Whisper (21 page)

Her voice finally dried up, nothing more to say, no way to verbally explain.

“You’re pathetic! I saw you with Doug’s friends!

I shouldn’t be surprised you were making money that way! You love it, the filthy attention you get!” Whisper thought she’d pass out from the sick, sinking feeling making her hands and feet numb.

Heather couldn’t have seen her dance; the door remained closed. She didn’t see!

“You can’t take care of me!” Heather screamed.

“Keith can. He’ll take me in and do what you couldn’t. He’s a decent man. One that won’t put up with a
stripper
taking care of me! Oh, God, they all know! All of them know you take off your clothes and…”

176

Whisper

Heather crumpled beside her bed. Sobs of grief filled the room. Whisper backed out and quietly closed the door.
Stripper!
She felt strange, peaceful, and empty. Only one thing would make up for all her mistakes.

In the kitchen, she took the roll of cash from the can. Peeling off five one-hundred dollar bills, she laid the rest on the coffee table in the living room.

With a pen and small piece of paper, she scribbled a note. She laid the pre-paid cell phone down on top of the bills. Heather wouldn’t call the woman she blamed for her brother’s addiction, the woman who humiliated her. At sixteen, Heather knew what would be best. Keith would take care of her, no matter what. He wouldn’t blame an innocent child for a sister-in-law’s shameful behavior. He’d do better than she could. Better than Doug.

She stuffed the bills in her back pocket and grabbed the key ring out of her purse. She took the car key off and laid the rest on the table. She walked back to the bedroom door and placed her palm on it, listening to Heather’s sobs. Her heart would’ve broken but it’d already died. Little pieces of it littered the highways from one state to another. One last time she wanted to tell Heather she loved her.

Her mouth opened and the words stuck. Heather wouldn’t care. Whisper shamed herself and everyone surrounding her.

She walked through the living room, listening to the quiet. She’d never see Billy, Corey, Christy, Mark or Nomad again. She hoped her note at Christmas hadn’t hurt Nomad in some way. She’d had the best of intentions…

Keith
. A better than lousy track record with males, should’ve made her stay away from him. She really didn’t learn from past mistakes. He gave her hope, made her feel normal and trusted her. And she 177

Kathleen Lash

repaid his kindness with deceit and filth.

Through the kitchen door, she stepped into the bitterly cold night. It occurred to her she hadn’t taken her coat. It didn’t matter. Her clothes were soaked with perspiration from fright and humiliation. For the moment, the cold agreed with her. Her skin felt like her heart. Frozen. She climbed into the old car and tried starting it.
One more time.

Just one and you never have to start again.
The engine fired and she dropped the gear shift into reverse.

As the car chugged past the Manchester household, Whisper didn’t even glance over as she’d done so often in the past. No one within the cozy, safe house wanted to know her anymore. Her only regret was Billy hearing Keith’s loud words.
A
stripper!
She hoped Keith didn’t have to explain to Billy what the word meant. She hoped Billy didn’t already know.

****

“Whisper! Heather!”

He shut the door and listened. Past the living room and down the hall, he heard muffled sobs coming from Heather’s room. He knocked. More sobs. Stuff scraped along the carpet when he opened the door. The remnants of a tornado lay inside.

“Heather?”

He found her huddled in a corner. Careful to avoid the clutter on the floor, he hobbled to the bed and sat. She’d seen him come in. He’d wait. Her hands remained balled into fists resting on her knees. Maybe he should’ve let Corey come over too.

A kid her own age might understand. Why in the 178

Whisper

hell would Whisper let her cry like this?

When she settled down, he knew better than to say a word. She’d talk when she felt ready and he had plenty of time. A few pain pills before he came over mellowed him. He probably should’ve taken them before talking to Whisper. The headache still throbbed, but lessened after the medication.

“I th-thought you were m-mad at us,” Heather said. “The discussion I had with Whisper had nothing to do with you. I’m not angry with you. I’m not angry with her.”

“You y-yelled.”

“And I’m sorry.”

