Danni asked, “Do you really think it was The Cadre?”
“Not a doubt in my mind,” Stanley declared. “I’d have called Brotherhood Protectors myself if you hadn’t asked me. And The Cadre would probably have guessed you wrote, Where Are the Children? even if it weren’t under your byline. I’m afraid that series has put a target on your back. Do you want to stop writing it?”
Danni raised her chin. “Absolutely not.”
Stanley smiled. “I didn’t think so. Write the piece on Sara and let me see it before we go to press. You’re a damn good writer, Danni, and I’ll bet you’re just as good teaching those skills to your journalism students.”
A wave of affection for this good and brave man threatened to overwhelm Danni. Instead, she simply said, “Just one question. What about Mr. Friedman?”
“I don’t give a tinker’s damn at this point.” Stanley’s scowl would scare anyone, including their august owner. “He’s already annoyed I’m letting you write that series anyway. What’s one more thing. Can you have the article ready in two days?”
“You bet,” Danni said using one of her father’s old phrases.
Her phone buzzed again and, giving her boss an apologetic smile, took it out. One look at the screen sent her heart pounding again as she headed to the hall to accept the call. “Sergeant Miller?”
“Thought you would like to know that Mrs. Fredrick Everett has been hospitalized due to a nervous breakdown and is unavailable for questioning,” Miller drawled. “Her husband took her to a private place in North Carolina early this morning, or so their housekeeper says. She’s not sure when he will be back.”
“Rats,” Danni answered, using the lady-like expression her father taught her to use in public instead of one of the saltier ones she’d picked up at the police station. “I don’t suppose we know where either?”
“Nope,” Miller replied. “Wouldn’t matter even if we did. Captain Haggerty will send someone around in a few days to talk to Everett about what he knew and why he didn’t tell us. Hope it’s me ‘cause I would love to have a man to man with that piece of work.”
“And I’d pay good money to watch that happen,” Danni told him. Under Grant Miller’s cool, unflappable exterior was a temper seldom seen and a determination of steel to seeing his cases through to the end. Her father’s nickname for Miller was ‘The Terrier.’ “Thanks for keeping me in the loop. Talk to you later.”
“Bad news?” Patrick asked as she returned.
“Interesting,” Danni described. “Stanley, I’ll get started on that article later this afternoon and get it to you tonight or sometime tomorrow.”
“That will do,” Stanley agreed. “Call me if you need me. Good to have met you, Patrick.”
Once they were in the lobby, Patrick texted Kristopher to come get them and looked at Danni. “What’s the interesting news?”
She told him and his dark eyebrows drew together. “‘Curiouser and curiouser’”, he announced, quoting Alice in Wonderland. “ How terribly convenient.”
“That’s what Sergeant Miller said,” Danni sighed. “Though I doubt Mrs. Everett would have talked to us again.”
“Probably not,” Patrick agreed. “Ah, there comes our wheels.”
The black-and-white pulled to the curb and they climbed into the back. The scent of olive oil, oregano and rice scented the car’s interior, making Danni’s mouth water. “Oooh,” she sighed. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Lunch from Theo’s Taverna , Knoxville’s finest and most authentic Greek restaurant,” Kristopher announced. “‘Good for body and soul’ as their motto says. I thought you’d be hungry after being gone all morning, and this way we won’t have to clean up the kitchen.”
“A man after my own heart,” Patrick declared. “We’ll bring you up to speed when we get back to the Safehouse. Especially, Danni, about us going to look for Silas ‘the almost Amish boy.’”