The Long Way Home (20 page)

“Of course I’ll come.”

“If you can stay with him for a few days while my assistant works out a long-term solution, I’d be so grateful.”

Marnie said, “I’m perfectly willing to watch him the whole time.”

“We can talk about that when you get here,” Kimberly said. “Just so you know, the camp is about two hours from here. I would have picked him up already, but I’ve been crazy busy getting ready for my trip. I had to get shots and make arrangements for the dogs, not to mention coordinating my schedule.” Kimberly was getting to be talkative. Marnie, by comparison, was getting wearier.

“I hate to cut this short, Kimberly, but I need to get going. We’ll talk tomorrow.” They exchanged good-byes and that was it. Marnie turned off the phone and turned to Laverne. “Why does everyone think you’re my stepmother?”

Laverne cast her eyes down on the bed and poked sheepishly at the blanket. “Oh, that. Everyone assumed we were related somehow, so I just claimed you. It made things simpler.” She looked up to see Marnie shaking her head in amusement.

Marnie said, “Well, let’s get a move on then, Stepmom. We have a couple hours of driving to go.”

“Are you sure this is such a good idea?” Laverne said. “You look whipped.”

“Laverne, I’m not staying in this room one minute longer than I have to. Troy is waiting.” Knowing she would be able to see him soon gave her a surge of energy. A few minutes ago she was nearly passed out from the drugs and the day’s events. Now she was wide awake and ready to go.

“I hear you.” Laverne picked up the beige remote tethered to the hospital bed by a thick cord. She studied it for a second and then pushed the red call button.

“What are you doing?” Marnie asked, her voice rising in alarm.

“Letting the nurse know you’re leaving.”

“No, no, no! Don’t ask permission. They’ll just say I can’t go.” Marnie pulled the remote out of her hand, but it was too late. A voice came through the intercom above the bed. “Yes? You needed something?”

“I pushed the button by accident,” Marnie said. “I’m sorry.”

“No problem.” The voice clicked off.

Marnie spoke firmly to Laverne. “If you want to be helpful, start gathering up my stuff while I get dressed, so we can get out of here.”

“Okeydokey.” Looking around the room, Laverne found a plastic bag with the hospital logo on it. She threw a box of Kleenex into the bag along with a plastic pan the nurse had said Marnie could use if she felt the urge to get sick.

Marnie stood up slowly, her legs unsteady and shaky. She had the sense she was getting a preview of what it would be like to be very old. Every move took complete concentration. She went to the cabinet where her clothes were stowed and pulled them off the shelf. Someone, she noticed, had carefully folded them. Her sandals were at the very the bottom, soles down, side by side. Setting aside her usual modesty, she changed right in front of Laverne, struggling into her bra and putting on the gray T-shirt from the Lost and Found.

When it came time to pull on her shorts and sandals, she sat in the bedside chair. It seemed to take a long time, but Laverne didn’t notice. She was too busy scooping up toiletries from the bathroom.

“You lucked out,” Laverne said, coming out of the bathroom with the now bulging bag. “There was a whole box of maxi pads and some soap and a little shampoo bottle and some Purell too. That stuff’s like gold.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to take the supplies,” Marnie said. “It’s not like a hotel.”

Laverne scoffed. “Are you kidding? They’re gonna charge you for it. You might as well take ’em. You’ll be glad later on.”

Marnie wasn’t in the mood to argue. She let Laverne take charge, gathering up both their purses and pulling the string on the plastic bag and looping it over her wrist. “Now we’re ready,” Laverne said, after giving the room the once-over. She came to Marnie’s side and offered her arm for support. “Easy there, gal. We’ll get there, slowly but surely.” The empty hall echoed with their footsteps, but no one seemed to notice. They passed the nurses’ station, but even that seemed to be deserted, except for one woman, whose back was to them. She was hunched over a keyboard, entering something into a computer, and didn’t look up when they went past. When they got into the elevator, Marnie leaned against the wall, while Laverne pushed the button for the first floor. They exchanged a conspiratorial glance. Marnie hadn’t felt like this since her teen years. She and some friends used to sneak into the quarry at night to go swimming. She clearly remembered the feeling of triumph when she’d made it over the fence, her towel tucked under her arm.

When they got to the first floor and the elevator door opened, a doctor stood in front of them, his gaze on his pager. They traded places and he never said a word. Laverne turned to look. “Keep going,” Marnie muttered. “Just keep going. We’re not home free yet.”

The first floor was brighter and busier than the third, but the staff didn’t question their presence as they made their way to the front door. As they walked out, one man called out, “Good night, ladies,” and Laverne flapped an arm in acknowledgment.

Out in the parking lot, Marnie nearly wilted. She’d forgotten the insufferable weight of the heat, the way it pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe. Even in the dark of night, it felt like they’d walked into an oven. She pushed her hair back off her forehead and looked around. “Where’s the car?” Laverne’s face had a sudden stricken look that Marnie didn’t like at all. She asked again, “The car’s here, right? The police brought it over?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I completely forgot—it’s still back at the rest stop,” Laverne said, smacking her forehead. “I didn’t have the keys, so that nice officer brought me in the police car.”

