House of Steel (14 page)

“Good morning, sunshine,” Michael greeted as
she shuffled into the kitchen. He stood at the stove, spatula in
one hand and the handle of the frying pan in the other.

“That’s new,” she replied surveying her
father. She could have counted on her hand how many times she had
seen her father cooking in the kitchen. It’s not that her father
hadn’t helped around the house - he was a genuine Mr. Fix-it man,
his days from the farm reflecting in his suburban transformation -
but the kitchen was not his specialty. It was merely one more sign
that Ann had relinquished her throne.

“Nice to see you up and moving this
morning,” Mark said as he glanced over the top of the
Journal
Sentinel
that he held lightly in his hands.

“Did you see this, Delaney?” Her father
nodded toward the small TV mounted to the wall by the counter. He
still insisted on the news every morning, just to catch the
weather.

“Breaking news from Appleton. There’s a
crime scene on campus, or at least they think. They found a bunch
of blood, and a student is missing.”

“What?” she asked, moving into the
kitchen.

“See the ticker on the bottom? A student
walking her dog came across it along that new building that Mark is
working on,” Michael said.

“Blood?” Her head throbbed, trying to
process the information.

“Yeah and the blood was fresh. They don’t
know if the person is still alive or not,” Mark added. “I’m going
to have to head back to the office today to see if there is
anything I can do. I’m sure Holston is trying to stomp out any
fires. This isn’t the best publicity.”

“Maybe you should be worried about the
person,” Delaney replied, watching the screen. She couldn’t help
but think of Gunnar’s warning about
the student.

“They haven’t given any details on whether
it is a male or female or if there is a suspect.” He turned back to
the eggs that had stuck to the pan when he unsuccessfully attempted
to flip them, the yolks running wild toward the sides of the pan.
“Are you sure you need to go back, Delaney? I think you should stay
a few more days. I could use the help around here.”

“It will be fine. I’m sure it was some
random drunk student getting into trouble. I have some work to get
done before the students come back next week,” she lied. While she
desperately hoped that it was some random drunk student, the
sinking feeling that something had happened to Theron consumed
her.

“Where did you sneak off to for so long last
night after dinner?” Mark asked. Michael Jones walked over to
shovel a pile of dry, crusty eggs onto the plate in front of her.
It took all of her energy to hold in the lurch her gut was
stirring. He stood over Delaney with the spatula and pan in his
hands, waiting for an answer.

You don’t want to know.
“I’m an
adult,” she said, looking down at the plate.
That’s not going to
work.

“And?” Mark prodded.

“I wasn’t feeling well. Too much vodka. I
was in the bathroom. There you have it,” she said, looking up at
Mark.

Mr. Rowan. The mask. The teddy bear. It had
all been too much. She had wanted to run out of St. Luke’s,
screaming to the world about Gunnar and the mysterious man stalking
her, but what could she say? No one would believe her. She didn’t
even believe it herself. “Let’s get over the embarrassment and talk
about Mom,” she added, trying to deflect the attention.

“What about me?” The quiet voice came from
the living room. They all turned to see Ann Jones lying in a
reclining chair, reading a book. The thick, fleece blanket covered
her from breasts to toes in a sea of patterned red. She set the
thin paperback down - she couldn’t hold a hardcover book anymore,
its weight too heavy for her frail hands - at the sound of
Delaney’s voice, resting the book on her lap.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here
because I’m still here, whether you like it or not. Delaney, a few
more days wouldn’t kill you. Maybe a few more days to catch up with
James,” she stated as if it wasn’t a suggestion but an order.

“You read too many books, Mom,” she called
back. “Speaking of books, I’m headed to the bookstore downtown for
a quick check on some I’ve been looking at for class. I’ll be back
in about an hour or so. Then Mark’s going to drive me up to Lomira
to get my car.”

“Where’s your car?” Michael asked, turning
to look at his daughter moving through the kitchen and then to Mark
sitting at the table. Her father had been too occupied to even
notice Delaney’s car wasn’t in the driveway. He was slipping.

