Not This Time (23 page)

“I’m sorry for all you’re going through, Sara.”

“Me too.” A sad smile touched her lips, shone in her eyes. “Thank you for caring.”

Beth glanced at Maria. Tears were in her eyes. Tender, happy tears. She approved of what was happening between Sara and Jeff? Had she forgotten Sara was married?

No way. She and Robert were oil and water too. “Maria?”

She turned and fled the kitchen.

“Beth?” Nora said through the phone. “You there, girl?”

“I’m here. Sorry to keep you holding so long, Nora.”

“Did you need anything else, dearie? I’ve got to go. Nathara is harping at Kelly about Clyde not really being her family. If you find her bound and gagged, I did it. Have my boys come bail me out.”

Beth half hoped she’d do it, then shamed herself for it. “I’ll bail you out myself. Thanks for the help.” Beth hung up the phone, snagged the coffeepot, and refilled her cup at the table. “Our secret weapon says this is war.”

Sara set her napkin on the table. “Empty the arsenal?”

Beth nodded and they shared a look they had shared before. “Full assault.”

“All right, then,” Sara said. “Jeff, any better ideas?”

“No. I can’t see other options.”

Now he was thinking. “We have to flush them out. Make them want to talk to us.”

“It’ll be a frenzy,” Jeff warned Sara. “You up for that medically?”

It would be frantic. On arrival in the village, Robert had jumped into the social world with both feet, and because he was married to Sara, locals welcomed him with open arms. The media would be relentless.

“Absolutely,” Sara said with a conviction that surprised Beth.

Jeff nodded and scooted his chair back from the table. “I’ll arrange it.”

“I’m sure Peggy and the Crossroads folks will help field the calls.”

“Counting on that.” He looked at Sara. “Will Beth be speaking for you?”

“No, I’ll do it myself. It’ll be more effective, the frantic wife and all that.”

That comment shocked Beth, and it must have showed.

“You know what I mean, Beth.” Sara lifted a more determined gaze than Beth had ever before seen on her face. “Set it up for noon, Jeff.” Sara refilled her cup from the teapot. “We’ll catch the lunch crowd.”

“That might be kind of tight for the networks,” Beth said.
Who is this woman? She seems nothing like Sara
.

“They’ll get it before the evening news. That’s most significant.” Sara stopped pouring, the pot in hand, spout above her cup. “Tell me this is caffeine-free Earl Grey.”

“It’s unleaded,” Beth assured her. “Drink at will.”

12

S
ara handled the press conference like a pro.

She pleaded earnestly, shed the requisite tears to capture the attention of even the hardhearted, and eloquently conveyed her fear for her husband that made it all too easy for any wife watching to imagine herself in Sara’s shoes—at least, that’s what Mark Taylor whispered to Ben, Roxy, and Jeff, and Beth pretended not to overhear.

Later that night, Mark proved accurate. The story had played over and again on the local news and was picked up by the networks, and the coverage had been constant on all the cable news channels. Sara’s phone rang nonstop, and at ten thirty that night, Beth insisted Sara stop answering it, take Dr. Franklin’s pills, and go to bed. Beth unplugged the bedroom phone and set it on the kitchen counter. For once, Sara hadn’t complained about being handled.

Roxy assigned Mark to supervise the leads coming in from the Crossroads phone bank, and from his reports, it was hopping. At midnight, they were averaging two hundred calls per hour. Most weren’t reporting sightings, just wishing Sara and Robert well and offering prayers and assurances that they were keeping an eye out.

Sara’s voice mail box had filled and been emptied three times—Robert’s friends calling to see if there was any news. Maria took care of those. They irked Beth. Not one caller asked about Sara. Maria had summed it up well.
“They each want to be first to get the scoop and tell the others.”

Beth checked on Nora, who had taken refuge in her room to get a break from Nathara. She talked about Clyde with such tenderness it put a lump in
Beth’s throat. She couldn’t ease Nora’s pain. She could listen. And so she did until well after one.

After hanging up, Beth showered and changed into blue jersey shorts and a T-shirt and headed to Sara’s family room sofa. Too exhausted to sleep, she snagged her special phone in case Joe called, stretched out and muted the sound on the television. A clip from Sara’s press conference was on the screen. With a sigh, Beth glanced away, to the window. Through the sheers, she saw a small cluster of people just beyond the security gate, holding vigil with burning candles.

Earlier, they’d startled Sara, but Jeff said they were people from different churches and local organizations Sara had supported. She had been moved to tears and clasped Jeff’s arm, staring out through hungry eyes. She didn’t know them, but their support was genuine and heartfelt. It meant a lot to Sara.

And Beth was grateful for it, though it put a little ache in her heart. Sara was beloved by strangers. She knew Robert’s friends were exactly that—
his
friends. Sara was still an outsider.

That had to sting. Beth sniffed. Seduced by the swine, they ignored the pearl.

Staring at the ceiling, Beth thought heavy thoughts about people and the way they behaved. Some people were in your life for your whole life, but most were there just for a season. When it ended, they moved on and so did you. Of those people, some were blessings, some gave you something you needed, and some took something they needed. Most did both, gave and took, depending on their situation at the time.

Beth scrunched a pillow to her chest. All that was normal. Human. Expected. The people she didn’t understand were the takers who didn’t move off the dime. The ones who took and took and kept on taking. No matter how much you gave, it was never enough. People like Robert and Max.

I wish I understood him. I really do. I just … don’t
.

