Kitabı oku: «Lost», sayfa 2
“Thanks for coming,” Garth said. “By chance did you see anyone hanging around outside?”
“No. Are we waiting for someone else?”
“I’d say he’s already been here and gone. The question is, for how long?” Garth pushed open the door to the men’s rest room, and Jared entered.
He stopped only a step beyond the threshold.
Up on the tiled wall were scrawled large letters painted in a bright red that ran the entire length of the tiled urinal wall. Garth illuminated them even more by turning on the rest of the overhead fluorescent lights. That made the message look even more insane.
I’m back! 666
3
Although every instinct told him to turn around and walk out, to climb back into his car and keep going until he ran out of gas, Jared forced himself to stay put.
“Tell me it’s not blood,” Garth said, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper.
“It sure as hell looks it.”
“But surely not…?”
“Human? Considering the amount this would have taken, let’s guess against it for the moment, and hope to heaven somebody doesn’t show up missing within the next day or so.”
“Jesus, Jared.”
“If you don’t want the truth, don’t ask the questions.”
The harsh reprimand had the older man backing away a step. “Just tell me what kind of sick bastard decided to resurrect this part of our past.”
Someone who remembered what horror they’d lived through that terrible day six springs ago tomorrow. Someone who knew what it had done to the town and wanted another taste of that craziness. But he knew Garth didn’t want to hear that any more than Jared wanted to believe such a thing possible.
“It’s almost graduation,” he said, grasping for a credible alternative. “You of all people know how revved kids get at this time of year.”
“This isn’t something to joke about. Not in Split Creek.”
Amen, thought Jared, because the last time they’d been exposed to anything like this—the first time—the price had been a life, one very dear to them both, a life that had cost the town its innocence. Anyone who thought it amusing to stir up any of that was sick, pure and simple, and needed to be found.
“Who else has seen this?” he asked, unable to take his eyes off the numbers.
“Just me. I noticed the light under the door, but knew Brady had finished in here over an hour ago.”
“Brady Watts? Where is he?”
“Over in the science lab. Should I get him?”
The school’s janitor was a gentle-natured old black man, who kept to himself and wasn’t the kind to repeat gossip, let alone encourage it. But first and foremost he was a Southern Baptist. Seeing this message would shake him enough to seek out spiritual guidance, which would mean Reverend Isaac Mooney entering the picture, someone who did like to talk. Jared neither needed nor wanted that.
“No. But if you can find a couple of mops and pails, then lock that door, I’ll help you clean up this mess. Or paint over it, if we need to.”
“Don’t you want to take a picture, get a sample, or dust for—”
“It’s kids!” Jared snapped. “Yeah, it’s six years tomorrow, but that’s no secret. You’ve heard the talk around town. People always remember what they should forget and forget what they should remember.” He turned back to the wall. “No, this is a juvenile prank meant to shock us, and why should we be surprised? Local gossip reflects what’s on TV and in the movies these days. People are being desensitized right and left, and the kids are the first to be affected. Apparently, one or two of them thought it would be fun to spook you. Don’t give him, or them, the satisfaction. We’ll wash it off and forget it. When they see this didn’t get a rise out of you, they’ll lose interest and move on to using keys to scratch car paint or something equally lamebrained.”
“She was my sister-in-law, Jared. How can I forget?”
“Damn you, Garth. She was my fiancée! I say, let her rest in peace.”
Garth looked as though he wanted to continue arguing the point, but after several seconds, although red-faced, he stormed out of the rest room. As soon as the door shut behind him, Jared reached for his pocketknife and pulled a paper towel from the wall dispenser. The procedure wasn’t as pure as using the collection gear in his trunk, but he couldn’t afford to take the time to get it. If Garth got so much as an inkling of how deeply troubled Jared was by this, the guy would need a tranquilizer to get any sleep tonight, and that would mean bringing Jessica into the picture. Sandy’s older sister didn’t deserve this, either.
Acutely aware of the risks he was taking, he used the knife to scrape at the driest corner of the first letter.
4
6:06 p.m.
Michaele didn’t bother trying to rouse her father after locking up. It wasn’t the first time she’d left him snoring in his chair, and she doubted it would be the last. In any case, she didn’t have the energy to put up with the wrestling match and verbal abuse it would take just to get him into the truck; what would she do with him at home? Besides, with the police station directly across the street, he was perfectly safe, and she would have the time alone that she needed with Faith…once her sister showed up.
