Homing (28 page)

"Well, don't ask me what's going on! If you don't believe me, ask Julie!" Then, with exaggerated politeness that crossed the line into insolence, he said, "May I go take a shower now, your majesty?"

Marge stared at her son, shocked more by his tone than by the words themselves. Though Jeff had never been anything close to a perfect child-far from it-he'd never been deliberately nasty to her.

'Once again the question of drugs rose in her mind.

Despite what he'd said, she still wondered.

Was it possible that Julie had gotten Jeff into drugs?

She almost blurted the question out, then thought better of it. What was he going to do? Having already denied it, was he now simply going to admit that he and Julie had been out somewhere getting stoned? "Go ahead," she said almost curtly. "We can talk about this later."

When he was gone, Marge turned to Ben. "I think maybe you and I ought to have a little talk," she said. Taking him by the hand, she led Ben out to the kitchen and sat him at the table.

Ben, suddenly suspicious, looked warily at his mother.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Realizing how her words must have sounded to the little boy, Marge felt instantly contrite. "Of course not," she assured him, reaching across to pat his hand. "I just want to talk to you, that's all."

"About what?" Ben asked, still not certain what was going on.

Marge thought quickly, wondering how to question Ben without letting him know exactly what she was thinking.

"About Julie," she said. "I mean, you said Jeff looked like she did yesterday. What did you mean?"

Ben shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "Just what I said. When she started acting so weird yesterday, she looked just like Jeff does."

"You mean she was sick?"

The little boy shook his head. "She just looked funny, that's all. And she was acting funny, too. Like when the horse" He clamped his hands over his mouth as he realized what he'd done. He'd promised he wouldn't say anything about Greta. He'd promised Jeff, and Mr. Owen, and everybody, and now he'd broken his promise.

"The horse?" Marge asked. What was he talking about?

Ben was regarding her fearfully now. "I wasn't supposed to say anything," he told her. "Not until they know what happened to it."

"Happened to what?" Marge pressed, her exasperation growing. What on earth had gone on today? "It's all right, Ben," she went on. "I can't believe they meant for you not to tell me, sweetheart. I'm your mother."

"But I promised," Ben pleaded. "You're never supposed to break a promise, are you?"

"No, you're not," Marge sighed, trapped by her own teaching. "I'll tell you what. You go on in and turn on the television, and I'll start getting supper ready, so as soon as Jeff is finished with his shower, we can eat, okay?"

Relieved, and anxious to get out of the kitchen before his mother changed her mind, Ben slid off his chair and darted out to the living room. A moment later, when she heard the television go on, Marge picked up the phone and dialed the Owens' number.

"Russell? This is Marge Larkin. Look, I know this is probably going to sound a little paranoid She hesitated. What would Russell know about Julie and what she might be up to? She'd better talk directly to Karen. "I guess I really need to talk to Karen," she went on. "Is she there?"

In the kitchen of the Owens' family house, Russell wondered exactly what to say.

Karen was there all right.

She was in the den, with Julie.

And given the way she was talking to her daughter, Russell wondered if Marge Larkin was calling because she could hear Karen's voice from her own house, even though it was half a mile away.

"Just a minute," he said, betraying none of his thoughts.

"I'll see if I can find her."

"It will be a lot easier if you just tell me what you two have been up to," Karen said.

It was half an hour since she'd hung up the phone after her conversation with Marge Larkin, and she and Julie were in the front seat of the Chrysler, on their way into town. Russell wanted to go with them, but Karen insisted on dealing with the problem herself.

Drugs.

Was it really possible that Julie had gotten herself involved in drugs again? She had been so sure they'd left that problem in L.A., and when Marge Larkin first mentioned the possibility that Jeff and Julie might have been doing drugs, Karen's immediate response was to dismiss it out of hand. This was Pleasant Valley, not Los Angeles!

Where would Julie even have gotten her hands on any drugs? Yet Karen knew perfectly well that a drug problem wasn't something anyone just put aside and never thought of again.

