“Okay,” Harriet said and picked up the watch Jorge had laid on the table for communal use. “Let's wait until nine p.m. to make contact. They shouldn't be looking for you to any chores by then.”
Carla looked at her like she had to be kidding.
“You call me so we won't have to worry about the phone ringing on your end when someone else is around,” Harriet went on. “If you can't get through, try again before you go to sleep.”
“And, honey, if it gets to be too much for you over there, you just call and we’ll get you out of there,” Mavis said.
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine now,” Carla said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I just needed some sympathy.”
“I’m going to drive you home,” Jorge insisted. “I need to see how bad the river is. If it was at the bridge when Senor Tom brought our Harriet home, I’m sure its worse now, but I need to see it myself.”
“Thank you for that,” Aunt Beth said. “I don’t like the idea of Carla driving around alone in this weather.”
“I should go back before they notice I’m gone,” Carla said. “Michelle will start screaming for me as soon as she gets hungry.”
“How’s Jorge going to get back here?” Lauren asked.
“Are you afraid
“Aiden will loan me a car,” Jorge said. “Let me get my coat, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Call us as soon as you can safely do it,” Harriet said again.
“Hang in there,” Mavis added. “You did the right thing coming to us.”
Chapter 14
Jorge had not yet returned when the pink Princess phone in the living room started ringing. Lauren and Harriet were straining to read years’-old issues of a quilting magazine Lauren had discovered when she was upstairs getting the phones. The light from one oil lamp and the fireplace were barely adequate to look at the pictures. Reading the articles was out of the question.
“Are you going to answer that?” Lauren asked Harriet.
Harriet gave her an exasperated look as she got up and crossed to the table by the window. Rain was lashing the windowpanes again.
“What’s happened?” she asked when she picked up the phone. “It’s nowhere near nine o’clock.” Something had to be very wrong for Carla to be making contact so soon after she arrived home. “Oh, I’m sorry, Detective Morse, I was expecting a call from Carla…Well, I…not this soon, but later. So I was surprised…I’m sorry, I’m babbling. What can I do for you?” Lauren was gesturing frantically at her. “Excuse me a minute. This thing doesn’t have a speaker option. I’ll tell you what she says after,” she told Lauren, a note of annoyance creeping into her tone.
“Yes, I was at the homeless camp earlier,” she went on.
“Who was there?” Jane Morse asked.
“Joyce Elias, a woman they call Brandy, a stranded trucker couple, and Ronald Bachman said a couple came late and left early. He didn’t seem to know who they were. I guess that isn’t uncommon there.”
“I wish I could interview the truckers. If they could prove they were out of the area on a couple of critical dates, they could be eliminated as suspects.”
“Which dates?” Harriet asked.
“Why?” Morse shot back.
“Just curious,” Harriet said.
Morse recited the three dates.
“I’m sure they wouldn’t be suspects, but Marjory Swain’s family was roaming around town, too. They said they spent the night in their car, so they could have gone to the park to use the facilities at some point, too.”
“I doubt they’re serial killers, but everyone’s a suspect in Duane’s murder until we eliminate them. Why didn’t they go to the shelter at the church?”
“I asked, and they said something about needing privacy.”
“So, they’d rather be killed in a storm?”
“Hey, I’m just the reporter here,” Harriet said.
She heard Morse sigh.
“Some days I’m amazed the human race has survived all these years. Speaking of survival, are you ladies doing okay?”
“We’re fine. My aunt has been through a lot of storms, so we were prepared. And Jorge couldn’t get home, so he’s here cooking for us.”
“Oh, good. I just wish there were some way for me to get there. The Coast Guard said the water is still too rough for us to come by boat, so we’re stuck here going over and over the slim facts we have on the serial killer. At least I brought an applique project with me.”
“I’d be happy to talk to the folks at the camp for you,” Harriet offered, “if that would help.”
“Let’s leave the police work to the professionals. You just make sure your aunt and the rest of the Loose Threads are okay. I’ll try to check in with you all again if this continues. On this end, they’re saying it’s going to be days before they can clear the slide. The news said they’re looking for a break in the power transmission lines, but it’s somewhere in the forest and the going is slow.”
“We appreciate the contact with the outside world,” Harriet said.
They chatted for another few moments then said goodbye.
“Okay, what was that all about?” Lauren demanded.
“Let’s get Aunt Beth and Mavis so I don’t have to say this all twice,” she said.
“Get us for what?” Aunt Beth asked as she and Mavis came in from the studio.
“We thought we heard the phone,” Mavis added. “You heard correct,” Lauren said. “Detective Morse just called, and sometime in the next decade, Harriet is going to tell us about it.”
“Morse is still stuck on the other side of the slide along with the other Foggy Point detectives. Apparently, Officer Nguyen reached her on his satellite phone after we saw him. By the time he got done doing whatever she told him to do to secure the office, he couldn’t get back over the bridge, so he’s holed up in the upstairs of the building. One of the other officers came in while he was there, so there are now two of them trapped there. She says the office is current on all its disaster planning, so they have food and water available.”
Harriet went back to her chair by the fire. Lauren sat on the stool she had pulled as close to the heat as she could stand.
“She said she got hold of that skinny blond officer we met that one time, but she had a tree fall on her house and her leg. Apparently, there’s a doctor on her street who was able to put a splint on her leg, which is broken, but she can’t do anything but sit with it elevated.”
“And?” Lauren prompted. “Get to the punch line.”
Harriet started to say something, but Aunt Beth put a hand on her arm, silencing her. She took a deep breath.
“The upshot is, the only officers Morse can get hold of are out of commission. She asked a lot of questions about what Tom and I saw at the homeless camp. I think her concern, along with the task force group she is with, is that the highway serial killer is trapped here with us. All indications are that the killer-or killers-drives a semi.”
“Oh, honey, don’t tell me she wants you to get involved in
“No, not exactly,” Harriet said choosing her words carefully to avoid having to tell an outright lie. “I could tell she was reluctant to ask us to go anywhere near the homeless camp…” That part was true, Harriet thought. “…but she can’t raise anyone else.”
“What does she want us to do?” Lauren asked, leaning toward her.
“She wants to know where the truck-driving couple was on three dates-the last week of August, September seventeenth and Halloween. If they were any distance from Highway One-oh-one or Interstate Five then they can’t be the serial killers Morse and company are looking for.”
