"She's not sure," Coleman said. "She thinks he was hired to look into some kind of missing person's case in Winston-Salem. But he called her last week and told her he had to check out something in West Virginia-he didn't say exactly where. Then he called again last Friday and said he had to make one more stop before coming on home."

"One more stop in West Virginia?" I asked.

Coleman nodded. "That's what she understood, and she's already worried. He's three days overdue getting home and she's not heard from him since last Friday-a week ago."

"That don't sound good to me," Lillian said.

"Me, either," Lloyd said.

West Virginia, I thought, which might as well be a foreign country, for all I knew about it. I knew a little about a few places in Virginia, but I'd never been to the west of it, but the name conjured up an image of mountains-it was located along the same range as our own Blue Ridge Mountains on the Appalachian range, or something like that. I wasn't too up on geography. Coal country, I recalled from reading about mining disasters.

"What can we do, Coleman?" I asked. "Because the more I think about that phone call, the more I feel that he needed help. I mean, he didn't even sound like himself. It took me a minute to recognize his voice, but it was him, I'm pretty sure, especially because a deputy answered when we called back on his phone. Wouldn't that mean Mr. Pickens wasn't able to use it himself?"

"Oh, me," Lloyd moaned, "maybe he's hurt, been in a car wreck or in a fight or ..."

"Hold on, Lloyd," Coleman said. "Let's not start thinking the worst. I'll go back to the office and put in a call to the West Virginia State Police and to the sheriff in Charleston. They can check hospitals, accident calls, and so forth, throughout the state. Might take awhile, but it's worth doing."

Lillian had walked over to Lloyd and put her arm around his shoulders. "He gonna be all right, Lloyd. Mr. Pickens never been in bad trouble before, an' Coleman gonna find him, don't you worry." Then she looked at Coleman. "I jus' don't know why you callin' Charleston when it down in South Car'lina. How they gonna know anything going on in West Virginia?"

"Two Charlestons," Coleman said with a brief grin. "Charleston, West Virginia, is the capital of that state, which makes it a good starting point for us."

"Oh," she said. "Wonder why they do that? Look like one of 'em would pick another name."

n.o.body answered her because n.o.body knew. And it wasn't important anyway. We were all too focused on Mr. Pickens's personal state to worry about the names of cities.

Coleman was on his way out the door when I stopped him. "Should we tell Hazel Marie what's going on?"

He thought for a minute. "I hate to keep anything from her, but we really don't know anything. Let's wait until I talk to somebody up there and get a line on him. Time enough to tell her when we know something for sure."

I nodded, agreeing that we should wait. "Call or come by as soon as you hear anything. We'll be here waiting."

"I'll do it." And he was out the door and gone.

"Well," I said, looking at the two worried faces staring after Coleman, "I don't care what we tell Hazel Marie or don't tell her. She's already fretting because Mr. Pickens hasn't come home, and she'll be doing even more if he doesn't soon call her. And if some deputy has his phone, he won't be calling her. Let's see if she'll come over for supper."

"Good idea," Lloyd said.

Lillian nodded and opened the silverware drawer. " 'Least she won't be settin' home stewing all by herself. Onliest thing is, though, we ought not be talkin' 'bout Mr. Pickens when she get here."

"That's right. There're plenty of things we can talk about, and of course the babies will keep us all entertained, too. And Latisha will be here, so a lot will be going on, which is exactly what Hazel Marie needs to keep her mind occupied." I thought for a minute, then went on. "I wish I had something to occupy mine. All I'll be thinking about is what Coleman can find out."

Well, not exactly all I'd be thinking of. There was Sam still in an airplane miles above the earth with nothing but ocean under him-that was preying heavily on my mind. I declare, you let anybody you care about go traipsing off on their own and no telling what can happen. I liked my chickens all under my wing, and now I had two off and gone to fret over. To say nothing of the one who would soon be leaving, too.

"Lloyd, why don't you go ahead and check in with your mother? Tell her we're expecting her for dinner, but don't say anything about Mr. Pickens. Unless she's heard from him, of course. And in that case, let me know so we can tell Coleman to stop looking for him."

"Yes, ma'am, I will. And I think I won't call. I'll just go over there. That way I can help her with the babies and we'll all come back together." Lloyd started out the door, then turned back. "But if you hear anything from Coleman, call me and let me know. We can, maybe, speak in code or something so Mama won't know what's going on."

"You can speak in code if you want to since she'll be able to hear you. But I'll tell you straight out, probably no more than 'He's all right,' or 'You all better get over here,' or something like that."

He nodded agreement, a serious look on his face as our eyes met. We were of one mind as we usually were. My heart skipped a beat as I wondered how long that would last as he grew away from me.

Chapter 8.

