Crimson Eve (15 page)
Leslie was already jotting notes. The scratch of pen against paper felt good, normal. She could almost convince herself this was an ordinary Kanner Lake call. Someone’s dog had gotten lost, or somebody fell in an aisle of the IGA grocery store. Everyday inconveniences — not another trauma that could again spin lives in Kanner Lake out of control.
“Tell you what,” Leslie said slowly. She wasn’t about to give out Carla’s number until she was sure who this woman was. “Let me give you my own cell number.” She rattled off the digits, then repeated them. “I’ll go look for Carla, and when I find her, I’ll have her contact you. This number you called from. Is it your cell?”
“No, it’s a pay phone.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll need a number for you.”
“I can’t give one to you. I’m afraid they may be watching my phones. Maybe not, but . . . when someone breaks into your house, it’s easy to get paranoid.”
No kidding —
if
this woman was telling the truth.
But something in the woman’s voice told Leslie she was.
“
Please
give me Carla’s number.” Tanya sounded desperate. “I’m running from one pay phone to the next. There’s no safe way for her to call me, and I
have
to talk to her!”
Leslie closed her eyes. She shouldn’t do it. Not a cautious move.
“Tanya, I promise I will hunt down Carla for you. But we need a way to reach you. Can you borrow somebody’s cell?”
“I don’t
know
. I just . . .”
“All right then. Call me back on my cell as soon as you can give me a number. In the meantime I’ll look for Carla. Promise.”
“Okay.” Defeat coated Tanya’s voice.
Before Leslie could say anything more, the line went dead.
After work — another day with Bryson gone — I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to take the test. The stick turned pink.
Pregnant.
It’s like I’m dead. I can’t even feel. Can’t even cry. I think about what I’ve done, and the lie I’ve been living, and want to wish that Bryson never happened. But I can’t imagine him not happening. I can’t imagine going back to the way life was, even after this. How
stupid
is that?
Scott knows something’s wrong. I made an excuse not to see him again tonight — third time in a week. Probably thinks I’m about to break up with him. I’m not. I
need
Scott. He’s so sweet to me. He doesn’t deserve what I’ve done to him. Not at all.
Bryson comes back day after tomorrow. I’ve been counting the days. But I have no idea what I’m going to tell him. How can I possibly hide this from him? Still, I’m afraid if he knows, I’ll lose him.
I should just get an abortion and be done with it. Except I don’t have the money after spending my paychecks on clothes. Besides, look what happened to my friend Christine. She had one, then cried for two months. On the way out of the clinic we saw a picture of an aborted baby some protestor was carrying. Great help I was to Christine. I bawled almost worse than she did. The picture was awful. How can I do that to a little baby?
How
can’t
I? No way can I stay pregnant.
Maybe Scott would help me pay for an abortion. Of course he’ll believe the baby’s his. Bryson would never need to know. But Scott’s Catholic. What if he told me he expected me to have the baby? That he’d never forgive me for having an abortion. Then I’d
really
be stuck.
Or what if I told Bryson I’m pregnant with Scott’s baby? Maybe he wouldn’t be mad, and
he’d
pay for the abortion. I
so
need him to hold me and tell me everything’s going to be okay. To help me figure this out. He’s done so much for me already. He wouldn’t abandon me now.
But what if he did get mad? The first time we were together, I told Bryson I’d never slept with Scott — and I’ve never said anything’s changed. If he heard I was pregnant by someone else now, would he ever want to see me again?
I
can’t
lose Bryson.
My thoughts go around and around, and I don’t know what to do. Either way I’ll be lying to somebody. How can I live with that for the rest of my life?
There she is.
Cold satisfaction surged through Tony. He pressed the gas pedal, eyes fixed on the white Toyota. At last. Just seeing the back of Miss Wit’s head sent a zing through his veins. Never had closing in on a target felt so good.
He caught up to her car and slowed. Three car lengths away —that would do it. Far enough to react in case she hit her brakes. Close enough to keep another car from slipping between them.
Even though he itched to stop her now, he had to play this carefully. He couldn’t just drive up beside Carla Radling and put a bullet in her head. He needed her alive, able to tell him what she’d taken from that hatbox. Where it was now. And who else knew about it.