Preoccupied, Michaele drove badly through the intersection, and the wrecker shuddered in protest to her delay in downshifting. But she finally got the 454 big-block engine smoothened out and continued north on Dogwood, then turned west on Cypress and across Little Blackberry Creek.
Convinced she would find her sister at the house soaking in the tub, as Faith was apt to do on afternoons when she was feeling particularly lazy, Michaele was disappointed to reach their place and find only the family’s aging pickup truck in the dirt driveway. The irony of her reaction didn’t escape her. How often had she pulled in here hoping there would be no one at the two-story frame house?
So be it, she decided. If this was to be her moment, she would celebrate. There was more to be grateful for than peace and quiet; there was also the acquisition of the Cameo. This called for a pan-fried steak, and later maybe one of Faith’s luxurious, long baths. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d taken the time to pamper herself.
But once inside the house—dark and stuffy from being shut up all day—she felt like a stranger. It was the unusual quiet, she supposed, so unnatural considering her volatile family. The mess was the same, though. There were dishes in the sink, newspapers and magazines everywhere, laundry waiting for someone to shove it into the washing machine or dryer.
“Gross,” she muttered.
She supposed she could keep the house in better shape if she did everything herself; however, working herself into an early grave the way her mother had wasn’t on Michaele’s list of goals. Bad enough her father and sister let her support them.
She loaded the washing machine, adding the shirt and jeans she’d been wearing. Then, stripped down to her cotton panties, she ran upstairs for a shower.
It was a rather quick shower. Thanks to her line of work, she could scrub herself raw daily and still fail to get off every last trace of the day’s grime. That was also part of why Jared had upset her so.
It had been unfair of him to accuse her of being a tease. She had never tried to be anything but what she was—a damn good mechanic, who would never have clean nails or Faith’s flawless skin. Michaele dug around in too many engine manifolds, had wrestled with too many stubborn nuts and bolts to win those kinds of compliments. So where did that big lug get off thinking she was interested in provoking him? She needed a man about as much as she needed an earring pierced through her tongue.
When she returned downstairs, there was still no sign of Faith.
Determined to wait up for her no matter what, Michaele fried the steak and nuked a potato in the microwave, then ate the simple meal, balancing the plate on her knees as she sat outside on the stoop to escape the stale house smells.
For as long as she could remember, they’d lived on this wooded dead-end street in the middle of a cleared pasture that a tornado hadn’t yet found. Thirteen acres of sandy loam that liked yucca cactus, nut grass and every other variety of weed, but resisted her sporadic attempts to grow vegetables without pesticides or heavy doses of chemical nutrients. The garden had been her mother’s idea, as had been the E tacked on to Michaele, after Buck—disappointed that he wasn’t getting the son he’d wanted—insisted on keeping the male name, anyway.
By the time she returned inside, it was nearly dusk. After cleaning up in the kitchen, she threw the washed clothes into the dryer and added another load to the washing machine. Then she stretched out on the couch with a mystery novel she’d been meaning to get to since buying it for herself as a Christmas present.
By ten o’clock she gave up trying to pretend she was concentrating and accepted that something was seriously wrong. Faith had never been this late, not from classes; and if she’d had plans, she would have stopped at the house first to change.
Michaele’s concern grew after she called her sister’s closest friends. All of them—with the exception of Harold, whose mother had answered and informed her he wasn’t home yet, either—said they hadn’t heard from her today.
Could Faith be with Harold Bean? They hadn’t dated in some time, but both attended Northeast Texas Community College and remained friends.
Frowning at the clock, Michaele decided to give her sister until midnight, simply because she dreaded the thought of calling the police station. It didn’t matter that Jared wouldn’t be there; he would be told, and she didn’t want to be accused of playing another game. Surely Faith would wander in before then.
Michaele returned to the front room, turned off the lights and settled in the rocker by the picture window. It looked so much darker out there tonight. The driveway seemed longer, and the woods across the street appeared downright ominous. For the first time since those early days after her mother’s death, she regretted that their neighbors were acres away, hidden by trees and thick brush.
She closed her eyes against the view and tried to think pleasant thoughts. What came was an ugly scene this morning with Faith, the way her sister had stormed out of the house…the taunting image of her lying bloody and crying for help in a crushed car somewhere…her father telling the police, “It’s Mike’s fault! She drove my poor baby to her grave!”
The ringing phone made her jerk upright. Disoriented, in her rush to get to it she almost knocked the whole thing to the floor before successfully bringing the handset to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Is Faith there?”