As soon as Lloyd left, I found myself staring at the telephone, willing it to ring. I wanted to hear from Mr. Pickens or from Coleman, or I'd even take that West Virginia deputy-anybody who could let us know what was happening. The phone just sat there like a stump.

"Lillian," I said, tapping my fingers on the table, "do you think Sam's cell phone would work in an airplane?"

"Law, Miss Julia, I don't know. Look like it be too long a reach. But you don't wanta be callin' him, 'cause what can he do, half-way 'round the world? No'm, I wouldn't do that. It jus' make him sick with worry not being able to stop that plane an' get off."

"Well, you're right. I ought to at least wait till he's on the ground, where he can get another plane to come home. If he needs to, that is."

"Now, you jus' quit 'spectin' the worst," Lillian said, walking over to the table and pulling out a chair. "That's what you always do-'spect the worst an' sometimes you get it. Of all the folks we know, Mr. Pickens the best at lookin' after hisself, so you jus' think of something else 'stead of all them what-ifs goin' 'round in your head."

"That's good advice, Lillian," I said gratefully, "which is what you always give. So all right, here's something we can think about while we wait. Have you ever heard of Agnes Whitman? According to Mildred, she lives out in Fairfields on a big estate, so it sounds as if she's wealthy. I think she's fairly new in the area."

Lillian frowned at me and, for a minute, I thought she wasn't going to answer. "Widder lady?"

"I don't know. Either that or divorced, maybe. Mildred didn't mention a husband. Seems, though, that she's mixed up in some sort of strange religious goings-on. But," I said with a smile, "Mildred thinks anything that's not Presbyterian is strange."

"Well, you know I don't like to talk about folks you know, but..."

"Oh, I don't know her, so go right ahead."

Lillian nodded sagely. "An' maybe you better not get to know her, not from the talk I hear goin' 'round."

"So you have heard of her. Well, tell me. I need something else to think about."

Lillian squinched up her mouth as her eyes blinked several times. "Well, I don't know much, jus' some folks tellin' at the AME Zion Church that they's some kind of devilment goin' on out in the county. They say that lady part of it, an' the Rev'rend Abernathy, he say we better steer clear."

"Really? Well, I certainly respect the Reverend Abernathy's opinion." Then I leaned forward to hear more. "What kind of devilment?"

"They say it awful, but n.o.body know 'zactly what. Somethin' to do with earbobs an' tattoos is all I heard."

"My goodness, Lillian, half the young people in town have earrings and tattoos. And half the old men have tattoos if they've been in the navy-maybe the army, too-though they're less likely to have earrings. Don't tell me those people have drawn in impressionable young people-that would have a lot of parents up in arms. It's bad enough when a child comes home with one earring, much less with Mom written on his arm."

"No'm, I ain't heard nothin' like that. All I hear is they mostly like what used to be hippies till they went out of style. You know, people lookin' for somethin' new, then ending up with somethin' old as the hills they jus' think is new, but it jus' comin' back around."

"Oh, yes, like those groups of men who sit in a circle and beat drums until they get enlightened or something. Which just sounds like a bunch of red Indians getting themselves worked up to go on the warpath."

"Yessum, I guess," Lillian said. "I 'member, though, that that Whitman lady's name be part of it 'cause she a minister or something an' they meet at her big place. The reverend, though, he jus' zip his mouth up when folks start talkin' 'bout it. He say it bad doin's an' none of his flock better be messin' with it."

"That does sound strange," I said. Then, unable to sit still, I got up and paced the floor. "Well, things come and go, don't they? You never know what fad is going to be next. That's because people are always looking for answers when they don't even know the questions."

"You jus' said a mouthful," Lillian said.

The telephone rang then, and I nearly broke my neck getting to it. "Yes? I mean, h.e.l.lo."

"Miss Julia," Coleman said, "I just spoke with the Charleston Police Department, and they have no information on J.D. specifically, or on anything that's occurred in the vicinity that he might be involved in."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"So far. It'll take awhile for the highway patrol to check all their areas, so we'll have to wait on that. It could be tomorrow before we hear from them."

"Oh, me, I don't know how I can wait that long. Coleman, is there nothing else we can do?"

"I can't think of anything. Just wait and hope J.D. calls in or the State Police get back to us."

"You don't suppose he's on the way home?"

Coleman didn't say anything for a moment. Then he said, "Not likely. He'd call if that was the case. He'd know Hazel Marie's waiting to hear from him."

"Yes, that's true," I agreed. "Well, she and the babies are coming over to eat with us, so if you hear anything, do let us know."

"I will. I've got everybody here on alert for a call, so I'll go on home. They'll let me know if any news comes in."

"Well, if it does, call me no matter what time of the day or night. I doubt I'll be doing much sleeping anyway, what with both Sam and Mr. Pickens gone."

"I'll let you know as soon as I know."

