The President's Daughter - Mariah Stewart [114]
Simon’s head snapped up.
“Dillon . . . oh, shit.” Simon’s voice grew taut with concern. “That’s the name of the client that Dina was to meet today.”
“Good Lord . . .”
Simon reached for the phone and once again dialed the number for Dina’s cell phone. He looked up at Philip and said, “She’s not picking up. . . . Dina, this is Simon. Do not . . . do not . . . keep your appointment this morning. We—Philip and I—suspect that your Mrs. Dillon is the same person who tried to run you down last week. The same person who killed Blythe. When you get this message, call me at . . .” Simon hesitated.
“Give her my cell phone number.” Philip handed him a business card.
Simon repeated the number for Dina.
“Be careful, sweetheart,” he said as he hung up, pausing for a second before dialing again. “I should check with Jude and Betsy—damn, the machine picked up there, too.”
Simon left essentially the same message for Dina on Betsy’s answering machine, then returned the cordless phone to its base.
“What now?” Philip asked.
“Now I head north. If I hear from Dina, I’ll meet her wherever she is. If not, I’ll continue on to Wild Springs.”
“I’m going with you,” Philip said as he pocketed his phone. “I can make some calls along the way. I can try Betsy again. Dina, too. And I can try to get in touch with Carolyn Decker as well.”
And if they needed to bring in some high-level law enforcement, Philip thought as he followed Simon through the front door, there was an old friend he could call. . . .
“She still hasn’t called.” Jude stood at the open front door as Simon and Philip came up the walk. “We’re at our wits’ end with worry. We haven’t heard from her all day.”
“I don’t suppose you know anything about this client that she was going to meet?” Simon asked, on the outside chance that Mrs. Dillon just might be a legitimate customer.
“Only what Dina said this morning. That Polly told her that this Mrs. Dillon had come into the shop yesterday asking for Dina. Said they were looking at a property outside of town and wanted an estimate to restore the gardens.” Jude leaned against the newel post at the foot of the stairs. “Hello, Philip. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you—”
“Don’t apologize, Jude. It’s all right. I’ll save my ‘it’s good to see you again’ for a better time.” Norton stepped forward and kissed Jude’s cheek gently.
“I forgot that you two have met,” Simon noted, then belatedly introduced Betsy.
“It’s been years since we’ve seen each other,” Norton said as he extended his hand to Betsy. “We, however, have not met. It’s my pleasure.”
“Thank you.” Betsy took the hand he offered. “Do you have any thoughts on what could be keeping Dina?”
“We keep going back and forth between being paranoid and thinking that something has happened to her and thinking that maybe we’re just a couple of mother hens who are worried over nothing.” Jude sat on one arm of an overstuffed chair.
“It’s still early.” Betsy moved to the window and looked out. “Perhaps we should give her a little more time.”
“It’s eight-thirty.” Simon glanced at his watch.
“It’s not like Dina to not keep in touch. She never goes anywhere without that phone in her hand.” Jude’s forehead creased with worry.
“I think we should give Polly a call and see what she can tell us about Mrs. Dillon,” Simon suggested.
Simon lifted the phone from the table nearby and handed it to Jude. “If you wouldn’t mind . . .”
Jude dialed the number for Polly’s house and, when Polly answered, explained that she would be passing the phone to someone who was trying to help them get in touch with Dina. Betsy leaned over and hit the speakerphone button.
“Polly, my name is Simon Keller. We’re trying to catch up with Dina, and it seems you were the last person to speak with her today.”
“No, actually, I didn’t speak with her today. I left a voice mail message for her late yesterday afternoon.” Polly paused, then asked, “Has something happened to Dina?”
“We’re hoping not,” Simon told her, taking pains not to unduly