1 A Daughter Disappears
“Move out!” Matt Garland hollered. As he said that, a dozen of us
stepped forward. About eight feet apart, the line of volunteers and I edged
down the slope. Marlowe, my devoted miniature pinscher, ran this way and
that as I swung my flashlight to the left and right in front of me.
“Halt!” Matt shouted after we’d spent several minutes systematically
searching the brush on the slope. Most of us had already stopped when we
heard two toots on one of the whistles the search crew had given us. US
Deputy Marshal Austin Jennings, closest to me in line, ran to where Matt was
examining the ground.
I didn’t even try to see what they were looking at. I shivered in the low
predawn light that washed away all color in the sparse winter brush and
woods. It’s as if we’d stepped into an old black-and-white movie. A surreal
one, given that we were here searching for a prominent local vintner’s
missing fourteen-year-old girl. Josefina Figueroa’s disappearance was even
more bizarre because she wasn’t their first daughter to disappear.
“We’re on the right track,” Austin said when he returned. The dishy
lawman embraced me wearing his white Stetson and a smile. The chill
immediately fled, replaced by the warmth I felt for the man I’d met a little
over a year ago. The attraction between us had been instant, although the
circumstances weren’t conducive to romance. At the time, someone was
trying to shoot me.
In the first few weeks after meeting Austin, I’d worried about falling for
him too quickly. Not that it mattered since “the heart wants what the heart
wants,” as Emily Dickenson proclaimed long ago. Fortunately for me, Austin
had proven to be a fantastic person in the following months—sweet,
courageous, funny, and incredibly gorgeous. I looked up at him as he held
me close, and my stomach did a little flip-flop.
“What did you find?” I asked.
“A scrap of cloth that matches the description of the shirt Josefina
Figueroa had on before she disappeared last night.”
“I don’t see anything that would explain what she was doing in this area
at night, do you?” I asked.
“If there weren’t a fence at the bottom of this slope, I’d guess that she
was meeting a boy at the road,” Austin replied, peering at the woods. “Matt
says we’ll search that stand of trees next. It would have been easy for
someone to wait for her there without being seen.”
“Fourteen seems young to be sneaking out to meet a boy.” I turned my
flashlight to follow Austin’s gaze. An immense, gnarled, old oak tree
appeared to stare back at me. The twigs at the end of its branches quickly
became claw-like, and I shifted my eyes to the ground directly in front of me.
“Her mother said that, too, but I’m not as sure about that as you two
are. Besides, it would have been cold and dark, so she could have trippedand
fallen, or lost her way no matter why she was out here. Exposure could have
become a problem, too, if her family’s right about how she was dressed.”
“Wouldn’t this go faster with the search-and-rescue dogs?” I was on the
verge of whining even though I was encouraged that the search of this area
had given up a small clue.
“I wasn’t talking about you, rascal,” I told Marlowe as he leaped into
my arms. His little whip of a tail slapped my arm as I spoke to him.
“They’re on the way, sweetheart,” Austin replied. “The sun will be up
soon, and we’ll have many other search options, including a helicopter.
You’re a trooper to get out of a warm bed to help.”
“Is there any news from the crime lab to suggest she was abducted?”
“Not yet, but their team will search the area around her house again
once the sun comes up.” Austin gave me a smooch and patted Marlowe, who
was squirming and pawing at him to get his attention.
A chirp from Matt’s whistle got us to re-form our line in anticipation of
the command to continue, although Austin lingered at my side. With our
flashlight beams shifting side to side almost rhythmically, we’d moved in an
orderly fashion for hours, searching several different locations on the
Figueroa estate. In parts of the estate, there were rocky outcroppings and
wooded patches with nooks and crannies that could have concealed the body
of a teenager. Our current search was proceeding more quickly.
When I was fourteen, my friends and I had spent hours exploring my
Aunt Lettie’s vineyard. We’d become familiar with every inch of the place.
That included plenty of favorite private spots that were perfect hiding places.
