Lie in Plain Sight by Maggie Barbieri Page B

looked at her. “Who are you?” Gone was the free spirit that Maeve had become friends with, and in her place was a woman who promised to become a “better wife.”
    â€œI know, I know,” Jo said, grabbing a bottle of window cleaner and a rag and spraying the glass counter in the front of the store. “I can hardly believe some of the things that come out of my mouth.” She rubbed at a crusted bit of icing. “Hey, this is a nice color. What is it? Is it ‘Fitzpatrick pink’?”
    â€œYes, it’s a cross between Thulian pink and salmon,” Maeve said. “The Fitzpatrick twins are being christened tomorrow. You have no idea what I’ve been through with Donna.”
    â€œI can only imagine. I run into her at the park occasionally, and it’s ‘organic’ this and ‘gluten-free’ that.” Jo pointed at the smudged icing. “I guess that only counts when cupcakes aren’t concerned. I’m surprised she didn’t ask you to incorporate the twins’ placenta into the batter.” Jo opened the drink case and counted the number of iced teas on the right side. She turned to Maeve. “Thirty-six. I think we’re good for a while.”
    Maeve rearranged some cakes in the case, making sure that the tart she had made the day before was front and center, so hopefully it would be gone by the end of the day.
    Jo had made a few notations about the drink inventory on a napkin that she handed to Maeve. “Anything on Taylor?” Jo asked. “Someone put a sign in front of our house with her photo and a number to call with information. That was fast. I didn’t think you could get signs printed that quickly.”
    â€œI only know what I’ve seen on the news, Jo. And it doesn’t sound like there have been any leads.”
    Jo stopped what she was doing and stood up straight. “I don’t know if I would have understood this as well before Jack. But right now, when I think of that girl and where she might be or what could have happened, I get a little sick.”
    â€œMe, too.”
    â€œA lot sick, actually.”
    Maeve knew the feeling. “The last two days have been hell, Jo. I can’t stop thinking about where she might have gone.” Maeve pulled a newspaper from the stack by the front door. On the front page of the local paper, Taylor’s photo was large and surrounded by text. Maeve was struck by how at first glance, the photo could have been of Heather; the girls had similar looks. Long brown hair. Brown eyes. A grim set of lips. Similar facial bone structure.
    Jo went into the kitchen as Maeve was spreading the paper open to continue reading the story of the investigation past the front page. It didn’t seem that a lot had changed or that the police had any leads. One tip said that she had been spotted on a southbound train, heading toward the city, even though the police had been all over the station asking people who had been there. Another said that she was seen walking along the side of the road by the dam. Still another reported that she had been seen in the middle of town, carrying a coffee cup, looking like she didn’t have a care in the world.
    Chris Larsson came in the front of the store, the pleasant jingle of the bell above the door at odds with his stern face, his serious demeanor. His usual greeting—“Hiya, beautiful”—accompanied by a kiss or a hug, was replaced with a barely audible sigh and a tone that suggested this wasn’t a social call. Maeve grabbed a blueberry muffin from under the footed stand and put it on a napkin anyway. The guy was a sucker for her muffins, and she hoped that one bite would change his black mood.
    She came around the counter and joined him at a café table by the drink case. “That’s a lot of iced tea,” he remarked.
    â€œBiggest seller,” she said, wondering why things were so uncomfortable. A tingling