John Saul (6 page)

“Let me stay,” Alan pleaded. “Please? Yesterday and tonight were terrific. We had a good time. Let’s not spoil it, okay? Let’s just go back to bed, and we’ll talk in the morning. We’ll send the kids off bowling or something, and then we’ll talk. Just you and me, MaryAnne. If we really try, I know we can straighten this mess out.”

He slipped his arms around her, and once more she felt the familiar strength of his body, the reassuring croon of his voice.

And, once again, she felt her resolve to send him home fade away. “All right,” she sighed, more in resignation than agreement. “Let’s go back to bed. But tomorrow we talk. About all of it.”

Twenty minutes later, though, when Alan had fallen back into a deep sleep, MaryAnne left her bed again, went to the living room, turned on a light, and picked up a book.

Sleep, despite the lateness of the hour, was the last thing on her mind.

“I think maybe you better come with me, Gillie,” Rick Martin told his wife as he pulled the uniform he’d taken off only a few hours earlier back onto his large frame. “I don’t know what’s going on up there, but Joey sounded scared, and Bill Sikes isn’t home.”

His wife, who was as small as he was large, and as blond
as he was dark, was way ahead of him. She had dressed while listening to Rick’s end of his disjointed conversation with Joey Wilkenson, then made them both a cup of coffee while Rick called the station and spoke to his assistant deputy, Tony Moleno, telling him to meet him at El Monte Ranch. She handed him a steaming mug, unable to read the expression on his face. “What’s happened?”

“Don’t know,” Rick replied. He took a swallow of coffee and, balancing the mug on the edge of the night table, turned to pull on his boots. “Joey was so upset he could barely talk, but it sounded like they were out looking for Sheika, and Audrey disappeared.”

Gillie’s mouth dropped open. “But that’s—” She fell silent, floundering, trying to make sense out of Rick’s words.

“It’s nuts,” Rick said grimly, finishing her sentence for her. “Why the hell were they out looking for a horse at this hour? And how could Audrey have just disappeared?” Strapping on his holster and picking up the mug of coffee, he started out of the bedroom. “We sure as hell aren’t going to find out till we get there, are we?”

Less than ten minutes later the black and white Jeep that served as Rick’s squad car drove through the gate of El Monte. Rick had to slow down as the paved road gave way to the narrow graveled drive that wound through the woods, to open out in the large clearing that held the Wilkensons’ big house, the barn and sheds, and the field. A squad car was already parked in front of the house, and as Rick pulled his Jeep up next to it, the front door opened and Tony Moleno stepped out onto the porch.

“Joey’s in the kitchen. He doesn’t know what happened, but he—well, he thinks his mother’s dead.”

“Dear God,” Gillie whispered, brushing past Moleno and hurrying inside to do what she could for Joey Wilkenson.

“What’s he told you?” Rick asked, putting out a hand to restrain the assistant deputy as Moleno, too, started into the house.

“I told you—not much. Pretty much what you told me. They were looking for the horse, and they got separated, and he heard his mother scream but couldn’t find her. So he came back here and called you.”

“Okay,” Rick said, his mind already working. “I want you to get up to Bill Sikes’s cabin and see if you can find him. He didn’t answer the phone, but that might just mean he got drunk and passed out.”

“Sikes hasn’t had a drink in ten years—” Moleno began, but Rick cut him off.

“And today his boss died, so who knows what he’s up to? Anyway, I want you to find him, and then start rounding up some men. If something’s happened to Audrey, and she’s out there with a broken leg or something, I want to find her as soon as possible. After you’ve checked Sikes’s cabin, come back here. I’ll see what I can find out from Joey.”

Nodding his acceptance of the other man’s orders, Moleno trotted down the steps toward the squad car as Rick Martin went into the house, closing the front door behind him.

“Joey?” he said a moment later, as he stepped into the large kitchen where the boy was huddled on a stool at the breakfast bar, watching Gillie start a pot of coffee. “What happened? Can you tell me about it?”

At Joey’s feet, Storm growled a warning to the deputy, but calmed down when the boy reached down to pat him on the head. “I don’t know,” Joey wailed, wiping his tear-stained cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt, then blowing his nose on a piece of Kleenex he fished from a box on the countertop. “I saw Sheika, out in the field, and Mom and I were trying to catch her. But Sheika went into the woods, so while Mom was getting a rope, I sent Storm to follow her.” Slowly, his voice quavering, he pieced the story together. He and his mother had gotten separated, and then he’d heard something in the woods. His dog had been with him, and whatever was out there had frightened Storm, so when he heard his mother calling him, he hadn’t answered. “I was too scared,” he admitted. “I mean, it was like something was hunting for me, and if I answered Mom, it could find me.”

