Gone (11 page)

Whatever we once were, it was never friends.

Jake’s words in the diner returned to her. He was right about that. They’d never gotten around to being friends. One moment they’d been colleagues on the job, then lovers, then in over their heads.

That Sunday morning three years earlier came back to her. She’d left her bedroom after she and Jake had made love and when she’d returned there’d been a rose and a ring on her pillow. She’d stared at the ring on the dark blue cotton and joked that the Bureau was paying Jake a lot more than it was paying her.

Jake rose from his reclined position on the mattress and leaned on one elbow, looking up at her. His gaze unswerving, his voice rock-steady, he’d said,
Marry me, Clare.

She saw that he was serious and her throat constricted. She gave a little nervous laugh. “Things are wonderful as they are. Why spoil what we have by getting married?”

He left the bed and went to stand in front of her. He cupped one shoulder gently. He raised his other hand and brushed his thumb tenderly over her cheek, tilting her head back so their eyes met. “I want it all,” he said softly. “I want you for the rest of my life.”

Jake was a man who believed in “happily ever after” but she knew better.

Her breathing quickened and she broke out in a cold sweat. “A marriage license won’t make me love you any more.”

“Or any less,” he said.

“Then we don’t need that piece of paper.”

She ran her palms up his bare chest. She followed the path of her hands with her lips . . .

She’d thought the matter settled, but six months later he raised the subject of marriage again. That time she reacted with anger.

No, she didn’t want to get married. Not then. Not ever. She wanted to go on as they were for as long as they wanted to.
Until they didn’t want to . . .

She knew a time would come when they wouldn’t want to go on. The end would come. It was inevitable.

Heart pounding, she wrapped her arms around herself in a tight hug and waited for his response.

They’d been arguing, shouting, almost in each other’s faces. Jake’s hands, at his sides, had clamped into fists with impotent anger. But at her words, a look of resignation filled his eyes. His rigid shoulders slumped. The anger appeared to drain out of him.

He watched her without blinking, then slowly turned away from her, went to her apartment door and opened it. Head bowed, he stopped on the threshold and stood gripping the frame. Then he walked out.

The memory left Clare feeling raw and hollow now. Her throat clogged with tears. She wiped a tear from her cheek. That she could still feel pain over him humbled her.

She’d given him all she could, and it hadn’t been enough. He’d wanted it all, he’d said. All or nothing and he’d chosen nothing.

She’d been devastated when he’d left her, but she’d gotten over the worst of it and moved on. As apparently had he. Her reaction to him now was brought on by the surprise of seeing him with his child—one more surprise on top of the surprise of meeting him again yesterday. She’d been caught off guard. That was why she was reacting so strongly. If their paths ever crossed again, she would not be affected
. God, Clare, just who are you trying to convince?
Clare exhaled a slow, tremulous breath.

Unlikely that she and Jake would meet again, however. His role in the search for Beth was over, now that he’d obtained the information from Cal Dawson. Clare would take it from there. She had no need to see Jake again.

She certainly had no business rehashing the past.

She forced her thoughts back to Beth and to her next step to finding her sister.

Her plan was to call the transport companies Cal Dawson had named and inquire which of them delivered produce to the grocery store.

Clare had driven back the way she and Jake had come and was now once again at Dawson Foods. She turned into the parking lot. The rusty pickup she’d parked behind earlier was still where it had been. She pulled in behind it for the second time that day.

She dug the paper Jake had given her, and her cell phone, out of her purse. First on the list was Robert Transport. She placed the call.

An automated system led her through a series of commands to a receptionist.

“Yes, hello,” Clare said to the woman on the other end of the line. “I’d like to leave a message for the driver who delivers produce to Farley, South Carolina . . . oh, your company doesn’t deliver produce. Dry goods. Thanks for your time.”

Her second call was to McKinley Transport. McKinley, she learned, did deliver produce and to Farley. Clare willed herself to remain calm. She repeated the same message.

“Name of the driver?” the receptionist asked.

Clare selected a name at random. “Jim Silver.”

“Hmm. I don’t recall that name,” the receptionist said. “Where did you say the driver goes to? South Carolina?”

The woman went on without waiting for Clare to reply. Clare heard the clack of computer keys being struck.

