Resurrection Dreams (24 page)

She stopped at the end of the parapet where the front of Charlie’s car was tight against the concrete. Peering over the side, she saw Chief Raines on the wooded slope. He was nearly down to the bank of the creek. Other men were roaming the shore, others wading through the water. The beams of their lights swept and darted.

She turned to Joey. “Why don’t you just lend me your flashlight, and…”

“Want to get me in trouble with the chief?”

“Damn it, don’t be such a wimp.”

Joey grabbed her arm. Not gently. “Time to move on out, honey.”

He led her toward her car. Lifting on her arm so her feet barely touched the pavement.

“Let go of me!”

He didn’t.

When they reached Ace’s Mustang, he jerked the door, open, swung her around it and released her arm. It felt hot where his fingers had pressed into her flesh.

Vicki climbed into the car. As she moved her medical bag to the passenger seat, Joey threw the door shut.

“Go,” he said.

She started the car, made a tight U-turn, and sped away. Her heart was thudding. She panted for air. She was trembling with rage and humiliation.

They’d shooed her off like a stray dog.

What’s wrong with those men?

Joey had been okay until the chief took off after her. Why didn’t he stick up for her? That was easy. He’s chicken. What didn’t make sense was the chief’s attitude. He had her all figured out as a nuisance, just on the basis of whatever Joey had told him about their reporting Melvin’s threat against Pollock.

What were we supposed to do, keep it to ourselves?

Even if it didn’t lead anywhere (and Vicki would bet they didn’t bother to check Melvin out), the chief should’ve appreciated getting any kind of information about the killing. Instead, he seemed to look at it as an intrusion.

A couple of broads trying to tell him how to run his investigation.

So I show up and he dumps on me. I could’ve helped look for Charlie. I’m another body, damn it. I’ve got eyes. I’m not blind, even if I am a woman.

That’s the crux of it right there, Vicki realized. I’m a woman.

That’s why I couldn’t help look for Charlie. That’s why they ignored the tip about Melvin’s threat. I’m just a meddling broad who gets her kicks by butting into their business.

Some kind of flake.

What are all the men in this town, woman-haters?

Not Charlie, she thought.

Oh Charlie, what happened to you?

She parked the car in Ace’s driveway, then went into the house. No lights were on. She left them off, and made her way through the darkness to her bedroom.

She knew there was no point trying to sleep. She would just toss and turn, wide awake, worrying about Charlie and reliving all the rotten things that had happened during the past few hours: the fight with Jack; the nightmare; the horrible scene at the bridge and knowing that Charlie, on fire, had leaped for the creek; and on top of all that, the humiliating encounter with the police chief. Enough to keep her awake for days.

She peeled off her sooty T-shirt, took a fresh one from the drawer, and put it on. Then, she looped the chain with the house key and whistle over her head.

Running would help. It always helped.

On her way back through the house, she wondered if she shouldn’t stay and wait for Joey’s call. He’d promised to let her know, when they found Charlie. But that might be an hour from now. Or never. No point hanging around.

Besides, the news, when it came, was almost sure to be bad.

Vicki stepped outside. On the sidewalk in front of the house, she did her stretching exercises. Then, she ran.

She ran fast, darting her legs far out, pumping her arms, feeling the warm air rush against the bare skin of her face and arms and legs. She had no destination in mind, but when she found herself on Center Street racing northward past the deserted shops, she remembered a few mornings ago when she followed Central to its junction with River Road and turned back at the Laurel Creek Bridge.

She thought, what if I stick to the shoreline? I’ll come to the Laurel Creek inlet. I can follow the creek upstream and look for Charlie without anyone interfering.

It hurt to think about Charlie. She wanted to block him out of her mind, to block out everything, to run and, for a white at least, to be free.

But she wondered if she could reach the inlet. There was private property along the shore beyond the north end of town. There might be fences blocking her way.

I could swim around them, she thought.

Ahead was the park. She left the sidewalk and ran on the grass. It felt soft and springy under her shoes.

