The Living Room (25 page)

“Sure, I’ll put your bat in my truck.”

“And leave it there when you go to the high school,” Amy said quickly.

Jeff gave her a strange look.

“I don’t think I’ll need it in the meeting.”

Jeff left the house. Megan returned to the kitchen while Amy was helping Ian look for a missing schoolbook.

“Here it is,” Ian said while lying on his stomach in front of the washing machine. “It was down here.”

“What is it doing there?” Amy asked.

“I put it on top of the machine when I was putting my dirty socks in for you to wash and must have knocked it off.”

Once the children were bundled up, Megan stopped and gave Amy a hug.

“Bye, Mom, I love you,” Megan said.

“I love you, too.”

“What did you do wrong?” Ian asked Megan.

“Nothing,” Amy replied immediately. “Either one of you can tell me you love me anytime you want to and for no reason at all.”

After the children were gone, Amy went upstairs and turned on the old clock radio Jeff had brought into their marriage. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror listening to the local news while putting the finishing touches on her makeup:

“A Cross Plains man was reported missing by his wife after he
failed to return home from a trip to a convenience store last night. Carl
Fincannon, age sixty-one, a retired policeman, was last seen at approximately
8:30 p.m. His abandoned car was found near the intersection
of Selmer and Castile Streets on the west side of town. He left the house
wearing a brown coat, khaki pants, and a red N.C. State cap. Anyone
who has information about his whereabouts is asked to call the police or sheriff’s department
.”

Amy was about to apply a final dash of eye shadow to her right eyelid when the announcer mentioned that the missing man was wearing a red cap. An image from her previous night’s trip to the living room flashed across her mind. The announcer moved on to the weather report. Amy turned around and stared at the radio.

She’d seen that cap.

In addition to the N.C. State letters, it also had a snarling wolf, the team mascot, embroidered on the front. In her dream, the cap was lying on the ground not far from a place where a residential street crossed a narrow stream. Amy knew the place because the road was a shortcut from the downtown area to a row of buildings rented by various doctors behind the hospital. Jeff and Amy’s internist had his office in one of those buildings.

Amy’s cell phone was on the sink in front of her. She picked it up and started to dial the number for the police information line the announcer had given but stopped. What would she say to the person who answered the call? How would she respond to a request for the source of her information? She returned the phone to the sink and stared at herself in the mirror. The police department probably received lots of bogus calls when a plea went out asking for help locating a missing person. Amy’s hat information would fit neatly into that category.

But what if her call was taken seriously? She didn’t feel right about causing a patrolman to waste his time driving over to the street near the hospital to see if a red hat was lying on the ground. What if the patrolman was needed elsewhere on legitimate police business? Amy hurriedly finished getting ready and went downstairs.

As soon as she was in the car, she knew she wasn’t driving directly to work. She backed out of the driveway, left their neighborhood, and turned in the direction of the hospital. It was a cold morning, and the thought of a man spending the night outside made Amy shiver even though her car heater was blowing full force. The tragic plight of Mr. Fincannon’s wife, who undoubtedly didn’t sleep all night, was also sad.

About the time Amy usually arrived at the office, she turned onto the street she’d seen in the dream. Her heart beat a little faster. Up ahead was the bridge. It was little more than two low concrete sections that kept cars from drifting off the roadway. A garbage truck passed going the opposite direction. Amy slowed and pulled onto the grassy shoulder of the street. There was no sign of a red hat. She sighed with relief.

And felt a huge wave of guilt.

How could she be relieved that the dream wasn’t real? Wouldn’t it be better to deal with the awkwardness of providing helpful information about the missing man than hiding in anonymity? Leaving her car running, Amy got out and looked up and down the grassy shoulder. The roadway was slightly built up, and beyond the edge of her car it sloped sharply down to the waterway, which was lined with bushy trees and other vegetation. Even in winter it was hard to see through the thicket to the water. There was plenty of trash that needed to be picked up but nothing out of the ordinary.

She crossed the narrow street to the other side. No red hat. A large tree obstructed her view, and Amy took a few steps toward the bridge to get a better look into the shallow ravine. When she did, she saw something brown that looked like a fallen limb. She stared more intently. It wasn’t a tree limb.

It was a man’s leg.

An hour later a slightly disheveled Amy walked through the front door of the law office.

“How are you?” Janelle asked with concern.

“Okay. Just late,” Amy replied.

“I know that. How is the man you rescued? All it said on the Internet was that he was taken to the hospital.”

Amy’s mouth dropped open.

“It’s on the Internet?”

“Yeah. My friend who works in the ER called me and told me a woman who works at our office helped the police locate a missing man who had a stroke or something. She probably wasn’t supposed to say that because of HIPAA, but we’re real close.”

“I didn’t rescue anybody,” Amy said, still somewhat in shock.

“Then what happened?”

“I saw a leg in the bushes and called the police.”

“That would have scared me to death, and I would have screamed my head off,” Janelle said, rubbing her arms with her hands. “I mean, it sounds like something out of a book. Maybe you should include it in your next novel.”

