Crazy in Chicago (24 page)

There it was, on the other side of the street. She pulled into the first parking space available, in front of a dry cleaners.

After a quick look up and down the street, Roberta ran across and into the lobby. A tenant let her in and she took the elevator to the fifth floor. She knocked at the apartment door, and waited. A moment later, Allie opened the door, a blanket-wrapped bundle in one arm. “Can I help you?”

“I'm Roberta Vandenburg. Your friend, Cody Walker, brought me here a few days ago.”

Allie blinked.
 

“Bobbi,” Roberta offered quickly. “I'm Cody's next-door neighbor. Remember?”

Allie frowned. “Oh, yes. I'm sorry. Forgive me. I'm a little frazzled today. Come in.”

Roberta followed her inside, then looked at Allie carefully.

She did, indeed, look haggard, in contrast to the fresh glow she'd exuded only days before. Her auburn hair stuck up on one side, and deep purple valleys under her eyes marred her creamy complexion. The man's cotton shirt she wore over a pair of tattered jeans had never seen an iron.

“Is this a bad time? I wanted to talk to you about Cody, but I can come back some other time if it's not good for you.”

“Oh, that's all right. Let me just put Star down in her crib. She's finally gone to sleep.”

Allie headed for the bedroom. A moment later she reappeared. She gestured to Roberta to sit down, then plopped into the couch across from her.

She sighed heavily. “I think I'm going to die. This baby's going to be the end of me.”

“Is something wrong?”

Allie frowned. “The doctor says there isn't. But I don't know. Star won't sleep, maybe only a few hours every day, and never longer than twenty minutes at a time. She keeps screaming at odd times, for no reason I can see, and then throws up almost every time I nurse her.”

Allie looked beseechingly at Roberta. “Do you know anything about babies? Does that sound normal to you?”

Roberta shrugged helplessly. “I don't know. I haven't been around babies much since I babysat my cousins when I was a kid. I don't know.”

“Can I offer you coffee?”

“No. I won't be long. I just wanted to ask you a few questions about Cody.”

“Cody?” Allie frowned again. “What's he up to now?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Roberta rushed to reassure her. “It's just, well, Cody's really tormented by his disappearance last year, and not knowing what happened to him. You remember, he told you he hadn't been sleeping?”

Allie nodded.

“Well, it's not just that. He's been having nausea attacks, three, four, even six times a day, and seeing a blue light, especially around his car.”

“Yes, I know. He told me that the other day.”

“Oh? He came to see you?” Guiltily, Roberta pretended surprise.

“Yes. He said he'd gone to see Madame Carabini.” Allie shuddered. “That woman and her warnings. Always did give me the creeps.”

“So Cody asked you about what Carabini said about Erik?” Disappointment seeped into Roberta. Too bad Cody hadn't told her.

“Oh yes.” Allie gazed at a spot just beyond Roberta's left shoulder. “I'm afraid I couldn't tell him anything more. There wasn't anything to tell.”

Roberta frowned. “Did Cody tell you the first time he saw the blue light occurred when he was holding Star?”

Allie's head jerked upwards. Her eyes widened. “No, he didn't tell me that. Are you sure?”

“Yes. It was the first time. The other times occurred mostly when he was in his car or near it.”

“That's odd. I wonder why,” Allie murmured, then fell into silence.

No one said anything for a moment or two. Finally Roberta broke the silence. “I'm really worried about Cody. He's so tired now I'm afraid he's going to get into a car accident. Worse, I think he's starting to wonder whether he's losing his mind.”

“Has he gone to a doctor?”
 

Roberta shook her head. “He won't go. Says he's been to more than enough doctors, all for nothing.”

“Can you—”

A high-pitched squall from the bedroom cut Allie off. She smiled apologetically. “I'll be right back.”

Roberta listened. The baby's screams ended abruptly, when Allie picked the child up, she assumed. The minutes ticked by; she could hear the sound of diaper tabs being ripped open, and the murmuring of Allie's voice.

Roberta glanced around. The paintings that had caught her eye on her first visit captured her attention again. She walked over to the largest one. In shades of metallic purple and silver, it depicted a barren landscape unlike anything Roberta had ever seen. On closer inspection, she noticed the top of what appeared to be an underground barracks protruding from the lifeless ground. A faint, silvery light emanated from an opening at one end.

She turned towards the second painting, farther along the wall. From here the strangely shiny picture projected a closed in, trapped feeling, like something you'd experience in a prison or enclosed place. The feeling was so strong that Roberta moved closer. It was only then she noted the tiny, almost child-like figure huddled in one corner, head bowed, knees pressed to her chest.

Horror jolted her. Her mouth dropped just as Allie reappeared, holding Star against one shoulder. She stopped beside the couch, but continued standing, gently swaying and bouncing from foot to foot.

“I hope you don't mind,” Allie said. “Star cries less if you stand and keep moving while you're holding her.”

“It's all right.” Roberta swallowed, trying to dismiss the horrible sensation the painting had evoked. “Who painted these pictures?”

“Erik.” Allie shook her head. “I'm going to take them down. I hate them.”

“Yes.” Roberta shuddered. “I can understand. Wherever did your husband get his ideas?”

Allie laughed shortly. “Hard to say. Erik is the quietest man I know. Maybe that's why he's such a good photographer. It's the only way he can articulate what's inside.”

“Hmm.” Roberta couldn't help wondering what force or passion inside of Erik provoked these two paintings. In relief she turned away.

“I'll leave in a minute,” she said. “I was just wondering if you could think of any way to convince Cody to see a doctor?”