Go down to the beach and follow the shoreline. Might work.

What’s the point, though? Charlie wouldn’t have walked toward the river. If he survived the jump from the bridge, he would’ve climbed back up to the road. If he’s downstream, he got carried there by the current.

I wouldn’t find him alive.

The searchers may have already found him.

I owe him a try.

Vicki shortened her stride as she started down the slope toward the public beach. Gazing beyond the sand, she saw the dim shape of a fence stretching down to the water’s edge.

I can wade around it, she told herself. I can swim all the way to the inlet, if I have to. It’s probably no more than half a mile.

At the bottom of the slope, she picked up her pace. She came to the beach. She raced across the moonwashed sand.

“Vicki?”

She recognized the voice.

Her head snapped to the left.

Jack was speeding down the silvery ramp of the slide. He flew off its end and ran toward her.

Vicki stopped and faced him. He was barefoot and wearing only shorts. He stopped a few steps away from her.

“Early for your morning jog,” he said.

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep. I was just lying in bed, thinking about you. When I heard the fire alarm, I decided to get up. I just wandered for a while, and ended up here. I guess I hoped you’d show up, sooner or later.”

“What for?” she asked. Her heart was thumping. She felt as if she couldn’t get enough air.

“Oh, Vicki.” He started to raise his arms toward her, then let them fall to his sides. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to jump on you. You’re not Gloria. You’re so different from her that…I guess I’ve still got a lot of anger in me, and for just a minute there I let it out at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m not Gloria.”

“I know.”

“I’m not an Amazon career bitch.”

“Partly Amazon, maybe.” As he said that, a corner of his mouth tipped up and he rubbed his right arm just below the shoulder. “You pack a pretty mean wallop.”

He turned sideways and pointed. His skin, milky in the moonlight, had a faint smudge of darkness like a shadow where she had punched him.

“I did that?” Vicki asked.

Reaching out, she let her fingertips drift over the contusion. The dark area felt slightly warmer than the skin around it.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s all right.”

“I shouldn’t have hit you.”

“It was assault and battery, you know. But don’t worry, I won’t press charges.”

“The cops would love it if you did.” She slid her hand down his arm and took hold of his hand. “The chief seems to hate my guts. He just gave me the bum’s rush. All I wanted to do was help look for Charlie.”

“Charlie Gaines?”

“He’s missing. That’s what the fire alert was about. He crashed on River Road. They think he was on fire and jumped off the bridge into the creek, but they couldn’t find him. I wanted to help and they kicked me out.”

Jack squeezed her hand. “Why wouldn’t they let you help?”

“I don’t know. But I thought I might sneak in the back way and search upstream. The inlet’s not far from here.” She nodded toward the fence at the boundary of the beach.

“Want some company?” Jack asked.

“I’d like that.”

“Lead on. I’ll try to keep up.”

He released Vicki’s hand. She whirled away and rushed across the beach. She heard him running behind her. Then, he caught up and ran at her side.

She angled toward the end of the chainlink fence. A sign near the final post read, “Public Prohibited Beyond this Point.” The water splashed up her legs as she rounded the post. On the other side, she leaped onto the bank and hurried across the back yard of a cottage. The windows of the cottage were dark. Ahead, a pier stretched into the river. An outboard floated alongside it.

Jack caught up to her, then passed her.

She stared at his wide, pale back, at the dark seat of his shorts, at his strong legs pumping out.

And it felt so good to be with him.

Vicki could hardly believe they were suddenly together. It had happened so fast. One moment, she was alone and Jack little more than a bitter memory: the next, he was back and she felt closer to him than before their fight in the car.

He was waiting for me, she thought. Hoping I’d show up.

She followed him past the pier, past a small beach, and through a gap in a hedge at the far side of the yard. They came out behind a two-story house with a wooded lawn. A car tire was suspended from one of the limbs. This house had a larger beach area than the cottage they had left behind. A canoe rested, hull up, on the sand. Some distance ahead was a dock with a boathouse on the other side.

