Don't Cry (26 page)

They drank cola, devoured candy bars—one each for Zoe and Audrey and two for J.D.—and watched TV for the next hour. With each passing moment, Audrey relaxed more and more, feeling oddly content with J.D. Cass sitting only a few feet away from her.

During the nine o'clock commercial break, Zoe jumped up and excused herself to go to the bathroom. Once she was out of earshot, J.D. placed his arm across the back of the sofa and turned to Audrey. She looked at him and smiled.

“Thanks,” he said.

“For what?”

“For letting Zoe play mother hen tonight. For not tossing me out of here on my ass. For being such a good friend to my daughter. For—”

“I get the picture. But I'm the one who should be thanking you and Zoe. I was in an awful funk, suffering from the terminal poor-old-Audrey syndrome, before you two showed up on my doorstep.”

“Bearing gifts,” he reminded her. “We didn't show up empty-handed.”

“Indeed you didn't.”

“I wasn't sure what your reaction would be,” he confessed. “I tried to talk her out of it, told her I'd be the last person you'd want to see tonight, but Zoe insisted. I've learned that my daughter can be very stubborn, and when it comes to doing what she thinks is right, she's very persuasive at getting her own way.”

“Like father, like daughter.”

J.D. grinned. “You think so?”

“I know so. She's a lot more like you than you realize,” Audrey said. “And it's far more than the obvious physical resemblance, as great as that is.”

“You've worked a few minor miracles with my daughter,” J.D. told her. “You've been good for her. I don't think I've told you how much I appreciate all you've done.”

“It's been my pleasure. I genuinely like Zoe. She's a very special young lady. You should be proud to be her father.”

J.D.'s smile vanished. “I haven't been much of a father to her. My parenting skills need a lot of improvement. Maybe you can work a few minor miracles with me, too.”

Audrey held her breath as she stared into J.D.'s black eyes. “I—I—”

“
Medium
is on,” Zoe said as she returned to the living room and resumed her position on the floor in front of the TV. “Since J.D. won't let me date until I'm fifteen—”

“Sixteen for single dating,” he told her. “Fifteen for double dates…maybe.”

Zoe snorted. “Fifteen for double-dating is definite. We agreed. Anyway, until I turn fifteen, I'll be watching a lot of TV on Friday nights. Good thing two of my favorite shows are on then.”

Audrey glanced at J.D. “So you and Zoe have agreed on when she can date. That's a giant step in the right direction. I assume Sally helped y'all—”

“Sort of,” Zoe said. “When we discussed it today during our session, I asked her how old you were when you started dating and she told me—fifteen for double dates and sixteen for single dates.”

Audrey and J.D. exchanged glances, then he leaned over and said so quietly that only she could hear him, “I can't think of anyone I'd rather Zoe choose as a role model.”

Speechless for several moments, her gaze locked with J.D.'s, she finally said, “Thank you.”

Somer Ellis enjoyed her part-time job as a salesclerk at Belk in Hamilton Place Mall. There were so many pluses, the least of which was receiving an employee discount. Being a clotheshorse was one of her worst vices. But being a people person made dealing with the general public less of a hassle than it could have been if she were an introvert. And working in the children's department was a real bonus because she loved kids. Once she completed her studies and earned her bachelor of arts degree from UTC next spring, she would start job hunting. With a degree in advertising, she looked forward to finding just the right niche for her specific talents. Luckily, Quint had a good job as an assistant manager with First Tennessee Bank, and his future looked bright, so they weren't dependent upon her salary to pay their bills. What she earned was extra that went into a savings account for the future. They wanted to go to Hawaii in a few years, for the honeymoon they hadn't been able to afford two years ago when they'd gotten married. Then after their dream vacation, they wanted to start a family. But they had plenty of time. Quint was only twenty-seven, and she had just turned twenty-five in July.

Monday afternoons were usually slow, and today was no exception. Time dragged by when she wasn't busy. She checked her watch. Almost one o'clock. As soon as Gwen returned from her lunch break, she could head for the food court.

When an attractive man came up to the counter with a boxed blue baby shawl in his hand, she smiled and asked, “May I help you, sir?”

“Yes, please.” He laid the box on the counter.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?”

“No, that won't be necessary.” He possessed an incredibly appealing smile.

“There's no extra charge, and I'd be more than happy to—”

“My wife prefers wrapping gifts herself.” He removed his wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Oh, of course. I understand perfectly. I'm the same way myself.” As she rang up his order and took the cash payment, she continued chatting.

“I assume that you and your wife have a friend or relative expecting a baby boy soon,” Somer said.

“A relative,” he replied, but didn't elaborate.

“I love kids.”

“Do you have children?”

“Not yet, but Quint and I—Quint's my husband—want children someday, at least two. Do you and your wife have children?”

“No, not yet,” he replied.

When she handed him the Belk sack containing his purchase, he smiled, nodded, and thanked her. She watched as he walked away.
What a nice man. And so good looking.
Not that she was interested, of course, since she was married. Besides, he wasn't actually her type. She'd never been attracted to blondes.

