Since You've Been Gone (12 page)

“Yes. She looks peaceful.”

“She needed an injection, something to kick in faster, even though it didn't meet with Ms. Wright's approval.”

“Do you know her?” Rebecca asked.

“I've seen her at the hospital. Never had the great pleasure of talking to her until tonight.” Clay smiled wryly. “Can't say I'm too impressed.”

Rebecca nodded. “Molly's mentioned her on the phone. She's not at all what I expected. I can't imagine having her around all the time, but Molly seems to like her.” She lowered her voice and looked at Bill. “I'm glad you didn't tell Molly about the stain on Tramp.”

“I was going to until I got a look at her; I knew she couldn't take it. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Definitely tomorrow, whether you think it's best for her or not,” Clay said. “That Keene woman asked me about it outside. If the press has the information, you can't shield Molly.”

Bill looked furious. “And when I find out where that leak came from, someone is going to be mighty sorry.”

Rebecca glanced at the clock. “I saw Jean's lights go out about ten minutes ago. She should be here by now.”

“Maybe she got waylaid out front,” Clay said. He strode to the front window and parted the draperies. “Don't see her, but the group is turning into a crowd. Must be thirty people out there.”

Bill erupted from the couch. “That's it. I'm calling in a couple of cruisers.”

Clay raised his eyebrows at Rebecca with a hint of a smile. She knew he appreciated Bill's forcefulness as much as she did. Bill placed a call to headquarters, then opened
the front door. Voices rose. He shut the door behind him and Rebecca joined Clay at the window.

A moment after Bill's appearance, the crowd quieted and only Bill could be heard, telling people that there was no news but that they were behaving inconsiderately, intrusively, and criminally by trespassing. He could and
would
arrest anyone who did not leave the premises. Within seconds of this announcement, a police cruiser arrived, lights flashing. The crowd began dispersing, some fleeing hastily, others languidly, grumbling, as if seeing how far they could push their luck. The only person who did not move one inch was the reporter Kelly Keene.

“Chief Garrett, you seem to forget that the people have a right to know—”

“You seem to forget that Ms. Ryan has a right to privacy.” He took a step toward her. “I repeat, you are trespassing. Now, you might get a momentary thrill out of being arrested, but your adoring public will probably start thinking you're fairly stupid for getting yourself tangled up for hours in the booking and bail process when there's a big story you should be following. If you disagree, I will gladly have one of my officers escort you to the jail.”

Kelly's eyes narrowed. Her whole face seemed to narrow, pinched with the frustration of a spoiled child. Then she turned with the grace of a dancer and strode toward the news van. She climbed in and slammed the door. Seconds ticked by. The news van didn't move. The people inside knew sitting in front of the house on the street was not trespassing. They intended to stay. Bill remained on the porch, glaring.

“This is a nightmare,” Clay said.

“One I've been through before.” Rebecca sighed.

“Which makes this even more bizarre—too bizarre to be coincidence.” He looked at her earnestly. “This is a city of twenty thousand. To some people that's a small town. The crime rate is low. Folks feel safe about their kids here. But then something like this happens—to your family—not
once but twice.” Clay paused. “And I seem to be pounding you over the head with it. I'm sorry.”

Rebecca felt a tremendous sense of relief flow through her. She knew Bill believed in her visions. It was her reasoning power he seemed to doubt. She couldn't talk to her mother about this and she felt that Frank believed her perspective to be clouded by her “delusion” that she had ESP.

“Don't be sorry,” Rebecca told Clay. “You're just saying what I've been feeling, although Bill doesn't want to believe there's a connection in the kidnappings. I know he's trying to make me feel better, but it doesn't work because it isn't true.” Her voice grew more intense. “And admitting there's a connection, looking for the similarities, is what's going to help us find Todd. As long as no one agrees with me, though….”

Clay frowned, “I think other people don't want to see the connection because of how things ended for Jonnie. But if you of all people are willing to face it, then someone else should, too.”

“I wish you'd tell that to my family.”