She didn’t recognize the voice, wasn’t even alert enough to know if it was a man or a woman calling. “Um…no. Who’s this, please?”
“You mean she didn’t call to say goodbye? She wanted to.”
Michaele’s confusion turned instantly to lung-freezing dread. She gripped the phone more tightly. “What did you say? Who is this?”
There was no reply…only a soft click as someone hung up.
5
Thursday, May 14
12:01 a.m.
Michaele stood there in shocked disbelief. Even after the buzzing reminded her to hang up, she remained rooted in place, trying to reassure herself that she’d heard incorrectly.
Suddenly, reacting as though the phone’s handset was a venomous thing, she dropped it back into the cradle, then stared out the picture window at the empty road. Beyond. Into the opaqueness of the dense woods.
As understanding grew into fear, she reached for the phone again, only to draw back.
Who are you going to call? Calm down. What if you’re wrong? What if this is somebody’s idea of a joke?
That was it. Michaele rushed into the kitchen and jerked open the door. “So help me,” she muttered under her breath, “if you borrowed someone’s car phone or got someone else to call me, thinking you would pay me back for—”
The Firebird she had expected to see in the driveway, with her sister laughing behind the wheel, wasn’t there.
Michaele’s stomach grew queasy. Quickly locking the door, she snatched up the phone book next to the refrigerator and, with trembling fingers, flipped through the white pages. Her dialing was equally haphazard, and she exhaled with relief when she finally heard the ringing that told her she hadn’t botched that last attempt. The stove clock read 12:03. The ghoulish time didn’t slip past her, nor did the belated realization that she must have dozed off, after all.
On the fourth ring, he answered. “Yeah?”
“Jared, thank God.” His strong, though irritated, voice had her instantly forgiving him his earlier behavior. “I know I should’ve called the station, but I—”
“Michaele?” There was a muffled sound as though he were sitting up. “What’s wrong?”
“I think Faith is missing.”
He was silent for several seconds. “Come again?”
“She never got home, and I just got this awful call. He said—”
“Are you and Buck at the house?”
“Yes. No! Buck’s at the garage.”
“You’re there alone? Stay put,” he snapped. “I mean it. Don’t go outside. Do nothing until I get there.”
“But I haven’t told you—”
He hung up.
She couldn’t believe it. Instead of listening to what she had to say, instead of assuring her that he would immediately have his men on the night shift look for Faith, he was coming here because she was alone? Heaven save her from the entire male race! Calling him instead of the station had been a mistake, after all.
But her frustration didn’t last long. As soon as she hung up and looked out the parted kitchen door curtains, out beyond the moths circling dizzily in the porch light to the indecipherable darkness beyond, the skin along her arms and at the back of her neck began tingling. Someone could be standing just beyond, maybe hiding as close as behind the wrecker, watching her. The thought made her feel exposed even though the oversize NASCAR T-shirt she liked to wear to bed almost reached her knees.
Her heart pounding, she rushed over to tug the curtains closed and to recheck the lock. The lock was one of those flimsy twist jobs in a door that was half glass, which made her think about the other doors. Not once since she’d come home had she bothered checking them to see if they were locked or not.
With a new dread, she hurried from the back door to the front, testing each one. Everything was as it should be, but her heart continued its wild beating, anyway, and so when done, she stopped in the hallway, her back pressed to the wall, the one spot where she knew she couldn’t be seen from any window.
Get a grip, Ramey. This isn’t like you.
Nevertheless, a flash of lights on the living room wall made her catch her breath. In the next instant she recognized them as car lights. Jared? He lived north on Dog-wood, more than a half-mile away. Could he have dressed and gotten here this fast?
Faith!
Anger blossomed anew as Michaele ran to the kitchen. Once again she flung open the door.
With mixed feelings, she heard the white patrol car’s engine shut down just before Jared climbed out and rushed up the steps. It looked as if he’d pulled on the short-sleeved blue shirt he’d been wearing earlier because one of the buttons was undone, and his jeans were zipped but not fastened. Although his face was shadowed by the straw cowboy hat, she saw that his eyes were bloodshot and that the always pronounced shadow of whiskers was darker than ever. The scent of beer that drifted in with him confirmed the hunch that he hadn’t gotten as far as bed yet when she’d called.
“Should you be driving in your condition?” she asked as he entered.
“If that’s an invitation for coffee, I won’t turn it down.”