Hours later, Beth still drifted in twilight, neither asleep nor awake, pondering. What kind of person had she been?

“He’s made the front page.” Roxy’s voice carried to Beth from the living room.

“Local or national?” one of the male agents asked.

“All of them.” Roxy sounded happy.

A little shiver raced through Beth. Had going to the media been the right thing? Suddenly, she wasn’t sure.
Please, don’t let me regret it
. She swallowed hard.
More important, don’t let Sara regret it
.

Morning came and went without news.

The living room and study were hubs of activity, people chasing down promising leads that, so far, had all been dead ends. Sara spoke with reporters again at one o’clock and, to her credit, sincerely tried to stay serene, upbeat, and positive.

With the lack of news, it couldn’t be easy. But Sara was hanging in there in ways Beth wouldn’t have believed possible just days ago. Beth was glad to see it, even if she worried that the reason was the result of quiet talks between Sara and Jeff.
Dangerous ground
. The sparks between them were just one of many bizarre reactions from Sara since all this started. She’d never been flighty or made a vow she didn’t keep. She knew fear and isolation and loneliness and loss. She understood grief and had survived its ravages, rebuilt a life from its remnants. Her medical condition made her seem fragile, but could a person endure all Sara had and really be fragile?

Beth now doubted it. So Sara was in trouble and it impacted others, but what was its source? How did it impact Beth and others? Had Robert done something? Sara done something? Had they done something together? Did that—whatever it was—somehow connect to the club attack? That missing groom on the cake, Robert missing? Maybe Jeff and Roxy were right. Joe thought it was connected too, and maybe it was—

“Beth?”

She turned to look at Jeff. “Yes?”

“A man is here to talk with Sara about Robert.” Jeff’s forehead creased. He seemed wary. “She agreed, but she doesn’t know him. I’m sitting in. Thought you’d want to know.”

He feared an attack. Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped being suspicious, but he didn’t trust her. He needed her. She didn’t bother being irked. In his shoes, she’d probably consider herself a suspect too. Beth stood. “Why did Sara agree to speak with him?”

“I’m not sure.” Jeff shrugged. “Hungry for news?”

Probably. She was desperate. “Where are they?”

“In the study.” Jeff stepped back so Beth could pass through the doorway. “She has her inhaler. I saw her pick it up off the counter.”

Praying Sara wouldn’t need it, Beth brushed past him. She walked into the study that was as cold and unwelcoming as the rest of the house. Everything in it was monotone gray with not a single splash of color anywhere. Steel desk, minimalist chairs, and not a single personal item in sight. That was the problem with the whole house. It was filled with beautiful, impersonal things and nothing that reflected the people who lived in it. Beth had been in warmer, more personal hotel rooms.

Jeff stopped at the door, just outside Sara’s and the visitor’s line of sight. Beth expected him to direct the conversation, but Jeff, being Jeff, had his own agenda.

Dressed in black, which said all that needed saying about her emotional state, Sara sat stiffly behind the desk. A man sat in the visitor’s chair across from her, his back to Beth. On the edge of the desk in front of him was a cup of coffee from Ruby’s. Beth recognized the cup. “Sara?” Beth walked around, stopped beside her, and then looked at the man. “What’s up?”

“I’m not sure.” Sara’s face was the color of ice and her hand was in her pocket, no doubt wrapped around her inhaler.

Sara feared him or what he would tell her. Beth shifted her gaze to him. Well dressed in a good-quality navy suit. Broad shoulders, tiptop shape, about
thirty-two or -three, black hair cropped close, and she guessed, as he was seated, well over six feet tall. He shouldn’t be at all attractive; his facial features were sharp and angular—broad forehead and square jaw, blunt nose and wide eyes. Singularly, they shouldn’t fit together into a compelling package, but they did. Compelling and oddly striking.

“Hello.” She stepped over and offered her hand. “I’m Beth Dawson.”

“Thomas Boudin.” He stood, clasped her hand, and firmly shook. “I’m sorry to intrude, but I saw Mr. Tayton’s photo and I had to follow up.”

“On what?” His cologne smelled vaguely familiar. Subtle and understated like the man. Beth backed away to get a clearer read on him. Jeff looked as invested as a presidential bodyguard.

Boudin set out to put her at ease. “I’m a former military member, Ms. Dawson. OSI—Office of Special Investigations. Two years ago, I became a private consultant.”

Was he a friend of Joe’s offering to help? If so, what could he do that the others weren’t? She couldn’t imagine. A little warning went off inside her. She darted a covert gaze at Jeff, who nodded to press on. “Private consultant covers a lot of territory.”

“Yes, it does,” he admitted, but didn’t offer further clarification.

Sara curled her fingers into the chair’s arms. Her knuckles bleached.
Definitely scared
. “So what do you want, Mr. Boudin?”

“I’m looking into a case for a friend. Mr. Tayton’s photograph in the paper this morning … he might be connected.”

“What kind of case?” Beth grew more uneasy with his every word.

He glanced at Sara. Her hands were trembling. “At this time, I’m not at liberty to say.”

That surprised Beth and clearly worried Sara. Was he trying to upset her more?

“Mr. Boudin, what do you want from me?” A sharp breath hitched Sara’s chest.

“Answers.” He gentled his voice. “So I can determine whether or not Mr. Tayton is connected to my case—”

Sara pulled out her inhaler, nodded at Beth.

She needed a moment. Beth stiffened her voice. “Mr. Boudin, join me for a second.”

Confusion riddled his expression. “Excuse me?”