of the ride she chewed on her nails without acknowledging that he was in the car with her.
As he pulled up in front of the Dollhouse, she got out of the car. “Thanks for nothing,” she said and slammed the door.
Steve watched her as she disappeared into the restaurant. He’d done what he could for her at this moment in time, and he hoped that by the afternoon Liz Marcoli would reappear with apologies for making Roxy worry, and all would be right in the Marcoli world.
The last thing Steve wanted to work on was a missing-persons case. He tried to avoid those whenever possible. He might be a shameless flirt, but he was a damn good detective, and along with his partners, Frank and Jim, his solve rate was enviable.
But missing-persons cases usually ended badly, or didn’t end at all, leaving questions that would forever remain unanswered, leaving behind broken hearts that couldn’t even begin to go through the healing process until they knew what had happened to their loved ones.
Steve knew all about the lack of closure when a person went missing. He understood the questions that nagged, the gnawing need for answers. He tried not to tap into the well of pain inside himself, preferring to keep up a superficial ladies’ man mask to keep people at bay.
How could he work a missing-persons case when he had one in his own life, one that he’d been working for the past two years and couldn’t solve?
Roxy just might be right—he was probably a better flirt than detective when it came to finding somebody who’d gone missing.
Chapter 2
At precisely five o’clock that evening Roxy changed the open sign to Closed and locked the front door. It had been a busy afternoon that had kept her jumping from one dining room to another to assure that all her customers had what they needed.
Throughout the afternoon, whenever there was a lull in business, Roxy had been on the phone, calling her aunt’s friends, the nearest hospitals and her sisters, but nobody had seen or heard from Liz all day.
After locking the restaurant, she raced up the two sets of stairs that led to her private quarters. The second floor was strictly storage and the top floor was her personal sanctuary, but as she opened the door to the large apartment she knew there would be no peace at the moment.
She called her sisters, Marlene and Sheri, and then grabbed her purse and car keys. Hopefully by the time they all arrived at the Wolf Creek police station, Detective Steve Kincaid would be off duty. Somebody had to take her seriously about Liz’s disappearance, and if he wouldn’t, then she’d find somebody who would. There was no way she intended the night to pass without somebody official out looking for Aunt Liz. She didn’t care about some stupid twenty-four-hour rule.
She had to stay calm. Nobody would take her seriously if she lost it.
To the outside world Liz Marcoli was a pleasant, kind woman who excelled at baking and quilting, but to Roxy she was the person who had made order out of chaos, security out of danger. She had saved Roxy’s life and the lives of her sisters, and now Roxy wouldn’t rest until somebody was doing something to find her.
Where could she be? What could have possibly happened to her? Since the age of seven, a day had never gone by that Roxy hadn’t seen or spoken to her aunt.
She tightened her hands on the steering wheel as she thought of the handsome detective who had been like a chigger under her skin for months.
She didn’t know how any crime got solved with men like him on the job; not that there was that much violent crime in the area. Still, if he investigated as often as he flirted with all the women in town, they would have no unsolved crimes on the books.
The Dollhouse was at the opposite end of town from the police station, but it only took her minutes to get there, for the business district of Main Street was only three blocks long.
She parked in front of the brick building and sat to wait for her sisters to arrive. They would be a force of three, and hopefully somebody would take their concerns seriously.
Lowering her window, she breathed in the late spring air, trying to staunch the panic that threatened to crawl up the back of her throat and release itself in a scream.
She tapped the steering wheel impatiently. Marlene would arrive first. She rented an apartment above a shop that sold antiques, trinkets and souvenirs. She’d moved there almost a year ago after her divorce.
Roxy frowned as she thought of Marlene. She’d left Wolf Creek as a happy bride to move to Pittsburgh with her new husband and had returned home two years later a different woman, not only divorced, but withdrawn and unwilling to talk about the failure of her marriage.
It would take longer for the youngest of the sisters to arrive. Sheri lived farther up the mountain in a small cabin surrounded by thick woods.
Roxy was in the process of tapping the leather right off her steering wheel when Marlene pulled up next to her. She got out of her car and slid into the passenger seat in Roxy’s.
She met Roxy’s gaze, the frantic worry inside Roxy’s stomach reflected in her sister’s blue eyes. “What do you think happened to her?” Marlene asked.
“I don’t have a clue, but I’m not leaving here until we have a full investigation under way to find out where she is,” Roxy said.
The two sat silently as they waited for Sheri. “How’s business?” Roxy finally asked when she could take the silence no longer.
Marlene and Sheri owned a roadside storefront closer to Hershey that specialized in Amish-made furniture, cheeses and fresh-grown fruits and vegetables.
“Getting better every day now that the weather is warming up,” she replied. “Abe and Jennifer are working this evening. Sheri called them in to take over after we found out Aunt Liz was missing.”
Missing.
The word hung in the air, horrifying...heartbreaking. At that moment Sheri’s black pickup pulled into a parking space nearby. The youngest of the three got out and approached them, her shoulder-length chestnut hair shimmering in the sunshine.
When the three women stood side by side, few people realized they were sisters. While they all shared the same mother, they each had different fathers.
Roxy was short and compact, with dark hair and dark eyes. Marlene was a tall blonde with ice-blue eyes, and Sheri liked to refer to herself as an ordinary mutt, with brown hair and whiskey-colored eyes.
Roxy and Marlene got out of Roxy’s car and greeted Sheri, who looked younger than usual with worry darkening her large eyes.
Roxy knew she would be the one to take the lead here. She’d always been the strong one, the big sister who would take care of her younger siblings at any cost.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Roxy said. She wouldn’t be turned away. She refused to be dismissed like she had been that morning by Steve. She wanted boots on the ground and search parties beating the bushes. More than anything, she wanted Aunt Liz to be found safe and sound.
With a deep breath and her sisters following just behind her, Roxy stepped into the police station, where plastic chairs lined a wall and a uniformed officer she didn’t know sat at a desk. A door