With a lift of her eyebrows, she took the saucepan they kept on the stove and filled it with what she estimated was enough water to fill a large mug. They didn’t bother with coffee machines in the Ramey household; Faith refused to drink anything but store-bought latte, and Buck doctored anything put before him with so much sugar and milk, Michaele figured instant was good enough.
As she went to the pantry for the jar, she said, “Maybe you should call one of your men to handle this.”
“I’m not drunk.”
She refused to be intimidated by his terse reply. If anyone had the right to be out of sorts, it was her. “I call you and tell you that I think my sister is missing, and not only don’t you ask me any questions about her, but you waste valuable time driving over here when you should be out looking for her.”
“My first priority was to make sure you were all right.”
“Of course I’m all right. I’m here!”
Jared took off his hat and ran his other hand over his hair. “Michaele, you don’t know what’s—” He signaled her to give him a moment, then replaced the hat. “It’s not going to help anything to get sarcastic.”
Although not ready to admit she was out of line, she did back off by getting a mug from an open cabinet. “Faith never got home from school,” she told him. “And there’s been a phone call.”
She repeated everything the caller had said. When she finished, she glanced over her shoulder. Jared just stood there, his eyes closed.
“You’re thinking someone’s pulling one over on me, that I’m being melodramatic. I hope I am. But the more I think about it, the more I feel—He was smiling when he spoke, I could tell. That’s what unnerved me. He was enjoying himself.”
Once Jared met her gaze again, not only did his expression tell her that he didn’t think she was overreacting, but he looked sick to his stomach. “Did you recognize the guy’s voice?”
“No.” She suffered a new pang of guilt. “To be honest, I’m not even sure it was a man.”
“You just said—”
“I’d fallen asleep and was disoriented. The call lasted only a few seconds.” As she replayed the awful conversation in her mind, she tried to portion out a spoonful of coffee granules. Most spilled onto the counter.
Jared took over and completed the task. “Could the caller have altered his or her voice?”
“I guess. I don’t know. No, it had to have been a man.”
“Because…?”
“Because.”
“Harold Bean, maybe?”
One of the less appealing things about small towns was that everyone knew everyone else’s business, including who was or had been paired with whom. Michaele shook her head. “Jeez, no. He’s still nuts about her, sure, and as far as I know they’ve remained friends, but…no. Faith’s moved on.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Harold’s voice cracks like a thirteen-year-old’s when he’s the slightest bit emotional.”
“You sound more like a protective parent than a worried sister.”
“Damn it, Morgan, I’m not protecting him. I’m simply not going to say what I don’t believe, so back off!”
Jared held her angry stare. “When did you receive the call?”
“At midnight. I phoned you right afterward. Maybe I should have called the station or 9-1-1.”
“You did the right thing.”
Then why did he look as though she’d become his worst nightmare, as though he were about to excuse himself and charge for the bathroom?
Before she could say as much, he stepped around her, turned off the flame under the pot and poured the boiling water. “Have you searched the house thoroughly? There’s no sign that she might have been here while you were at work? Maybe she packed a bag or something, planned to stay with friends for a few days?”
“No, I didn’t notice anything when I was going around opening windows, and she didn’t say—”
The pot clattered as he slammed it back onto the burner. “You had the windows open?”
“Hello! This is Split Creek, not L.A. What’s more, two of the three people living here think we have round-the clock maid service. Maybe you can tolerate that kind of stench, but not me.”
“Okay, okay. Go lock up. Then check the closets, under the beds…Do it,” he intoned when she didn’t budge. He started for the door. “And yell like hell if you find anything. I’m going outside to have a look around.”
“For what?”
The glance he cast her over his shoulder left her feeling like a slow five-year-old. As the screen door shut behind him, she muttered, “It’s my house, buster. I have a right to at least ask.”
What did he think he was going to find out there, anyway? She’d told him Faith wasn’t here. And what did he think she’d run into upstairs?
Somewhere above her a board creaked. It was the same sound Faith used to make when she tried to sneak out of the house for a date on a school night. Of course, this time, Michaele thought, it was the house cooling, a board expanding—
Another creak sounded.
“So I’ll placate him.” She might as well, she decided. Otherwise he would do it for her and know once and for all what slobs the Rameys were. The heavy flashlight she snatched up along the way was for her own peace of mind.
Five minutes later they were both back in the kitchen.
Jared reached for the still steaming mug of coffee. “I’ve radioed the station and told them to keep an eye out for Faith, and to check on Buck. You know we can’t initiate an official missing persons search for twenty-four hours, but I’ll set in motion what I can. If you could give me a recent photo of her, that would help.”
