Since You've Been Gone (38 page)

He wondered if Mommy was still thinking about him. He wasn't sure how long he'd been gone. Sometimes it seemed like a couple of days, sometimes it seemed like forever. But he was pretty sure Mommy wouldn't forget him. He knew she loved him an awful lot. He loved her an
awful lot, too, although he didn't tell his friends. They'd think he was weird.

For a while he'd had the hope that his cousin Rebecca would find him. Mommy said she had special powers. Also, one time he'd felt like Rebecca was in his mind. That sounded really creepy, but it also sounded kind of like something a Jedi Knight could do—entering someone's mind, poking around, sending messages to be strong. He wondered if Rebecca was a Jedi. But if she was, wouldn't she have found him by now? Or had she given up?

He started to cry. He felt worse than worst. He was lonely. He was getting sick. And what in the world was that poor thing that kept wailing into the night, something that sounded like a baby getting killed? It frightened him. It made him want to help. But he couldn't do
anything,
not for himself, not for whatever was hurting.

He cried harder, holding his right side. For the first time, he was sure he was going to die.

“I feel yucky, I'm afraid. I feel yucky, I'm afraid. I feel yucky, I'm—”

“Rebecca.
Rebecca!
Come out of it. You're shaking. Come back. Come back
now!”

Slowly Rebecca returned to her surroundings. She lay partially reclined on the bed, Clay's arms around her. “I don't… where …”

“You're in your bedroom. You're safe.” He pulled her closer to him. “Calm down, Rebecca. Concentrate on your breathing. You're hyperventilating. You're also soaking wet.”

“But I have to help—”

“Not now. Now just be quiet.” He pulled the bedspread over her. “Lie back in my arms, relax, and slow your breathing.”

Rebecca did as he said, leaning against him, enjoying the feel of his strong arms around her. Why did they make her feel so secure? Just because she was terrified of being alone? Or was it something about Clay, his feeling of steadiness and assurance in spite of all the lighthearted teasing?
He stroked her right arm, and she thought she felt him lightly kissing the top of her head, murmuring to her. Music now played on the radio. Sarah McLachlan's “I Love You.” Rebecca murmured, “My favorite song.” She drifted with the music and the warmth of Clay. It was all so seductive. She could drift like this forever, forget the problems, forget little lost Todd—

She pulled herself back with a jerk.

“I'm all right now,” she said, sitting up so fast Clay looked startled. “I had another vision, needless to say. About Todd. He's alive, but he's not doing well, Clay. His head and throat hurt. He feels hot yet he's cold. And he has a constant pain. Here.” She pointed to her side.

Clay frowned. “Has Todd ever had his appendix removed?”

“No. Molly would have told me.” Clay looked even more troubled. “Oh God, you don't think he's developing appendicitis?”

“Well, I can't do a physical examination and I don't have any blood tests to go on, but I don't like the sound of it. Hot skin, yet chills—fever. Pain in the right place.”

“If he
is
getting appendicitis, how long does he have before the appendix ruptures?”

“It varies.”

“Twenty-four hours? Forty-eight?”

“Forty-eight would be pushing it.”

“And if it ruptures?”

“If he got immediate help, there would be a chance. If not, there's peritonitis and—”

“And it's all over.”

“Probably.”

Rebecca stood up. “Oh God. I have to do something. Fast.”

“Did you see where he was?”

“No, damn it! Just that same dark, cold place. And there was something crying outside. An awful sound like a child or an animal being killed—slowly, horribly. Does that help?”

“No. Not immediately, anyway. Maybe if I think about it a little. No other clues?”

“The Dark Warrior—that's how Todd thinks of his captor—hasn't been around to feed him. He's starving and thirsty. And he feels so bad. He probably
does
have appendicitis. How do I go down and tell Molly this?”

“You don't,” Clay said firmly. “Bill's manning her phone tonight while she's here. First we tell him. Make the call now before anyone comes up to check on us, like I'm supposed to be doing on you.”.

Rebecca called and Bill answered almost immediately. Without preamble she launched into her vision. “But you still have no idea where he is,” Bill said, sounding disappointed.

