A Scarlet Cord (28 page)

Melanie unbuckled her seat belt and stretched as far as the plane’s close quarters would allow. She reached into her handbag and pulled out her itinerary. She should be in Hartford, Connecticut, by 10:00 A.M. That would give her time to make a few calls today.

She felt a twinge of guilt about the deceit it had taken to get here. She had left Jerica with her in-laws, telling them that she was visiting a college friend in Boston. That much was true. She’d spent an enjoyable day with Candice Powers. But she hadn’t told anyone of the remainder of her plan.

Now that she was actually on the plane, she felt a little foolish—like a grown woman playing at Nancy Drew. But she had thought long and hard about her decision. And she
had
prayed about it. She couldn’t say that she felt divinely led to do what she was about to do, but she did feel strongly about the need to find Joel. When Rick had become ill she’d been powerless to do anything to bring him back.
But Joel was alive. And she intended to do everything within her power to find him.

Please, Lord
, she prayed,
open the doors you want opened, and close those that you don’t desire me to walk through. Don’t let me do anything foolish, Father
.

Her first destination was Hartford. Joel’s brother worked in the real estate business somewhere in the state. She didn’t know if Tim was still there, or whether he actually owned an agency or was just employed as a Realtor in one of them, but it was a place to start. She’d hit a dead end with an Internet search. A Hartford area phone book had shown no listings for a Tim or Timothy Ellington, and the few agencies she’d called hadn’t known an agent by that name. But, armed with a snapshot she had taken of the brothers when Tim had visited Silver Creek, she hoped to track Tim down.

The plane touched down at Bradley International just outside of Hartford three minutes ahead of schedule, and by 10:45 Melanie was in a rental car headed for downtown Hartford.

She easily found the agency that the chamber of commerce had listed as Hartford’s largest, but no one in that office knew of anyone by the name of Tim Ellington. At their suggestion, she went to another agency nearby that dealt in commercial real estate.

Five agencies later, she got her first lead.

The receptionist at Bel Aire Realty was friendly and talkative and seemed eager to help. “Tim Ellington? No, I don’t think I know anyone by that name.”

“He might go by Timothy. Here.” She produced the photograph and pointed to a tanned and smiling Tim.

The woman’s eyes lit with recognition. “Oh, sure, that’s Tim Bradford. He occasionally does business in Hartford, but most of his properties are in the Manchester area now. He’s with one of the smaller agencies there … I can’t think which one right offhand.”

“Tim Bradford? You’re sure it’s Bradford?”

“That’s the only name I’ve ever known him by, honey,” the receptionist said.

“Well, thank you … I … I appreciate your help.”

“Here, hang on …” The woman went to her desk and pulled a business card from a stack and handed it to Melanie. “This is our branch in Manchester. They can probably tell you which agency he’s with.”

Melanie left the office in a daze. Back in the rental car, she checked the route on the map. Manchester looked to be about a thirty-minute drive. She should be able to get there before the office closed.

After a wrong turn, she located the Manchester branch and was surprised when an agent there knew Tim Bradford’s name immediately.

“Sure, I know Tim,” the pleasant, middle-aged man told Melanie. “I think he’s with Webber & Wright these days. Do you know your way around town?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

The man gave her quick instructions, and by three o’clock she was sitting in the waiting room of Webber & Wright Realty.

The receptionist dialed an extension. “Tim, there’s someone here to see you.”

A few minutes later, a door opened at the end of the hallway, and a tall, blond, familiar figure strode to greet her. Melanie had forgotten how much Tim looked like Joel. The sight of him reminded her what a risk she had taken coming after Joel this way. Her hands grew clammy, and she wiped them on her slacks.

When recognition came to Tim’s face, his expression registered mild shock. “Melanie?”

“Hello, Tim.”

He glanced around as though he didn’t wish to be overheard. “Why don’t we go into my office where we can talk.”

She followed him to the dark, paneled office, and he closed the door behind them.

“I guess I don’t need to ask what brings you here …”

“I have to know what happened with Joel, Tim. If he doesn’t want to see me, I understand, but I think I deserve some answers.”

Tim stood beside his desk, rubbing the carpet with the toe of his shoe as though trying to erase a small stain.

“Do you know where Joel is?” she persisted.

“I’m not sure what to tell you, Melanie …”

“You can tell me why you go by the name of Bradford. I don’t understand what’s going on, Tim. The way Joel told the story, you two had the same parents.” Bitterness and confusion had crept into her voice, and she struggled to remain polite. She didn’t want to blow her best chance of finally locating Joel.

Joel’s brother sat down in his chair and looked Melanie in the eye. “Joel’s legal name is Ellington, Melanie. He didn’t lie to you.”

She felt a headache starting. “Then … Bradford isn’t
your
real name?”

“How did you find me?” he asked.

She explained how she had tracked him down, ending by waving the photograph at him.

He slumped in his seat and ran his hands through his hair, taking in a ragged breath before speaking. “I can’t give you any details, Melanie, but if you care anything about Joel, you will not flash that picture around here.”

“I don’t understand. What is going on, Tim? Is Joel in trouble?” Her voice rose a pitch.

He hung his head over his desk and wrung his hands. “Melanie, I can’t talk to you about Joel. I … I just can’t.”

Heartsick, she asked the question that begged to be asked, “Did he take the money, Tim?”

“Money?” Tim’s expression was unreadable.

“I—I assume you heard about the money that turned up missing after … after Joel left Silver Creek.”

He would not meet her gaze.

“Do you have any idea what agony I have lived through this past year? Do you know what it’s like to have your life pulled out from under you like a rug, and to have no clue whatsoever why it all happened? Do you?” She couldn’t hold back the anger in her voice any longer.