“What if Josefina doesn’t want to be found?” I suddenly inquired,
speaking my thoughts aloud. “She might know how to remain hidden or
circle us and return to areas we’ve already searched.”
“Why would she do that?” Austin responded. “If she’s nearby and well
enough to play hide and seek, I don’t understand why she wouldn’t just go
home.”
“I don’t know. Maybe the Figueroas’ daughters get hyper or rebellious
when they become teenagers,” I muttered, sighing, hearing how lame my
explanation sounded.
“Don’t get discouraged. In some ways, NOT finding a body is a good
thing at this point,” Austin added with a beaming smile. He was buoyed by
finding that shred of cloth on a thorny branch of scruffy brush.
“Thanks for the pep talk. Get going, Marshal,” I said, kissing his lips. I
could tell he was itching to rejoin Matt and keep searching where they’d
found the first clue to Josefina’s whereabouts.
When the order came to proceed, Marlowe squirmed to get down. As I
swept the area ahead, I couldn’t stop thinking that the Figueroa family had
already lost one daughter.
Austin hadn’t been involved in the investigation into their older
daughter’s disappearance several years ago. Rikki Havens, Austin’s boss at
the US Marshal’s Office in San Francisco, had her minions review the old
case records for any information that might be relevant to the current
situation. Rikki told Austin that local law enforcement had quickly reached a
dead end in the search for Josefina’s older sister, Maria.
What are the odds of two daughters disappearing from the same
family? I wondered, pondering the possibilities. The slope we were searching
ran down to the road. I shuddered at the thought of a car colliding with the
teen or some creep picking her up.
“I hope Austin and Rikki are at least a little concerned that Maria and
Josefina had a reason to want to leave home. What do you think about that,
Marlowe?” My pooch was used to me talking to him. His vocabulary was
surprisingly large, and he often understood what I was saying. Not right now.
He cocked his head to one side and then to the other.
“Jump!” I commanded, holding both arms out in front of me. Before
letting Marlowe roam, I wanted to inspect the fence separating the road from
the vineyard property. This barricade was formidable in keeping with the
fortress-like nature of the Figueroa Vineyard. It rose above my head and had
spikes at the top. I didn’t see any easy way for Josefina to climb over, under,
or through the narrow openings between the sturdy panels in front of me. It
reminded me of the freeway barriers built in parts of LA intended to protect
homes on the other side from seeing or hearing highway traffic.
“Is a fence like this meant to keep people from getting in or out?” I
mused. Marlowe chuffed in a noncommittal way. “You’re a big help. This
fencing can’t be very old, so maybe it was fueled by the paranoia and terror
at losing Maria. We need to know more about that cold case.”
The local police would be tight-lipped about it. Deputy Dahlia Ahern
and I struggled to stay on friendly terms. She’d welcome Austin and Rikki’s
help, not be happy about it. Austin would share what he could, but I tingled
with the urge to talk to my friends about reconvening our Murder Club and
snooping on our own.
Walking along the fence, I made mental notes about where to start.
Before she died and left her vineyard to me, my Aunt Lettie had a long close
relationship with Colin Brinkley. Judge Brinkley would have some
knowledge of the case.
Judy Tucker, our beloved “house mother” at the Calla Lily B&B, filled
with friends rather than “guests,” was a reliable informant about local events.
Carrie, a friend from LA, had come for a short visit and decided to “linger
among the vines,” as she put it. She’d recently been hired to cover the
Napa/Sonoma crime beat after a stint as a sports reporter in LA. She is a
skilled investigative reporter, and I bet she’d be assigned to cover the story
now that another Figueroa daughter was missing.
“Are you okay?” Austin asked as he rushed toward me. His face was
flushed from the cold air, and there was enough light now that I could see his
breath as he spoke.
“Yes, but I hope we find Josefina for her parents’ sake. They’ll be
devastated. Won’t law enforcement treat them as suspects if a second
daughter disappears?”
