“Yeah. Thanks.” After my wife’s last two fiascos, he understands my desire to keep his inquiries quiet. “Did any red flags pop out?”
“Nothing yet. The facility opened a few months ago. It’s part of a chain. They’ve targeted ladies from hiking groups and quilting bees. They’re a privately held company, so I can’t see their financials. On the surface, they appear harmless enough.”
“Every place is safe until it’s not.” I ping Lucky, but again, no answer.
Dammit, Gwen’s impulsiveness must end here.
Chapter 3
“A true alpha female leads with her heart and empowers those around her.” — unknown
Gwen
I park my sporty two-door convertible in the empty driveway before taking a deep breath to ease my guilty conscience. Callie and I may have been a smidgeon underhanded, but we both agreed our alpha husbands occasionally require skillful handling.
Umbrella open, I help Abbie from her car seat while keeping one eye across the street. “C’mon hun, time to feed the kitties.”
The scary SUV no longer visible, I hurry us out of the rain to Dolly’s dated kitchen. After the cats have been fed, we lavish attention on them.
A final pat later, my daughter drags her feet at the door. “Buh-bye, kittums.”
Now skipping on the wet sidewalk, she tugs my hand. “Their faces are so sad. I hope Mrs. DeClaire comes back soon.”
“Me too, honey.” Once we’re safe in our warm, dry home, I remember how my ex had kidnapped her last year and tug her to my chest.
Everyone deserves to be noticed. What if Dolly is estranged from her family? Me and Axel might be the only ones who miss her. It’s been two days. Surely, she’s worried about her pets.
As I reheat dinner, the wind howls, rattling the windows. Hurricane Linora was downgraded to a tropical storm, but she can still cause flooding.
Wiping the rain from my glasses, I pick up my ringing cell phone. Although I don’t recognize the caller ID or area code, I answer, hoping it’s a call back from the spa.
“Hello?” I wait for almost five seconds.
As I’m about to hang up, a tenor voice speaks. “Is this Mrs. Guinivere Wulf?”
His grave tone makes me wonder if something happened to Axel. Heart racing, I squeeze my eyes shut to pray.
“Yes…”
“I understand you were calling about a Dolly DeClaire?”
My held breath whooshes from my lungs. I suppose I’ll eventually get used to being married to an FBI agent. Until then, panic attacks may be a way of life.
“Ma'am?” His question brings me back to the present.
Done wool-gathering, I recall the importance of this call. “Correct. I’m her neighbor. I’m… feeding her cats. Is she still there at your facility?”
“According to our program director, she left Sunday night.” He says it so matter-of-factly I almost miss the implications.
Dolly has been missing for two days!
“Did she say anything about where she was going? I’m afraid something might have happened to her.” While I speak, Abbie trots into the kitchen, her brows knitted.
Dammit.I’ve been trying to shield her, and now she’s aware of my concerns.
“No. Sorry.” The man doesn’t sound apologetic at all, but I don’t give a shit. After a b’zillion calls, I am not hanging up until I have more information.
Opening the silverware drawer, I hand three place settings to my daughter, hoping to distract her. “Isn't there anyone else I can talk to? A manager? Perhaps someone at the spa?”