“I don't think they'd listen to some guy they haven't seen for years,” he said dryly. “But Rebecca, if there's any other way I can help you, please tell me.”

Everyone offered to help, Rebecca thought, but people rarely thought they would actually be called on—and if they were, they seemed to feel put upon. But Clay looked sincere.

“Well, there is something you could do.”

“Name it.”

Rebecca plunged on before reticence got the best of her. “You can be a friend and a sounding board. You can hear me out and not try to comfort me but analyze what I'm saying, see if I'm being logical, help me find the link between the kidnappings.”

“That doesn't sound like much help.”

“It would be. Believe me.”

Clay tilted his head slightly. “Okay, Rebecca. I'm your official sounding board.”

The door opened and Bill walked in followed by Jean, spouting excuses. “Sorry it took me so long. I had to put food out for the cat. And just as I was leaving, my sister Wendy called. I told her I was in a hurry, but she chattered away. Something about deciding which boyfriend to see. She's
so
popular.” For the first time, she smiled. “She's in college. You know how important these things seem when you're that age.”

No one said anything and Jean didn't seem to expect an answer. “Molly's asleep,” Clay told her. “I'll leave my number in case you have any trouble during the night.”

Jean's smile abruptly disappeared. “I'm sure there won't be anything I can't handle.”

“Take it anyway. You might just feel like gabbing to someone in the middle of the night,” Clay returned with a flirtatious grin that clearly set Jean's teeth on edge. Rebecca almost laughed aloud as the woman's shoulders stiffened at the thought of calling up young Dr. Bellamy in the middle of the night for intimate chitchat. “Rebecca, I'll walk you to your car.”

Outside, the van sat at the curb in front of Molly's house. Rebecca expected Kelly Keene to come leaping out at them, but she remained inside, perhaps intimidated by Bill's presence in the house. Clay said nothing until they reached the red Thunderbird. “I'm driving Mother's car since I bashed up the rental,” she said. “Frank handled getting the car removed. I still haven't gone by Dormaine's to see how much damage I did.”

“I wouldn't worry too much about it. But speaking of restaurants, would you like to go to dinner tomorrow evening?” Rebecca just looked at him. “I'm inviting you out, Ms. Ryan. It would give us a chance to talk.”

She suddenly felt like the seventeen-year-old with a crush; when the idea of Clay Bellamy asking her on a date seemed ludicrous, unbelievable. She'd been feeling like that teenager ever since she returned to Sinclair. But she had to get out of the time warp and start acting like a woman, not a girl. Besides, she'd said she needed to talk with him. He
said this would be a chance to talk. He probably didn't think of it as a date at all. She was being ridiculous and was glad for the darkness of night that hid her heightened color. “I'd like to have dinner.”

He grinned, that old devastating grin that used to make her knees feel like they were melting. “Good. I'll pick you up at seven.”

“Fine,” she said abruptly, embarrassed over the knees and her whole girlish demeanor. “Good night, Clay.”

He stood smiling as she opened the car door and got in, then fastened her seat belt. She gave him a brief wave as he lingered, watching her.

As soon as Rebecca turned on the ignition, music blasted through the car. Yet, on the way to Molly's, she had not been listening to the radio or the CD player. Rebecca went cold when she heard the familiar, haunting opening organ notes of “A Whiter Shade of Pale.”

Jonnie's favorite song.

“My mom doesn't want me to see you anymore.”

“So what else is new?” Randy Messer snapped a twig in his hands and tossed it. It was a beautiful night but they were a bit too close to Sonia's house for Randy's comfort.

“I wish we didn't have to meet in secret,” Sonia said.

“It won't last forever.” He reached out and touched a strand of straight black hair that had blown across her peachy complexion. He'd never seen eyes the color of violets like hers. She was a beauty. She was smart. She was crazy about him. He had no intention of losing her. “So your mother doesn't want you to see me. What's her latest complaint about me?”

“Oh, you're distracting me from my schoolwork.”

“It's summer.”

“I'm taking that composition class through the extension program. And you'll distract me when I go to college.”

