Echoes (6 page)

"I'm sorry to drop in like this," he said as she closed the door behind him, "but I felt badly for not meeting you yesterday. How are you doing?"

"Okay, I guess," she mumbled. "How are you? The sheriff came over last night and told me about your father. I'm very sorry."

His smile faded and he looked away. "It's starting to sink in, that he's gone. Yesterday it didn't seem real, I guess."

Tess searched for something more to say, but his father's death and Tori's disappearance seemed too closely entwined for the usual sympathies.

"How is Caitlin doing?" he asked.

"She's still sleeping. The poor kid was exhausted by the time we got to bed."

"I'd hoped you'd find her mother waiting for you last night."

"Yeah. Me, too." Tess led him into the kitchen. "Can I offer you some truly awful instant coffee, Mr. Weston?"

The smile came back. "Thanks, but I've already had a double dose of caffeine this morning. And please, call me Craig." He hesitated, looking around as if for inspiration. An awkward moment passed and then he said, "I guess it was a good thing you came."

If she hadn't, Caitlin would have spent the night in a shelter and Tess would never have forgiven herself.

"Your sheriff seems to think Tori was involved somehow in what happened to your father." It sounded like a question, though she hadn't intended it to.

"He's not
my
sheriff," Craig said immediately. "But he mentioned that he thought Tori was there when it happened. It makes no sense though. If she was there, she would have called for help." He looked up at Tess. "Wouldn't she?"

Tess nodded quickly. "Of course. I'm as confused as you are. I don't understand what happened to her. She can't have just vanished into thin air."

Couldn’t she? Hadn’t she done it before?

His pause felt sad and contemplative. He followed it with a soft sigh. "Listen, there's another reason I stopped by this morning. I spoke with our school counselor. She'd like to see Caitlin today, if possible. I told her I doubted Caitlin would be at school, so she wanted me to get in touch with you and see if you could bring her out this afternoon for a meeting."

"A meeting?"

"She's concerned about how Caitlin will be dealing with this."

"Don't you think that's jumping the gun a bit? I haven't given up hope that Tori simply had some difficulty that delayed her. She could walk through the door in the next minute. I don't want Caitlin more upset than she already is, especially when we don't even know what happened. I mean, don't you think we should at least
know
what Caitlin is going to be dealing with before we try to help her?"

"Apparently Caitlin has been expressing fears of abandonment almost from her first day of school here."

Tess crossed her arms in an automatic and protective way. "Expressing her fears in what manner?"

Craig cleared his throat. "I know this must be painful for you."

"I can handle it."

"She's verbalized them."

"I don't mean to sound so skeptical, Craig, but I know how these wannabe psychiatrists can mess with a person's mind. I'd like to know to whom she's
verbalized
this fear of abandonment and in what context her words were taken." She sounded defensive. Hell, she
felt
defensive.

When he spoke, his voice was gentle. "She talked to me, for one. And her words were pretty straightforward. I'm sorry, Tess. I know you have a lot on your plate right now."

Tess waited, knowing that he had more to say and knowing that she wasn't going to like it. "Spit it out, Craig. Whatever else, just tell me."

He glanced away and then back. "In the past week, Caitlin's mother has been acting very strange."

"Strange? Compared to what? My sister is not your average person, Craig, and you've only known her what, a month? Six weeks? What may seem strange to you could be perfectly normal for her."

"You're right, of course. It's just that—God, I don't know how to say this." He raked his fingers through his hair then leveled a serious look at her. "The truth is, she's been acting extremely paranoid. Is paranoia standard for your sister?"

Tess jerked and knocked her coffee cup over. Brown liquid spread across the table like a stain. They both jumped to their feet as it spilled over the edges onto the floor.

"Shit," she said, reaching for the paper towels.

Craig grabbed a handful of napkins and began blotting it up. Keeping her face down, Tess tried to regain control. Paranoia. He'd said paranoia. Her thoughts rebelled from that word and all the implications it brought.

Craig tossed the handful of soggy napkins into the trash and glanced at her with sympathy. "Listen Tess, why don't you bring Caitlin in to see Mrs. Sanders. She's a wonderful counselor and she wants to help Caitlin. Afterwards, maybe you and I can talk some more."

She took a deep breath. Slowly, she let it out. "Alright. Sure, I guess it can't hurt."

Wondering if that was entirely true, Tess agreed to a time. As Craig stepped out into the bright morning sun, she said, "Craig? I—you've done so much. Thank you."

He gave her hand a light squeeze and then left.

Chapter Eight

After Craig had driven away, Tess stood in the yard, filled with helpless anger and fear. What in the hell was going on here?

She faced Tori's house, as if for the answer. A retro set of pink and white metal chairs graced the small porch, looking old and weathered, but comfortable all the same. The overgrown yard sprouted in chaotic clusters of greens, reds and yellows that defied landscaping, reminding Tess of its irrepressible tenant. The rain had given everything a fresh, scrubbed appearance. It was the kind of morning meant to lift spirits and renew faith. But it only served to contrast with the tumultuous emotions inside her.

Tori was a survivor, Tess reminded herself for the umpteenth time. She was tough and self-centered and she could take care of herself. But what if Craig was right? Paranoid behavior wasn't normal for Tori. It had been, however, the defining trait of their mother's dementia.

She squinted at the sun, forcing that thought to the back. Maybe Craig didn't have a clue what he was talking about. He was a principal, not a psychiatrist. He probably couldn't tell paranoia from hypochondria. She clung to that rationale with a single-mindedness she didn't question.

In the house, stillness settled around the stiff-backed sofa and matching chair grouped in front of the fireplace and TV. Wooden floors stretched from wall to wall, broken by a few scattered throw rugs. It was cozy, but reflected nothing of Tori's vibrant personality. Above the mantel an unremarkable painting tried for ambiance but failed, and on the opposing wall a dime store replica of Jesus in all his glory, gazed back with sorrow.

