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Dottie’s expression grew somber. “God, I hope so. For his sake.”
“I’m sure they are.” Rhiannon swallowed the lump in her throat and stood. She couldn’t just sit here. She had to move, had to do… something.
Michael protested, and she signed to him,“I’ll be right back.”Then, to Dottie, she said, “Are there any specialty sweets in the store? Something more than the brand name candy. Maybe something special like that will take his mind off things for a bit.”
“Oh, good idea! We have a lot of fudge. The world’s best.”
“I was thinking something more colorful, like lollipops?”
“Yes, we had some of the big twisty ones in a box behind the register. We just got them in, and I hadn’t put them on display yet.” Dottie started to stand, but Rhiannon held up a hand, stopping her.
“No, it’s okay. I’ll get them.” As she moved toward the registers, she noticed how quiet it had become. The murmurs of conversation had faded, replaced by the soft static of the radio.
So far, they’d heard no further broadcasts, and the white noise was starting to grate on her nerves. She turned it down a bit as she passed and all but heard the group collectively exhale. They were tense, their fear a tangible, living thing in the cramped space, and the static hadn’t been helping.
Okay. They needed her to stay positive, to keep the hope alive, and she figured a lollipop—even a broken one—would do just that.
She found the lollipops—twisty ones in rainbow colors—scattered on the floor behind the U-shaped register desk. Some were broken beyond recognition, but she collected the whole ones in the hem of her shirt. As she straightened, her gaze fell on the dusty glass showcase housing an assortment of liquor bottles.
One was missing.
She searched the floor, expecting to see it shattered among the lollipops, another victim of the earthquake. But, no, that didn’t make sense. The door to the case was shut, and none of the other bottles inside had shattered. She tested the door. It was latched firmly, but it wasn’t locked.
“Huh.”
She returned to Michael and offered him one of the lollipops. His grin was tentative, but it was a start. She passed the rest of the lollipops to Brooke. “Would you mind passing the rest of these out to whoever wants one?”
“What’s wrong?” Dottie asked when Brooke was out of earshot.
“The liquor cabinet behind the registers? Did you keep it locked?”
Dottie’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Well, yeah. It’s store policy, but… honestly, we get sloppy with it sometimes and leave it unlocked. Why?”
“One of the bottles is missing.”
The color drained from Dottie’s face, and she pressed a hand over her heart. “God. Everyone is already stressed. If we mix alcohol into this situation…”
“I know. It could get bad.” Rhiannon sighed, rubbing at the tension headache at her temples. “Is it possible one of your staff could’ve taken it?”
Dottie looked toward her two workers, who had joined Brooke in passing out the candy. “I suppose it’s possible but unlikely,” she answered after a moment. “Will and Hailey are both decent kids. Will’s working here to save money for a foreign exchange program with his college. He’s going to Austria for the spring semester. And Hailey is only sixteen. She’s quiet but a good worker, a sweet girl. She’s hoping to get a volleyball scholarship. I don’t think either of them would steal liquor. They aren’t the types.”
Yeah, Rhiannon hadn’t thought so, but she needed to ask. And the families were too frightened, the older couple too frail—the husband, Ray, was almost eighty and hadn’t stopped coughing since the landslide. Brooke had been with Michael for most of the time. Gareth was injured. And she knew from her brother that Pierce was sober. She doubted he’d risk his sobriety for a bottle of liquor, even under the current circumstances.
That left only one other person…
“Dean,” Dottie said at the same time the name popped into her head.
Of course.
She searched for him and found him sulking in the corner behind the camping supplies, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He’d been trouble since the beginning – belligerent, on edge, hostile—and she doubted alcohol would improve his disposition.
“I’ll handle it,” Rhiannon said with a sigh and started in his direction, but Dottie caught her arm.
“Maybe you should wait for Pierce.”
She smiled and patted the older woman’s hand reassuringly. “Pierce is busy. I’ll be okay.”
Dottie looked as though she was about to argue, but she swallowed her protest, letting Rhiannon’s hand slip from hers. “Just be careful, hon.”
