His stomach tightened. “When did she leave a message?”
His look grew suddenly wary. “Oh. I figured she might have shared that with you. Actually, I’m not sure I should talk about Pauline’s private business. I told the other man who asked. We try to keep everything professional around here.”
“What other man?”
“Private detective, name of Bruce Gallagher. I told him she was on vacation and he could talk to her when she returned. Figured he was mixed up, looking for another person maybe.”
No, and now Brent knew he was also on the right trail. “I’m worried about my sister. I haven’t heard from her in three weeks. The police are likely going to come and ask you the same questions I am.”
His eyebrows shot up in alarm. “Police? I’m sure she’s just extended her trip. It was supposed to be a few weeks. She promised she’d be back to lead the Christmas excursion to the Del.”
A few more weeks of vacation and she’d show up? Brent couldn’t bring himself to believe it, as much as he wanted to. And if it had been her in the basement, how could she stay on the run for that long? And why?
“Something is wrong, Mr. Carpenter. Please tell me what you know. When did she call?”
He pulled at his mustache. “It was a weekend, around Thanksgiving. She left a phone message that she was planning a trip. It seemed abrupt. Her voice was stuffy, like she had a bad cold. I was surprised she didn’t talk to me face-to-face, but she had plenty of vacation time coming. She promised she’d be back by the Christmas excursion, but I kind of expected her to show up anytime. She’s never been one to stay away from Open Vistas. Always brimming with energy, that girl, and she honestly loves her work here, I’m sure of it. She and Radar are permanent fixtures even when she’s not on duty.”
Brent heard the throb of an approaching car. A squad car pulled onto the main road. Brent had no desire to run into Ridley again.
“Here’s my number,” he said, sliding a card across the counter. “Call me if you think of anything that might help find her, okay?”
“Sure. We all love Pauline. I’m going to pray that nothing has happened to her.”
Wasted effort, Brent thought. Prayers were easily ignored, in his experience. He nodded. “Okay if I look around?”
Kevin handed him a name badge. “Sure, but don’t bother any of our residents. This is their home.”
Brent let himself out and took the nearest path under the spreading pine canopy. Fortunately, Ridley had stopped to answer his phone before going inside the office, so Brent was spared that encounter.
A group of people ranging in age from early twenties to much older sat at a picnic table. A staff member wearing the white Open Vistas T-shirt led them in some sort of book discussion. He walked on to the farthest building in the rear. Wreaths hung on most doors and some had twinkle lights outlining them.
A man with thinning hair and wire-rimmed glasses sat on the porch, examining a calendar. He traced the numbers with a felt tipped pen over and over.
Brent did not want to startle the man, who looked up abruptly from his work. “It’s Thursday, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes,” Brent said. “It’s Thursday.”
The man traced the numbers on his calendar. “Almost Christmas.”
“Oh, yes. That’s right. Are you looking forward to Christmas?”
“I’m going to the Hotel Del.” He blinked, eyes magnified by the thick lenses. “Miss Pauline is taking me. We get hot cocoa and watch the fireworks.”
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