Ten questions came to mind, and he kept every one of them to himself. He learned something that night. When you ask questions, you generally receive answers. And not particularly the ones you want.

“The rest of them. They know.” After running his hand over his face, he let out a deep breath. “Yeah, I spelled it out loud and clear.

Look, honey,” he said, waiting until she wiped her cheeks and looked at him. “I was caught off guard and shot off my mouth.”

The thought of Whisper dancing still made his blood run cold and hot. The visuals stuck in his head would leave when he saw her again. The nervousness when he’d first been around her, and the way she didn’t like having her breasts touched, made everything else seem impossible. But she’d
danced
to get money. The look of horror on Whisper’s face after he yelled it out, stuck in his head. He’d slapped her, hard, verbally.

“God, what you must think of me!”

“What Whisper did to make money has nothing to do with you.”

She peered at the floor. “You don’t think I’m a slut too?”

179

Kathleen Lash

Another deep breath made the urge to loudly explain a thing or two dissipate. Unable to imagine what she felt, he made concessions because she was probably in a state of shock.

“Whisper isn’t a slut.” Words came out through teeth mashed together. At least he managed to stifle what he wanted to say. “She worked there to keep a roof over your heads and food on the table.”

“She didn’t have to do
that
.”

“Don’t judge your sister.”

“She’s not my sister! I hate her!” He stood when she did. He’d never dealt with an emotionally charged teenage female, and decided she should’ve already calmed down. Instead, she got more wound up. When she rushed to get past him, he grabbed her. Balanced mostly on one leg, he had a hard time holding on, but managed. One hell of a fight ensued before the burst of energy drained.

Sagging against him, he sat and pulled her onto his lap. Instinctively, he wrapped her in his arms.

Rocking her back and forth, her small hands clung and held tight.

“I feel terrible,” she said. She looked and sounded bad.

“The way you’ve lived hasn’t been easy on either of you. You had to be careful, watch what you said, not let anyone know. You’re tired. That’s all, you’re just tired.”

Nomad appeared in the doorway. “Everything all right?”

Heather asked, “Nomad?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

She exhaled loudly. “I don’t want Corey to see me like this. I don’t know what’s wrong, what got into me.” When she squirmed, he let her leave because she sounded almost rational. “I have to apologize. Right now.”

Heather slipped past Nomad and rushed down 180

Whisper

the hall. They heard her knock and then open a door.

A few seconds later, she ran by Nomad into the living room. When Nomad left the doorway, Keith followed. Heather stared down at the coffee table.

Nomad moved closer to stand beside her. After a moment he said, “For the love of God!” The blood left Heather’s face. She blinked once and said breathlessly, “She left me.” Nomad caught her as she collapsed. He held her and turned to Keith, looking like he didn’t know what to do.

“On the couch,” Keith said.

Keith limped over and read the note.
A down
payment. Please take care of her.
With his head spinning, he said, “Check the garage.” Nomad hurried out the kitchen door. Whisper’s purse and coat lay on the table next to the stack of bills. She couldn’t have left. Not without her purse.

The keys to both houses lay there too.

She wouldn’t leave Heather. The kid was sixteen years old. Whisper would give her last pint of blood to make sure Heather was safe and cared for. Before he panicked, he went to Whisper’s room and flipped on the light. Nothing looked out of place. When he heard the back door close, he limped to the kitchen and found Nomad.

“She’s gone.” Nomad hadn’t looked that bad since he’d been in jail.

Keith carefully walked to the couch and sat down on the coffee table. Turning Heather’s face, he tapped her cheek. “A glass of water.” Nomad brought it and Keith eased her up before placing the glass to her lips. A little trickled in and she choked. Giving her a minute to get her bearings, he asked, “Where would she go, Heather? She can’t be far. We’ll find her.” Pale, shaking, she grew limp again and he couldn’t wait. “Heather, get with it, honey. We need your help.”

181

Kathleen Lash

“Okay.”

“Where would she go?”

“Your house.”

“Where else, Heather? Think.”

“Nowhere.”

