Those intelligent blue eyes under the curtain of shaggy, genuine blond bangs exhibited some fast calculations. “Long term…oh, hell. You were struck again, weren’t you? Why aren’t you at the hospital? You need X rays, an MRI.”
Aside from being a health nut, twenty-seven-year-old Kels was a quick study. These days, Campbell rated her memory better than her own. Kelsey had also been present during Campbell’s last close encounter with lightning.
“I’ve seen a doctor,” she told her. “Don’t give me that look.”
“Why not? You leaving your post?”
“So I went to Good Shepherd for more than one reason.”
Kelsey narrowed her eyes. “There was a shooting. I was listening on my radio. The victim was just a kid. Wait…you thought it could have been Maida?”
“All I heard was that a white Grand Am was involved. There was no question in my mind but to rush to the hospital to find out more.”
“Stacie,” Kelsey said, thinking out loud. “Stacie…”
“Holms.”
“It drives me nuts to think of kids driving around in that kind of weather, never mind at such an hour.” It was then that Kelsey focused on the tear in Campbell’s slacks. “That bolt really flattened you. It didn’t happen in here on the linoleum, did it?”
“No, and not outside. Well, not here. Some creepy biker dude knocked me over outside Emergency.”
Kelsey looked practically starstruck. “You were run over by a Harley after being struck by lightning?”
“No.” Campbell rocked until she didn’t feel the need to scream. “He just looked the part—I didn’t see any bike. I don’t know who he was other than someone in a hurry.”
Looking somewhat disappointed, Kelsey inspected her from head to foot. “Tell me straight, how bad was the jolt this time?”
How bad…? She thought of the movie Six Degrees of Separation, of astronauts at NASA struggling against Gs…all the comparative situations Campbell’s tired mind could rattle to the surface. “You might say I shook hands with the devil,” she said, massaging the worst area.
Kelsey rose. “This is nuts. Can we shift someone around and I’ll do your running for you so you can rest? I know you’re off tonight, but—”
Catching on, Campbell put a quick stop to the idea. “If we fiddle with that schedule one more time, none of us will know who’s on deck when or where. Not to worry. I’d as soon stay busy. Lying there trying to sleep would turn me into an AA candidate.”
Looking as if she wanted to press the issue, Kelsey refocused on the clipboard containing the list of those who had entered the park in the last twenty-four hours, and any notes about unusual conduct. She opened her mouth to speak.
“Maida’s odd departure isn’t listed there because I just didn’t have time last night to include it. My priority was to make the most accurate notes I could in case we need to call in reinforcements,” Campbell said, to get the jump on Kelsey’s next question. The idea of needing the next level of law enforcement made her stomach roll; nevertheless, she calmly indicated the other pad on the desk. “Do me a favor. After you go through the list, add an abbreviated version in the log.” A copy of it would be forwarded to Administration and the other copy would be filed at Cody Security.
“Will do.” Kelsey studied the detailed notes. “How strange…maybe she had a bad reaction to medication.”
“The way she was driving, I could believe it. But then why hasn’t anyone found her?” Campbell collected her things, including her two-way radio that would be dropped off at the office for recharging. “Don’t hesitated to holler if you hear or see anything while I’m up the road.”
“Do you want me to feel out her buddies if they happen to pass by?”
The residents of Maple Trails were guaranteed their privacy, and it was a rule that kept echoing in Campbell’s mind. “Only if they pause while exiting and bring her up first. We don’t want to start a panic, especially when we don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
“True. Okay.”
Kelsey’s gaze dropped momentarily to the gun on Campbell’s hip. Kels was about to take her second-grade qualifications and wouldn’t be eligible to carry a weapon for a while yet. She had recently voiced doubts about wanting to go that far in this field, and the mystery behind Maida’s whereabouts brought the reality of the job into a clearer perspective than ever.
“Be careful.”
With a nod, Campbell headed for Maida’s residence. It didn’t offend her that Kelsey had exposed a hint of reserve or doubt about her as much as the job. They’d only known each other for a year, and she knew true trust took far longer. Besides, rumors remained fluid throughout the grapevine about her much-publicized resignation from the Longview Police Department.
The Jeep’s heater had just begun to thaw her aching body by the time Campbell made it up Dogwood Lane. Parking in front of the ranch-style dwelling, she thought again how much it resembled a smaller version of Cody headquarters, Yancy’s own home. This creamy white-brick rendition was more elegant though, comparable to anything in Dallas’s Highland Park or Houston’s River Oaks. Most of the credit had to go to Maida. Despite her age and the number of trees on the lot, she kept the lawn meticulous, the flower beds free of weeds and debris. She loved puttering in the yard, even through the cold snaps during winter. But this morning a large branch from her favorite pink dogwood dangled like a broken arm. On the lawn lay the culprit—a heftier limb from a towering black oak. It would break Maida’s heart to see such loss.
Strolling up the curved sidewalk, Campbell picked up the newspaper, setting it on the iron-and-redwood bench at the front door. If the Jeremys or the Smarts were watching from their living-room windows across the street, they would observe typical behavior, since she often stopped by Maida’s for a cup of coffee at the end of a shift. But once she glanced around, she concluded that she was the only person up and about this morning, for every house she could see had plastic-wrapped newspapers lying untouched in the yards.
Relieved, she made her way to the back of the house, testing locks and peering into the windows of the garage door to make sure she was also correct about the Pontiac being gone. The rear patio doors had sheers covering them, but the heavier drapes were wide open. That struck her as unusual.
Typical of many in her generation, Maida was always concerned with discretion and safety. “Be paranoid and live another day,” she’d declare in her musical voice, a finger wagging at whomever she felt needed a warning. Why hadn’t Maida closed the drapes last night? Had she been watching the storm from here before rushing from the house? Not likely. The storm had approached from the northwest, which was her front yard.
Glancing down, Campbell saw the shortened broomstick that was lodged in the aluminum track of the sliding glass door—Maida’s economical version of a dead bolt. The woman could spend thousands on a couch no one would ever sit on, but if a piece of wood could offset the expense of a computerized alarm system, she would rush to the discount store and buy out their stock of cheap brooms.
Cupping her hands beside her eyes, Campbell peered inside. No lights had been left on, and overcast skies were
