Page 168 of A Dead End Wedding

"The museum! Orange Grove Productions! Where is that invoice?" I dug around in the piles of paper on my desk, then found my URGENT CASE QUESTIONS file under an empty can of Diet Coke. I shuffled through the pages in the folder until I found the invoice.

"Ah ha! I was right! Look at this, Brody," I said triumphantly, pointing to the invoice.

We both stared at the box marked CLIENT NAME on the bottom left corner of the invoice.

"Marion Ziggeran," Jake said softly.

I whirled around in my chair. "Marion Ziggeran. Everybody who knows about this commercial seems to wind up dead."

Jake's lips quirked in a half-smile. "Not a bad fate for people in advertising."

"This is no time for jokes! We've got to report this to somebody. This is too big for me to handle. I've got to reach my contact at the FDA, too. I'm going to call him at right now. I have his home number," I said, reaching for the phone.

Jake walked over to the door. "I have a friend at the FBI. I'm going to call him and find out where we should go with this," he said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket as he walked.

He stopped at the doorway. "Good job, Vaughn."

I stopped mid-dial and looked up at him. "We make a good team, Brody."

He smiled and then walked off, and I tried to shake the hormonal overdrive out of my brain. Danger. Bad guys. Imminent evil. No time for romance.

I finished dialing, and the phone rang a few times and went to voice mail. I was on my own. I left a brief name and numberonly message and slowly hung up the phone. Maybe Jake would have better luck with his FBI contact. As I stood up, the phone rang, and I grabbed it.

"Hello?"

"December, thank God I found you! Nathan never came home!" Celia is sobbing; I can hardly understand her.

"Honey, calm down. What do you mean, he never came home? From where?"

"He . . . he went to the store. Just to pick up some milk and break. That was over an hour ago. I called the store, and he never showed up," she said, breathing hard.

It never occurred to me to doubt this. Ofcourse,Celia would know the people at the store, and they would know Nathan. That was so Orange Grove-y.

"I'm sure he's fine, Aunt Celia. He probably stopped off to do something else, and?—"

"He's gone! Something happened to him. I have that terrible feeling in my throat, December. I just know something happened. It's almost ten o'clock at night. He never, ever drives at night," she said, practically shrieking.

Having my personal rib cage twinge, I didn't question Aunt Celia's bad throat feeling. It ran in the family. Plus, I knew that Nathan never drove at night. He had pretty bad astigmatism and had a hard time seeing clearly with oncoming headlights in his eyes.

Jake walked into my office, and I waved him over and held the phone so we could both hear. "Celia, did you try his cell phone?"

"He left it here. He was only going two miles away to the store. Oh, December, help me!"

Jake leaned over and spoke into the phone. "Mrs. Judson? Celia? It's Jake Brody. I'm going to come over right now and drive the road between your house and the store, all right? Iwant you to stay calm and stay right there, in case he comes home."

"Jake? You're right, I should do that. I'll go right now," she said.

"No!" Jake and I shouted simultaneously.

"Aunt Celia, you're too upset, and your astigmatism isn't much better than Uncle Nathan's. We'd hate for you to get in an accident while we're out looking for him," I said.

"Celia, you stay right where you are. I will come get you first, and you can ride along with me. How is that?" Jake said, voice firm but more gentle than I'd ever heard.

"Oh, Jake, that would be wonderful. Please hurry. I'll get ready right now."

I hung up and took a long breath.

Jake put a hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay, Vaughn?"

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