In the Cards: A Novel (Tricia Seaver Mystery Book 1) by Amy Isaman

Author:Amy Isaman [Isaman, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2019-01-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

“TRICIA, TAKE A BREATH. Are you in the car?” Darius spoke as calmly as he could into the phone. None of this made sense.

“Yes,” she said, her voice shaky. “And Laurel’s gone.”

“She’s gone? Where’d she go?”

“To get gas. We ran out. And she never came back. And her phone’s off. Something must have happened to her. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where I am. Or where she is.”

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can, but first I need to know where you are.” It took him several minutes to calm Tricia down enough to walk her through pin-pointing her location on her phone.

“How soon will you be here?” she asked.

“Hopefully, about forty-five minutes.” Darius tried to speak as slowly and calmly as possible.

“How are you getting here? Do you have another car?” Her voice sounded high pitched and breathy.

“My motorbike. I’ll bring an extra helmet for you.”

Silence.

“Are you there? Tricia, breathe. It’ll be okay.” He thought she might start to pass-out on him. “We’ll find her. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

“Hurry, please.”

“I’m on the way.” He clicked end on his phone and ran toward the garage and his bike. Where the hell was Laurel? He didn’t know her well, but leaving her mother on the side of the road, stranded, didn’t sound like something she would do. So, what did that mean? He didn’t know what might have happened to Laurel, and he wasn’t sure how full his tank had been. He was terrible about checking as he rarely drove the damn car.

He stewed over it the entire ride, weaving through traffic in the city before finally reaching the open road in the countryside. The last thing he wanted to do was alert the police about the tarot cards, but could they explain Laurel missing without mentioning why they were in Wendover in the first place? He hoped his aunt hadn’t reported Tricia stealing the painting.

He came upon his sedan about six kilometers from his Aunt’s home and four kilometers past the nearest petrol station.

He waved and pulled his helmet off, so she would know who it was. She didn’t unlock the car until he got close. He pulled open the door and knelt next to her. The first thing he noted was the Knight of Coins tucked in the back of the painting she’d stolen which she gripped tightly on her lap. Speechless, he stared between Tricia and the card, his gaze bobbing back and forth between them like one of those ridiculous bobble head dolls of athletes they gave away at stadiums.

“Yes, I found card two, but I lost my daughter.” Tears streamed down her face. “I don’t give a damn about the cards. Here.” She picked up the painting and shoved it in his hands. “Your aunt and great-grandmother were right. They’re cursed.”

Darius put the painting into one of the bags on the side of his bike as gently as possible. Thankfully, it was a miniature, and it fit, though it was tight.

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