Velocity (Karen Vail #3)(8)

Merilynn swiped a hand across her wet cheeks, balled up her night-gown and used it to blot the tears. Vail and Dixon waited, Vail keeping a hand on Merilynn’s shoulder to support her.

“Ray told us about what happened. With the kidnapping—”

“Is he still alive?” Merilynn asked. “Did the bastard die?”

Dixon and Vail shared a glance. Dixon said, “All we know is that he’s out of surgery.”

Merilynn straightened up. “Then I need to get out of here.”

“‘Get out,’” Dixon said. “What do you mean?”

“He’s going to come after us. He will.”

“Why?” Vail asked.

“We need protection,” Merilynn said. “Or we need to leave.”

“We’ll make sure you’re taken care of. Don’t worry about that. But tell us what happened. When you got kidnapped, what—”

“I think you need to leave us alone right now,” Merilynn said. She clumsily pushed herself up from the floor.

Vail and Dixon rose as well.

“Look,” Vail said, “I know this is a tough time. But we’ve got a lot of unanswered questions, and someone else’s life might depend on those answers.”

“I can’t help you. Sorry.” The dog began barking again.

“A disc,” Vail pressed. “Ray mentioned something about a disc. Do you know what he was talking about?”

Merilynn swung her head toward the yard. The barking continued. “No.” She faced Vail. “I don’t know anything about a disc.”

“But—”

“He’s going to wake the neighbors,” Merilynn said as she hurried out of the room. “Please let yourself out. And lock the door behind you.”



WALKING TOWARD THEIR CAR, Vail said, “Something’s not right. We need to come back. After the initial shock fades. Tomorrow. We have to find out what the hell’s going on. What she knows.”

“Meantime, I’ll have the Sheriff’s Department post a deputy. Until we know what the deal is. For all we know, Mayfield had an accomplice.”

Vail stopped. Her head swung hard to Dixon. “I hadn’t thought of that. I should have, but I didn’t.”

“None of us considered that possibility. We’ve been going almost 24/7 for days. Who had the time to step back and think things through?”

Vail rested her head on the Ford’s doorframe. She was exhausted emotionally and physically drained. Her life the past two months had been bordering on disaster, and she needed a vacation. Badly.

But with Robby missing, she knew a respite to recharge was not going to be coming soon.





6


After the sheriff’s deputy arrived to baby-sit the Lugo household, Dixon headed toward Highway 29, the main drag that worked its way through the various business districts of the Napa Valley. She turned to Vail, who had gone silent. “Let’s swing by the B&B, pick up your clothes, and head over to my place. We’ll get some sleep, eat something, and approach this with a fresh perspective.”

Vail leaned back against the headrest. “Yeah.”

They drove without further discussion until they pulled into the B&B’s small compacted gravel parking lot. Dixon shoved the shift into park and got out.

Vail followed and met her at the door to the room, fifteen feet away. She reached her hand into the front pocket and pulled out the key. Stood there staring at it. “What if we never find him, Roxx? What if Mayfield—”

“Stop,” Dixon said. “We need to keep an open mind; let’s try not to let the negativity creep in. Until we know, it’s all speculation—and that’s not going to find him.” She leaned forward and they embraced.

A long moment later, Vail said, “Thanks, Roxx. I needed that.”

Dixon sniffed back tears. “I needed it, too.”



MORNING CAME and Vail pried open her eyes. She and Dixon had sat on her living room couch and finished a bottle of Peju Cabernet, Dixon lamenting the loss of Eddie Agbayani and Vail . . . trying to be a good friend, listening to the stories of Dixon and Agbayani’s intense but less than smooth relationship.

And trying not to let Robby’s absence consume her. The wine helped with that.

Dixon’s white standard poodle, Margot, lay in her owner’s lap, sensing her emotional void and seeking to fill it as only a dog can do. Her black one, Quinn, stepped gently onto the couch and sidled against Vail’s body.

“They think they’re lap dogs,” Dixon had said as she stroked Margot’s curls of cotton-soft fur.

Vail swallowed a mouthful of Cabernet, set down her glass, and began rubbing Quinn. “But they’re huge.”

“Don’t tell them that. But it’s very comforting. I don’t mind.”

“Apparently they don’t, either.”

Margot remained in Dixon’s lap—Quinn had settled his front legs across Vail’s thighs—until Dixon drained the last drop from the bottle and decided they should try to catch whatever sleep either could get.

Vail lay awake until sometime in the early morning hours. And now Dixon was knocking on her door. “Yeah,” Vail said. She swung her legs off the bed. “I’m here. Sort of. I think.”