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“Nothing could compel me.”
“You’ll soon be eating those words.” He pulled her toward the door of the office. “You’re reputed to be a do-gooder. Here’s your chance to do some good.”
Chapter 13
Jeff had watched daylight turn into a short-lived dusk. Darkness fell fast.
He killed time. He wanted to kill Knight and Grange for not keeping him updated as promised. Instead, he’d sat and watched the wall clock tick away the afternoon without a clue of what was happening beyond the sheriff’s office lobby.
As it neared closing time at the clinic in Atlanta, he called the main number.
“This is Jeff Surrey. Are the doctors still there?”
“Oh my God, Mr. Surrey.” The dulcet tones with which the receptionist had answered gave way to a voice that wavered with emotion. “I’ve left you messages asking if there’s been any word about Dr. Charbonneau. We’ve all been sick with worry. Please tell me she’s all right.”
“Let me speak to the doctors, please. Either one.”
“Dr. James is standing right here.”
He heard the receiver being transferred from hand to hand, then, “Jeff?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have much to tell you, Neal. They located Emory’s car early this afternoon. But only her car. That was the last report I got.”
“Hold on. I’m gonna put you on speaker. Everybody wants to hear.”
Jeff could picture the clinic staff clustered around the desk phone as he related what little he knew. “I looked up that national forest on the Internet. It covers thousands of square miles, most of it mountainous, some of it referred to as ‘wilderness.’ The terrain isn’t for the fainthearted.”
“I’ve camped in that area,” the doctor said. “And she’s lost in it? Christ.”
“Fortunately, as you know, Emory is very fit and has incredible stamina.”
“Isn’t it snowing up there and the temperature well below freezing?”
Leave it to Neal James to paint the bleakest picture possible. “Yes, the weather is impeding the search for her.”
Several questions were hurled at him at once. He interrupted them. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything else. The deputies haven’t returned, and they haven’t called in. Or if they have they haven’t spoken to me. It’s been hours since they left, and I’m as much in the dark as you are. It’s frustrating as hell.”
“Do you want me to drive up there?”
The doctor was extending the offer for Emory’s sake, not Jeff’s, and he was glad he had a valid reason to decline it. “There’s nothing you could do. Until I know something conclusive, I’m thinking positive and ho
lding out hope that Emory is all right and simply unable to reach me.”
The clinic staff endorsed that view, but their voices were subdued, a few tearful, as they said their good-byes.
He then called his office and left a voice message for his secretary, telling her only that he had a family emergency and wouldn’t be in again tomorrow. Just as he disconnected, Knight appeared.
When Jeff saw him, his heart skipped. “Emory?”
Shaking his head, he said, “The search continues. I’m sorry.”
He motioned Jeff to join him, and they took the familiar route through the warren of desks in the large squad room. Grange was seated at Knight’s, a cup of coffee cradled between his hands, which looked red and chapped. His cheeks were ruddy with cold.
Jeff took the chair he’d sat in before. “How long have you been back?”
“Only long enough to grab some coffee,” Knight said. “You want a cup?”
Jeff shook his head, then looked back and forth between the two. “For God’s sake, tell me something. Anything. I’ve been dying here.”