Staying off drugs simply wasn't that easy, and if she were completely honest, she'd admit the possibility that Julie might have brought something with her.

Or that Jeff had given them to her. She'd been careful not to mention that idea to Marge Larkin, who seemed to think that if drugs were involved, it had to have been at Julie's instigation.

Julie had certainly been acting strangely the last few days, and she hadn't looked right since the bee had stung her and she'd had that terrible reaction.

But if Jeff was looking the same way Julie was, and was acting strange, too ...

And Jeff hadn't been stung.

What was going on?

It had been her idea that they take both kids to the clinic right now and have them given drug tests. After all, the test was a simple urine analysis, no more difficult than a home pregnancy test. Marge Larkin, suddenly faced with the possibility of actually continuing what was now only a speculation, hesitated, but then agreed. So immediately after their conversation, Karen called Ellen Filmore, whose home number Russell had written on the wall by the phone. When she'd explained why she was calling, Ellen instantly turned professional.

"Does Julie have a history of drug abuse?"

"It depends on what you call abuse," Karen replied, hedging. "She's smoked a couple of joints, like most kids nowadays, but"

"Not most kids around here," the doctor pointedly interjected. "Bring her in and we'll get to the bottom of this right now."

Julie, of course, had steadfastly refused even to admit that anything was wrong at all, despite the way she looked.

Now, as Karen suggested one last time that Julie own up to the truth, her daughter only sat impassively next to her and stared straight ahead. "I don't know why you don't believe me," she said yet again. "I'm fine."

"All you have to do is look in a mirror to know that isn't true," Karen told her as she struggled to control her anger. Did Julie think she was stupid? Or did she think she could just lie her way out of this?

Minutes later Karen pulled into the parking lot of the clinic.

Marge and Jeff Larkin had already arrived, and Karen slid the Chrysler into the slot next to Marge's Chevy. Her hand clamped firmly on Julie's elbow, she led her daughter through the door into the waiting room.

Marge and Jeff were sitting in the far corner, Jeff on the orange Naugahyde sofa, his mother on one of the matching chairs that faced it across a Formica-topped coffee table.

They were neither talking to nor looking at each other, and Marge appeared almost as pale as Jeff. Ben was perched at the other end of the sofa, nervously flipping the pages of a comic book.

"I'm sorry about all this," Marge said, getting up and moving toward Karen. "I probably had a huge overreaction."

"It's not your fault," Karen assured her. "If you're wrong, we'll both feel a lot better, and if you're right, at least we'll know. Have you seen Dr. Filmore yet?"

Marge nodded. "Just for a second. She waved to us, but I haven't really talked to her yet. I think-2' She fell silent as the door to the examining room opened and the doctor came out.

If Dr. Filmore noticed the ashen complexions of the two teenagers, she gave no sign. "All right," she said. "Which of you wants to come in first? Or would you like to talk to me together?"

Julie's eyes met Jeff's, and Jeff stood up. Both Marge Larkin and Karen Owen watched carefully for any signs of nervousness in their children, but there were none. Together Jeff and Julie headed toward the inner office. When Karen and Marge started to follow, Ellen Filmore shook her head. "I don't think we have an emergency here," she said pointedly, "and if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to the kids alone." Leaving the two parents in the waiting room, she turned and followed Julie and Jeff into her office.

"I assume you both know you're here for a drug test," she said, deliberately making the statement without preamble, in an attempt to catch them off guard.

Julie nodded. "My mom thinks I'm doing them," she said.

"And you're not?" Ellen asked.

Julie shrugged. "I wouldn't even know where to get anything around here."

"What about you?" Ellen asked, turning to Jeff.

"I don't hang out with kids who do drugs," he said.

"Sometimes I have a beer or two, but that's it."

Ellen Filmore watched them carefully as she continued her questions. Certainly both of them looked pale, but their eyes didn't have the dilation that was a prime indicator of drugs, and nothing in their manner made her think they were lying.

"Do either of you have a problem giving me a urine sample?" she asked. Then: "And before you answer, let me tell you that I'll have the results within thirty minutes, and there is no chance at all that the results will be wrong." Julie looked up, and for the first time since she'd come in, smiled. "Where's the jar?" she asked, almost flippantly.

