Stolen Honey Read Online Free Page A

up today to take him out to brunch at the Branbury Inn. He’d planned to meet them at ten-thirty. And he wasn’t there.”
    “A college boy,” Gwen said. “You were in college once, Olen. Did you ever take off on a Saturday night?”
    “Sure, but I wouldn’t leave my motorcycle out on a mountain road. We found it half a mile below here. Look, I’ve got two men searching the general area now. When I heard about the kid’s bringing Donna home, I thought I’d come on up and ask.” He looked sympathetic, his eyes on Gwen’s face. “I’d like to talk to Donna, please, Gwen. These are New York parents. They’re all in a twit.”
    Brownie appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Mom! There’s no Froot Loops in the pantry. What’m I supposed to eat for breakfast?”
    She saw her son the way Olen would see him, a slight, poor-complexioned boy with bowed legs like he didn’t get enough calcium in his bones. Though she did try. Brownie had always been a fussy eater.
    “Have the Raisin Bran,” she called. “I’ll buy some more Froot Loops. And go wake Donna, will you? Tell her Uncle Olen wants to see her.”
    She’d had the children call Olen “uncle” when they were small, and they still called him that. The word “uncle” made the mission seem more innocent. And it was innocent, wasn’t it? What college boy wanted to have brunch with his parents when something more exciting might come along?
    Another concern sprang up. Had he really brought Donna home last night—and on a motorcycle? She and Russell had had a few drinks, made love, and slept like babies—at least he had— until Donna came home. With Donna safe in bed, she’d slept soundly. Russell was out of the house by five-forty-five. Had he seen a motorcycle? She hoped not. It would blow his mind! She was suddenly upset with that college boy, upset with Donna. With Olen, too. It was a gorgeous April day. The pussy willows were out, the bees were overjoyed. Why was Olen pulling a shadow over her world?
    And here was a second police car, pulling up behind Olen’s. Would she never get away this morning? A short, robust-looking woman shouted, “The cycle’d been here, I could see the tracks. Shall we search the woods?”
    Olen glanced at Gwen. “With your permission? He might have just gone in the woods to, um, sleep it off. They’d been at a party, right?” His tone was more conciliatory, his voice sorter, throatier. “He could have got lost, trying to get back to his bike. He’s had a couple warnings for that thing—shouldn’ta been driving it. I suppose Donna didn’t know.”
    “But why was the bike a half mile down the road if he was in our woods? Does that make sense?”
    “Gwen,” said Olen, poking his big gray head close to her face, “nothing makes sense when you’re twenty years old. Right, Leroy?” For the first time he addressed the hired boy. Leroy nodded and pulled the bill of his feed cap down over his bushy red eyebrows.
    “So we’ll have a look,” Olen said to the officer, a sergeant, who was out of her car now. “Tell Donna not to go anywhere,” he warned Gwen. “We’ll want to talk to her. The boy might’ve said something about where he was headed, you know.”
    “It’s damp in there,” Gwen said, resigned to losing half a morning’s work. “You’d better let me come with you. You don’t want to get those nice black shoes muddy.” She wasn’t going to worry. What would a college boy be doing in her woods? This “missing person” label was definitely premature. “So let’s get going,” she told Olen, who was lifting an anxious eyebrow.
    “Stay here and explain to Donna what we’re doing,” she told Leroy. “Don’t alarm her, though.” She strode on ahead of the two officers. For one thing, she wanted to steer them away from the barrel she illegally burned her trash in.
    They were partway into the swamp, picking their way slowly through the frosty grasses, when the sergeant, who had gone on ahead,