“I’d better get to work.” Amy moved forward in the direction of her office. “Is Mr. Phillips here?”

“No, he’s meeting with a client in Raleigh this morning.”

“That’s right. I forgot.”

“Which is understandable. What should I say if a TV reporter or someone from the newspaper calls and wants to talk to you?”

“Uh, connect them to my voice mail.”

Amy made it to her office and closed both doors. She was barely seated when someone knocked on the hallway door.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“Chris.”

“Come in.”

The young lawyer slowly opened the door.

“Is what I’m hearing about you and the man who was missing true?”

“I don’t know what you heard, but I placed a 911 call this morning on my way to work that led to the police finding Mr. Fincannon. He was barely conscious after spending all night out in the open. Fortunately, he was wearing a heavy coat.”

“How did you find him?”

Amy told as brief a version as possible.

“It’s remarkable that you stopped your car,” Chris replied thoughtfully. “Where do you live?”

Amy told him.

“Is that the way you normally come to work?” Chris asked with a puzzled expression on his face. “I’m still new to town, but that doesn’t make sense.”

“My internist has his office in a nearby building behind the hospital.”

It was the answer Amy had given to the police. She’d not lied and claimed she was going to see the doctor. She’d merely mentioned the fact and left it alone.

“And you had a doctor’s appointment this morning?”

“Don’t start in on me,” Amy bristled. “I’m not in the mood to be cross-examined. And if you don’t like it, you can complain to Mr. Phillips.”

“Okay, okay.” Chris held up his hands. “There’s no need to start a war. It’s a great thing you did. But it made me wonder if your psychic powers were involved.”

“I do not have psychic powers!” Amy snapped.

Chris opened his mouth, then closed it. He stepped out of the tiny office and quietly closed the door behind him. Amy put her head in her hands and leaned her elbows on her desk.

The rest of the morning she came out of her office only to go to the bathroom and return. Two phone calls from one of the main reporters for the local paper went into her voice mail. There was no way she was going to talk to the press. During her lunch break, she
left the office through a back door and drove to the park. As soon as she turned off the car’s engine, Jeff called her cell phone.

“What is going on?” he asked. “I was on a job, and the woman we’re working for asked me if I was your husband.”

Amy sighed and told Jeff everything. She’d never been so transparent with him about the living room, but today she didn’t have the emotional reserve to be evasive. He listened until she finished.

“That is weird,” he said.

Tears stung the corners of Amy’s eyes. It was exactly the kind of reaction she’d feared. Jeff didn’t say it in a malicious way, but the words stood on their own. Amy was tempted to hang up on him.

“But it worked out for good. You probably saved that man’s life.”

Amy sniffled.

“Are you okay?” Jeff asked.

“No.”

“Do you need to go home?”

The thought of sitting at home with nothing to do wasn’t the answer.

“No, I may as well stay at the office. Mr. Phillips was out this morning, but he’ll be back this afternoon.” Amy paused. “Nobody knows what I told you. The police were more interested in helping Mr. Fincannon than questioning me. But Chris Lance, the young lawyer at work, got very nosy, and I was rude to him.”

“I’m sure he deserved it.”

“I don’t know. What do you think I should do about the reporter from the newspaper?”

“Given how you feel, I don’t think you should call him. This has been traumatic for you, too.”

Jeff’s understanding tone started to calm Amy down.

“And you’re not going to say anything to anybody?”

“Only that I’m proud of my wife.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll see you later this afternoon.”

“Yes, and don’t forget to pray for Megan’s meeting with Nate Drexel at the school.”

“Of course. I need something else to think about.”

Amy was at her desk when Mr. Phillips returned to the office. She’d left the door cracked open so she could see the senior partner when he entered. He put his leather briefcase in the corner where he always kept it and came toward her. Amy focused her attention on the computer screen in front of her.

“Have you finished the first draft of the buy-sell agreement for Kit Austin?” Mr. Phillips asked.

“Yes, sir, but I haven’t printed it out.”

“Get it to me so I can correct it. Kit and I are going to discuss it at three o’clock.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Phillips left the doorway. Amy relaxed and brought up the document so it could be sent to the printer. Her phone buzzed.

“Mrs. Fincannon is on the phone,” Janelle said. “She really wants to talk to you. I tried to put her off, but—”

“It’s okay,” Amy interrupted. “Tell her I’ll be with her in a minute and park her on my line.”

She retrieved the document Mr. Phillips wanted from the printer and took it to him.

“Thanks,” he said, staring down at something else he was reading on his desk. “What’s this I hear about you calling 911 this morning? Janelle mentioned it when I came by her desk.”

“I saw something beside the road and notified the police. It turned out to be a man who had a stroke, got confused, and left his car. He’d spent the night outside. They took him to the hospital.”

“Lucky for him you came along. It was cold outside last night.”

“Yes, it was.”

“How’s he doing?”

“I’m not sure. His wife is holding on my line.”

Mr. Phillips looked up.

“Then don’t stand there talking to me. Take the call.”

“Yes, sir.”