Sweetie's Diamonds (30 page)

Diane snapped out of it and realized she was in the private bank room, the empty safety deposit box in front of her.
 
She opened the shopping bag, placed the bag of diamonds inside, and wrapped a couple of the towels around it.
 

Then she reached into the safety deposit box and pulled out the only remaining items—a .45 Colt and a box of ammunition.
 
Diane briefly examined the handgun to check that it wasn't loaded and then put it and the ammunition in the shopping bag.
 
Again, she wrapped them in towels to hide the bag's contents.
 

Diane closed the bank box and stood, ready to head out of town.
 
There was one more thing she had to do, though.

I
t was a short drive to Scotty Lewis' office.
 
She went to the door and looked inside.
 
His secretary, Delores, was on the phone but the outer office was otherwise empty.
 
As Diane stepped inside, Delores waved to her and smiled.
 
“Yes, sir, I'll have Mister Lewis call you as soon as he's finished with his meeting,” Delores said into the phone.
 
“Uh huh.
 
Bye.”
 
She hung up and said, “Hello Mrs. Boston.
 
How are you?”

“Fine, Delores.
 
Is Scotty in there?”

“Yes, but he has a client with him.
 
Did you have an appointment?”
 
Delores wrinkled her brow and looked at her calendar.

“No, he's not expecting me.
 
I just wanted to tell him one quick thing and then I have to leave.
 
Is there any way I can speak to him?” Diane asked.
 

“Just a second, I'll see.”
 
She picked up the phone and pressed an extension.
 
“Scotty?
 
Mrs. Boston is out here and she'd like a quick word with you.
 
No, I don't think so.
 
That's right.
 
Okay, I'll tell her.”
 
She hung up and said, “He'll be right out.”

Diane didn't sit.
 
She preferred to gaze out the glass window at the street.
 
There wasn't much activity for a weekday morning, but then who was she to judge?
 
She usually spent her days in the classroom.
   

“Diane?”
 
Scotty had come out of his office.
 

Diane turned and went to him.
 
“Hi, Scotty, listen I won't take up much of your time.
 
I have to leave town for a few days.”

“You do?
 
Why?”

“I can't tell you.
 
Listen, you have my cell phone number, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then call me if you need me.
 
Although I may be out of touch at times.”

“Diane, what's going on?” Lewis asked.
 
“We have a meeting with Harp on the school board case in three days.
 
Will you be back for that?”

“I doubt it.
 
I'm just going to have to count on you to represent me at that.
 
Tell him I had some unexpected business to attend to.
 
Tell him it was a family crisis.”

“Diane, are you all right?
 
Something's wrong, I can tell.”

“Leave it, Scotty.
 
I'll be in touch when I can.”
 
She turned and made for the door, stopped, and faced him again.
 
“Sorry to do this, Scotty, but it has to be done.
 
Thanks for everything.
 
I promise I'll be in touch as soon as I can.”

And she was gone.

S
he couldn't think of anything else that she might need.
 
She had a packed bag in the trunk, she had some money, and most importantly, she had the diamonds and a weapon.
 
As she drove back to Lincoln Grove from Scotty's office, Diane decided to make one last stop before heading west.
 

Greg Boston's little house stood quietly on a street full of homes that were built in the fifties.
 
It was a lower middle class neighborhood and she was well aware that Greg hated living there.
 
He could afford a better place but he had gotten a good deal from someone he knew at the dealership.
 
Diane imagined that Greg would move to a nicer house in a more upscale area of town once the dust was settled between them.
 
She was determined, though, that David would not be living with him when Greg did move.

Greg's Jaguar was parked in the drive.
 
Odd, she thought.
 
According to Tina, he wasn't home and hadn't been for a couple of days.
 
Where would he go without his car?

Never mind, she thought.
 
She would just leave him a note to say that she had gone out of town for a few days and had taken David with her.
 
She looked in the glove compartment, grabbed a notepad and pencil, and scribbled the message.
 
Diane got out of the car and went to leave the note on the door.
 
She considered knocking just to see if her ex-husband was home but she didn't really want to see him.
 

Then she noticed that the door was ajar.
 

She peered inside.
 
“Greg?
 
Are you home?”
 
No sound.
 
“Greg?”
 
She knocked loudly.
 
“Hello?
 
Anyone there?”

She opened the screen door and gently pushed the front door wider.
 
“Greg?”

When she saw what was lying on the living room floor, Diane stifled a scream.
 
She put her hand to her mouth and gasped, nearly choking herself.
 
The sight was so shocking that she stumbled backward into the door, slamming it shut.

Greg Boston's body, or what was left of it, was spread over the Oriental rug that covered the living room floor.
 
