“We saw Genie Gonzales...briefly.” Meg flushed slightly, as if saying such a thing out loud was still foreign to her. It probably was.
“In the Krewe, we always maintain hope that the dead will help,” Jackson said.
“Yes, but it has to be someone involved with Congressman Walker. At least when it comes to Lara. Why would she have disappeared if it weren’t for whatever happened in his office the night she left that message?”
“We have to look at all possibilities,” Jackson responded.
“And what about the letter Lara left me?” Meg asked.
“They’re still trying various methods to restore the writing,” Angela assured her. She went to the table and leafed through her papers and attached another one to the board. “This is their latest attempt. The first sentence is easy enough to read. Unfortunately, the words that explain why she wrote the letter remain blurred. The bard is visible, so we can assume she was writing Hubbard. They’ve cleared another partial word, as you can see here—s-b-u.”
Matt leaned forward. “G-e-t-t-y-s-b-u-r-g,” he spelled.
“Well, there’s reason to believe that something is bound to happen there,” Jackson said. “The rest of us will continue the investigation and protection detail. We’ll accompany the Walker party and Mrs. Hubbard. As we planned, Matt, you and Meg need to get up there now. Continue your search for Lara Mayhew. She may well be the key to the truth.”
14
Meg was eager to resume their search, so she was glad when the meeting ended. Jackson said they should go by instinct in Gettysburg that night and to get some rest for the days to come. They should do whatever Meg thought they needed to that might lead them to the whereabouts of Lara Mayhew.
When they stopped at his house to pick up Killer, Matt took her by the shoulders before she could walk inside. “This is going to be difficult. Concentrate on Lara. We’ll be stuck with the Walker camp soon enough, so tonight is the time to let Gettysburg talk to us. Remember everything you two loved there. We’ll do some of those things—and figure out why she wrote what she did in her note to you.”
Meg smiled at that. “Okay. Road trip. Remember to play the Muppets, and I’ll be okay.”
“It’s a deal.”
And he did play Muppet music as they started out. Killer barked with excitement at the first song.
“Dog isn’t so bad,” Matt muttered.
*
Congressman Ian Walker and his party had rented the old MacAndrew farmhouse, not far from the national park visitor center. Both Matt and Meg knew the place, although neither had stayed there before. Angela had called to tell them that they wouldn’t be able to get in until the following night, however; the remaining room was rented to another family.
Meg suggested they go to a nearby bed-and-breakfast where she’d often stayed with Lara, and Angela took care of the booking.
Meg was friendly with the people who owned it; one of them, Charlene Sayers, wouldn’t have a problem keeping Killer there. And if they encountered a problem after that, she knew of a doggy day care in town.
They didn’t arrive until eight—although eight that evening felt like two in the morning.
Peter Sayers, who owned the bed-and-breakfast and ran it with his niece, Charlene, greeted them when they came in. Peter had lived in the area his entire life and had purchased the bed-and-breakfast when the previous owner had died. He’d added baths to every room, air-conditioning, and glassed in the back porch to allow for a sunny breakfast room.
Their host was a jovial man of about fifty, a widower with no children but a fondness for his college-age niece, a young woman just as enthusiastic about local history as her uncle.
Peter was a reenactor, glad to take on the role of his own Confederate ancestor for numerous reenactments, from Sharpsburg to Cold Harbor and on to the North.
“Meg, I was delighted to hear your name when the young woman called for your reservations tonight!” Peter said, greeting her with a hug. “But two rooms—and you’re not here with Lara?” he asked. “Ah, I see you’re traveling with a new friend?”
“Actually, Peter, Lara’s gone missing. And we’re hoping maybe we’ll find her here or come up with some idea as to where she might be.”
“Is this her dog?” Charlene asked, coming around to meet Killer.
“No, he’s—he’s my dog,” Meg said. She realized that yes, he was her dog now.
“He’s adorable!” Charlene crouched down to pet him.
Matt laughed. “Adorable might be stretching it.”
“I say he’s adorable,” Charlene insisted.
“I’m so sorry to hear about Lara,” Peter told them. “Are you afraid she’s—well, it sounds odd or clichéd, but—met some kind of foul play? We’ve seen the news up here. Horrible what’s going on in the DC and Richmond areas with all those murders.”