Sorrow Road (Bell Elkins #5) - Julia Keller Page 0,52

holding her own. Chances are, she’ll make a full recovery.”

I have to remember, Bell thought. I have to remember that happy endings do exist. It’s easy to forget. Because I’ve seen so few of them lately.

* * *

By seven p.m. Bell was thinking not about crime and punishment, but about spaghetti and meatballs. She had promised to make dinner for her and Carla. So she stopped at Lymon’s Market on her way home to pick up the ground beef and the tomato sauce and the spices. Her intention had been to leave the courthouse much earlier—but that was always her intention, and it was usually an unfulfilled one.

Lymon’s parking lot was almost empty. When Bell opened the door of her Explorer, a freezing wind fought her for control of the handle. Twice she skidded on the icy pavement, barely catching herself before she ended up flat on her ass. Opal Lymon constantly harangued her staff to keep this lot cleared and well-salted, but even when they did, once the sun went down and the temperature dropped, the melty runoff from a day’s worth of parked cars froze into a dangerous black glaze. Moreover, snow had started again, a thick continuous shimmer of flakes that rapidly stacked up. By the time she reached the front door and watched it slide open automatically, Bell’s hair was wet.

God, she thought. I hate winter.

It was nearly closing time, so she had to be quick about her business. She’d just put a jar of Ragu into her cart when her cell rang. She made a quick bet with herself that it was Carla. What else would her daughter be reminding her to pick up at the market? Of course: Cap’n Crunch. Carla had been disappointed to discover that, once she’d moved out four years ago, her mother did not still keep multiple boxes in stock in the pantry.

“Hey,” Bell said. She jammed the phone between her ear and an upraised shoulder. She needed to keep shopping while she chatted.

“Boss.” It definitely wasn’t Carla. “I’m over at my grandmother’s house. Grandma Lovejoy.”

“Hi, Rhonda.” Bell was holding up a second jar of Ragu. Should she? She could always freeze the extra batch. Yes: two jars, definitely.

“I hate to bother you, but Grandma’s kind of upset.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, she’s been trying to call her friend for the last few hours. Connie Dollar.”

Bell did not want to be rude or impatient with Rhonda, but she needed to finish her shopping and get home. And she was unclear as to why this was any of her business.

“Rhonda, I—”

“Connie works at the Terrace, remember? She’s in housekeeping. She’s gotten to be good friends with an aide named Marcy Coates. Marcy’s the one who found those residents who died. They gave her a few days off—she’s been real upset about it, and no wonder. Well, Grandma was calling Connie because she knew Connie was worried about Marcy. And that Connie planned to go over to check on Marcy tonight.”

Bell’s head was starting to hurt. The maze of relationships in Rhonda’s world often had a byzantine quality that you tried to chart at your peril. “I’m a little busy here. Can we talk later?”

“Bell, listen. Please. Grandma talked to Connie’s husband, Luke. Turns out Connie went over to Marcy’s house three hours ago. And nobody’s heard from either one of them since. It’s over off Hanging Rock Road. Marcy doesn’t answer her home phone. Neither one’s answering her cell.”

“Maybe their cells are down in the bottom of their purses. Happens. And the landline’s out. Has anybody gone over there to check?”

“That’s why I’m calling you. Luke drove out to Marcy’s place. We just heard from him. Says Connie’s car is there, and Marcy’s, too, but there’s nobody home. The front door’s wide open. Cold as it is, that doesn’t make any sense. Luke says the door is just swinging back and forth on the hinges. Says he found signs of a struggle inside—chairs on their backs, dishes knocked off the kitchen table. The home phone’s been pulled clean out of the wall.”

Bell did not like the sound of this. She felt a tingling in her fingertips.

“Call Sheriff Harrison,” she said. “Right away.”

“I did. She’s on another call. So she’s sending Deputy Oakes.”

“Good.” She didn’t realize how hard she was gripping the handle of the grocery cart. She looked down. The knuckles of her hand were drained of color. “Rhonda, call Luke back and tell him to get out of there. Get out of the