Got Your Number

bleary. "We should take a vacation and mark off some of the items on our list."
    Roxann laughed—go on vacation with Angora? "You're nuts."
    "Why not? I'm supposed to be on my honeymoon for three weeks." Her face lit up. "Hey—we could go back to South Bend for Homecoming!"
    Her heart thumped faster. "I don't think that's such a good idea."
    "Oh, come on, wouldn't you like to see Dr. Carl again and see how he turned out?"
    More than anything. "I still don't think—"
    Angora's snore cut her off. Her cousin had fallen asleep sitting up, holding her glass and wearing her crown.
    Roxann nudged herself up slowly to prevent a head rush. She retrieved Angora's drink, then made her stretch out on the bed. Angora emitted little sounds of protest and refused to relinquish her crown. Roxann gathered up the remains of their meal and tiptoed from the room—although she was sure her cousin wouldn't have heard a plane land on the roof.
    She walked to the old phone mounted on the kitchen wall and, after consulting directory assistance, dialed Angora's parents' home. Of course, Dee answered.
    "Hello?"
    "Dee, this is Roxann."
    " Where is my daughter?"
    "She's with me, at my dad's."
    "You kidnapped her."
    "She's an adult."
    "You always were a bad influence on her."
    "Angora's fine, thanks for asking."
    "Why, you—"
    "I'll bring her home in the morning, but don't worry, I won't come in. Bye, now." She hung up the phone, wondering why people had kids at all if they didn't give a damn about them.
    Nine thirty-five p.m.—what a day. She stuffed the pizza box into the trash. Fatigue pulled at her limbs, but her mind raced, refusing to shut down. Yesterday's events in Biloxi...today's events at the church...being home where the memories were relentless. The alcohol should have numbed her, but instead, seemed to have keened her senses, magnifying the panic, the anxiety, the sadness.
    An alien sound sent fear bolting through her, until she recognized the ring of her father's phone. It was probably Dee calling back, so she wasn't about to answer it. After three rings, though, an answering machine kicked on in the bedroom. She had sent the machine to her father for Christmas, although she was sure he wouldn't use it. In fairness, though, she hadn't called enough to know.
    Curious as to what her aunt would say for herself, she walked into the bedroom and leaned against the door, arms crossed as her father's raspy voice trailed off and the tone sounded. But instead of Dee's unbearable high-pitched whine, a man's voice came on the line. A familiar man's voice.
    "Mr. Beadleman, this is Detective Capistrano from the Biloxi Police Department. I'm looking for your daughter, Roxann. If you've heard from her or seen her in the last twenty-four hours, please call me back at—"
    She snatched up the phone and fairly hissed into the receiver. "How dare you call my father's home."
    "Good, you're there. Saves me a heap of paperwork."
    She squeezed the phone, wishing it were his red neck. "What the hell are you talking about?"
    "I went by your place a while ago to finish our conversation. Remodeling?"
    "Funny."
    "Do you know who did it?"
    "You came to mind."
    "I'm much neater when I break and enter."
    "Why are you calling?"
    "When I saw the mess, I started thinking maybe Frank Cape had dropped by to bully you into giving up his wife's hiding place."
    "You're the only bully I've encountered, Detective."
    "Then you're unharmed."
    "Unemployed and unharmed."
    He sighed. "Is that why you're in Baton Rouge? To look for a job?"
    "That's none of your business. How did you find me?"
    "I took a chance that you would run home to Daddy if you were frightened."
    The gross misinterpretation of her relationship with her father made her want to laugh...and cry. "I'm not frightened."
    "You should be. Has it occurred to you that if I could track you down in a single phone call, Frank Cape could do the same?"
    "You're assuming, Detective, that he's the one who ransacked my place."
    "You have other enemies?"
    She certainly didn't want to get into the other suspects—Elise, Richard. "It might have been a random crime."
    "Then you should consider moving to a better neighborhood."
    She smirked. "I'll do that, Detective, as soon as I get a job."
    "That 'got your number' message on your computer screen—does it have something to do with the break-in?"
    "You went inside?"
    "How else was I going to make sure you hadn't been stuffed in the refrigerator?"
    Oh. "Yes, whoever broke