What was irrevocably imprinted on her brain was the sight of blood—lots of it—dried to a dark ruddy color and covering a great deal of the floor space.
 

In a panic, Diane turned, struggled briefly with the front door, and ran out of the house.
 
She got to her car, started it without thinking, screeched out of the driveway, and sped down the road like a banshee.
 
With her cell phone, she dialed 911 to report what she had seen but hung up before giving out her name.

She didn't realize that old Mrs. O'Donnell, the kind lady who lived across the street from Greg Boston, was looking out her window when Diane ran out of the house.
 
Mrs. O'Donnell had taken a shine to Greg after he had moved in and occasionally brought him cookies or cakes when she baked them.
 
She felt sorry for the divorced man, especially now that his ex-wife had received such awful publicity in the newspaper.
 

The old woman recognized the blonde rushing out of Greg Boston's house as the former spouse.
 

Another person also saw Diane run out of the house and take off in her cart.
 
Nick Belgrad sat in a silver Lexus three houses down from Boston's home.
 
He had been following Diane all day—first to the bank, then to her lawyer's office, and now here.
 

Belgrad started the ignition and pulled out into the street.
 
He wasn't about to lose her, no matter where she was going.

I
can't believe what I just heard on the radio.
 
Even Emo is amazed.
 
I just can't believe Mom would do something like that.
 

I better back up since I haven't written in my journal for a couple of days.

To make a long story short, I've been kidnapped and I'm being taken to California by a strange guy named Emo Tuff.
 
He has long blonde hair and he wears an eye patch.
 
He kinda looks like a pirate.
 
So far he's been pretty nice to me but I can tell that he's probably mean when he wants to be.
 

I'll bet he's killed people.

We're in a van that has special doors on them that he locks.
 
I couldn't get out if I wanted to.
 
He stops every now and then to let me go to the bathroom and we get food to eat in the van.
 
He hasn't stopped driving and he doesn't get tired.
 

Last night I tried to escape.
 
Boy, that was a mistake.
 
We were at a gas station in Iowa and I snuck out the bathroom window.
 
I ran into a field but my heart started doing its bad thing again and I fainted.
 
Emo caught me and took me back to the van.
 
I slept the rest of the night.
 
This morning when I woke up I felt awful.
 
I was very weak.
 
I need my medicine but it's at home.
 
I told Emo about my condition and he actually apologized.
 
He said that he'd try and get me what I needed when we get to LA.
 

We got McDonald's for breakfast and I felt better.
 
We drove on through the morning and now it's just after lunch.
 
We stopped at a Wendy's and got hamburgers.
 
I feel pretty good now.
 
I think that Emo must have been a little scared when I was sick.
 
He says that he's under orders to deliver me to LA, so I guess I have to stay alive.
 

Anyway, I convinced Emo to put on the radio because the drive is so boring.
 
We're in Nebraska and there's nothing to look at but flat fields.
 
The radio is okay.
 
I tried to find a decent station and there was something coming out of Omaha that played some good alternative stuff.
 
After a while the news came on and I was surprised to hear my Mom's name mentioned.
 
Even Emo became alert and turned up the volume.
 

They said that my father was murdered in his house and that my Mom was seen leaving the scene in a hurry.
 
The police are looking for her and they think she left town and—get this—they think she's taken
me
with her!
 

Well, I figure since they got that part wrong, maybe the whole thing is wrong.
 
I can't believe she'd kill Dad.
 
That's just crazy.
 

They said Dad is dead.
 
Maybe it's not true.
 
I don't want it to be true.
 
I love my Dad.
 
He wasn't a bad guy.
 
I know he and my Mom had their problems but I never had a problem with him.
 
It got a little strange the last time I saw him when he told me that I wasn't really sick and that Mom made it all up.
 
I know now that he was lying.
 
Why would he do that?
 
I guess he just wanted me to live with him and not Mom.
 

I got out my journal to write this stuff down but now I don't think I can focus my eyes on it.
 
I'm tired and I feel depressed.
 
I'm gonna lie down again in the back seat.

And I don't want Emo to see me cry.

D
iane was so tired by the time she reached Des Moines that she had to stop.
 
She pulled in to a Days Inn motel and spent a fitful night in a dank room that was barely worth the $42 she had paid for it.
 
The alarm she set jolted her awake at six o'clock and she estimated that she had at about three hours of sleep.
 
It was enough.

The drive was monotonous and she spent most of the time wondering where David was.
 
Was he traveling by car?
 
Did they fly him to LA?
 
Wouldn't it be ironic if it turned out they were driving along the same route as she?
 
Maybe she would catch up with them and she'd pass them on the highway.
 
That would be something, she thought.
 
She prayed they wouldn't hurt him.