Read Online A Plain Disappearance by Amanda Flower - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amanda Flower
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fight that started in the living room and carried on into the kitchen. Becky, apparently, took her first English Christmas seriously.
Becky’s favorite part about the house’s kitchen was Mrs. Quills’ television. When awake, she rarely left the kitchen. My cat Gigabyte was a big fan of the kitchen too, as he got the scraps from Becky’s experiments. Over the last two weeks, as Becky collected recipes for the party, Food Network played 24/7 in our house. If I saw one more episode about how to make a yule log, I thought I might scream.
To Becky’s delight, Young’s Family Kitchen and its shops were closed both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, so Becky was home with her best friend Paula Deen and Company while I hid in my office. Our party—really Becky’s party because I had done little more for it than vacuum the carpet and clean the bathrooms—would be Christmas night. During the day Becky and I would be at her parents’ home.
The only damper on the party was that the Troyers were not coming. Becky wanted her family there, but it was not the Amish way to participate in such an extravagant gathering.
As I checked my e-mail, my thoughts wandered back to Billy. Timothy said in the mobile home that it looked like he had been gone for a few days. He could be on the other side of the world by now. Did Chief Rose check flights out of Columbus for Billy’s name? Was one of his automobiles missing? Did he drive out of Knox County? I made a mental note to ask the chief these questions, but it was likely she had already thought about all of this and would find my inquiries annoying. She wanted me to concentrate on the Amish, so questions about Billy’s car would not be fulfilling my assignment. I turned off the computer and grabbed my coat. As much as I dreaded it, I knew I should return home and offer Becky what little help I could to prepare for the party.
Outside it was snowing again, and even though I had only been on campus for two hours, my Bug was buried under a couple inches of white powder. My only consolation? The weather was even worse back in Cleveland, as clouds full to bursting with lake effect snow blew off of Lake Erie.
I popped the trunk with my key fob and retrieved a window scraper, covering myself with snow in the process. I started in the back and began to wipe away snow, then moved around to the passenger side and ran the brush end across the window. As I did, a face stared back at me through the window.
I dropped the scraper and screamed.
The passenger door opened and Curt Fanning—the man who had harassed me since the day I arrived in Knox County and who I had hoped to never see again—stepped out of the car. I scooped my scraper off the ground and held it in front of me like a saber. I shot a look around campus in search of someone, anyone. Where was college security when you needed them?
A lazy grin spread across Curt’s thin face as he leaned back against my car. “There you are, Red. I nearly froze my keister off waiting for you to show up.”
“What do you want?” My hand began to ache from holding the scraper so tightly, but I didn’t loosen my grip.
He ran his hand along his jawline and across his bedraggled goatee. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
Curt was certainly not an old friend of mine. When I first moved to Appleseed Creek he harassed both Becky and me and even threatened to kill us both “to teach us a lesson.”
I waved the scraper in the air to show I meant business. “I don’t have time for this, Curt. Get away from my car.”
“Or what? You’ll call your Amish boyfriend to come beat me up? Sorry, sweetie, the Amish won’t fight for you.” He smirked, and drew closer to me. “Like I would.”
With my free hand, I reached into my purse for my phone.
He held up his hand. “There’s no reason to call that lady cop. It’s Christmas Eve, and I think both she and I would have a better holiday if we didn’t cross paths.”
“Then move away
Becky’s favorite part about the house’s kitchen was Mrs. Quills’ television. When awake, she rarely left the kitchen. My cat Gigabyte was a big fan of the kitchen too, as he got the scraps from Becky’s experiments. Over the last two weeks, as Becky collected recipes for the party, Food Network played 24/7 in our house. If I saw one more episode about how to make a yule log, I thought I might scream.
To Becky’s delight, Young’s Family Kitchen and its shops were closed both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, so Becky was home with her best friend Paula Deen and Company while I hid in my office. Our party—really Becky’s party because I had done little more for it than vacuum the carpet and clean the bathrooms—would be Christmas night. During the day Becky and I would be at her parents’ home.
The only damper on the party was that the Troyers were not coming. Becky wanted her family there, but it was not the Amish way to participate in such an extravagant gathering.
As I checked my e-mail, my thoughts wandered back to Billy. Timothy said in the mobile home that it looked like he had been gone for a few days. He could be on the other side of the world by now. Did Chief Rose check flights out of Columbus for Billy’s name? Was one of his automobiles missing? Did he drive out of Knox County? I made a mental note to ask the chief these questions, but it was likely she had already thought about all of this and would find my inquiries annoying. She wanted me to concentrate on the Amish, so questions about Billy’s car would not be fulfilling my assignment. I turned off the computer and grabbed my coat. As much as I dreaded it, I knew I should return home and offer Becky what little help I could to prepare for the party.
Outside it was snowing again, and even though I had only been on campus for two hours, my Bug was buried under a couple inches of white powder. My only consolation? The weather was even worse back in Cleveland, as clouds full to bursting with lake effect snow blew off of Lake Erie.
I popped the trunk with my key fob and retrieved a window scraper, covering myself with snow in the process. I started in the back and began to wipe away snow, then moved around to the passenger side and ran the brush end across the window. As I did, a face stared back at me through the window.
I dropped the scraper and screamed.
The passenger door opened and Curt Fanning—the man who had harassed me since the day I arrived in Knox County and who I had hoped to never see again—stepped out of the car. I scooped my scraper off the ground and held it in front of me like a saber. I shot a look around campus in search of someone, anyone. Where was college security when you needed them?
A lazy grin spread across Curt’s thin face as he leaned back against my car. “There you are, Red. I nearly froze my keister off waiting for you to show up.”
“What do you want?” My hand began to ache from holding the scraper so tightly, but I didn’t loosen my grip.
He ran his hand along his jawline and across his bedraggled goatee. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
Curt was certainly not an old friend of mine. When I first moved to Appleseed Creek he harassed both Becky and me and even threatened to kill us both “to teach us a lesson.”
I waved the scraper in the air to show I meant business. “I don’t have time for this, Curt. Get away from my car.”
“Or what? You’ll call your Amish boyfriend to come beat me up? Sorry, sweetie, the Amish won’t fight for you.” He smirked, and drew closer to me. “Like I would.”
With my free hand, I reached into my purse for my phone.
He held up his hand. “There’s no reason to call that lady cop. It’s Christmas Eve, and I think both she and I would have a better holiday if we didn’t cross paths.”
“Then move away
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