Allie frowned. “He's really stubborn.”

“It's just, we've tried everything else. Did he tell you that he was hypnotized, too?”

“Yes.”
 

Roberta smiled self-consciously. “You see, I work for the Society of UFO Watchers. Maybe you've heard of it? Well, because Cody's disappearance was so odd, and his current symptoms are similar to those experienced by alien abductees, I thought perhaps he'd been abducted by aliens.”

“What?” Allie stopped swaying and stared, the child clutched to her chest.

“I know it sounds far-fetched, but believe me, I've talked to enough people who think they've been abducted to believe that it can happen. And does happen regularly. Anyway, my boss Garnet Jones hypnotized Cody. He took him back to the night he disappeared . . .”

“And what did he find out?”

“Not much more than what the psychic had seen. Cody remembered getting out of his car and seeing a blue light. The next thing he remembered was being in some kind of room. A man bent over him and he could hear voices—human voices—talking in another language. I'm afraid that blew my alien abduction theory.”

The baby started to fuss. Allie increased the pace of her bouncing. “But Cody was probably relieved?”

Roberta smiled. “Yes. I think he'd rather have been abducted by the worst terrorists on the face of the Earth than aliens he doesn't believe in.”

Star began crying in earnest. With one hand, Allie fished a pacifier out of her pocket and tried to coax the child onto it. She refused, turning down her tiny pink lips, and crying harder than ever.

“I'm sorry. I've taken up too much of your time already. But if there's anything you can think of, anything at all, to help Cody, please let me know.”

Allie looked at her searchingly. “You care about him, don't you? A lot?”

Heat rushed to Roberta's face. “Yes.”
 

“Good,” said Allie fervently. “He needs someone like you. Someone who cares about him. Maybe now more than ever.”

* * *

The ceiling fans whirring overhead did little to cool the heat that had built up inexorably over the morning and into the afternoon. Exhausted, Allie fell onto the couch. She pressed a hand to her aching head. Her fingers came away wet from the sweat pouring down her forehead.

Allie sighed and shut her eyes. She'd like to fill the bathtub with ice cubes and climb in naked. But there was no point. The second she made a noise—any noise—Star would wake up screaming. Even a shower was out of the question.

Allie pressed her knuckles to her lips. What was she going to do? She couldn't take much more. Worse, she knew something was desperately wrong with Star. She didn't care what the doctor said, or her sister said, or anyone else. She knew in her heart this wasn't right. They said babies couldn't show emotion. But with the eyes of a mother, she'd seen the terror and confusion on her tiny daughter's face.

Unaware of what she was doing, Allie gnawed on her knuckles.
 

Something was also desperately wrong with Cody. Even if she hadn't known it before, she knew now, after the visits by both Cody and Roberta. An unfocused sense of guilt increased the burden of worry and fear she already carried. Guilt that somehow Star and Cody's suffering were related. But how? And why? She couldn't wait any longer.

Fired with the compulsion to do something, anything, now, she grabbed the portable phone from the coffee table and punched in the familiar numbers. She bit her lip as she waited through
The Streeter
's recorded messages, then pressed the correct extension.

She stood up and started pacing as the phone rang once, twice, three times, then clicked over to voice mail. She groaned but left a terse message anyway. “Erik. This can't go on. Come home.”

She punched the receiver and tried Erik's cellular phone. After six rings, the familiar message intoned, “The client is away from the phone or outside the calling area. Please . . .”

She cut off the call and punched in the only number left to her—Erik's pager. She opened her mouth to relay the message when a sharp, short scream rent the air. The ceiling overhead glowed with blue light.

She dropped the phone and ran to the bedroom.

 

Chapter 13

 

The hum of late rush hour/early evening traffic invaded Roberta's top floor garden retreat. The squawk of a seagull broke through the hum, and Roberta glanced upward to see the errant bird circling in wide, lazy rings overhead.

She looked back at the file she was rereading for the dozenth time. When would Cody get home? She hadn't managed to connect with him all day, and telephone tag was not her idea of a meaningful conversation.

She picked up the last clipping in the file, the one summarizing the known events of Cody's disappearance and return, but she didn't read it. Instead, she replayed the unsettling visit with Allie this morning.

Roberta had been surprised by how frazzled and tense Allie had appeared, in contrast to their first meeting when she had glowed with the joy of motherhood. Even the baby hadn't looked the same. Was it imagination, or had the child really looked as miserable and sickly this time as Roberta had thought? And why?

Roberta reviewed her conversation with Allie. She hadn't actually learned much new this morning, other than the fact that Cody had already been there, asking the same questions about Erik and the psychic's strange comments. He had obviously been more disturbed by Madame Carabini's impressions than he had let on, which in itself was surprising.

But one note from this morning did jar. And that was Allie's reaction to the fact that Cody had not only suffered a nausea attack when he held the baby, but seen a strange blue light.

Allie, though she had recovered quickly, had not only looked startled. She had looked scared. Truly, and deeply, frightened. Roberta was sure that wasn't her imagination.

But why? Why would mention of a blue light provoke a reaction of fear? It was odd, of course, but not particularly frightening. Unless . . . .

Roberta chewed on the end of her pencil. Why, more than anything else, did she feel that Allie was hiding something? Allie had definitely been evasive whenever Erik was mentioned. But why?

With a shudder, Roberta remembered the two pictures painted by Erik. She couldn't help wondering about the man who painted them. After seeing Garnet's compelling alien head, people often thought he was strange. Well, after seeing Erik's paintings, Roberta thought—