“He's blindfolded—he sees nothing. He feels cold.”

“And he hears what?”

“A high-pitched crying. Shrill. Like a baby being tortured.”

“Do you only know what he thinks he hears, or can you hear it?”

“I can hear it.”

“Then imitate it.”

Rebecca was too agitated to feel silly. She tried a couple of times and failed. She adjusted her voice a third time until she got a rough rendition. “Does that ring any bells?”

Bill was silent for a moment. “Are you sure you're not making it sound more human?”

“I don't think so. It
does
sound human.”

“Then I might have an idea. A long time ago when I was out in the woods, I heard something similar. Raised goose bumps on my arms. I ran through the woods, Garrett to the rescue, and what do you think it was? A fawn.”

“You mean like a deer?”

“Yeah. A very young fawn in the nest. The mother had left it, probably to look for food, and it was afraid. She came charging back, ready for a fight with me. I backed away and she went straight to her baby and it stopped that godawful noise. But believe me, it was horrible. And I heard it again
another year. This time the fawn was in danger from a fox. I scared the fox away. Mama returned shortly.”

“Are you sure the noise is
that
bad? That frightening?”

“Both times I heard it, it spooked the hell out of me.”

“Bill thinks Todd could be hearing a frightened fawn?” Clay asked.

“Yes.”

Clay snapped his fingers and nodded vigorously. “So Todd could be in or near the woods!”

“I'd bet on it,” Bill said, overhearing Clay's exclamation.

“Well, that's something!” Rebecca felt elated for a moment. Then her spirits fell. “The trouble is, Sinclair is surrounded by woods.”

Rebecca and Clay decided to mention nothing about her vision or Bill's suggestion that Todd was in the woods to the family. They would simply say Rebecca had suffered a headache from her injuries but had taken aspirin and was feeling better now. Certain they looked and acted calm, they descended the stairs and entered the living room, where the family had gathered.

“Why Rebecca, you and Clay have been gone so
long.”
Lynn purred. “And you look so dewy, so
flushed”

“Shut up, Lynn,” Rebecca said absently.

Lynn flushed and turned to her husband. “Doug! Did you hear what she said?”

“Glad you're feeling better, Becky,” Doug said smoothly. “Clay, what do you think of West Virginia University's football schedule for this year?”

Lynn poured another glass of wine and went into a dramatic smolder by the piano. Suzanne looked up at Rebecca and murmured, “Hope you feel better, dear.”

In a moment Walt appeared at the doorway and motioned
to Rebecca. She went to him quickly “Is something wrong with Sean?”

“No, ma'am. Took him for a little walk after his dinner. He's right as rain. But Mr. Hardison has a phone call. Betty's in a cleaning frenzy so she sent me to tell him, but I don't look presentable to come in the living room.”

Rebecca turned. “Frank, you have a phone call.”

Frank smiled. “Take a message and tell them I'll call back later.”

Rebecca smiled at Walt. “Will you do that?”

“I can't,” Walt hissed.

“Frank, Walt says he can't—”

“Walt, quit hovering in the doorway. Come in here and tell me what's wrong.”

Walt took a reluctant step onto the forest green carpet. “Sorry, Mr. Hardison. This person won't take no for an answer. Insists on talkin' to you. I sure am sorry to interrupt, sir, but it sounds real important. And the person sounds mad. I'm sorry, sir…”

“Damn it all,” Frank said, rising. “Don't apologize, Walt. Every day I get a hundred pf these life and death calls that really mean nothing. I'll take it and get rid of the person.”

As Rebecca turned back to the room, she looked at Molly, who'd fallen into a deep study of her own shoes. Molly had cranked her spirits as high as she could to come to this dinner, but she'd had about all she could take. And if she only knew what Rebecca knew, that Todd was cold and frightened and sick …

Molly looked up at Rebecca as if she sensed something. Rebecca smiled encouragingly. Clay was right. She couldn't possibly tell Molly what she knew. Molly might break completely, particularly if she knew what they feared—that Todd had appendicitis. Rebecca's smile felt stiff and false, even treacherous, but she didn't know what else to do.