“Joe’s Towing. A guy named Joe pulled the
Civic out of the ditch yesterday,” she said, shutting the door to
the bathroom to shower before Michael could respond.

***

Delaney pulled into the parking lot of
Alterra in the bright morning sun, looking casually in the windows
of the brick coffee house located along Lake Michigan.
10:11
a.m.
She was late. She scanned the customers sitting alongside
the windows overlooking the white, churning lake. The blue seemed
to stretch far into the air as if there were no end, the two
elements blending into one. The shores lay heavy with ice chunks,
rocking back and forth in the intimidating tide. Still sitting in
Mark’s truck as it idled, she spotted James, polished in a gray
blazer, tucked back into the farthest corner of the coffee house.
His eyes fixated on the lake outside as he brought a mug to his
lips. Her day old jeans and sweat stained sweater, which was a
stinging red, seemed irresponsible, almost laughable. She took a
deep breath in and could almost smell the fresh aromas of coffee
brewing. The warmth of the coffee mug around her hands.

She envisioned James’s face, laughing as
they talked. His brown eyes settling in on her, absorbed deep in
hers, as he had always done back at the academy’s library more than
ten years ago. No one knew her like James did, and she had shut him
out of her life for seven long years. She longed for his embrace,
his familiar touch. His voice. His words. After the past two days,
she needed to feel safe, to feel grounded. She had even briefly
considered telling James about Gunnar. She allowed herself one last
exhale before a ringing tone sounded in her bag.

“Hey June,” she answered.

“Delaney, I’m glad I got you. How was the
wedding?”

Delaney let June’s voice soak into her mind,
waiting for her calm nature to radiate to her. “Beautifully
painful. I mean, I’m incredibly happy for them, but you know me and
weddings. I’m just relieved that my mom could experience it.” She
choked on the last words.

“How is she doing?” June asked, her voice
quiet.

“She’s taken a turn for the worse. I can’t
explain it in words, June,” she said as she watched James look at
his watch. “But I don’t want to talk about it now.”

“I understand,” June added before she
continued, “The reason I called was because of the incident on
campus. Have you heard?”

“You mean the blood? The missing student?”
Delaney asked.

“Yeah, that,” June replied. “A student found
the blood while she was walking her dog. The campus sent out an
official statement because they found military dog tags,” she
paused before adding, “They believe they belong to Theron
Olson.”

The phone slipped out of Delaney’s hand,
dropping to the floor of the truck. The words stung as she looked
at her empty hand still hanging in the air.
Theron.
She
closed her eyes to see the tags hung around his neck, glinting in
the morning sun.
His father’s tags.
She scrambled to reach
the phone, her hand searching frantically to locate it. Her fingers
wrapped around the hard plastic before she brought it back to her
ear.

“Are you there, Delaney?” June asked on the
other line.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here,” she responded, her
hand fluttering to her neck.

“He was a student in your class this
semester, wasn’t he? I had him two semesters ago in one of my intro
classes. A football player,” June said. Delaney cleared her throat
and wiped her eyes.
Theron.

“How do they know it’s his blood?” Delaney
asked, not wanting to know the answer.

“I don’t know, but they were his tags for
sure, though. His dad’s name is engraved on them, and his roommates
haven’t seen him since yesterday. The police reported that there
were signs of a struggle, whatever that means.”

“Oh.” Delaney’s voice was barely audible,
the silence stifling. “Did they find anything else?” Her voice
sounded foreign, although she had produced the words.

“Not that I know.”

“Are they searching for him?”

“Yeah, they are, but I haven’t heard
anything else. News is traveling fast around here. Rumors are
flying. Students and faculty are panicking. I’ve got Robert here at
my house, not that he’s going to do much of anything,” she said.
Delaney heard Robert yell in the background. At five-feet-seven and
maybe one hundred forty pounds wet, June had a better chance at
fighting off an offender herself than relying on Robert. She looked
through the window to see James still sitting at the table, now
looking at his phone, then his watch, and finally back to the
entrance toward the parking lot. She ducked down, her head parallel
with the steering wheel.