 

What an unbelievable coincidence that he would find her here, of all places. Talk about hiding in plain sight. She had acted as if she didn't know him, which was what she always did whenever he found her. And he always played along, pretending they were strangers when they both knew better.

He had thought he'd found her last week, had been almost certain, but after seeing her here today, he realized he'd been mistaken. The other woman had looked so much like her that if he hadn't come face-to-face with her today, he might have taken the wrong mother home to Cody.

She must have known he was buying the blue blanket for Cody, but she'd asked about gift wrapping all the same. Playing the game by her rules, at least for now, he had pretended to have a wife and she had pretended to have a husband, some man she called Quint.

He paused far enough away so that she wouldn't notice him, but close enough so that he could watch her, inconspicuously, of course. She was so pretty. Still. Time had been good to her. She didn't look any older now than when he'd been a child.

Closing his eyes for only a moment, he let the memories wash over him in soft, sweet waves. He could see her smiling, hear her crooning quietly, the words of the lullaby forever imprinted on his brain. He could almost feel her arms around him, holding him with such tenderness.

He took in a quiet breath and released it on an easy sigh. He and Cody missed her. She shouldn't have left them. Didn't she know how much they needed her? He would bring her home soon and reunite her with Cody, reunite mother and son forever. Just as he had promised he would do.

After one final look at Regina, he clutched the bag containing the blue baby blanket in his hand and then turned and walked out of the store. Once in the mall parking lot, he checked his wristwatch. He had less than an hour to drive across town.

 

Wayne pulled in behind the line of parked vehicles, and by the time he had emerged from his truck and rounded the hood to get to the other side, another vehicle pulled in behind him. He didn't immediately recognize the driver, but as soon as he had opened the passenger door and helped Grace out onto the road, Porter Bryant emerged from his sporty Lotus. Wayne had met the guy once when Bryant had been with Audrey, and he hadn't liked the smooth pretty boy one damn bit. Of course, he had kept his opinion to himself. His daughter neither wanted nor needed his advice on men. While Wayne slid his arm around Grace's waist, Porter walked past them, nodded, and continued toward the small crowd gradually assembling at the gravesite.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Wayne asked Grace.

“I'm sure.” She reached up and caressed his cheek. “We both need to be here today…for Steve Kelly and his ex-wife. They lost a son just as you and I each did. No one else knows what they're going through the way we do. No one else can truly sympathize. They're burying a child twenty-six years after they lost him.”

As he led Grace closer to the congregating group of mourners, he recognized several people. Garth and Hart were both there. He had expected his former brother-in-law, but not his stepson. Porter Bryant had spotted Audrey and was making a beeline for her. From the expression on his daughter's face, he figured she was none too happy to see Bryant. She was probably wondering, just as Wayne was, why the ADA was there.

“We should speak to Steve,” Grace said. “Let him know we're here.”

Wayne nodded.

Off in the distance, the distinct roar of a motorcycle rumbled through the stillness, as did traffic noises coming from Highway 153. Overhead, thickening gray clouds obscured the afternoon sun, and a chilly October breeze murmured sadly. Unless he missed his guess, it would be raining before nightfall.

When they approached Steve, Wayne noticed the woman at his side, a woman he hadn't seen in twenty-six years. Not since the summer Devin Kelly had been abducted. Sheri was still a damn fine-looking woman, her hair still blond and her figure still slender. A man about Wayne's age—tall, broad shouldered, and bald—stood beside Steve's ex-wife, his arm draped lovingly around her shoulders.

Two young, pretty girls flanked Steve Kelly, and both had tears in their eyes. Wayne couldn't remember their names, but he knew they were Steve's daughters, the elder about twenty, from his second marriage, and the younger about fifteen, from his third marriage.

After the introductions were made—Sheri was now married to the man at her side, William Dodson—Grace and Sheri hugged each other, and Wayne shook hands with Dodson and then grasped Steve's hand tightly before he patted him on the back. Steve's girls were Shiloh and Brandi.

Music began playing, soft piano music, no doubt taped. And then a trio of female voices blended together to sing a hymn that Wayne remembered from his childhood—“Does Jesus Care?”

The funeral director asked that the immediate family be seated in the two rows of chairs beneath the protective canopy that covered the open grave and the tiny blue casket resting in a sling above the freshly excavated earth. Sheri Dodson wept. Steve's big shoulders trembled.

Grace held on to Wayne for dear life. “I'm okay,” she assured him. But he knew she wasn't.

She was thinking about her son Shane, about how she would feel today if she was burying his tiny skeleton more than two decades after a madwoman had killed him. God knew he was thinking about Blake. If the Rocking Chair Killer struck again, would he place Blake in his victim's arms and leave them posed and waiting to be found?

