you knew a twister was headed here, wouldn’t you call me to make sure I was secure?” Yancy asked. “And wouldn’t you check with me directly afterward to see if I needed anything?”
“Stop with the fairy tales—we aren’t a good example for any of this. What’s more, Maida thinks her daughter-in-law Patsy is more attracted to Dwayne’s pension fund than she is to Dwayne and she’s disgusted that he can’t see that. This is a dysfunctional iceberg, Dad.” Campbell paused as she saw a familiar bronze compact pull in. “Kelsey is here. Have you updated her about this?”
“No. I thought you’d prefer to do that. I didn’t want to risk getting any facts wrong or anything.”
Campbell couldn’t completely repress her annoyance. It wasn’t facts he was concerned about. After all, she’d been careful to be explicit as she detailed information to him. He was, she suspected, continuing to believe she was overreacting. Now she had to update Kels without putting Yancy in a bad light, because a junior partner didn’t challenge the senior one in front of staff, no matter how badly he had stumbled.
“Fine,” she replied. “Just FYI…I’m leaving a set of the notes I made, so all staff will have firsthand data to work from.”
“I’d like to see them first.”
“You’ve heard me over the phone. There are no surprises. Everyone needs to be on the same page—and fast,” she added.
“You’ll bring the original for me to review?” he asked, the command clear.
“After I go over and recheck Dogwood Lane.”
“You said Ike’s been there twice since the storm. Both times he’s reported the same thing—the garage is empty. Besides, you’d have been the first person to see her if she came back,” Yancy said.
“That doesn’t mean there isn’t something of value to note, something that might give us a clue as to what sent her charging out of here. It was dark the last time he checked around the house.”
“It still will be for a while yet. Dyle or Travis should be driving up at any second. Have one of them inspect the house as soon as they check in.”
“They’ll have plenty to do closing off areas around the marina that suffered wind damage, and then checking the vacant homes on the east rim of the lake, which Ike says appears to have taken the brunt of the storm. Besides, one of Maida’s neighbors might be outside inspecting their property. You know they’re more likely to talk to me about her than anyone else.”
“Yeah, but you’re hurting,” her father said again. “Kelsey may not hear it in your voice, but I do. Let Ike go as soon as the others relieve him. You can tell him particular places to check.”
What was draining her faster was convincing her father that she knew how to do her job. “The guys are already on the clock and Ike left the premises five minutes ago. He’s beat, too, Yancy. In any case, I have to stick around. No one has arrived at the administration office yet, and you know they aren’t likely to before 7:30.”
“You can’t sit there half the morning waiting on them. Besides, you and I need to talk first.”
“Administration deserves to know something could be wrong.”
“Damn, Belle, what are you trying to do, send me back to the hospital? Slow down. Maida Livingstone is downright obdurate about people invading her privacy.”
“I’ve had nothing but time to sit here contemplating worse-case scenarios. We don’t want Bryce Tyndell undermining us with the Residents’ Committee and suggesting that we kept things secret due to misconduct or neglect.”
“That tight-collared prick would do it, too,” Yancy muttered. “How he’s managed to keep his job as operations manager for this long, I don’t know.”
Campbell could visualize Yancy’s sun-bronzed face hardening into a craggy mask. Bryce remained a chink in Cody’s well-oiled machine and she saw no sense in rehashing what wasn’t going to change, at least not today.
With her characteristic burst of energy, Kelsey Mc-Graw swept into the small building swinging her knapsack routinely full of bottled water and assorted veggie or fruit munchies. During her last physical, the ex-lifeguard, former Miss Galveston had learned she was borderline diabetic and had announced she wasn’t succumbing to pills or injections.
This morning her focus was all on Campbell. One look at Campbell’s coloring and overall condition and she demanded, “What’s wrong?”
“Hear that?” Campbell said into the phone. “Kels just walked in. I’ll see you as soon as I’m through.”
“All right. But under no circumstances do you use your key over at the house, understood? I don’t care what understanding you have with Maida. You don’t have it in writing, you protect your—our asses.”
She rolled her eyes as she caught Kelsey’s questioning glance. “I know the drill. Unless we spot Maida through a window bleeding or otherwise in distress, we need authorized personnel—namely Bryce Tyndell or a member of the Gregg County Sheriff’s Department—to give us permission to enter her residence.”
As soon as Campbell hung up, Kelsey stopped putting away her supplies and faced her. “What’s up with Maida that has you and Boss One all tied in knots?”
Campbell took a moment to get her breathing back under control. One of the problems she was experiencing as a result of the lightning strike was muscle and nerve pain. The more agitated she became, the worse the throbbing became down her left side.
“She went off in a crazed rush during the storm last night.”
“Madam Livingstone on Dogwood, who’s been warned how many times about speeding on the grounds?”
“The very one. The same person who happens to hate driving in the rain so much so that she’ll cancel an appointment. It’s her cataracts.”
“Apparently they weren’t bothering her last night.” Blue eyes that usually twinkled with goodwill darkened with concern. “This is for real? It didn’t start raining until almost midnight.”
“And she has yet to return,” Campbell added.
“Huh.” Kelsey stashed her satchel and purse in the file cabinet she used as a locker. “Was she alone?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe not for long,” the model-thin blonde said.
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe she decided to ride out the storm with a gentleman friend.”
Even miserable, Campbell appreciated the idea. “No one would be happier than me if she was rushing to meet some pill-invigorated dish.”
Another wave of gnawing pain struck Campbell, all but stealing her breath. She quickly reached for three more Tylenol, downing them with what was left of her bottled water. One more dose remained in the container and she doubted it would help any more than the others had. Her next choice would be Scotch—at Yancy’s where she could crash in the spare bedroom. This would be her smartest move if she