“But didn’t you think your mom would worry if you didn’t answer her?” Rick interrupted.

Joey’s eyes shifted nervously toward Gillie, as if seeking help.

“For heaven’s sake, Rick,” Gillie said, “if you thought something was hunting you in the woods in the middle of the night, would you start yelling? Of course not!”

Rick felt his face redden as he realized she was right. “Is that when you came back here?” he asked, turning his attention back to Joey.

Joey shook his head. “Me and Storm just stayed where we were, and after a while we didn’t hear anything anymore. And then—” His voice broke and he had to choke back a sob. “And then there was this scream—it was awful, like—” He fell silent. A tear ran down his cheek.

“Like what, son?” Rick asked, almost afraid to hear what the boy would say next.

“… like she was falling.…” Joey sobbed, choking on the words.

As Gillie started around the end of the counter to comfort the boy, Rick held her back with a gesture. “Where were you, Joey?” he asked. When the boy made no response, he pressed a little harder. “When you heard your mother scream, where were you?”

Joey looked up, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat “We were on the trail to the bluff,” he whispered. “And—and after I heard it, Storm and me—we went to look for her.” He gazed down at the big dog, who was stretched out on the floor now, his muzzle between his front paws. As though he felt his master’s eyes on him, the shepherd looked up expectantly. “I told him to find Mom,” Joey whispered. “And I thought he did, too. He started wagging his tail, and I had to run to keep up with him. But when we got to the top of the bluff …” His voice trailed off.

“What, Joey?” Rick pressed. “What did you find when you got to the top of the bluff?”

“The flashlight” Joey breathed. “The one she got from the barn.”

Joey stared down at Storm. As if sensing the boy’s misery, the dog sat up and licked at his hand. Rick’s eyes met Gillie’s.

“I think I better go have a look at the base of the bluff,” he said.

He left the house and started across the field toward the thin strip of lodgepole pines that grew at the base of the vertical face of Sugarloaf Mountain. The moon was still high, and he could see clearly the wide ledge two hundred feet above the valley floor. It was easily accessible by the trail that began on the south side of the field. Once, he recalled now, when he was eighteen, he and two friends had reached the top by scaling the face of the granite wall, using pitons and lines, and praying they wouldn’t get caught before they made it.

Snapping on his flashlight, he made his way quickly through the stand of pines, then began climbing over the boulders that studded the land at the bluff’s foot.

Within minutes he found Audrey Wilkenson’s body, twisted and broken, lying facedown at the base of one of the boulders. Though there was no question she was dead, he checked for a pulse anyway, then snapped on his radio. “I’ve found her, Tony,” he said. “I’m at the base of Sugarloaf. Get up here as fast as you can.” No more than twenty seconds later he saw the headlights of Moleno’s squad car come on, then watched as the car wove down the twisting drive from Bill Sikes’s house, then headed across the field directly toward him.

“Was Sikes there?” he called as Tony emerged from the woods and began scrambling across the boulders.

“Oh, yeah,” Moleno replied. “And you were right. Drunk as a skunk. Looked like—” His eyes suddenly fell on Audrey Wilkenson’s body, and the words died on his lips. “Oh, Jeez,” he whispered. “That poor kid.”

“Start calling for help,” Rick ordered, masking his shock and sorrow with gruff efficiency. “I’m going to have to go back to the house.”

He started across the field once more, his steps deliberate, wondering how he was going to tell Joey Wilkenson that not only his father had died that day, but that his mother had, too. Except, he realized as his hand pushed the kitchen door open a few moments later, he suspected that the boy already knew. It would have been impossible to
hear the scream Audrey must have made as she fell, without knowing exactly what had happened.

As he stepped into the house, Gillie looked at him questioningly, and he shook his head. “I’m thinking maybe you’d better call someone in the family,” he said. Understanding exactly what he was saying, Gillie gasped, and slipped her arms protectively around Joey Wilkenson. “I’m sorry, Joey,” Rick went on. “I—I found your mother. I guess—well, I guess she must have tripped.” He watched Joey carefully, searching for any falseness in the boy’s reaction, but there was none.

