After Dark (38 page)

    "But what? Dammit, Edith, if
you know where Will is-"

    "I don't know where he is, but
it is possible that he was with Mary Martha tonight. You see… well, she
got away from Mrs. Bryant, her new nurse. As soon as I can find a replacement,
I'm firing that incompetent creature. She dozed off to sleep after supper
and didn't realize Mary Martha was gone."

    "I assume you found Mary Martha.
Is she all right?’’ Lane asked.

    "We found her in the backyard,
several feet outside the garden. She was totally incoherent. She
kept rambling about Kent. James helped me get her back into the house,
and Mrs. Bryant gave her an injection."

    "Do you think Will could have
been with her?"

    "I don't know, but I suppose
it's possible. However, I don't think he would have left her outside
alone, do you?"

    Lane bit down on her bottom lip. Of
course not. Will would have taken care of Mary Martha. "No, he wouldn't
have left her."

    "Perhaps he changed his mind
about coming over here and decided to take a walk himself. Have you
checked the yard or-"

    "Johnny Mack has covered the
entire yard."

    "You're seriously worried
about him, aren't you?"

    "Yes, I am." Lane took a
deep breath. "If Will shows up at your house, would you please have
him call me immediately."

    "Certainly. And when he comes
home, let me know." Edith paused. "I realize Will's not my grandson,
but I still care deeply for him."

    "Yes. I know. Thank you."
Lane replaced the receiver and turned into Johnny Mack's waiting arms.
"They haven't seen him."

    "What good is that policeman
sitting out there in his car"-Lillie Mae inclined her head toward
the front of the house-"if Will can just up and disappear like
that?" She snapped her fingers.

    '"The man's probably asleep,
just the way Mary Martha's new nurse was when she sneaked away from her.''
Lane left Johnny Mack's arms and began pacing the floor. Where was Will?
Had something happened to him? Had the killer somehow discovered that
Will's memory was returning?

    "We know that someone from
Miss Edith's house phoned Will." Johnny Mack pointed to the caller ID
on the telephone. "My guess is that Mary Martha called him."

    "He never refuses her when
she asks for him." Lane stopped pacing. "If he didn't go to see
Mary Martha, where is he? What could have happened to him?"

    "I think we should get that policeman
in here and he can call for help," Lillie Mae said.

    "I agree," Johnny Mack said.
"I'd like the idea of involving the police better if Buddy Lawler
wasn't the chief, but we need help searching for Will. And we need it
now."

    "Go get him," Lane said.
"Please. We have to do something. I'm slowly going out of my
mind."

    When Johnny Mack headed for the
front door, Lillie Mae grabbed Lane's hand and squeezed.

    No way to finish the job. Not with
Johnny Mack and Lane snooping around along the row of shrubbery that separated
the Graham and Noble estates. Don't fret. Nobody's going to find Will.
Mary Martha's in no condition to tell anyone that she saw him tonight.
And when she comes to herself, she probably won't remember anything.
Even if she does, you can always chalk her accusations up to her mental
condition. Just say she had to be imagining things. But if she tells them
that Will is in the old carriage house, they might look. You must return
and get Will before morning. Kill him and toss him into the river. And if
you're lucky, his body won't ever be found.

    Dawn spread across the eastern horizon
in a glorious pink light. People milled around on the grounds of the
adjoining Noble and Graham estates. Police officers. Sheriff's deputies.
Neighbors. Everyone taking part in the search for Will. Lane hugged
her arms around her waist as the cool morning breeze wafted up from tile
river. Johnny Mack glanced at her, and it was all he could do not to rush to
her and take her into his arms. They had spent endless hours scouring the
neighborhood together, neither of them concerned about their own
welfare, caring only about their son. If anything had happened to
Will, he didn't think Lane could bear it. Her whole world had revolved
around her son for the past fourteen years. She had sacrificed so much
for Will. It wouldn't be fair to her or to him or to Will, if-No, dammit! He
couldn't think that way. He couldn't allow himself to believe the worst.

