Chapter 10: Looking for Chase
Two days passed since Rachel had heard from Chase. She flew down the highway reeling both in anger and fear at what had happened to him. The man she fell in love with was as passionate as he was impulsive. For a handsome guy in college that recklessness was sexy. For a man with a job, bills, and a new fiancé it was ridiculous. Still, the lack of communication was unlike him. He wasn't one to simply vanish. She felt the tug of fear gripping the insides of her stomach as she saw the exit for Arcadia just a second too late. She slammed on the brakes enough to slow hard, and then grasped the wheel jerking it across two lanes. She ignored the chorus of horns, almost hitting the concrete stanchion as she exited the highway.
Her silver Jaguar stood out like a sore thumb next to an old gas tank on an island in front of an equally ancient white building. She remembered the book that Chase had forced her to read by John Grisham. “The Unpainted House,” she thought it was called. Chase would frequently comment on the single color of white chipped paint seen on older farmhouses from the early 20th century. The simple building alongside the pump had those same details of planked siding and chipped paint with windows that seemed to be locked shut more by the bidding of time rather than a latch which was likely rusted in place. An inconspicuous sign which read STORE in bright red letters hung above the front door.
“I just died and went to Mayberry,” she said to herself while cutting off the car. She opened the door and took a step, cussing as the heel of her designer shoe planted itself deep in a small mud puddle resting outside the car door.
“Son of a bitch.” She took off her shoe and hit the heel against the side of the car, before slipping it back onto her dainty foot. She pulled her wallet and cell phone from her purse and carefully stepped past the puddle and onto the ground when something caught her eye from across the street.
A little girl with dark brown pig tails waved at her. The girl wore a cute white dress which seemed a bit much in Rachel’s opinion for such a balmy day. Nonetheless Rachel waved back, and the little girl smiled. Rachel glanced inside the wallet to see a thick wad of cash. It was enough to attract attention if she were to pull it out in front of anyone else. She grabbed two $20s. She glanced around and didn’t see anyone else. Then she looked back at the girl who still stood across the street. The girl smiled. Rachel blinked, and the girl was gone. “I must be getting tired.” She laughed for the first time in days and quickly noted the tall shrubs the girl had been standing next to and likely dove behind playing a child’s game of hide-and-seek.
A silver bell rang when Rachel opened the store’s door, but the screech of the hinges was a better warning system for whomever was working. A series of almost empty shelves and two equally sparse Coca Cola coolers greeted her under several dim fluorescent lights. An old man in a pair of faded denim suspenders and a blue button-down shirt sat behind the counter reading a thick book.
“Evening,” he said seemingly appraising Rachel’s black slacks and silk white top.
Rachel smiled back and held out a credit card, forgetting the two $20s she had snatched from her wallet a moment ago. “Hi, I need ga-”
“Don’t take American Express.” He said before she could finish.
“Uh, is Visa, ok? I need gas.” she said trading one card for the other before closing her wallet.
The older man nodded. “How much young lady?”
“Twenty.” She replied. “Oh, wait. I forgot. I have cash. Sorry, my minds been all over the place lately.” She tucked the VISA back in her wallet and handed the man one of the bills quietly reminding herself that she might need the credit card if her money ran out.
The old man closed his book and stood stiffly. He took two slow steps to the cash register as Rachel noticed his book.
“It’s my favorite Grisham,” she smiled noting the whitewashed house on the cover a book that only a few moments ago she was reminded of.
“Mine too.” Was all he said as she pulled a bottle of spring water from a cooler behind her and handed the man her other twenty.
“Anything else?”
She looked disdainfully at the junk food lining a shelf beside the counter “You got any healthy snacks?”
The old man peered at her over his glasses. “Why isn’t anything made by man under the hand God healthy?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” She didn’t want to start a religious war minutes after getting to town. She sat the bottle on the counter, and he rang it up.
“Are you the only person who works here?”
The old man shrugged. “Most of the time. My grandson comes by every so often to lend a hand when he’s not in jail.”
“Do you mind me asking you a question?” she asked, as she pulled out her cell.
“You just did Missy,” he replied genially.
Rachel couldn’t help but smile. “I just want to know if you have seen this man.”
She swiped through a couple of photos before she finally came upon one taken a few days before Chase left Nashville. Not his best, but it would do the trick. The old man leaned his head back, and looked at Chase’s image on her phone through his dusty lenses. “No, can’t say that I have.”
“He’s my fiancé. His name is Chase and he drove a dark blue Ford Fusion out here about three, maybe four days ago, and I haven’t heard from him since.”
“Well, I’m afraid I haven’t seen him Missy. Where was he headin’?”
“To look at a plantation house not far from here. He wanted to buy it. Move in, raise a family, you know the deal.”
The old man smirked. “I take it you don’t like the bayou?”
She shifted uncomfortably, “That obvious?”
“You a city girl, and life in a swamp don’t strike yer’ fancy none.”
“That’s a nice way to put it.”
“I understand, cause I feel the same way ‘bout the city.” He paused and looked at Chase again. “He says what the name of the plantation is?”
“Bellafont. In some town called Arcadia.”
The register drawer opened, and she jumped when he slammed it shut. “You call the sheriff?”
“I have and they say they are looking.”
“In that case, stay at the hotel ten miles back up the highway.”
“Are there no hotels in Arcadia?”
“None I would recommend.” He held out her change. He dropped the coins in her hand, and she took the bills, but he didn’t release them. “Go back up the road, get some sleep and head on back to wherever you come from. Let the sheriff handle finding your friend.”
“Sir, I might be a woman, but I’m a lot tougher than I look and-.”
“Not ‘bout being tough or ‘bout being a woman. ‘Bout being smart enough to stay away from Arcadia.”
Rachel tugged at the bills, and he released them. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m not one to just sit around and wait.”
“Might be the best thing you ever do. There ain’t nobody or nothin’ good in Arcadia.”
“Sir, if he went to Arcadia, I’m going to Arcadia. Now which way do I go?”
Rachel was quick to leave the gas station. She didn't want to deal with an ornery local any more than she wanted to deal with the alligator she saw dive into the river alongside the station. Ignoring the old man at the gas station she went the opposite way he suggested - toward Arcadia.
The direction she turned out of the gas station didn't go unnoticed. As soon as Rachel was down the road a way, the old man grabbed the phone hanging from the wall. He didn't even have to dial; it was a direct line. "There's a city girl coming your way. She ain't so happy. Lookin' for her husband or something." He listened for a moment and then hung up.