“She went somewhere. Where were you before Cleveland?” He concentrated on keeping his voice calm and even.

“Nothing there for her. Police found us in Georgia. We got away.”

“Before that. Where were you before that?”

“Phoenix, I think.”

“Did she make a friend there? Someone—anyone she might go to?”

“No, not Phoenix.”

“Her mother in Texas?”

“Dead.”

“Your brother. Would she go back?” Heather shook her head and tears fell.

“Damn it, honey, she went somewhere. Think.

Somewhere she’d go to feel—safe.” The word almost didn’t come out.
What the hell did I do!

Heather gazed at him. “Here.”

Keith wanted to shake her so she’d choke up an answer. He knew it’d make matters worse. “San Diego, then. You lived there for a while. She had a friend, someone she talked to.” Heather shook her head.

“All right, someone she knew maybe. What about the band? Any of the guys in the band?”

“She wasn’t allowed to talk to them. Doug didn’t let her. She’d go to the studio, a concert or home. He went with her all the time. He let her come home alone once with the band. We ran away late that night. They had a fight.”

“He wasn’t always with her. Shopping, taking you to school, getting the goddamned mail?”

“Jared took me to and from school. Jared took 182

Whisper

me shopping. Whisper wasn’t allowed to go. Doug picked out her clothes.” Her eyes lit up suddenly.

“The computer. Maybe she had a friend online. Doug didn’t take it away until a few months before we left.

Is there a way to get into her e-mail account? We could see if she was writing to someone. I know the address but not the password.” Keith stared, trying to understand the kind of life they’d run from. Heather lived with her for years. The kid described a prison, not the home of a celebrity daughter who played concerts and cooked and looked after kids. She didn’t have a single friend and wasn’t allowed to occasionally reach out, and on the tail end of their time with
Doug
, not even through a computer.

“I’ll call Maynard.” He stopped talking as a dawning came. Who would he send them after? A woman who lived under the radar because she’d
kidnapped
her sister-in-law? She’d managed to avoid private investigators and police while dancing in a strip joint. Probably a lot of strip bars in various states! Besides, if the police found her, they’d keep her. Kidnapping was a felony.

“What happened, Heather?” Keith asked, his forearms on his thighs, his head hung.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Why did she leave tonight?”

“Embarrassed, pissed off—I don’t know.” He’d heard enough bullshit from kids in his life, and she was feeding him a pile of it. If Whisper left because of him she might come back to collect Heather. If she left
because
of Heather…

Nomad started to say something and Keith put up his hand.

If they left Heather alone long enough, he’d find out whether or not he’d ever get the chance to apologize and make up for one of the biggest mistakes of his life. How did it happen? He lived 183

Kathleen Lash

clean, worked hard and raised the kids to the best of his ability. How could he savage the only woman he’d really given a shit about in a matter of minutes?

“We won’t be able to find her, will we?” Heather asked, confirming the severity of the situation. “If she doesn’t come back on her own, there’s no way to find her.” Her voice cracked and she started breathing faster.

Keith and Nomad remained silent.

Heather’s fingertips pushed bills aside, fanning them out. “Three thousand, four hundred dollars.

She took five or six hundred. That would give her gas to get a few states away and some food.” She sobbed and put her hands over her eyes. “If she’ll eat. She doesn’t always. She’ll sleep in the car—

hotels waste money. It’s so cold though. She could freeze to death. The car doesn’t always start. She stops at night in remote spots so no one would bother us. There won’t be someone to help her!”

“Slow down, honey. Nice deep breaths,” Keith said. “Where would she go? I mean, if she thought no one loved her?”

Keith swung onto the couch and put his arm around her.

At the rate she was going, in thirty seconds, she’d be hysterical again.

“I said horrible things to her.” Heather sobbed loudly.

“Shh, it’s all right.”

“No! No it’s not. You don’t understand. I was really mad and I told her…” she gulped air and wept bitterly, unable to finish.

“She knows you love her.”

She shook her head.

“She does.”

“Told her I hated her. Told her what I saw. She tried to hide it, keep herself between me and Doug.

184