“Yes,” Austin replied. “Folks are already getting restless, finding it hard
to believe this is happening again. If they keep grumbling, we may have to
provide security to the Figueroas in case angry villagers decide to take
matters into their own hands.”
“Not being right, how? Could I be right about Josefina having a reason
to run for it?” Austin looked at the ground and shuffled from one foot to
another as if he was keeping something from me. “Oh, stop it,” I said when I
realized he was putting me on. I’d noticed a hint of the Wild West sheriff in
his voice, but it was subtle. “That isn’t anything to joke about, given all this
family has gone through.”
“Dang it, Miss Lily, putting one over on you is getting harder.” There
was nothing subtle in his hokey voice now. I was about to chew him out for
taking advantage of my exhausted brain when he put Marlowe on the ground,
swept me up in his arms, and kissed me. “Last round, darlin’, and then you’re
done. I’ll take you home and tell Judy to ensure you eat and sleep.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I could use some coffee—real coffee.”
“Are you saying the stuff in the big orange jug is worse than what a
rugged lawman like yourself would make in a pot over an open fire? I thought
you old-timey lawmen loved coffee made from beans stored in a satchel on a
sweaty horse.”
“Hey, we’re still awake, aren’t we?” Austin replied. Under less
disturbing circumstances, a big “ye-haw” would have gone along with the
grin on his weary face.
Matt lined us up tighter to move up the slope through a snarl of trees
and brush. As I entered the wooded area, the light from the rising sun was
obscured by the trees. I was carrying Marlowe, who’d refused to leave my
arms when I’d leaned over to put him on the ground.
I couldn’t see the other members of our search party, but I could hear
them as the ground cover crunched and cracked under their footsteps. The
woods were cold and damp, even a little slimy under my feet. The odor of
decaying foliage enveloped me as I trudged deeper into the poorly lit area.
The tallest of the old oaks seemed to rise with their empty branches as if
grasping at the light from the rising sun. Below the tallest trees were smaller
oaks and evergreens surrounded by decades of accumulated debris. Due to
patches of bristly foliage, this area was much harder to explore.
Carrying Marlowe didn’t make it any easier as I did my best to peer
beneath the trees and under every bush for any sign of a missing teenage girl.
I shivered and clutched Marlowe a little tighter. It wasn’t just the cold, damp
air that sent that frisée up my spine. When Austin heard some of the
searchers muttering to each other that something was wrong with the
Figueroa family, what did they mean? Did they suspect a family member
abducted and killed one—or both—of their missing girls?
Suddenly, a huge owl came frantically flying toward us. I jumped at the
sound of its wings flapping and its loud screech.Marlowe struggled to escape
as it passed only a few feet above us. I feared he’d run after the owl, but
Marlowe took off ahead of me when he wrenched free. I ran after him, trying
not to scratch my face on low-hanging branches or trip over those that had
fallen.
“Marlowe, stop! You come back here. Come, Marlowe, come!” I
commanded to no avail. I’d almost caught up with him when a figure
emerged from a thicket of trees nearby. Dressed in a poncho and wearing a
leather cowboy hat, his face was hidden in the shadows.
“Out of my way,” he hissed, crashing into me, spinning me around and
shoving me backward as he fled. I tripped and landed hard on my backside.
I blew my whistle. Crashing sounds came from all around me. Some from the
direction in which the man fled as he ran away. Others came toward me.
Another whistle blasted, followed by a cry from someone saying, “Male on
the run. Heading west!”
“That away,” I yelled when several other search team members reached
me.
“Someone’s already chasing him,” the woman assured me. “I’m Char,
and this is my husband, Perry. Are you okay? Can you get up, or do you need
us to give you a hand?”
“I’m fine,” I said. Then it dawned on me that I’d lost track of Marlowe.
“Marlowe, where are you?” As I called him, I reached behind me to
push myself off the ground. As I sprang from the ground,the owner of a cold
bare foot issued a blood-curdling scream. ...
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Copyright © 2025 All Rights Reserved
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
