"So you came home, and the door was unlocked?"
Lynn nodded her head patiently. "Yes, and Miss Blanche was not here," she repeated what she'd already said at least four times. "I've already told you, detective. I looked in the house first, then outside and then in the house again."
"And then you called Mr. Carroll?"
"No, I called Mrs. Pauline Bates first—our friend. I asked her about Blanche, but she didn't know anything about where she might be," Lynn explained. "And then I called William."
The tall middle-aged detective sitting opposite Bill and Lynn in the living room scribbled something down in his notepad. "Okay," he said conclusively and looked up at the two anxious faces in front of him. "I'm sorry, Miss White, but I have to ask all these questions. Just to make sure we don't miss anything."
"How could we—," Lynn started heatedly, but Bill tightened his grip on her hand and interrupted her calmly, "Of course. We understand, detective." Lynn glanced up at the composed Bill and offered him a small smile, grateful for his steadying presence.
"And she couldn't have gone out? To the neighbours' perhaps?" the detective kept on questioning although even his professional demeanour seemed affected by Lynn's distress.
Just as Lynn heaved a breath to answer the question, a sudden and insistent knock sounded from the front door. Bill stood instantly.
"She can't get down the front steps on her own," Lynn explained as Bill walked over to yank open the door. "And Miss Blanche detests the neighbours."
"Well, ain't that a surprise."
Both Lynn and the detective turned to look to the hall where Bill was standing with a stout and grim-faced man by his side. Lynn recognized the man as her neighbour, the very one Blanche had so often quarrelled with. "Glad to know we have at least one thing in common," he grumbled as Bill led him forward and into the living room.
"And you are?" the detective asked, motioning for the man to sit down, but he didn't. Instead he remained standing in front of the fireplace, a surly expression on his face and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his loose jeans.
"Rick Benson," the man barked. "I'm the neighbour." He and Lynn exchanged an equally unfriendly look.
"And why are you here, Mr. Benson?"
The man sent the detective an annoyed look. "I came over to tell Miss White and Miss Hudson," at this point he looked over to Lynn, "that they'd be havin' a bit of quiet around here now. That should please them. We're lettin' the decorators into the house, you see, so the missus and me'll be movin' out for a while." Seeing the delighted spark in Lynn's eyes, the man took that as his unspoken dismissal. He hadn't really thought he'd be welcome anyway.
"Just a minute, Mr. Benson!" the detective said when the man turned to leave. "I'd like to ask you a few questions."
Mr. Benson turned back with a suspicious expression. "Who are you?" he snapped, eyeing the other man's plain brown suit and the notepad in his hands.
"Detective Parrish," the detective introduced himself. "When did you last see Miss Hudson?"
"What do you mean?" Mr. Benson grumbled with a frown.
"Did you see her this morning?"
"Why would I see her?" Mr. Benson retorted. "I don't even like the woman."
"When did you see her then?" detective Parrish questioned further, despite the loud 'hmph' Lynn had just emitted.
"I don't know," Mr. Benson said. "Yesterday afternoon, I think. They were outside." He gestured towards Lynn nonchalantly.
"So you haven't seen her today?"
"No," Mr. Benson replied, clenching his teeth. "We don't exactly keep in touch." He took his hands out of his pockets and folded his arms over his chest impertinently. "And it didn't look like she was sufferin' for company."
The other three heads snapped up at his declaration. "How do you mean?" detective Parrish asked slowly.
Mr. Benson looked at the intrigued faces surrounding him with open curiosity. "Well, there was someone here today, wasn't there? With a black car," he added.
Detective Parrish looked at Lynn, and the girl shook her head. "I don't own a car."
"Could you describe the car, please, Mr. Benson," the detective asked, returning his attention to the neighbour.
"Well," Mr. Benson stuttered, looking just slightly insecure in the middle of this new attention, "it was a black Packard or Ford, I think. Not a convertible anyway. I don't know anything else. I wasn't exactly interested in Miss Hudson's guests."
"Did you see the number on the registration plate?" the detective pressed on.
"No," Mr. Benson sighed with frustration. "You don't go around lookin' at and rememberin' random cars' licence plate numbers."
"Well, you ought to have looked," detective Parrish replied with forced restraint, "and you ought to have remembered. Because it is my best guess that you would have been witness to Blanche Hudson's abduction."
"Now, Lynn," Bill said in a caring tone, turning back on the front porch, "are you sure you're going to be all right? I could send Maggie over if you don't want to be alone."
Lynn shook her head in denial. "I'll be okay," she assured him with a slightly wavering smile. "Do you think they're gonna call? To ask for a ransom? Like in the movies."
"I sure hope so," Bill replied quietly, the frightening prospect of the alternative penetrating his mind.
Lynn studied his face for a long moment, wondering if she'd heard him right and then what precisely had he meant. It took her quite a while. But when realization finally dawned on her, her eyes went wide with horror. "Oh no," she wailed with heart-wrenching disbelief, "they wouldn't hurt her, would they?"
Bill reacted immediately to the effect his words had had on the young woman. He stepped forward and placed his hands on Lynn's upper arms supportively. "Now-now, Lynn," he said gently. "You have to stay optimistic." When Lynn's expression didn't change—at least not for the better—Bill pulled her, without a moment's hesitation, into his big and warm embrace.
He'd always wanted a daughter, and although he was every bit as distressed about the current situation as Lynn was, there was a bittersweet happiness in his heart for being able to be a fatherly, supportive figure to this young woman today.