Timmy’s life depended on that information.
Tailing someone was tricky. Not like in the movies. Running a car off the road was a huge gamble. What if another driver came along and stopped to help? And what if that person noticed things — like white paint on the grille of his black vehicle. Traffic on this highway seemed to vary — some miles he’d seen no other cars, then three or four would appear. If he found a window of time, the right spot, he’d go for it. If not — Carla Radling had to stop somewhere, sometime. When she did, he’d be there.
For now, he could almost smell her fear. It made him smile.
His “Barry” cell phone rang. Tony flipped it open. “Yeah.”
“Andy here. I think they found the bugs.”
Tony blinked. “You’re kidding.”
“Nah. All’s silent.”
Not that it mattered, now that he had Miss Wit. Andy’s hidden position in a van down the street from Java Joint, listening to phone calls, was no longer necessary. Still, what would have made an oblivious coffee shop owner search for bugs in her phone?
“Got any idea why?”
“Not a clue.” Andy sniffed. “What do you want me to do now?”
“Get
out
of there, that’s what.”
“Hey, I’m long gone; they ain’t gonna find me. Just wondered if you had a plan B.”
Carla was watching him in her rearview mirror. Tony could tell by the slight movement of her head. His lip curled.
“Okay, Andy, here’s what you do. Go home and eat some breakfast. Kiss your wife. Hide the tapes until I can stop by for the usual exchange — tapes for your money.”
Always, phone call tapes before payment — that was nonnegotiable. Tony never left evidence like that sitting around.
Andy grunted. “That one call I told you about — from Ellie. Anything useful come of that?”
The man was forgetting himself. First rule of the game —
don’t
ask questions. Fortunately for him, Tony was now in a good mood.
“Nah, nothing. Now go home. Call you when I need you.”
That could be next week, next month, next year. Tony snapped the phone shut and threw it on the seat. Right now he couldn’t look past the next minute. Didn’t want to.
He planned to enjoy every second of Miss Wit’s terror.
Leslie hurried out of the
Kanner Lake Times
office, turned to head down the street — and froze. Two police cars sat outside Java Joint.
Lunch break?
Maybe. But after Tanya’s call, and Leslie’s subsequent conversation with the receptionist at the realty company where Carla worked — who had absolutely
no idea
where Carla was and now sounded close to panic — Leslie doubted it. Plus, she’d called Carla’s cell three times. It was turned off.
Wasn’t like Carla to turn her phone off during a workday.
Leslie shoved her purse up on her shoulder and trotted down the street.
Through the coffee shop windows she spotted Chief Edwards and twenty-five-year-old Officer Frank West standing near the cash register, talking to Bailey. In spite of her worry, Leslie’s heart performed a little tap dance at the sight of Frank. As usual, his dark hair was perfect, his jaw chiseled, and those shoulders just ached to be hugged. If only. Ted Dawson —S-Man — stood next to Chief Edwards, hands shoved in his pockets and thick brows together, looking perplexed.
No customers. Any lunch-timers must have gotten their sandwiches and run.
Leslie pushed through the door, and all four heads turned her direction. Chief Edwards looked grim. She huffed across to the counter. “What’s going on?”
Frank and Chief Edwards exchanged a glance. Ted gave her one of those penetrating looks that went to her soul. She tingled with sudden awkwardness. Leslie knew how S-Man felt about her. The feeling had apparently grown ever since they’d been thrown together in a battle of life and death last March. Was she as transparent? Did he see her reaction in Frank’s presence, even as something deep inside her, something inexplicable and not quite formed, tugged her eyes back toward Ted?
“Well,
what
?” Leslie tossed hair out of her eyes. “Does it have to do with Carla?”
Frank pulled back his head. “What do you know about Carla?”
“Not much except she’s missing. She’s not answering her cell; nobody at her work knows where she is. And some woman from ‘her past’ wants to get ahold of her like it’s a matter of life and death.”
Bailey drew in a breath. “Ellie? Did she call
you
?”
“Yes.” Leslie slid her purse off her arm and clumped it on the counter. “Only her name’s Tanya, not Ellie — she lied to you. And she says someone’s after her, and they might be after Carla too, and meanwhile, you’re not answering your phone, and Ted’s frowning and all worried, and
you
two” — she wagged a finger from Chief Edwards to Frank — “are looking way too serious to be ordering roast beef on rye.”
