The Ashtons - Cole, Abigail & Megan

up. Or—”
    “I get the point.” She even felt the ghost of a smile touch her lips. “It’s not my fault. I know that, and yet…” She rubbed her forehead wearily. “It’s just so awful to think of Jody out there somewhere. She must be so frightened. Maybe she’s hurt, or…”
    “And hard to stop thinking about it. Come on,” he said, taking her arm. “Sit down. Have you eaten?”
    She let him steer her to a chair. “Your mother force-fed me a sandwich a couple hours ago.” There. That was a real smile this time. “I don’t know how she can speak so softly, be so gentle and polite and be utterly immovable at the same time.”
    “That’s my mom.” He was rummaging in the cabinets. “How about some coffee? It won’t make you feel better, but you can worry more alertly.”
    Coffee actually sounded good. “Okay.” She wasn’t forgiving him. She just didn’t have the energy to hate him right now. “It’s in the cabinet by the sink. Make plenty,” she added. “People come and go a lot.”
    Neither of them spoke as he prepared the pot. When it was ready, he sat down with her and his own cup and had her tell him who was searching, where they all were, what areas had already been searched.It steadied her, reminding her that they were doing all they could.
    Over the next hour one of the police officers stopped by and had a cup of coffee. He briefed them on what the official searchers were doing. The phone rang a couple of times—Mercedes called to say she was on her way back, then a telemarketer gave Dixie a chance to snarl at someone.
    Cole didn’t seem to be going anywhere. He seemed to have an instinct for when to speak and distract her, when to remain silent. She was pacing again when she decided she couldn’t let him hang around and coddle her. “The cops took another look on Waters Street, but you could check out that gully by the supermarket.”
    “I’ll do that.” He took another sip of coffee. “Just as soon as Mercedes gets here.”
    She wanted him to stay. The longing was as stupid as it was selfish, when she ought to be pushing him out the door—for her own sake as well as Aunt Jody’s. “I don’t need to be baby-sat.”
    “You don’t need to be alone right now, either.”
    She was mustering up the anger to snap at him when the phone rang again. She glanced at it and grimaced. “If that’s another telemarketer—”
    “I’ll get it.” He snaked out an arm and snagged it before she could. “Hello?”
    His face told the story before he spoke. “That’s wonderful. Yes…of course. We’ll be right there.” He put the phone down and stood, his smile wide. “She’s at the newspaper office in Napa. God onlyknows how she got there, but she’s okay. They’re feeding her doughnuts. She’s tired and grouchy and she doesn’t want to leave,” he added wryly. “She thinks she works there.”
    Dixie’s eyes closed. Her knees all but buckled beneath the wave of relief. “She did,” she managed to say. “Thirty years ago.”

Chapter Thirteen
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    C ole drove Dixie to the newspaper offices. On the way she placed a dozen phone calls, notifying everyone who was searching that Jody had been found.
    Jody had marched into the newspaper offices as if she belonged, moving so assuredly that, despite her bedraggled appearance, the receptionist hadn’t stopped her. She’d stopped in the middle of the bullpen and demanded to know what they’d done with her desk. One of the reporters had realized she was the missing woman they’d been notified about. She’d settled Jody at an old typewriter so she could “get to work,” and called the police.
    Cole helped coax Jody into leaving work early, then soothed, flirted with and cajoled her out of atemper fit when she learned she had to stay in the hospital overnight for observation.
    Jody did not like hospitals. She was somewhat mollified when she found out her sister was there, though, and fell asleep right after supper. She’d had a rough twenty-four hours. She probably would have died from exposure if she hadn’t found an unlocked car last night. She’d curled up in the back seat and slept.
    Her version of things, of course, was a little different. For once, the mists of Alzheimer’s had some benefit—she didn’t remember being lost and terrified. She believed she’d been driving to work when the rain hit, and had pulled over and gone to sleep. “Then the stupid car wouldn’t start,” she’d grumbled, “so I got