Frank returned with heightened color and annoyance, even agitation, written on his face. “Damn people expect
immediate service no matter what!” he blustered. “That was nothing—absolutely nothing. Could have waited until tomorrow. Could have waited until next week!”

Frank was usually more sanguine about business affairs and Rebecca noticed Doug looking at his father in consternation. She couldn't tell if he was worried about Frank's health or if some of his old teenage fear of his father's sudden angers, usually elicited by him, had crept into the body of the man now in his thirties. Frank recovered quickly. He glanced around and smiled. “Never mind me. A short stay in the hospital and I come home a curmudgeon. Now what were we talking about?”

“Really, Frank, I think Molly and I should wend our way home,” Esther said. Molly instantly came out of her reverie, looking relieved. “I know Molly doesn't like to be away from the phone for long and I'm not used to this wild nightlife.”

“Yeah, it's been a real blast, hasn't it?” Lynn sniped.

Esther and Molly stood, followed by Suzanne. “We hate for you to run off, but we understand. I'm just so glad you could come.” Suzanne hugged Molly. “Dear girl. Keep up your spirits. You know we all love you.”

Everyone followed Molly and Esther to the front door. Molly was the first to see the envelope lying an inch beyond the foot of the door on the dark carpet. “Secret messages slipped under the door?” she asked with an attempt at levity.

She bent to pick it up, but Clay said, “Stop!” Then he withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and lifted the envelope by the corner. It had not been sealed. The flap hung open and, still using the handkerchief, he withdrew a folded note and read aloud while Rebecca looked over his shoulder:

Everyone stood frozen. Here it was at last. Concrete proof that Todd had been taken for ransom. But it was Thursday evening. He had been taken the previous Saturday. Why the long wait?

“I don't care why they waited so long!” Molly blurted almost hysterically when Rebecca voiced her doubts. “Money! That's all they want. Money, and I can have Todd back. But I don't have five hundred thousand dollars.”

“I do.” Frank said crisply. “What's mine is yours, Molly.”

Molly's eyes filled with tears. “Oh Frank, I can't ask—”

“Molly, dear, don't be silly. What's money compared to a child's life?” He paused. “But we must be careful this time. Not like with Jonathan. The note says no FBI. We made the mistake of showing Jonathan's ransom note to Sheriff Lutz and he brought them in anyway. They bungled eveiything. Or maybe Lutz did, trying to horn in on the glory. In any case, Sheriff Lutz can't know.”

“I agree,” Molly said fervently. “Please don't tell Lutz.”

“Maybe Bill shouldn't know either,” Frank added. “He might feel some official obligation to tell the FBI.”

“I don't think he would,” Suzanne said. “He has no love for the FBI. He thinks they let local police do the work, then step in and take the credit. But there's this other thing about
no
cops. Bill is my brother. I know him. He won't stay away from this drop.”

“If he knows how important it is for him to stay away, he might,” Molly offered.

“No, Molly. If Bill knows a kidnapper is going to be in that park, he'll have police there,” Suzanne insisted. “Maybe
he
won't show up, but he'll send someone he trusts.”

“Like that Deputy Curry,” Rebecca said. “Bill has tremendous respect for his abilities. Mother is right. Bill would send him. Disguised, of course, but still…”

“Then we can't take the chance,” Molly said frantically. “We
can't:”

Doug looked at his father as he spoke. “I agree. We'll do exactly as the note says.
Exactly.
And none of us”—he looked around, especially at Lynn, Clay, and Esther—: “none of us will say a word about this. To anyone. Agreed?”

“That's brilliant, darling,” Lynn drawled, “but don't you think someone's going to get suspicious when Frank draws five hundred thousand out of the bank tomorrow? The most confidential information travels like wildfire in Sinclair.”

“All of Frank's money is in Sinclair, but I have an account in Charleston,” Suzanne said. “I have certificates of deposit worth well over five hundred thousand. Rebecca can take me since my driving isn't what it used to be. I will have that money for you by tomorrow afternoon, Molly.”