Chief Edwards drew a long breath, and Leslie saw a flash of his vulnerability. He’d lost a son in the Iraq war a little over two years ago — a son who would be her age. Chief had also lived through the events of Edna San’s death, then the murders of last March. Vince Edwards was the last person who’d welcome any more tragedy to his town.
The chief put both hands on his hips. “Looks like we’d better compare notes.”
Leslie told them of her conversation with Tanya Evans.
Chief frowned. “If she thinks she’s in danger, has she gone to the police?”
“She didn’t mention it. But I don’t know why she wouldn’t go to them.”
When Chief Edwards told her of two bugged phones, Leslie’s mouth dropped open.
He gestured with his chin. “The place is clear now. We called in some techs from the Sheriff’s Department for a sweep, and they managed to get here in record time. The phones were also dusted for prints. Frankly, I’d be surprised to find any that can’t be matched to Bailey or somebody. Whoever did this likely wore gloves.”
Leslie worked to stay calm.
Think like a reporter, not a past victim.
Not as Carla’s friend
. Her eyes grazed S-Man’s, then locked with the chief’s. “What now?”
He straightened. “First, I suppose I don’t have to tell you everything I just said is off the record.” He gave Leslie a hard look.
She bit back her irritation. “You’re right, you don’t.”
He nodded. “Second, I’m going to put out a missing person’s bulletin on Carla. We’ll start looking for her. Leslie, if you hear back from this Tanya, I need to know about it. I’ll want to talk to her, see what she knows.”
“Okay.”
The two policemen took their leave, a nod passing between Ted and Frank. Leslie had no time to dwell on the meaning of that. Her thoughts were spinning.
If anybody found Carla, it would be her.
Forget being a reporter, Leslie was Carla’s friend. Leslie didn’t know her real well, she had to admit. Carla was over ten years older. But then — who did really know Carla? For all her teasing at the Java Joint counter, she’d always kept people at arm’s length.
Leslie, Bailey, and Ted watched through the windows as the policemen slid into their cars and drove away.
Before she knew it, Leslie’s hand found Ted’s arm. She squeezed, looking into his face. “I don’t want anything to happen to her.”
He nodded and slipped his hand over hers. “We’ll find her.”
We
. Leslie managed a smile.
Bailey exhaled loudly. “Well.” She wiped the palms of her hands together. “You want a latte, Leslie?”
Serving. Bailey’s way of clinging to normalcy in the midst of this new unknown. Leslie shot Bailey an understanding — and grateful — look. “Please. To go. Then I’m out of here. I’ve got to find Carla.”
As Bailey turned toward the espresso machine, Leslie’s cell phone rang. She snatched it from her purse and checked the incoming number.
The Seattle pay phone.
I told Bryson this afternoon at the cabin.
I wasn’t going to. I’d decided to leave him out of it, just tell Scott. It was the right thing to do. Just let it be Scott and me, as it should be. Like before Bryson ever came along.
But in the end I couldn’t do it.
We were lying on the bed, knowing we had to get up soon and get dressed. All of a sudden, Bryson said, “I’m not going to be able to see you as much, Carla. We’ve been taking too many chances, and as much as I want to be with you all the time, I just can’t.”
I panicked. Lying next to him, knowing I’m pregnant, I totally panicked. I know he’s been taking a lot of chances. And suddenly, I could imagine him telling me we’d have to stop completely. Not because he’d want to, but because of his career and his wife. I couldn’t let that happen. When it came right down to it, no matter what — I
couldn’t
lose him.
The next thing I knew, I was blurting out, “I’m pregnant.”
He pulled away from me, eyes bugging. His face went white. “You couldn’t be that late; how do you know for sure?”
“I took a home pregnancy test.”
He flexed his jaw. “I thought you said you were on the Pill.”
“I did. I am. But it didn’t work.”
“
How
could it not
work
?”
“I don’t know! I’m sorry. I never would’
ve guessed — ”
“Are you sure the baby’s mine?”
The look on his face. He was scaring me. “Of course it’s yours.”
