Inside, I found one of the place cards holding a table for Abundant Hope members and family. I hung my purse on a chair and went off to look for Mama.
Surveying the food table, with its assortment of sweet and savory treats, I didn’t see her distinctive casserole dish. She always brings the same one to every party: white, trimmed in blue asters. It’s got a tiny chip on the top and her name written on masking tape on the bottom.
Mama must have gotten waylaid, talking to someone somewhere while her Cheese ’n’ Ham Surprise was getting cold. I scanned the crowded room.
And didn’t see her.
Maybe she’d stopped to primp. I opened the door to the women’s bathroom. “Mama? It’s Mace. You in there?’’ I called.
And didn’t hear her.
My heart was starting to pound. Ronnie Hodges was across the room, moving his massive frame around the food table, eyeing the offerings.
“Ronnie?’’
“Hey, Mace. It’s a shame they make us wait to eat until after everybody from Abundant Hope is done praying. I’d feel more prayerful with a full stomach.’’
“Ronnie, where’s my mama? I thought y’all walked over together.’’
“We did. But you know Rosalee. She saw someone she knew and ran off to say hello. She told Alice and me to come on inside. Said she’d meet us at the table.’’
“When was this?’’
“Not five minutes ago.’’
“Where?’’
“Outside, in the parking lot.’’
I left him standing there staring. Pushing my way against the faithful and the hungry, I went outside. There were at least a dozen vehicles in the parking lot: pickup trucks, battered sedans, shiny SUVs. I rushed up and down the parked rows, looking for Mama.
And didn’t find her.
Taking a corner around an old Buick, I slid in something slippery. I caught my balance and looked down at fluffy eggs and cubed ham oozing on the asphalt. Shards from a casserole dish poked out from a golden layer of cheese. I stooped and picked up a shard—white, with a perfect blue aster in the center.
“Good Lord, Mace. You’re as white as rice.’’ Ronnie Hodges panted from rushing out after me. “Is everything okay?’’
“Who did Mama run off to talk to, Ronnie?’’
“Well, I don’t know. My distance eyes ain’t what they used to be. The truck was all the way over to the other side of the parking lot.’’
“A truck? What kind?’’
“It was an old pickup. White, I think. Or something light. Why?’’
“One person in the truck, or two?’’
“Just one. The driver. But why, Mace? What’s wrong?’’
“Man or woman?’’
“Well, now …’’ Ronnie looked heavenward, like he had to think on that for a while.
I felt a scream rising in the back of my throat. “Dammit, Ronnie, was it a man or a woman?’’
“Woman,’’ he finally said. “I’m almost sure it was a woman.’’
I grabbed Pam’s car keys from my pants pocket. “Mama’s been kidnapped, Ronnie. Call the police. Then, tell Delilah to make an announcement that anyone who saw anything should stay here to talk to the cops.’’
Ronnie’s jaw hung open. He worked it a couple of times before some words came out. “Where are you going?’’
“To find Mama,’’ I said as I flew toward the car.
“Wait, Mace.’’ Ronnie’s heavy footsteps pounded behind me. “Delilah’s not here.’’
I stopped and turned around.
“She called your mama this morning. She said she couldn’t face the crowd after all, not after Pastor Bob took all the hurricane money. Delilah asked your mama to promise to explain to everybody how sorry she was.’’
Think! Think! Think!
I pounded three times on the steering wheel in Pam’s car, trying to dislodge the fog in my brain with each blow. I needed to focus, like I do when I’m tracking an animal. Get inside the kidnapper’s head.
Any prey, knowing it’s being hunted, will either flee or find a hiding place. I scanned the lot. There was nowhere to hide a pickup with a pint-sized captive. The driver had surely fled.
I eased the VW across the lot, to the side where Ronnie had seen the truck. In the wild, an animal leaves a traiclass="underline" flattened grass, bent twigs, droppings, or tracks on the ground. I hoped to see something, anything, that would reveal the path taken by the animal in the pickup’s driver seat.
There wasn’t even an oil stain.
Then, just as I reached the exit, I spotted what I prayed was a clue out on the road in front of the VFW. Something small and round shone against the blacktop, about thirty feet to the right. Seeing nothing on the pavement to the left, I made the right. Slowly, slowly I drove, and then stopped. The object on the road was a honeydew-colored earring, gleaming in the rising sun.
Mama had been so excited when she found the set, which included a necklace and a bracelet, too. She had a pantsuit in that exact shade of light green, and the costume jewels were a perfect match.
I hoped she tossed the earring out of the car intentionally, like Hansel and Gretel with their breadcrumb trail. I didn’t want to think of the alternative: that the clip-on was the first casualty as Mama struggled with her kidnapper.
The VFW is at the far western end of Main Street. I drove for two miles without spotting another clue. Then I came to an intersection. Right, left, or straight ahead? I parked on the shoulder and examined the site on foot. There was nothing to suggest choosing one way over another. There was only a quiet Saturday morning and empty road in all directions. Making the wrong decision might mean Mama’s life.
I was about to start combing the grass alongside the intersection when I noticed an ancient fisherman. Sitting stooped in a folding chair and holding a cane pole, he was nearly hidden by the cattails that grow along the banks of Himmarshee Creek.
I came up quietly, not wanting to scare him or the fish.
He looked up, dark face nearly hidden in the shadow of a huge straw hat. “Hey.’’
“Hey.’’ I returned his greeting and got right to business. “I’m trying to find a light-colored pickup truck that might have come by here about ten minutes ago.’’
With yellowed teeth and sunken cheeks, he looked about a hundred years old. I hoped he still had his wits. “Yes’m,’’ he finally said. “I saw a truck. White, it was. I was just gettin’ here myself to do a little fishin’ when the damn fool driving nearly run me over.’’