“South Carolina territory belongs to Gil Hoag. Oh—wait a minute—Gil doesn’t drive to South Carolina anymore. Nate Linden took over Gil’s route.”

“It’s Gil Hoag I’d like to leave a message for,” Clare said.

“Your name?”

“Clare Marshall.” She considered adding that she was calling about Beth Ryder, but she didn’t want to spook her sister who’d gone to great lengths to leave town in secret and hadn’t disclosed her destination. Of course, she couldn’t include her own identity as Beth’s sister. She feared Beth’s reaction to that even more.

“I’m calling from Farley regarding a personal matter,” Clare added. She left her cell phone number and hoped that would be enough for Gil Hoag to return the call.

She thanked the receptionist and disconnected. At this point, she had nothing to do but wait for the phone to ring. She didn’t have to be in Farley to receive the call. She was finished with the town and could leave if she wanted to and go home.

As appealing as that thought was, she dismissed it. She would arrive at home only to have to travel someplace else when she determined Beth’s location. The best thing to do was to stay put and go directly to Beth from here.

Looked like she was staying in Farley for the time being. The grocery store parking lot had gained a few more vehicles in the time Clare had been parked there. Her stomach rumbled. Her last meal had been on the plane yesterday.

The prospect of eating at the Farley diner made dieting a welcome alternative. She rolled her eyes. Since there was nothing to be gained by subjecting herself to that unpleasant environment, she’d cook for herself. She hoped to be in contact with Hoag shortly, and to be on her way to wherever her sister was by tomorrow at the latest. Clare left her car to stock up on a few things to take her through the next few hours.

* * * * *

One hour later, she was back in Earl Lowney’s deceased uncle’s kitchen. She was at the table forking up scrambled eggs. Steam rose from a cup of black coffee, liberally doused with sugar, that she’d placed beside her plate.

Also beside her plate was her cell phone.

She caught herself glancing at it again and again. Willing it to ring wasn’t going to make it happen. Even as she thought that, her gaze strayed back to the phone.

She dropped the fork onto her half-eaten eggs. Her stomach was too tight to eat more. There was nothing left to do but wait.

By ten p.m. her neck and shoulder muscles were so tight they felt as if they were bulging. She took a long shower, letting the spray beat against her taut back. She resigned herself to another night on the sprung mattress.

She was stepping out of the tub when her phone rang.

Clare pounced on it. Caller ID displayed the name G. Hoag.

“Clare Marshall,” she said, her voice slightly breathless. She pushed wet hair back from her face.

“Yeah. Hey. I’m Gil Hoag. You left a message for me to call you out in Farley? You said it’s personal. Do I know you?”

“No, Mr. Hoag, you don’t.” Clare licked her suddenly dry lips. “I’m calling about Beth Ryder. I need to speak with her.”

“Who are you? Why are you calling me about Beth?”

“I need to get in touch with her. I need you to relay a message to her. I’m—” Clare hesitated briefly, closing her eyes, praying Beth wouldn’t dismiss her as crazy. “I’m Beth’s sister.”

“Sister, okay. But, now, I’m confused here.”

“Confused?”

“Why do you think I can get your message to Beth?”

“Because Beth is with you.” Clare spoke the words slowly. “She left Farley with you one week ago.”

“She was going to hitch a ride with me out of town, but she didn’t.”

“What?”

“Beth never showed up.”

Chapter Seven
 

“Beth never showed up? Was that what you said, Mr. Hoag?”

Clare hadn’t turned off the water taps since stepping out of the shower to retrieve her phone. Behind her, water struck the plastic orange curtain enclosing the tub, making it difficult to hear. She bent over the tub now and turned off the faucets.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. I told her where I was going to be,” Hoag said, “and she said she’d meet me, but she never showed. I waited a bit, but then I had to get going. I have a schedule to keep.”

Water sluiced down Clare’s face from her sopping hair that hung like rat’s tails to her shoulders. She blinked a drop that fell into her eyes, but ignored the thick white towel she’d left on the vanity earlier.

“I was told that she left Farley with you.” Clare’s grip on the cell phone tightened. “You’re saying that Beth didn’t arrive at the specified time and you left town without her?”

“That’s right. I figured she just changed her mind about leaving.”