After thanking him, I hung up the phone and turned to Lillian. "He hasn't found out anything."

"Well, no news is good news, I guess," Lillian said.

"That's what they say, and I'd believe it if I hadn't gotten that strange call from Mr. Pickens. And if we'd been able to reach him again. As it is, I can't help but think that something is wrong."

"Jus' don't let Miss Hazel Marie know you thinkin' that. She get herself all wound up if she see you worried 'bout him."

"I know, and I'll keep it to myself."

Lillian left to pick up Latisha from after-school care, so with an empty house I sat in the living room, trying to figure out a way to reach Mr. Pickens. I couldn't come up with anything that made any sense, but that didn't stop me from dreaming up all sorts of plots and plans.

It was with relief that I heard footsteps on the front porch and the ringing of the doorbell. Maybe somebody had heard something, I thought, then quickly discarded that on the basis that whoever it was would've called and not come by. Unless it was bad news.

In a way it was. LuAnne Conover breezed in as soon as I answered the door.

"Julia," she said, heading for my Duncan Phyfe sofa, "I haven't heard from you in I don't know how long, so since I had to be downtown anyway, I thought I'd stop by and see how you're doing."

"I've been busy, LuAnne, getting Sam ready to go on that tour and, well, you know, first one thing and another." There was no way in the world that I'd tell her our concerns about Mr. Pickens's welfare. With the best of intentions, she would feel she had to go comfort Hazel Marie, even though Hazel Marie wouldn't know what she was being comforted for. LuAnne was the worst when it came to keeping anything to herself.

"Well, you've got him off, so you ought to plan a few outings to keep yourself busy while he's gone. I know I would if Leonard ever decided to go on a tour. Not that he ever would, but I'd think of something."

After offering a gla.s.s of tea or lemonade and being turned down, I said, "I don't have any outings planned, but I'm about to tear this house up and do some remodeling. That'll keep me plenty busy."

"Really?" LuAnne said, leaning forward eagerly. "What're you going to do?"

"Well, you know, since Sam's lost his office at his house, I need to rearrange a few rooms and make a place here for him."

"Oh!" she nearly screeched. "You're going to make a man cave! He'll love it-I know Leonard would, but we don't have room in the condo."

"I don't know what a man cave is."

"Oh, Julia, it's a room for the man of the house where all his hobbies and interests can be located. Now, for Sam, you'd have his fishing poles and tackle stuff sort of placed decoratively around the room. And a television and a recliner, of course, and all of his trophies and plaques and things like that. And I guess a few books because Sam is such a big reader. You might want to put up a dartboard or some other game because it's sort of like a game room, where a man can entertain his man friends."

"LuAnne," I said, "if Sam wants to entertain his man friends, he can take them to the country club. I'm not having a man cave in my house, since I'm not married to a caveman. Sam is a civilized human being. The whole idea of a man cave is about the silliest thing I've ever heard of."

"Well, Julia," LuAnne said, getting a little snippy as she was wont to do whenever her enthusiasms weren't shared, "it's really the in thing to do these days."

"You know how much I care about that. Believe me, the last thing I want in my house is smelly old fishing tackle, and Sam would laugh his head off at the idea. But listen," I said, ready for a change of subject, "have you heard of a woman named Agnes Whitman?"

"No, should I have?"

"Well, let me tell you." And I went on to do so, repeating what I'd heard from Mildred and from Lillian, entrancing LuAnne and distracting her from any more talk of man caves.

"That's the strangest thing I've ever heard," she said, standing to leave. "We don't need such as that in this town. I'll look into it and let you know what I find out." And off she went.

Chapter 9.

The phone rang at five-thirty the next morning, and even though it was a Sat.u.r.day, when we were slow to rise, I popped up wide awake at the first ring.

Sure that it was Coleman with news or maybe Mr. Pickens with a better connection, I s.n.a.t.c.hed it up.

"Miss Julia?" Coleman said. "He may be in a hospital."

"Oh, no! What's wrong with him?"

"Well, that's the thing. I didn't get much out of the state trooper who called. He didn't know much, but he'd had several feelers out to other troopers and just got the information that an unidentified male had been injured a few days ago in a little town back in the hills somewhere." Coleman gave a little laugh. "Looks like a lot of us are up early working on this thing. Anyway, whoever they're talking about was taken to a county hospital in Mill Run, West Virginia."

"Where's that?"

"About seventy miles or so southeast of Charleston-as the crow flies, that is. I just found it on a map."

"Well, is it him, Coleman? Could it be Mr. Pickens? And how could he be unidentified?" Coleman didn't answer right away, so I went on peppering him with questions, my voice trembling a little as I pictured ma.s.sive injuries from a car wreck. "Should we get Hazel Marie there? How bad is he injured anyway?"