"In the bathroom."

Julie rose and started out of the examining room.

"Roberto's waiting for you," the doctor went on. "He'll be right outside the door while you put the sample in the jar."

Julie shrugged and continued on her way.

"How about you?" Ellen asked Jeff. "Any problem taking the test?"

"It's fine with me," Jeff replied.

Ellen betrayed no sign of the relief she felt. Surely if they were on drugs they wouldn't be nearly so relaxed about taking the urine test. "Okay," she said. "Roll up your sleeve. Let's take your blood pressure and see if we can find out what's wrong with you."

Slowly and methodically Ellen began her examination of Jeff Larkin.

Blood pressure and temperature.

Lung capacity and reflexes.

She looked in his eyes and ears, and down his throat.

She took samples of his blood to send to the lab in San Luis Obispo, and asked him every question she could think of. Finally she sent him in to produce a urine sample.

Then she repeated the examination process with Julie Spellman.

Forty-five minutes later she was finished.

Nothing abnormal.

Not a trace of drugs of any kind.

But Ellen Filmore still wasn't satisfied.

To her, both of them just plain looked sick.

Totally baffled by the conflict between how the kids appeared and the results of her examination, she went out to speak to Karen Owen and Marge Larkin, who were waiting anxiously in the outer lobby.

"Well, I'm pleased to be able to tell you that neither of them is on drugs," she said, and gave Karen and Marge a moment to savor their relief. "The problem," she went on, "is that I agree with you that something's not right." Out of the corner of her eye she saw the two adolescents glance at each other. "I can't find any symptoms at all," she went on. "Everything seems normal, except they don't look quite right. Their complexions are too pale." She shook her head. "If it were just Julie, I'd assume it's a lingering reaction either to the bee sting or to the antidote.

But that certainly doesn't apply to Jeff. So what I want to do is send them to San Luis Obispo tomorrow." As both their children groaned that it was a waste of time and there was nothing wrong with them, Marge and Karen stiffened with apprehension. Ellen Filmore hastened to reassure the worried parents. "Believe me, I don't see this as an emergency, and if they look better tomorrow, maybe I'll change my mind. But for now, I'd just feel better if they'd go over there to the hospital and get checked out. There's a guy named Michael Callahan, and he's really good." She wrote the name on a prescription form and handed it to Karen.

"Maybe he can find something I missed. But for tonight, take them home and try not to worry too much. All right?"

After the two mothers had taken their children home, Ellen Filmore went back into her office to look once more at the results of the examinations she'd just given the two teenagers.

Somehow, she'd missed something.

Something she hadn't seen, which she should have.

But what?

She didn't know.

And, worse, she didn't know how to find out.

Which meant that if there was some kind of new virus loose in Pleasant Valley, some new mutation that had infected Julie and Jeff, she didn't know how to fight it.

And that scared her.

"Is it possible that Otto was right?" Karen asked.

It was past ten, and Russell, already half undressed, tossed his shirt onto the back of the chair in the den where, despite all his arguments, Karen had settled in for the night.

Though Kevin had insisted on sleeping in his own room upstairs, Molly and Julie were in sleeping bags on the living room floor, Molly making it an adventure, while Julie was playing the martyr, complaining that she didn't see how she was supposed to go to San Luis Obispo in the morning if she couldn't get any sleep tonight.

"I'm not arguing," Karen had finally told her. "I'm not even discussing it. Neither of you sleeps upstairs until those bees are gone, and that's that." Julie, sensing another grounding on the horizon, had let the matter drop, but Karen suspected she would get her revenge by letting Molly watch television as late as she wanted.

Ten minutes ago, when they finally came into the den to go to bed themselves, Russell had hoped that the discussion of the bees was concluded, at least for tonight. Apparently, though, it wasn't. "Right about what?" he asked as he opened the none-too-comfortable-looking sofa bed.

"That Carl Henderson did something to the bees that we don't know about."