Joey only looked up at him, and when he spoke, his voice was hollow. “She was calling me. If I’d answered her …”

Gillie drew him close. “Don’t think about it,” she told him. “It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident.”

Joey gazed up at her. “But what if it wasn’t?” he asked. “What if—”

“We need to call someone, Joey,” Gillie broke in, wishing she could save the boy from the thoughts that must be racing through his mind. “Do you have a favorite uncle? Or aunt?”

When Joey spoke again, his voice was barely audible. “There isn’t anyone,” he whispered. “We don’t have any relatives, except Aunt MaryAnne.”

“Aunt MaryAnne?” Gillie repeated gently. “Who is she?”

“My godmother,” Joey replied. “She’s my mom’s best friend, ever since they were little.”

“Do you know where her number is?”

“In the book,” Joey replied, his voice numb, his eyes fixed on the floor. “Under Carpenter. Over there by the phone.”

It wasn’t until Audrey Wilkenson’s address book was already in her hand that Gillie Martin saw the message light blinking on the elaborate instrument that sat on the kitchen counter. Without thinking, she pressed the playback button, and a few seconds later the strained tones of MaryAnne Carpenter’s voice filled the kitchen. In silence, Gillie and Rick Martin listened to the message Audrey Wilkenson’s
best friend had left no more than ten or fifteen minutes after Audrey herself had died.

It makes you wonder, Gillie thought as she found MaryAnne’s name in the address book and dialed the New Jersey number. It makes you wonder if you understand anything that goes on in this world.

“You know, this is really nuts!” Alan Carpenter exclaimed, doing nothing to mask his fury as he watched MaryAnne throwing clothes into a suitcase. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

MaryAnne glared at him. “Of course I know what time it is,” she snapped. “It’s almost four o’clock in the morning, and I have to be at the airport by five-thirty! Now, are you going to help me or not? Because if you’re not, then just go home, and I’ll call a cab!”

“For God’s sake, MaryAnne, don’t you think we should at least talk about this?”

MaryAnne dropped the pair of jeans she was holding into the suitcase, then turned to gaze steadily at Alan. “What is there to talk about? My best friend is dead, Alan. And so is Ted! How can I not go?”

“But what can you do?” Alan demanded, once again picking up the argument that had been raging ever since MaryAnne had awakened him after the call from Sugarloaf. “You can’t bring them back to life!”

MaryAnne took a deep breath. Why couldn’t he understand? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already explained it a dozen times. Still, she tried once more. “There isn’t anyone else, Alan. I’m all Joey has left. Ted hasn’t heard from either of his parents since he was a boy, and you know what happened to Audrey’s. Who else is going to take care of Joey?”

“There’s got to be plenty of people out there,” Alan replied. “Christ, they must have someone who’d take the kid in—”

“Joey!” MaryAnne uttered the word with such force that Alan was struck silent. “His name is Joey, and I made a promise to Audrey years ago, before he was even born. We were both pregnant at the same time, remember? She with
Joey, and me with Alison. And we made each other a promise. We swore that if anything ever happened, we’d look after each other’s kids. Well, something’s happened, Alan! She’s dead! They’re both dead! Can’t you get that through your thick head?” Though both she and Alan had tried to keep their voices low enough not to wake their sleeping children, now both Alison and Logan appeared at the door to the hall.

“Mommy?” Logan asked. “What’s wrong?” Then, seeing the suitcase, the worry in his eyes turned to fear. “Are you going away?”

Suddenly her pent-up emotions broke free, and MaryAnne sank down on the bed, sobbing. Instantly, both the children were by her side, throwing their arms around her. She pulled them close, then struggled to regain control of her tears. “Something’s happened,” she told them, forcing her voice to stay calm. “Uncle Ted and Aunt Audrey have been in an accident, and I have to go out to Idaho and take care of Joey.”

It was Alison who understood what her mother was saying. “Y-You mean they’re dead?” There was a tremor in her voice, and her own eyes were already brimming with tears.

MaryAnne bit her lip and nodded.

“But why do you have to take care of him?” Logan asked.

It was nearly a full minute before MaryAnne trusted herself to speak. “Because there’s no one else, sweetheart,” she explained. “I’m Joey’s godmother, just like Aunt Audrey was yours. And that means I have a duty to take care of him now.”