You definitely came with the house
, she thought, looking at it. Amazing that Tori hadn't yanked the picture of Jesus down and stuffed it under a bed as soon as she'd moved in. The Colonel had crammed religion down their throats to the extent that neither girl knew how to believe.

The only personal items in the room were a framed photograph that sat on an ancient coffee table and a big wooden sunflower standing on the floor next to it that Tess had made during her "craft stage." The photo was of Tess and Tori, taken in front of a shrine in
Japan. They were Air Force brats, the two of them, and had traveled the world with the Colonel. In the photo, Tess was nine or ten years old, pale as creamed butter with summer blonde hair cut boy-short. Beside her stood Tori, probably fourteen, tall and big boned, already showing the beginnings of what was to become a voluptuous figure. She wore her dark hair long and loose. Her eyes held a glint of dare, a gleam of mirth. She'd always been on the prowl for trouble.

Tess swallowed thickly, hoping to God she hadn't found it in Mountain Bend.

Caitlin stumbled downstairs in her kitty-cat PJs with Purcy tucked under one arm as Tess set the picture back on the table.

"Did Mommy come home?" she asked.

"No, honey. She didn't."

There was nothing more she could say and they both knew it. Tess fixed Caitlin breakfast then settled her back on the couch with a blanket to watch cartoons. Dark circles framed her blue eyes. The child looked as if she hadn't slept in a week.

Wishing she didn't have to ask, Tess knelt down beside the sofa and said, "Caitlin, have you been worried about your mom—I mean, before yesterday?"

Caitlin looked at her, not answering.

"Has she been acting strangely—stranger than usual?"

Caitlin ducked her chin in a tiny nod. "Sometimes. She said things were going on here that weren't right."

"What kind of things?"

"Crazy ones."

Tess felt cold, chilled to the bone. "Crazy?"

Caitlin shrugged, anxious and pale.

"And you were worried about her?"

"Sometimes," she whispered. "I was afraid she'd go crazy like grandma and leave me."

The hushed words stole Tess' breath and brought tears to her eyes. Tess had been eight years old when they'd strapped her mother down and wheeled her out, yet she remembered it more clearly than she did yesterday. Even now, it hurt. Trying hard to keep it together, Tess smoothed Caitlin's hair back. She couldn't lie, she couldn't tell Caitlin that Tori going nuts was impossible. For all she knew it had already happened.

"We don't know where your mommy is. I don't—all I do know is that I'm here now and as long as I've got breath in my body, you will never be alone. Do you understand?"

Caitlin's eyes had grown huge and wet, but Tess's words seemed to register somewhere in their depths. She nodded.

"Okay, let's get you snuggled up here."

Tess tucked Caitlin's blanket in around her and kissed her again. With the babble of the Rugrats to chase back the silence, Tess washed the breakfast dishes and wiped the counters. She felt numb, overwhelmed by the unguarded terror she'd heard in her niece's voice. Swamped by her own fear of losing another person she loved to the black void of insanity.

On edge, she went upstairs. Caitlin's room looked even more cheerful in the daylight. The bed was made, the stuffed animals neatly arranged. The sight of it reminded her of when she and Tori were kids and shared a room. Tess's side was always precisely kept—just like Caitlin's. The Colonel could find no fault in her tightly pulled bedspread and organized drawers. Tori's side was always piled with books, magazines, shoes, hair ties, fingernail polish and a million other things she'd gathered along the way. She didn't believe in hanging up clothes she'd only be taking down to wear again or putting away an item she'd finished with. What was the point when sooner or later she would need it once more?

Last night after the sheriff and his well-behaved deputy left, she'd toured Tori's small house and discovered that some things never changed. Tori's bedroom still looked as if it had been ripped by a tornado. She'd been too tired to face it then, but now she crossed the hall and waded into the chaos.

Small towers of taped up boxes skulked in the corners and a mass of disarray littered the dresser top. The matching mirror leaned against the wall, propped between the dresser and the floor. It cut off her reflection at the neck. A shiver slid down her spine as she stared at it. Quickly, she faced the other way.

Tori was acting strangely this last week. Is paranoia normal for your sister?

"No."

She hadn't meant to say the word out loud, but there it was. Denial at its finest.

Could Tori have crossed over the edge? Raced into the night to escape her own personal demons? Before her mother was committed, she too had vanished. A week passed before they found her, naked and starved, living in a broken down shack off old Highway 40. They'd put her away for good after that and then the Colonel had accepted an assignment overseas. The three of them had left Mom behind. She'd died within the year.

Tori's closet door was open, but few of her clothes actually hung inside. Behind the door, a baseball bat leaned against the wall. She lifted it, knowing that Tori never used it to hit a home run. Did she sleep with it beside the bed now?

A tiny bathroom opened off the bedroom and Tess stepped in. The countertops were an ancient beige with an ugly gold streak weaved in. A mirrored medicine cabinet cubbied into the wall by the door. She stared at herself for a moment. Her eyes were still blue, skin still fair, hair still short, but she wasn't a kid anymore and the apprehension showing on her face was all grown up.

She opened the cabinet and her reflection slid off the glass. Inside were toothpaste and a toothbrush. Hair gel. She took out a prescription bottle and studied the label. Prozac, prescribed three years ago, still three quarters full. She lifted Tori's perfume,
Obsession
—what else?—and sniffed. Then a box on the top shelf caught her eye. She reached for it and something fell out as she brought it down.

For a moment she stared at the small white wand-shaped object that had clattered into the sink. She knew what it was, but why would Tori have it?