“Virginia is great, too,” she said.
He laughed. “Virginia is great. I love Richmond. The White House of the Confederacy, Hollywood Cemetery and all the old Civil War memorials... My part of Virginia is pretty remote. But I think you’d like it.”
She started to answer him; she wanted to talk about Virginia, or anything else rather than what was going on between them. But before she could say a word, she was startled by the presence of someone beside their table.
It was Roger English. “Hey, you two okay?” he asked.
“Fine, Roger.” Abby smiled at him. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I shouldn’t admit it, but yesterday freaked me out. I watched the news today and it’s great—you fished Helen Long out of the river last night!”
“We’ve seen her, Roger, and she’s doing well,” Malachi told him.
“Did she solve everything?” he asked.
“She’s in the hospital, so we’re trying to give her time to feel better before getting her to remember details,” Abby said.
Roger nodded. “Hopefully she’ll have what you need.”
“What are you doing here?” Abby asked him. “Did you just happen by?”
“I came to meet Bianca for lunch. But she’s late.”
“I’m sure she’ll be along in a few minutes,” Abby said.
“I really like her,” Roger murmured.
Abby suddenly heard a mental echo of her own voice. I’m sure she’ll be along in a few minutes.
But she might not be.
She glanced at Malachi, who was studying Roger. “Why don’t you give her a call, see what’s holding her up?” Malachi suggested.
“I have. She’s not answering her cell. I tried her bed-and-breakfast, too. Couldn’t reach her.”
The possible explanation seemed to hit Roger as he spoke. His knees gave out; he would’ve fallen if Malachi hadn’t leaped to his feet to bring a chair around for him.
Roger stared at the two of them. “He’s got her!” he cried. “Call the police! I’ve got to call the police. You are the police. No, you’re the feds... Oh, God. What do I do, what do I do?”
Malachi already had his phone out. “First, don’t panic. People do run late. Cell phone batteries die. But under the circumstances, we’ll get all the information we have on Bianca to David Caswell.”
Roger looked as if he’d been hit by a brick. While Malachi spoke to David on the phone, Abby asked Roger, “Her name is Bianca Salzburg, right? She said she was transferring here from Chicago. Is she from Chicago? This is important, Roger.”
“Salzburg, yes,” Roger answered. “She was born in Chicago and went to Northwestern. She works for a small shipping company that handles delicate items—Pack-A-Gram, it’s called. They’re opening an office in Savannah. She was staying at the old Hayden house. You know the place, Abby. It was owned by Jimmy Hayden until last year when he died. His niece Shelly came back to take over the property and turned it into a B and B. She fixed it up nicely.”
There was little emotion in his voice, he was so distracted.
Abby thought, but didn’t say, that—like the known victims—Bianca had eaten at the Dragonslayer.
Malachi ended his call and made another before returning the phone to his pocket. “David’s on it and he’ll be here soon. We’ve reported the situation to our colleagues, as well. Bianca could show up in a few minutes, but we’ll get started on the information we need, just because we’re all concerned these days. So, how late is she, Roger?”
Roger glanced at his watch. “Now? Almost forty minutes.”
“My colleague Angela Hawkins is on her way here to wait with you. Meanwhile, Jackson Crow is hitting the national databases to get all the information we can on Bianca. Let’s hope she shows in a few minutes, apologizing for being late and explaining that she didn’t charge her phone.”
Roger jumped to his feet. “Helen! You have to get Helen to tell you what’s going on. I’ll go to the hospital. She’ll talk to me—she’ll tell us what happened. You saved her, right? She owes you, Abby. You have to make her tell you!”
Malachi rose and set his hands on Roger’s shoulders. “Look at me, buddy. You panicking will not help Bianca. We’ve spoken with Helen, and we’ll speak with her again, see if we can’t get some details that might help. But listen to me and try to understand. We can’t force Helen to tell us what she doesn’t know.”
“But,” Roger protested, “she’s alive! She has to know—”
“She says she saw a pirate,” Abby said.
“What?” Roger demanded.
“She thinks Blue Anderson attacked her.”
“Blue Anderson?” Roger repeated, looking at her blankly.
“Roger,” Malachi said in a firm voice, “relax. Sit down. You’ll wait here for a while longer. We’ll stay until Angela arrives. Then we’ll head out and start searching for her, okay? Every cop in the city will be on the lookout, too.”
Roger shook his head. “She’s underground somewhere. Or she’s being held on a ship. It’s not like they’ll be able to see her.”
“We’ll do everything we can,” Malachi said.
Abby put a hand on Roger’s arm. “I’m going to get you one of Gus’s old fixes, okay? A cup of tea and whiskey. Calm those nerves a bit.”
“Yeah,” Roger said huskily. “Yeah, okay.”
By the time Abby snagged their waitress and got the tea for Roger, Angela had arrived. Tall, beautiful, controlled, she quickly had Roger talking to her, telling her about Bianca, how they’d met, and how great she was.
“Let’s go,” Malachi told Abby.
“Yes, get going,” Angela said. “Roger and I are fine here.”
“The check,” Abby began.
Angela waved a hand. “Roger and I may have something else while we’re here. And Jackson may come by soon. He’s already got fliers into the hands of the police, and they’ll get them out right away. Of course, we could really be jumping the gun, but...”
Abby gave Roger a kiss on the head. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.
He nodded. He still looked as if he’d been hit by a brick.
Malachi took her arm and they walked down the length of the riverfront to the parking area.
“Do you actually think she’s been taken?” Abby asked.
Malachi pursed his lips. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s just blowing him off, but we can’t risk it. We’ll stop by the bed-and-breakfast first and then go back to the hospital to talk to Helen. We’ll see if we can get some kind of clue from her. Do you know the woman who’s taken over the Hayden house? Shelly, he said her name was.”
“Yeah, Gus knew everyone in town. Shelly actually lived up in Charleston. I hadn’t heard that she’d turned the house into a bed-and-breakfast but I’m not surprised. It’s a big old colonial and they put in a pool about ten years back.”
“Tell me where to go.”
Malachi was driving. He had a good grasp of the city’s grid layout, with the squares bordered by streets.
When he’d parked, Abby ran up the walk. The front door was open; she went in. The Hayden house had a broad foyer with a staircase that went straight up to a second-floor balcony. Shelly had set up a reception desk in the foyer.
“Hey, Abby!” Shelly smiled as she greeted her. She came around the desk to give her a big hug. They didn’t know each other that well, since Shelly was about five years older than Abby. But whenever she’d been in town, they’d seen each other often enough. Slim and attractive, she must have made a complete aboutface in her life because she’d worked in Charleston as a graphic designer.
“Shelly, it’s good to see you,” Abby said, returning the hug.
“Congratulations, Agent Anderson. I understand you’re full-fledged now.”