    Will is alive, he kept telling himself.
He cannot be dead!

    "We're bringing in the bloodhounds,"
Sheriff Larry Carroll said. "I offered to bring 'em in earlier, but
Buddy thought we could locate the boy without using 'em." Larry removed
his cap and scratched his glistening bald head. "Sure does have me
stumped. We found footprints in the mud all over the place, and we've searched
the grounds here at the Grahams' and over at the Noble place, too; but we
haven' t found a clue to help us find Will. It's as if he just up and disappeared.
Poof."

    "If we don't find him by morning,
we'll call in some divers and search the river behind Magnolia Avenue,"
Sergeant T. C. Bedlow interrupted.

    "Will you keep your voice
down," Johnny Mack said. "Will's mother is right over there, and
the last thing she needs is to hear speculation that Will's body might be
in the river."

    "Sorry, Mr. Cahill." T.
C. looked downright embarrassed. "I sure don't want to upset Miss
Lane. We all think highly of her, you know, despite her being accused of
Kent Graham's murder."

    Before Johnny Mack could respond,
he heard a series of mournful howls, the low, throaty yelping of hunting
dogs. One of the sheriff's deputies handled the leashed pack with expert
ease.

    "There's them dogs now,"
Larry Carroll said. "That bunch is the best trackers around. They belong
to Old Man Farlan. If Will is anywhere around these parts, they'll sniff
him out."

    "We'll need something that
belongs to the boy," T. C. said. "How about I ask Lillie Mae to
fetch us a piece of Will's clothing. We don't need to bother Miss Lane."

    "Fine," Johnny Mack agreed.

    When he noticed Buddy Lawler talking
to Lane, he excused himself and hurried over to her. Buddy had been on
the scene all night, issuing orders and sending out groups who had gone
from door to door throughout the areas closest to Magnolia Avenue.

    "I'm sorry that Mary Martha
hasn't been any help to us," Buddy said. "She got so hysterical
when Miss Edith questioned her about Will a little while ago that her nurse
had to give her another sedative."

    "Poor Mary Martha." Lane
glanced up when she saw Johnny Mack approaching, then held out her hand to
him.

    "Buddy, Sheriff Carroll tells
me that you asked him to wait about bringing in the bloodhounds. Why did
you want to wait?" Johnny Mack grasped Lane's hand and pulled her to
his side.

    "I felt certain we could
find Will without using those damn yapping dogs. And"-he glanced meaningfully
at Lane-"I was concerned that Lane would believe we thought Will
was dead if we brought in the hounds." Buddy removed a handkerchief
from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his face. "Damn hot for
a September morning."

    Ignoring Buddy altogether, Lane
leaned against Johnny Mack. "I don't know how much more of this waiting
I can stand. Something terrible has happened to Will or we would have
found him by now."

    Johnny Mack hugged her close, then
bent to kiss her cheek. "Don't you give up hope. We're going to find
Will… find him alive. And when I discover who's responsible for whatever's
happened to him, there's going to be hell to pay."

    If only he had hired bodyguards
for Will, Lane and himself immediately upon his release from the hospital.
Yeah, if only. But then hindsight was always twenty-twenty. Why he ever
thought that the police in a Podunk hick town like Noble's Crossing could
offer substantial protection, he didn't know. If Will was dead, if the
killer had murdered again, Johnny Mack knew he would never forgive himself.

    Suddenly the tracking hounds bayed
as if they had trapped their quarry. Deep, prolonged wailing. The kind
of howling that chilled the blood. Lane clutched the front of Johnny
Mack's shirt. He soothed her wiui strokes across her back.

    "Do you think they've found
Will?" Her anxious gaze met Johnny Mack's, hope and fear warring
within each of them.

    "Maybe."

    "Let's go see what they've found."
She grabbed his hand and pulled him with her as she broke into a run.

