Page 9 of Haunted Horror on Halloween

“She didn’t just wander into the woods, believe me.” Dorothy said.

“Nope.” Leona agreed.

“We’re afraid that someone might have forced her into the woods, perhaps just someone delighting in thinking he or she could fool the aged, or . . . we don’t know. But trust me, we believe you. We know many people who have aged with their full faculties, so please, understand. We know that we’re looking for a bright and able woman.”

“Thank you!” Dorothy said.

“Ditto!” Leona added earnestly.

They left the house with Trent following right behind them. “They are for real—they were talking about Sadie when I went in, praying that she’s all right, wondering what else they could do themselves to help find her.”

“And I do believe a woman her age can be as bright as anyone else,” Jackson said.

“So do I,” Angela agreed. “But something else is really bothering me.”

“What’s that?” Jackson asked her.

“The coffee shop,” she told him. “There was just something about that waitress or cashier we were speaking with. I don’t believe she had no peripheral vision at all—the distance down the counter to that hallway just isn’t that far. And, okay! Sadie said she was going for donuts or pastries or whatever. Where else would you walk for coffee and donuts around here? I mean, honestly, I can see how the owner—behind a closed door—didn’t see anything and why he might not pay attention to footsteps or a door opening and closing, but that woman . . . I don’t know, Jackson. There was just something cagey about her.”

“Well, I hate taking more time, but I’m thinking maybe we should go back to the coffee shop and get the video from this morning again to see if Sadie did or didn’t go into the coffee shop. Here’s the picture we have of Sadie and . . .”

“Two women go into a coffee shop and don’t come out,” Angela said. “We can go through all the footage of the front of the place again, but . . .” She paused, studying the picture Jackson was showing her. Sadie McFarlane might be eighty, but she looked great. She hadn’t gotten color-creative with her hair, but it was snow white and nicely coifed in a bun at her nape with a little dangle of bangs on her forehead and on the sides of her face. Her eyes were a bright and beautiful blue; and in the picture, she was wearing a beautiful smile that seemed to take away at least twenty years of her age.

“You would have noticed her in the footage already seen,” Trent noted.

“I believe we would have, but . . .” Angela murmured. “We were looking for Arabella!”

“I’m going to call Bruce and have our techs get on it,” Jackson said. “I want to see the discarded ambulance and the cars. Maybe not so much the ambulance—that was the vehicle stolen just to escape. He ditched it almost immediately. I want to get on the road and then go to the coffee shop again. I’m willing to bet he ditched the last stolen car near the coffee shop.”

“To use to—” Angela began.

“To get there, and from then on, I’m willing to bet that . . . that he went straight into the forest. If so, there’s got to be a trail. We need to get dogs on the job, too, so they can follow whatever trail they might have left behind. K-9s are much better at following scents than we are,” Jackson noted.

“Okay. Either deep, deep into the forest from there, or he went through the forest to get to another car. But if he kidnapped two women, they might not have been so easy to control,” Angela reminded him.

“Drugged,” Jackson said. “We know that Arabella was drugged.”

“True. I want a word with what’s her name—the waitress,” Angela said.

“Definitely! Cagey woman,” Trent noted.

“If we really want to tear that place apart, we’re going to need a warrant,” Angela said.

“And I’m willing to bet we can get one quickly,” Jackson told her. “So, we go. We order coffee for ourselves. We sit and drink it. And we’ll have the warrant!”

“And on the way, we’ll watch for the first abandoned car—maybe the cops have already found those which were reported stolen,” Angela said. “Wait, Jackson!”

“What?”

“Okay, facts. We know that Darrell Manderley escaped. And he likes getting attention and proving how smart he is. Off facts, on to suppositions. I’m willing to bet that he parked a stolen car right in the coffee shop’s lot.”

Jackson studied her, nodding slowly. “And I’m willing to bet you might be right.”

“So—”

“Coffee shop,” Jackson said. He looked at Trent. “And, sir, if you wouldn’t mind . . .”

“I live to serve.” Trent said. “Oh, well, wait, I mean . . .”