Jack turned toward the beach. He came to a stop beside the canoe, crouched down and flipped it over, uncovering a pair of paddles that had been left beneath it.

“What’re you doing?” Vicki whispered.

“Let’s borrow it. We’ll get there in no time, if we take it.”

“Are you kidding? It isn’t ours.”

“This is an emergency. They’ll understand. Besides, they’ll never find out we took it. Probably.”

Vicki glanced toward the house. She could only see bits of it through the trees.

Jack handed a paddle to her. He kept the other for himself, and lifted the prow. Vicki grabbed the stern. The aluminum canoe felt nearly weightless as she hurried behind Jack, rushing it down the beach.

She half expected someone to shout from the house and come running out to stop them. But no one did.

They waded into the river and eased the canoe down. Jack held it steady while Vicki climbed in. As she knelt and dipped her paddle into the water, Jack swung himself aboard.

She looked over her shoulder.

We’re getting away with it!

She felt a strange thrill. She’d never stolen anything before.

We’re not stealing it, she reminded herself. Just borrowing it. And this is an emergency.

Though she hadn’t been in a canoe for years, she used to spend long hours in them exploring the river’s shoreline and islands. It felt so familiar: the narrow wooden slats under her knees, the paddle in her hands, the weight of the water against the blade as she swept it back, the sound of the drops spilling away when she lifted the paddle out, the soft rushing lap of the river under the hull as the canoe glided forward.

Jack acted as if he too, had spent much of his youth in such a craft. He knelt upright, drawing his paddle through the water with smooth, graceful strokes, leaving the steering to Vicki, seeming to know that the job was hers and realizing immediately that she was good at it.

She matched his strokes. Soon, the canoe was speeding over the calm suface of the river. When they were out beyond the end of the pier, she turned them northward.

The air was warm. The river was calm, black except for silvery moonlight sprinkled across its ripples. Vicki saw no boat lights. She heard no motors. There seemed to be no one else on the river. A few specks of light glimmered along the far shore. The stillness and beauty gave her a hollow feeling of regret.

If only she were out here with Jack and no terrible errand. They could paddle out to the middle of the river and let the canoe drift. She would go to him. He would put his arms around her. They would kiss. They would lie down in the bottom of the canoe…

Some other night, she told herself. Maybe next week or next month. All of this will be a bad memory, and we’ll come out here for no other reason than to be with each other.

She pictured Charlie floating dead in the creek, and felt a hot jolt of guilt.

We’re out here for you, Charlie. It doesn’t matter about me and Jack.

Not tonight.

She turned her face to the left. They were gliding past the dock of the last house before the woods. In the distance, she saw a point of land. She remembered from long ago that it reached into the river just this side of the Laurel Creek inlet.

Holding the paddle straight down beside the canoe, she twisted its blade against the flow. Water swooshed and bubbled up. The canoe turned. When it was aimed toward the point, she resumed stroking.

Soon, they slipped past the jut of land.

“It’s just ahead,” Vicki said.

Jack, nodding, rested his paddle across the gunnels.

Vicki eased the canoe forward. She peered into the darkness of the bushes and trees along the bank, but didn’t see the narrow opening until Jack pointed. Sweeping the canoe toward it, she heard the soft rush of the running water. She gave the paddle a final, strong pull.

As the canoe glided closer to the inlet, she scanned the woods. She saw no lights. She heard voices faint with distance.

Either the searchers hadn’t yet come this far, or they’d already reached the river and turned back.

Jack slipped into the river. It covered him to the waist. Gripping the prow with one hand, he waded ashore and dragged the canoe partway up the embankment near the edge of the creek. He crouched and held it steady for Vicki. Staying low, she scurried to the front. Jack gave her a hand as she climbed out. It was wet. Together, they pulled the canoe farther up the low slope.

“Now what?” he whispered.

“I guess we walk upstream.”

His big hand closed around her forearm. They stepped around a cluster of bushes and entered Laurel Creek. Its rocky bed felt slick under her shoes. As they approached the middle, the water level rose above her knees.