    The howls came from the far side
of the Graham estate. Lane and Johnny Mack, along with most of the searchers,
both lawmen and civilians, rushed toward the sound. Within minutes,
they reached the old carriage house, used as nothing more than a tool
and storage shed for the past fifty-some-odd years. The pack of hounds
strained on their leashes at the carriage entrance of the dilapidated
building.

    "The boy must be in there,"
Larry Carroll proclaimed. "Them dogs aren't ever wrong."

    "But the carriage house has
been searched," Buddy Lawler said. "I checked it myself and
there's nobody in there."

    "You must have missed a
spot," Larry said. "If Old Man Farlan's dogs have tracked Will
Graham here from the scent off that shirt Lillie Mae gave us, then you can
bet your next week's paycheck that the boy's in there somewhere."

    Buried in the carriage house? The
unthinkable went through Johnny Mack's mind. God, please! Not for my sake,
but for Lane's. Don't let our son be dead.

    "Open the doors," Larry
shouted. "Take the dogs inside. They'll pinpoint the spot for
us."

    Johnny Mack restrained Lane.
"Why don't you stay out here with Lillie Mae and let me go inside and
see-"

    "No! I'm going with you."

    "Lane, honey…"

    "Please, don't try to stop
me."

    As he wrapped his arm around Lane's
shoulders, he caught a glimpse of Miss Edith standing beneath a nearby
oak tree, a look of sincere concern on her face. Despite herself, the
old bitch actually cared about Will.

    "There, under that rowboat,"
T. C. Bedlow said! "The dogs have stopped right by it."

    After surrounding the boat, several
men lifted the mildewed, rotting hull, while the sheriff's deputy held
tightly to the dogs' leashes. Lane gripped Johnny Mack's hand so tightly
that her nails bit into his flesh. Swallowing hard, he prayed, prayed harder
and more fervently than he ever had. He pleaded with God for his son's life,
instead of cursing the Lord the way he had when Buddy Lawler had dumped
him in the Chickasaw River fifteen years ago.

    "Look there!" T. C. cried.

    "Good God Almighty." Sheriff
Carroll shoved aside several onlookers. "Miss Lane, come here.
We've found your boy, and by the way he's squirming around, I'd say he's
alive."

    "I've told you a hundred times,
Buddy, that I didn't see who hit me over the head." Will sat on the edge
of the examining table in the Samuel Noble Memorial Hospital emergency
room.

    "I don't mean to upset you,
son, but somebody tried their best to kill you last night and it's my job
to find out just who that was." Buddy puffed out his chest. "Already
looks bad that my department hasn't found out who shot Johnny Mack. How's
it going to look if we can't find the person who tried to kill you?"

    "I'd say if you find one,
you'll find the other," Johnny Mack commented.

    "Yeah, well, that could be and
then again, might not be," Buddy said.

    "Look, Will's told you all he
knows." Lane moved between Buddy and her son. "Just leave him
alone.

    If you need to ask him more questions,
you'll have to wait until tomorrow. After the doctor stitches up the
cut on Will's head, he's being admitted for twenty-four hours of observation.
Not only does he have a nasty slash on his head, but he has a mild concussion,
too."

    "Why don't you talk to Mary Martha
again?" Johnny Mack said. "Maybe she's more at herself this morning,
and it's just possible she'll actually remember something."

    "It's possible, but highly unlikely."
Buddy nodded. "Nothing would please me more than if Mary Martha had
one lucid day. Back before Kent was murdered, she had a good day now and
then."

    "I promise you that if Will
remembers anything else, we'll call you immediately." Johnny Mack
clutched Buddy's shoulder. "Come on, let me walk you out."

    Lane breathed a sigh of relief
as the two men exited the ER cubicle. If Buddy had stayed one minute longer,
if he had asked one more question, she would have screamed. Considering
what she had just survived, she certainly didn't want to go berserk after
the fact. Will was alive, and except for the cut and the concussion, he
was fine.

    So what exactly did that mean? Had
the person who had attacked her son only meant to hurt him, not kill him?
Or had the attempt on Will's life somehow gone awry and he had survived
by mere chance?