“You don’t know that we could have made a difference. If the creep who took her wanted her, he would have found a way to get to her.”
“God, who is he?” She cleared her throat. “He waited until after we left to pounce, didn’t he? He was watching. He might even have a key.” She was working herself up, her voice rising. “This wasn’t random, Jenna. It was planned. I know it. Oh God, why would anyone want to hurt Lynnetta?”
“I don’t know.” Jenna rested a hip against the counter and stared at the fire. She couldn’t think of a single soul who would want to harm the preacher’s wife.
Rinda sniffed, then asked, “Has Carter been by to see you?”
“Yeah, this morning.”
“He was here, too, asking all sorts of questions. Just left. He or some officer from the State Police is going to talk to everyone in the theater troupe, all of the actors, stagehands, the janitor, you name it. Even Scott, if you can believe that.”
Jenna could, but didn’t say as much. As it was, Rinda sounded slightly miffed, her grief spilling into anger.
“I can’t believe this mess,” Rinda admitted. “I hope—I mean, I pray—that Lynnetta’s okay. Maybe her disappearance is all just a big mistake…” But the desperation and pain in her voice said she believed otherwise. As did Jenna.
“Let’s not give up hope yet.”
“I haven’t. But it’s hard. And you’d better brace yourself. That reporter for KBST, Brenda Ward, she’s already called me. Twice. And someone from the Banner, where Roxie Olmstead worked. They’ve left a couple of messages. I’m tellin’ ya, these people are cannibals. One of their own is missing and they’re trying to make a story out of it.” She blew her nose and added vehemently, “But just try to get them to write a human-interest piece on the renovations to the theater and see what happens. Nothing, that’s what! It’s all murder, scandal, blood, and sex these days!”
“I think the theater’s going to get a lot of press now.”
“Exactly. Bad press. Just what we need…and Lynnetta. I can’t quit thinking about her, about last night…Oh God, Jenna, what’s happening around here?”
Nothing good. “I don’t know.”
“Look, I’ve got to go,” Rinda said. “And warn Scott.”
“Warn him?”
“Yeah. He doesn’t even know about Lynnetta, and they were pretty tight. He drove into Portland last night for a concert that should have been cancelled because of the weather, but wasn’t. Anyway, he has no idea Shane’s on the warpath. Jesus Christ, that makes me mad! To even suggest that Scott might know something. Shane Carter is Scott’s godfather and still he doesn’t trust him.”
“It’s his job. He can’t trust anyone right now,” Jenna said, bristling slightly as she defended the man that, for months, Rinda had lauded and now was cursing.
“Oh, no!” Rinda gasped.
“What?”
“Turn on your television. Check out KBST.”
With the phone to one ear, Jenna picked up the remote with her free hand and clicked to the station Rinda had suggested. There, on the screen, a reporter was planted in the snow in the foreground. Behind her was the theater. Police cars and a few uniformed men were visible, as was the sign announcing tickets on sale for It’s a Wonderful Life.
Rinda groaned.
“You wanted publicity.”
“No one will come to the play now.”
“You don’t know that—the first performance is still a few weeks away,” Jenna said, wondering why she was trying to cheer her friend up. Rinda was right, the situation was dire. Poor Lynnetta.
“This isn’t the right kind of publicity.”
“According to my agent, there is no wrong kind,” Jenna said, hoping to lighten the conversation, but Rinda wasn’t to be consoled.
“Uh-oh.”
“What?”
“A city cop car in my drive. Probably Officer Twinkle.”