“Melanie, I am sorry this happened to you. But Joel … it … couldn’t be helped. And there’s nothing you can do to change it. All I can tell you is that Joel … has gone on with his life. You can’t ask me any more questions. There’s nothing else I can say.”

“This doesn’t make sense, Tim. Is Joel in some kind of trouble?” she asked again.

He hesitated, then finally said, “You could say that. And if you flash those pictures around, he’ll be in a lot more trouble.”

“It must be about the money. I want to help, Tim.”

“I’m telling you, the only thing you can do to help Joel is to go back to Missouri and forget you ever met him. I’m sorry. I … I’m going to ask you to leave now.”

She was crying now, from sheer frustration and exhaustion. “I know he’s in New York, Tim. I saw him.”

Tim Bradford’s eyebrows shot up, and he sucked in a short breath. “You talked to … Joel?”

She shook her head. “He was in a cab … driving away. But I know it was him. Please, Tim, you don’t have to tell me where he is. You don’t even have to tell Joel you talked to me, but I’ve got to have some answers … I can’t live like this anymore!” It came out in a sob. “I just don’t think I can go on until I know what went wrong.”

His tone was compassionate, but steady and determined when he told her, “Melanie, what happened had nothing to do with you. I can tell you that Joel is all right. He is a good man. He would never have hurt you if he had any choice at all in the matter. Now he is going on with his life, and that’s what you have to do.”

Tim stood and moved toward the door. It was obvious from his staid demeanor that Joel’s brother was not going to give her any other information.

Dejected, and more confused than ever, she left his office and drove back to Hartford to find a hotel. Oblivious to the stark beauty of the wintry New England countryside that whizzed by her car windows, Melanie drove on, deep in thought.

Tim’s admonition not to show Joel’s photograph around frightened her. She couldn’t imagine what reason he might have for such a warning. Had Joel taken the money after all? Was he a wanted man? She had already shown the photograph to many people, including the secretary at the agency in Hartford. That woman’s reaction hadn’t seemed to indicate anything beyond the simple fact that she recognized Tim. Besides, Joel had known she had the photo. He’d never seemed to care if she showed it to anyone.

Then it struck her: Perhaps Tim was trying to protect himself. Was he part of something shady that he was trying to cover up? Maybe it was his own picture that he didn’t want shown around the area. But that didn’t make sense either. He was working in the Manchester office for anyone to see. Maybe
he
was somehow involved in Joel’s disappearance. Had Tim taken the money himself? Yet he seemed trustworthy, and nothing Joel had ever said about Tim indicated that he was anything but a good man.

She remembered the warm and friendly Tim who had come to visit in Silver Creek that summer. He’d seemed different today—suspicious and cool and anything but friendly. She wondered what had caused him to change so. Could Joel have changed like that too?

That night, she tossed and turned in the unfamiliar hotel room. Finding Tim hadn’t answered any of her questions. If anything, it left her more perplexed and bewildered than ever.

And infinitely more determined to find Joel and uncover the truth.

After the sleepless night, Melanie showered and dressed and pondered what her next step should be. Before she’d left Silver Creek, she had assumed that she would find Tim and that he would lead her to Joel. Now she had to come up with another plan.

The fact that Joel had talked about so few people from his past caused her to realize how little she had actually known about him. Had she been to blame for that? she wondered now. Had she never asked him about the most important parts of his life—or worse, had she never listened when he told her? And yet, his openness and honesty where the present was concerned—and especially where their relationship was concerned—was one of the things that had attracted her to him, one of the things she missed most about him.

She remembered that Joel had occasionally talked about the college where he’d taught before coming to Missouri. Perhaps someone there might know where to find him. And if not, maybe they could at least shed some light on who Joel Ellington really was.

Melanie couldn’t remember many details about the small private school, but she knew it was in New York, and Joel had used the name Langston. Whether that was the name of the college or the town, she wasn’t sure. She recalled him commenting on the ice sculpture at the Addy awards. He’d told her there was a fountain on campus like it, a likeness of a dragon that spewed water instead of fire. He had also spoken of a woman named Barbara, a professor in the English department whom he had admired greatly. She thought the woman’s last name was Andrews—or maybe Anderson. If she could contact a chamber of commerce or department of tourism in the general area, she might be able to locate the school.

She brought a stale sweet roll and coffee to her room from the continental breakfast the hotel served, then she got out the phone book and her atlas and set to work. The atlas showed a Langston, New York, near Poughkeepsie just over the Connecticut border. For
some odd reason, directory information didn’t have a listing for a chamber of commerce there. It seemed that a town large enough to support a college would also have some type of tourism department. A call to Poughkeepsie’s chamber of commerce confirmed that there was a small private school in Langston—Foxmoor College. She couldn’t remember Joel ever using the name Foxmoor, but she jotted down the number and dialed it.

“Foxmoor College, how may I direct your call?”

“Yes, I’m … I’m looking for a professor named Barbara … Andrews, I believe it is … in the English department?”

“That would be Barbara Anderson.”

“Um, yes, that’s it.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Anderson won’t be in her office until classes resume. May I take a message?”

“Till classes resume?”

“Yes. We’re on our winter break. Second semester doesn’t start until the nineteenth. None of the teachers will be back until the Monday before.”

“I see. Do you … Do you happen to know if Mrs. Anderson lives there in Langston?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“Well …” She hesitated. Tim’s warning had made her cautious. “Mrs. Anderson doesn’t know me. I’m kind of a friend of a friend. I’m going to be in Langston this week and I just thought I’d stop by and say hello. You don’t need to leave a message.”