For what? Everyone in the area knew what Faith looked like. She was one of those people who never met a stranger and talked to everyone.
“We’ll need it if we have to broaden our search,” Jared said gently. “Also, come morning, if…well, you’ll have to come into the station to fill out some forms.”
As he spoke he made less and less eye contact. That, more than anything, triggered a new dread in Michaele. “You don’t think she’s going to show up, do you.”
“I’m merely explaining procedure.” He put down the mug. “Could you get me that photo?”
The one she chose was from the top of the TV in the living room—a Glamour Shots creation, yet another indulgence the girl couldn’t afford. At the time it was taken, Michaele had been too angry to admit her sister looked gorgeous, more stunning than most of the empty-eyed skeletons in the countless fashion magazines the kid bought. It wasn’t just the filtered lens, the way Faith’s long black hair was brushed in uncharacteristic but sexy disarray, or the artful makeup that gave her eyes an almost Far Eastern tilt, her mouth a pouty just-kissed look. Faith simply had…something.
Returning to the kitchen, Michaele handed the picture to Jared. “All I was trying to say before was that if you know something, I think I have a right to be told what it is.”
Jared slipped the photo into his shirt pocket without looking at it. “I’ll be in touch.”
That was it? “Fine!” she snapped, as he headed for the door. “Then hear this—as soon as I change, I’m going to start searching for her, too.”
“The hell you will.”
Before she could move he’d spun around and grabbed her upper arms, almost lifting her off her feet to bring her face-to-face with him. It wasn’t hard to do. He might not be the tallest guy in town, but he had to be one of the strongest, and if he wanted, he was capable of making a larger man feel like a Chihuahua confronting a rottweiler.
“You stay put,” he growled. “And don’t think I won’t be checking in to make sure you’re here.”
“I can’t sit and do nothing.”
“Then pray.”
Jared Long Morgan talking about prayer? Next to her, he had the worst church attendance record in town. “Now you’re frightening me.”
“It’s about time.” But he frowned once he noticed his grip on her, and abruptly let her go. “Stay here. If she shows up, you’ll be able to let me know all the sooner.”
He started to leave again.
“Jared.” When he looked back, Michaele chewed on her lower lip. “You might as well know something. We fought before she went off to school this morning.”
“So what else is new?”
Despite his wry, even kind tone, she didn’t allow herself off the hook. “This time I threatened to shut her off financially if she didn’t start helping out more. She left crying and cussing.” Remembering the awful scene, Michaele felt her own throat ache. “What am I going to do if…?”
Jared swore under his breath and this time drew her completely into his arms. “Don’t go there, honey.”
Holding Jared was like trying to wrap her arms around the single, ancient oak in the middle of their pasture; but for once Michaele let herself need his size and strength. She almost believed that if she held him hard enough, if she shut her eyes tight enough, she could stop what felt like a free fall into the worst nightmare ever imagined.
Jared’s breath teased the top of her head. “Ah, Mike. Everyone knows the burden you’ve been carrying for years, just as they know it’s a fact of life that siblings fight. There’s nothing to beat yourself up about. Now listen.” He eased her to arm’s length. “Lock up tight behind me. Don’t open up for anyone except me, Faith or Buck. If there are any more calls, let me know immediately.” He nodded to the card on the counter. “I’ve left you my cellular phone number.”
She hadn’t noticed, and gave the card only a brief glance; all she was focusing on was him. He was about to leave, and she didn’t want him to. She didn’t want to be alone.
“I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
“I’ll try to be patient.”
“Don’t hurt yourself straining.”
Although the words were warmly spoken, there was something close to despair in his eyes, and suddenly she had the strongest urge to be in his arms again, to smooth away the grim lines that were deepening around his mouth. The need was as frightening as it was compelling.
“About this afternoon…I’m sorry,” she heard herself say. “I hated that we fought.”
“Me, too.”
“I mean really hated it. Your—” she didn’t know what word to use “—your respect means a lot to me.”
“We’ll talk about that someday.”
His thumb’s caress at the corner of her mouth had a surprisingly debilitating effect on her ability to remember all the reasons for believing romantic entanglements weren’t for her. Nuts, she thought, finally succeeding in putting more space between them.
Sighing, Jared reached for the doorknob. “Remember what I said. Keep everything locked up.”
“Yes.”
And she did…only to find it didn’t quite work, in that she wasn’t alone. Jared’s presence lingered long after his car was out of sight. That disturbed her almost as much as everything else going on.
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