Finding Amy by Carol Braswell Read Free Book Online

stepped toward the worker but the squeak of a door opening behind him saved the worker from a tongue lashing. When Carson turned, a large, elderly woman, wearing a colorful caftan and pink foam curlers in her white hair, glared at him. “What’s all this ruckus about?”
    Carson relaxed his hands, smiled , and removed his Stetson. “Ma’am, I didn’t mean to disturb you but I’m looking for Amy. We were supposed to meet for coffee this morning and she never showed.”
    The old woman studied him for a second, before answering. “Amy came in earlier, packed a suitcase and left. I had gone down to pickup my mail and found her loading a bag into a white jeep. She waved to me, and drove off. I don’t know where she went.”
    “Did you see anyone with her ?”
    The old woman glanced past him as if in deep thought , and shook her head. “No, I didn’t. She left in a hurry. I didn’t even have time to tell her about her brother stopping by last night.”
    “Her brother? What time was that?”
    Glancing down at the cat meowing around her feet, the woman raised her head. “Oh, around nine. That’s when Castle comes on and I never miss Castle. He’s so handsome.”
    Carson smiled. “Yes , ma’am. Can you tell me what Amy’s brother looks like?”
    “Oh, I don’t know  . . .kind of ordinary, not as tall as you. A big guy but not fat. He asked me not to tell her because he wanted to see if she would notice that he’d picked up his stuff.”
    A phone rang from inside the woman’s apartment. She looked over her shoulder. “Oh, dear. I’ve got to go. That’s my friend, Mavis calling.” She slammed the door.
    Defeated, Carson walked toward the stairs. Now what? He needed to talk to Stan. Maybe he knew where Amy went. If he knew Stan’s last name, he could run him through the data base and get a home number. There might be an emergency number on the door at Cowboy Bills. That would be the quickest way to get in touch with the owner.
    Carson rounded the corner and when the workers could no longer see him, he bolted down the stairs and across the street to his truck. He drove the short distance to Cowboy Bills, parked on the wrong side of the street in front of the bar and hopped out. On the inside corner of the door, in bold red letters, were three numbers to call in case of emergencies. Jotting them down, he went back to the truck, grabbed his cell phone and dialed the first number.
    Carson drove away from Cowboy Bills to the nearest parking spot, pulled in and waited for someone to answer. After eight rings and no answer, he flipped the phone shut, and dialed the second number.
    “You have reached Bessie Gorman. I’m unavailable at the moment so please leave a message and I’ll call you back.”
    Carson disconnected without leaving a message and dialed the third number.
    “Cody police department,” a woman answered.
    “I’m sorry. I must’ve punched in the wrong number.” Carson hung up. The first number would be Stan’s. He shoved the truck into reverse, and drove to IHOP.
    Carson stood in line at the full restaurant until it came his turn to be seated. He made a quick scan of the interior, hoping to spot Amy but doubting she would be here. His years of training made it second nature to not leave anything out. After being seated, he placed his order and tried the number again. Still no answer. He pitched the phone on the table, causing a loud bang that attracted the attention of the couple at the next table. “Sorry.” He apologized.
    Carson stared out the window and drummed his fingers on the hard table top keeping a steady beat to the soft music playing through the intercom.
    “Excuse me.” The man next to him leaned toward Carson. “Having a bad day?” he glared at Carson’s drumming fingers.
    “ Sorry. It didn’t start off well.” Carson shifted his arms and folded his hands together.
    The snow outside had now stopped, leaving a brown and black slushy mess that splashed onto the sidewalk