 

Audrey's gaze connected with her father's for a brief moment and she recognized the pain in his eyes, a pain refreshed by recent events. Even after all the years of emotional separation, she longed to go to him and put her arms around him and tell him she loved him. As a trained therapist, she understood a child's need to love and be loved by his or her parents, a need that remained a constant throughout life. So often a boy, once a man, judged all women by his own mother and in the same way, a girl, be she six or sixty, compared all men to her father. Had she been doing that all these years, comparing every man she met to Wayne Sherrod? Was that why, at thirty-four, she had never made a commitment? Of course, logic told her that it was a huge part of the reason she had no desire to ever marry. Marriages like Geraldine and Willie Mullins's were the exception instead of the rule. People divorced one another at the drop of a hat, for insignificant, often stupid reasons. She didn't want to risk a marriage that would become just another divorce statistic.

When her father averted his gaze, Audrey glanced at the woman leaning so trustingly against him. Grace Douglas was a lovely lady, although not looking her best today. Her eyes were bloodshot and her pale, porcelain complexion blotchy from crying. Audrey had learned about Grace through Tam, who had found out about Wayne's romantic relationship with the woman from Geraldine.

“Mom says they've been seeing each other for years,” Tam had told Audrey a couple of years ago. “It started out as friendship and gradually turned into love. Mom and Dad like Grace. They think she's good for your father.”

The fact that her father had never even introduced her to the most important woman in his life hadn't surprised Audrey.

Slowly moving farther back into the small crowd, Audrey wished she hadn't come there today to the graveside service for Devin Kelly. It wasn't as if either of the little boy's parents or anyone else in the Kelly family knew her. And her father quite obviously didn't need her comfort and support. He had Grace Douglas for that. And even Hart didn't need her, not when he had Uncle Garth.

Why was Hart there? Whatever his reasons for wanting or needing to be there, Garth should have talked him out of coming. But then again, when had anyone ever been able to dissuade Hart from doing what he wanted to do?

She supposed her stepbrother was there for the same reason she was—because there was a connection between Devin Kelly and Blake. Both were Baby Blue toddlers, both victims of a madwoman, both little boys missing for more than two decades. And now Devin Kelly had come home.

Would Blake be next?

As the minister began speaking, his voice strong and yet somehow soft at the same time, Audrey glanced at the people gathered there at the cemetery. Most of them, she didn't know. She caught a glimpse of Porter Bryant and hoped he wouldn't approach her again. She had deliberately avoided him since his arrival. Thankfully, he now stood halfway turned in the opposite direction, his gaze fixed on the tiny blue casket. Had the district attorney's office sent him as their representative? Probably. That was the only possible explanation for why he was there.

Audrey bowed her head and closed her eyes as the minister prayed.

“Merciful Lord, comfort the bereaved today. Look down upon little Devin's mother and father, his stepfather and his sisters, and give them peace, knowing that their loved one is safe in Your arms. Let them know that he has been with You all these years and let that knowledge afford them the closure in their lives they so desperately need.”

Closure. Yes, that's what the Kelly family needed. It's what her family needed. Her father, her uncle, her brother. Knowing Blake's fate could bring them closure, couldn't it? Being able to place his remains in a little coffin and have a long-overdue memorial service could give them all peace.

But would it?

Nothing could change the past. Nothing would bring Blake back to them. Nothing would alter the fact that Enid had killed herself. Closure wouldn't miraculously heal broken hearts, wouldn't transform Hart into a mentally and emotionally stable man, wouldn't alter her father's feelings for her.

When the minister said “amen,” Audrey opened her eyes and looked down at her feet. The female trio sang again. “Just a Closer Walk with Thee.”

In an effort to hold the tears at bay, she let her gaze wander again, glancing at her father and Grace Douglas, at her brother and uncle, at Porter, at Devin Kelly's mother weeping, her heart breaking, the pain of her loss as fresh as it had been all those years ago.

And then she saw Jeremy Arden, whom she had met only once. Strange that he would attend Devin Kelly's funeral. But then again, maybe he needed to be there. But for the grace of God, Devin's fate would have been his, almost had been his.

The minister spoke again, his comments gradually veering away from the tragedy of Devin's untimely death as a young child to a preacher's oratory on sin, death, and eternal damnation.
Repent now, before it's too late
seemed to be every clergyman's mantra. Somehow, it seemed totally inappropriate at Devin Kelly's funeral service. He'd been a sweet, innocent, without-sin toddler.

The tears she had managed to control began to slowly fill her eyes. She would not give in to her emotions. Not now. Not today. She had cried too many tears for a past that couldn't be altered, for a little brother no doubt long dead, for her father and Enid and Uncle Garth and Hart. And yes, for the little girl she had once been, a little girl who to this very day wondered if she could have done something to save her baby brother.

As the tears cascaded down her cheeks, Audrey straightened her shoulders and knotted her hands into loose fists. And then suddenly, someone came up beside her, reached down, unfolded her right fist, and entwined his large fingers with her smaller ones. She stared down at the hand holding hers and then allowed her gaze to travel up his long, muscular arm, over his neck and jaw to his face.