“I’m coming back this afternoon. Keep me
posted if you hear anything else,” Delaney said, tucked underneath
the driver side window before she hung up the phone.
Three days.
No calls. No texts. Now, no Theron.
It had to be
Gunnar.

BEEP. Her phone lit up in her hand with a
message from an unknown number.
Go back to Appleton. Tell no
one. Further instructions will follow to save him. Trust me.
Delaney read the words, feeling the life drain from her body.

It was Sunday. Three days since she had seen
him last. The air in the truck suffocated her, the heat making her
sweat through her sweater and down jacket. The stars. She saw stars
everywhere. Her breath was quick and shallow as she brought her
head upright. The dash spun in relentless circles as she blinked
her eyes in a flutter. Her hand fumbled for the keys and moved it
forward to start the engine before she grasped for the window
controls, unrolling the glass half way to feel the cool breeze
swirl through the cab and into her lungs. The truck rumbled as she
backed up and maneuvered out of the parking lot.

As she turned onto Lake Street, she took one
last glimpse of James sitting at the window. His eyes locked onto
hers while he pulled the mug down from his lips as if to say
something, but instead, placed it on the table, watching her flee.
With treacherous Lake Michigan to her left, she sped on with her
foot heavy on the gas, looking in her rearview mirror to see
Alterra and James disappear.

***

Delaney pulled into the driveway of her
parents’ home and parked the truck back in the original location
she had found it in, at the right side of the garage. Visitors
always parked on the right side. She had held her phone tightly in
her hand the entire twenty minute trip home, her finger hovering,
once again, over the “9” on her keypad. Yet, she couldn’t finish
the call, just as she hadn’t finished it back at Joe’s shop. She
needed to come clean, but she didn’t know how it would be possible.
Was she too late? Who was the mystery text from?

She stepped on the hard surface of the
driveway, feeling the cleared concrete beneath her feet. Her heavy
legs had begun to move her forward as she watched the white smoke
from the wood stove escape from the chimney and disappear into the
blue sky. She inhaled the deep smells of burning wood and fire into
her lungs and found herself standing on the porch next to the white
pillars. She had not remembered walking there, but there she stood,
with the black entry door a foot from her face.
The door. The
house.
Everything seemed to float around her, surrounding her
from every side. It would get smaller inside, she knew that. The
drive had been smothering. She swallowed hard and reached for the
knob.

The door opened into the living room where
her mother still sat reclined, now covered with two blankets, with
her eyes shut and her book’s pages spread open creating a fan on
her lap. Delaney gasped as she looked at the small, hallowed out
woman lying motionless. Her transparent face still and hard
contrasted against the plush, deep brown chair huddled near the
wood stove.

“Don’t worry, she’s just sleeping.” The
whisper came from the opposite corner of the room. Mark stood,
leaning against the wall, looking out the front window onto the
street.

“Jesus, Mark,” she scowled, walking in to
take off her shoes and jacket.

“She’s leaving this afternoon with Dad. Dr.
Hansen just called about an hour ago. He put in an order for an
experimental treatment down in Chicago. There’s an oncologist there
that performs a specialized surgery that targets the pancreas.
She’ll be his guinea pig. The second patient in the nation to
receive the treatment. If this doesn’t work, well…” He hesitated as
the words caught in his throat, “Her turn is up.”

“And she’s agreed to go?” Delaney asked,
feeling the heaviness in her chest. “She’s leaving now?”

“She put up a bit of a fight, but Dad
convinced her to give it one last shot. She’s tired. She’s real
tired,” he said, looking at Delaney. Deep, bluish-gray circles
surrounded his eyes as they welled up; Delaney had never seen Mark
cry. She wondered if she was about to for the first time. The Jones
family didn’t cry. “It’s going to be a tough week. She may not even
make it through the surgery, but if she does, well, it’s the only
shot she has. The only shot
we
have.”

Delaney, now standing next to Mark, mimicked
his stare out the window before turning to embrace him. He wrapped
his arms around her as tears began to flow from her eyes, streaming
down her face against his chest. Her body released, feeling the
slight relief of panic trickle from her body.