Marnie groaned. Who would have thought car keys could cause so much trouble? “The cop didn’t wonder how you were going to leave the hospital without a car?”

“He did say something about it, but I told him not to worry about it, that I’d figure something out.”

Marnie had the urge to collapse on the pavement weeping. Her legs felt like Jell-O, and her side, which had ten dissolvable stitches, now felt sore and tender.

“I’m sorry,” Laverne said. “I didn’t have my thinking cap on.” At least she had the decency to look miserable and apologetic.

“Now what are we going to do?” Marnie surveyed the parking lot, as if the dozen or so cars would give her a clue. There were no signs indicating public transportation, and even if there had been, she was pretty sure buses didn’t make stops on the freeway.

“Maybe we can call a cab?” Laverne suggested. “Let’s see what’s on the other side of the building.”

Reluctantly, Marnie let herself be led past a row of cars and around the corner of the building. This side had its own parking area, but it wasn’t as brightly lit. She had a feeling that if they rounded one more corner they’d be in complete darkness. “It’s no use, Laverne, we have to go back inside.”

“Wait!” Laverne held up a hand and peered off in the distance. “I see someone.”

Marnie rolled her eyes. Yes, there was a man coming out of one of the exits, dragging a plastic bag with him. He moved quickly to the back of the lot to where two Dumpsters stood side by side, lifted the cover of one of them, flung the bag inside, and pumped a fist in the air. They could hear his happy exclamation: “Yes!”

“Yoo hoo,” Laverne yelled in his direction, waving the plastic bag over her head. “Sir, can you help us?”

Marnie didn’t like where this was going. Dealing with strange men had not turned out well for her lately. “Let’s go back in,” she said, tugging at Laverne’s shirt. But it was too late. The young man jogged toward them in a friendly way. As he got closer, she recognized him as the young man who’d given her the T-shirt. George.

“You need help?” he said with concern, and then a flash of recognition crossed his face upon seeing Marnie and the gray T-shirt. “Oh, hello.”

Marnie said, “Our car is parked at a rest stop on the interstate, and we need to get there real quick. Is there a bus or a cab company or something that could take us?”

“Is very late for cab,” he said. “Very late. And no buses around here.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Marnie pictured Troy, feverish and asking for her, and her not being able to get there. She wanted to be there for him. There was nothing she wanted more, in fact. It was unfair. She had been so close. But she was also exhausted. Walking took supreme effort, like swimming against the current. Too tired to hold back, she wept openly, tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt her nose become itchy and congested, and she wiped at it even though it wasn’t running quite yet.

“Do not cry,” George said, alarmed. You’d have thought Marnie was his own mother, the way he responded. “No crying.” He held up his hands like warding off her sadness. “I take you. I take you. In my car.”

“But,” Marnie said, swallowing, “don’t you have to work?”

“All done now,” he said. “Garbage out, then I go home.”

“You’ll drive us to the rest stop?” Laverne said incredulously, as if she couldn’t believe their good luck.

“Oh yes,” George said. “I take you ladies now. If you wish.”

It occurred to Marnie that one of them should have objected to the idea of getting into a car with a strange man, but neither of them did.

That night, while Laverne and Marnie were driving toward Las Vegas, Rita slept in the guest bedroom at Beth and Mike’s house. For the first time in years, she was able to sink into sleep, completely relaxed, at peace with the world. She dreamt that Melinda was sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking her mother’s hair and murmuring comforting words. The dream felt as real as anything that had happened in her waking hours, and when she would wake, nine hours later, she was going to recall every bit of it. In the future, the memory of that dream would sustain her when grief came to call.

Beth and Mike slept down the hall, their bodies nestled together in the center of their king-sized bed. Near their feet, a gray tabby cat slept, her body curled into a comma. When Mike drifted into a deep sleep, his breathing was loud enough to be considered snoring, but Beth was used to it. In fact, she couldn’t sleep without it.

Downstairs, Jazzy sat on one end of the floral-print couch and Carson on the other end, one cushion between them. She fought a craving to move closer, to touch his face. Just seeing him smile overwhelmed her. So curious, that she was having such an intense reaction. She’d seen attractive men before, but she’d never felt like this. Jazzy couldn’t stop looking at him. She was, she realized, completely enamored.

In the dim light, his dark eyes seemed even more intense. “So you aren’t seeing anyone right now?” he asked. “There’s no guy who’s going to come and pound on me for spending time with you?”

She shook her head.

“Unbelievable. A woman like you, unattached. And if your car hadn’t broken down at just that spot at just that time, we never would have met. How lucky am I?” he said, flooding her with his warmth.

What to say to that? She wasn’t sure, but she felt herself blush, and thought,
Get your act together, Jazzy. You don’t want to blow this.
To distract herself from the overpowering urge to move closer and throw her arms around him (a total slut move), she starting talking about what had happened at the police station that afternoon.

“I know the Dietz family,” he said, when she got to the part where they’d realized Davis Diamontopoulos was going out with Judy’s daughter. “And I’ve seen Sophie and her boyfriend in the restaurant. I don’t know him though.”

