Missing Marlene Read Online Free PDF

of In the Name of the Mother toward her and began idly flipping through its pages, covered with her notes and comments.

Four
    That night she drove north on Highland Road, a narrow, unlit ribbon slicing through the woods at the sparsely populated north end of town. Cara Fairchild, Audrey and Elliott’s fourteen-year-old daughter, had agreed to baby-sit Nick.
    In two days Jane would no longer have to worry about baby-sitters. Pia Graven had been true to her word and sent two prospective nannies to see Jane that afternoon. The first was a wonderfully warm and animated young Trinidadian woman named Florence Price. She had just lost her job as nanny to a little boy in Randolph whose father had been transferred to Chicago. Jane liked Florence immediately, but Jane controlled her impulses and said she’d be in touch soon.
    The second applicant reminded Jane uncomfortably of Marlene—a sleekly beautiful young woman named Lillian who showed little interest in Nick and, when Jane asked her if she had any questions, wanted to know how many weeks of vacation she got and whether Jane had a pool.
    As soon as Lillian was gone, Jane called Pia for Florence’s references. Jane quickly checked them, found them uniformly glowing, called Pia back, and hired Florence. She would start work in two days.
    That was a load off Jane’s mind. But there was still the matter of Roger. She dreaded telling him she’d been unsuccessful with Arliss. He would go into a rage, throw more accusations. It would be horrible.
    She slowed, knowing that the Roadside Tavern was coming up. Then it appeared, a dilapidated flat-roofed building tucked into the pines. At the edge of the nearly full parking lot a faded wooden sign stood on a pair of peeling posts.
    Jane parked and got out. Approaching the entrance, she could feel the deep bass thump of music. She opened the door and it hit her in the face—screaming, bouncing Bee Gees disco. But no one was dancing. To her immediate right was the entrance to the bar, every stool occupied, the air thick with cigarette smoke. The bartender, a slight blond man, took his time filling orders, smiling as he traded wisecracks with his customers—all of whom, Jane noticed, were men and women about Marlene’s age, late teens, early twenties.
    To Jane’s left was a larger room filled with small round tables at which sat couples, sometimes four people. At the table nearest Jane a woman with spiked mauve hair and three nose rings gesticulated vigorously as she spoke to a man in tight black leather and studs. Ginny was right!
    Jane noticed a waitress coming toward her, a dark-haired woman in a fisherman’s knit sweater tucked into baggy jeans. She was frowning slightly.
    “Help you?”
    “Yes.” Jane wished they’d turn down the music. “Yes!” she shouted. “I’m looking for Marlene Benson.”
    The waitress gave her a funny look. “Marlene? Uh—wait a minute.” She crossed the entryway into the bar and disappeared from view. A moment later she reappeared, followed by a hugely obese man of medium height with a silver-gray crew cut and pudgy, childlike features. He wore jeans that tapered at the ankles, giving his bottom half a triangular appearance, and a vast blue-and-white Hawaiian shirt.
    “Can I help you?” he asked.
    Jane repeated what she’d told the waitress.
    “Marlene’s not here,” he said. “I heard she left town.”
    “Yes, she’s my—” The music really was too much. “Can we go outside for a minute?” Jane yelled.
    “Sure.” He led her outside, where it was blessedly silent but suddenly biting cold.
    “I’m Peter Mann. The owner. Now, you’re lookin’ for Marlene?”
    She nodded. “She worked for me, took care of my son. She did leave, two days ago, but she didn’t say where she was going. Her mother and I want to make sure she’s okay. I understand she spent a lot of time here.”
    “Yeah.” He considered her for a moment. “There’s someone here you oughta talk