“Like I did in high school and you graduated valedictorian? That way?”

She grinned at him, showing perfect teeth. “I did manage to get in a few study hours, didn't I?”

“Enough to drive me crazy. What's your mother's
real
problem with me? My poor family from the wrong side of the tracks?”

“Partly. Also your earring.”

“Which one? the gold hoop or the stud?”

Sonia smiled. “I don't think she cares for either one.”

“I'll stop wearing them. Lost the hoop anyway. What other offenses have I committed?”

“Well, there's the shoplifting scrape.”

“I was
eleven]
”

“The possession charge you racked up.”

“It was marijuana, not heroin, I wasn't dealing, and I
was fifteen
” Randy looked to the sky. “Jeez, they don't let you forget anything in this town, do they?”

“You know what a straight arrow my mother is. My dad was a minister and neither one of them had a clue about real life. Mom just doesn't understand you.”

“Oh hell, Sonia, it's more than that and you know it.”

Sonia looked at his troubled face. James Dean. He looked like old posters she'd seen of James Dean in Rhondalee's Fifties Diner near school. Good bones, ash blond hair, blue eyes that could switch from soulful to dangerous. She'd loved Randy Messer since the first time she'd seen him in that diner two years ago. “This stuff about Todd Ryan has Mom totally creeped out,” Sonia said meekly.

“No wonder. You were baby-sitting when he got snatched.”

“I feel awful about it, Randy. Everybody thinks it's my fault.”

“Nobody thinks it's your fault. Your mother sure doesn't.”

“Well, no, she doesn't think it's my fault. Her problem isn't
me
. It's that people have been talking to her and …”

Sonia looked at him miserably. Randy stared back at her.
Then he smiled in a way she didn't like. “She thinks I had something to do with it, doesn't she? She actually thinks I knew when you'd be baby-sitting, sneaked in and hit you, then took off with the kid. And in her holier-than-thou Christian goodness she spouted her little theory around and that's why I got a visit from a deputy today.”

Sonia's eyes widened. “You didn't tell me a deputy came to see you!” she cried reproachfully. “What did he want to know?”

“Nothing in particular. Where was I when you were babysitting. I told him I was with the usual suspects—my friends. That didn't win me any points. After he left, my old man went berserk. ‘What've you done now, you little shit? Shouldn't never have had you. Don't even think you're mine.' Same old crap only he was drunk. I thought he was going to beat me. I took off. Haven't been home since.”

“Oh, Randy!” Sonia cried. “I'm sorry.”

“No big deal. I hid in plain sight—the park. Had a nice talk with Skeeter Dobbs.”

Sonia liked it that Randy was never mean to Skeeter. “And what's new with Skeeter? His grandfather still haunting the furniture store?”

“Sure, only there's anew twist. Saturday night Grandfather was up in the attic and he
never
goes to the attic. Seems Skeeter was worried about that Ryan woman with the second sight being back. Had to protect his hotel from her so he was watching extra late. He thinks Grandfather's all disturbed over her.”

“Did he mean
Rebecca
Ryan?” Sonia raised her eyebrows. “My dad used to talk about her. Naturally he thought she was some kind of dangerous woman. She's my mom's boss's stepdaughter. Is she in town?”

“I guess. She had a wreck. Didn't kill her, though. According to Skeeter, he saw her driving, I quote, a blood-red car. He agrees with your dad—calls her the devil's handmaiden and says he's got plans to drive her out of town. I told him to stop talking about Rebecca Ryan
and
his grandfather being in the attic.”

“Why? No one pays any attention to anything he says.”

“I'm not so sure about that. Bill Garrett took the time to talk with him this afternoon about old Grandfather Dobbs.”

“So? Why do you look so worried?”

“I'm not
worried
. It's just that he should stop making threats about Rebecca Ryan and carrying on about his grandfather prowling around in the attic.”

“I agree with you about the Ryan woman, but who cares what he says about his grandfather?”

“Yeah,” Randy said carelessly, although his forehead was creased with concern. “Unless there really
was
someone in the attic.”