Jazzy said, “Officer Dietz says she’ll do what she can.” Offhand, it hadn’t sounded like that would be much, but Judy had said she’d have another officer call Davis in to the precinct to question him in an official capacity, broaching it like it was a friendly chat, just a few questions to clear things up.

And Judy had also said she was going to try to talk some sense into Sophie. “She’s crazy about Davis,” she said. “It’s not going to be easy to persuade her he’s capable of murder. I have to think about the best way to handle this.” Her brow furrowed in thought. Such a difficult situation.

Jazzy paused at that point in the story, and Carson said, “And that’s when you made the posters.” It was a statement, not a question.

Jazzy curled up and rested her chin on her knees, her eyes never leaving Carson’s face. Amazing how he gave her his full attention. He was a man who really listened. She said, “Rita had the photo in her wallet, and we had the posters printed up at the police station. Not officially, of course. Judy said if anyone asked, she had nothing to do with it.” The poster, the size of a piece of printer paper, featured the enlarged photo of Melinda and Davis at their happiest. He looked remarkably the same, considering ten years had passed. Beneath the photo, it read: “Please help solve the murder of Melinda Larson. Any information appreciated.” Underneath was printed the date and location of the crime and the contact information of the police detective in charge of the case back in Wisconsin.

They printed up a hundred of these posters and spent the next two hours posting them everywhere they could think of: shop windows, store bulletin boards, power poles, and beneath wiper blades on car windshields. The business owners they approached were incredibly nice. No one was able to turn down a woman who started the conversation by saying, “I hope you can help me solve the murder of my beautiful daughter, Melinda.” Some of the people they approached recognized Davis in the photo, Jazzy could tell. They didn’t say as much, but she knew by the look on their faces.

When they had distributed every last one, Jazzy and Rita were tired and sweaty, but they both felt a certain sense of accomplishment.

Jazzy said, “When we were finished, Rita said, ‘Maybe nothing will come of it, but at least he’ll know it’s not over.’”

“Wow,” Carson said, and repeated, “At least he’ll know it’s not over.”

They both were quiet for a minute, and then Jazzy said, “I told her that something would definitely come of it.”

“And you know that because you’re psychic?” There was curiosity in his eyes.

“No,” Jazzy admitted. “I don’t really know what’s going to happen. I just want to believe that Rita will get some satisfaction, after all this time. She and her husband have been through so much.”

“You are a really good friend,” he said, tilting his head and looking at her approvingly.

“I try.”

“You do more than try. You go all out for people. That’s a rare thing.”

She was silent. Compliments made her uncomfortable for some reason. And this guy kept lobbing them her way. “Thank you,” she said, looking down at her bare feet. “But what about you? Helping out in your parents’ restaurant, that’s awfully nice of you.”

He laughed. “I’m not all that nice. I needed a place to stay until I move and start my new job at the end of summer. I couldn’t really stay here and leech off them. Besides, I don’t mind. There are worse things to do.”

“So what’s your new job?”

“My degree is in environmental engineering. I was hired by a company on Long Island. It’s not my ideal job, but it pays well and it’s a foot in the door, considering I’m right out of college.”

“Environmental engineering? And you couldn’t get something closer to home?” It seemed to Jazzy that Colorado had to have jobs in this area. Colorado was nothing if not environment—water and mountains and clean, crisp air.

“You’re not the first one to tell me that,” he said. “But I wanted the adventure of living somewhere different. And I like the idea of being close to New York City. I love it there. The energy, the diversity, the people. It’s awesome.”

“I actually just got an offer to work in New York,” Jazzy said, remembering her encounter with Scarlett Turner and the business card still tucked in her wallet. “If I take the job, I’ll be an assistant to a
New York Times
best-selling author.”

“Are you going to take it?”

“I’m thinking I will, yes,” Jazzy said. On the other side of the room, just past where Carson sat, Jazzy felt her grandmother’s presence, and at the same time, a picture of a thumbs-up came to mind—Grandma’s way of giving Carson her stamp of approval. Jazzy almost laughed out loud.

Carson tilted his head to one side. “If you’re going to be in New York, and I’m going to be living nearby, maybe we could see each other sometime?”

“That’s a distinct possibility.”

They were both quiet for a minute, the silence wrapping them in a cocoon of intimacy. Finally Carson said, “So you’re leaving tomorrow, when the car is ready. Are you meeting up with the other two in Las Vegas?”

Jazzy hesitated. She and Rita had discussed the matter exhaustively but still weren’t entirely sure what they were going to do. “I don’t know. Rita really wants to go home. She misses her husband something fierce. But she doesn’t want to leave Laverne and Marnie high and dry. It’s very awkward for her.” She stretched her legs out on the couch, stopping just short of touching Carson. “She’s not sure what to do.”

“And what about you?” He leaned over and trailed his fingertips over the top of her foot. “What do you want to do?”

“I’m in no hurry to go,” she said, holding back a shudder of pleasure. Pure bliss.

“No hurry to go.” He gave her a slight smile. “Is that the same as saying you’d like to stay?”

“Yes, that’s the same as saying I’d like to stay.”