Lover's Lane (28 page)

38

“YOU THIRSTY?” CHRIS HANDED MATT HIS BOTTLE OF WATER. “Don’t take it all. Just sip it. We gotta make it last.”

He’d heard that line in a movie once, a jungle movie about a plane crash. Right now he wished they
were
lost in a jungle. At least it would be warm.

They’d been walking forever, and it was getting darker. Chris was sure Matt was gonna wuss out and start crying about how much he wanted to go home. Chris wanted to go home too, but not until Mom changed her mind about moving.

If she didn’t, he figured that he was old enough to take care of himself. Heck, he’d been taking care of Matt since they left the house. He’d given him the parka instead of the sweatshirt and never even made Matt carry the backpack.

They’d raced out of Seaside Village and ran down the beach. The tide was out and all the big black rocks were showing at the point. He’d led the way as they climbed and jumped from rock to rock until they rounded the end and were at Twilight Cove. The waves weren’t very big, so they easily made it across the rocks all the way to the beach.

They sneaked up the long stairs to the park, then stopped to watch some older kids play soccer. Leading the way, Chris walked Matt through the alleys instead of the streets until they got to the side of the highway.

They waited behind some high bushes that were covered with stickers until the coast was clear, then they darted over to the other side and started up a dry creek bed.

“I’m hungry,” Matt whined.

“I’m hungry, too, but I’m not crying about it.”

Chris wished they’d left earlier. Being out alone in the dark was scarier than he thought it would be, even with Matt along.

“You’re just not crying ’cause this was your idea.”

“So?”

“So you’re only acting like you’re not hungry. You know this was a dumb idea, but you won’t go back.”

“It’s
not
a dumb idea.”

Matt suddenly sat down on a rock in the middle of the creek bed and pressed his eyes against his knees. He’d slipped, ripped his jeans, and skinned his knee when they climbed around the point.

“Come on, Matt. We gotta keep going. Look up. There’s the first star. Make a wish.”

Matt’s head jerked up and he looked around. “I don’t wanna be out here in the dark. What about coyotes? What about rattlers? I wanna go home!”

Chris tugged on Matt’s sleeve until he got him to his feet. “We can’t go home. Everybody’s probably
really
mad at us by now.”

“When are we gonna eat the crackers and cheese?”

“You gotta be patient. Keep walking. We’re almost there.”

“Where?”

Chris stared up the creek bed, but it was getting harder to see. He didn’t tell Matt where they were going because he wasn’t real sure he knew the way.

The Potters pulled into Seaside Village while another officer was still questioning Carly and Jake. Tracy was far cooler and calmer than Glenn as they answered every question the policeman put to them. She could remember in detail what both Matt and Christopher had been wearing when Carly picked Matt up. She calmed Glenn and reassured Carly that they didn’t hold her responsible.

“What I don’t understand is why they ran off. You say Chris talked about not wanting to move? You’re not moving, are you?” Tracy’s already large eyes were huge as she looked to Carly for answers.

Carly glanced at Jake and then away. “I . . . I’d thought about it, you know, maybe someday. I talked about going on vacation, but . . .” she couldn’t seem to control the infinite amount of tears that came suddenly and out of nowhere, “. . . Wednesday’s hot dog day.”

She knew she wasn’t making any sense, knew that she was the only reason her son had run away. If she and Jake hadn’t been arguing, if Jake had never come to Twilight in the first place, Christopher and Matt would still be right here where they belonged, eating Etta’s warmed-over spaghetti and meatballs.

Etta had changed into a platinum wig and pink stretch pants, and along with a contingent of neighbors, spent the last twenty minutes milling around out front. Eventually she separated from the group, marched up to the door, and insisted on coming in to sit with Carly until they heard something.

Tracy made and served tea, puttering like a Stepford wife, assuring everyone that Matt and Chris would be just fine— until she accidentally let go of a mug, and it crashed to the floor. She dissolved into an hysterical heap on the kitchen floor.

Selma and Joe arrived in time to take over. Selma guided Tracy to the bathroom to rinse her face while Joe mopped up the floor and started heating a huge pot of chili that he’d lugged over from the diner. They had closed down as soon as they heard about the search.

Glenn spent most of his time on his cell phone organizing a door-to-door search and then decided to take Tracy home so that he could coordinate the volunteers.

Carly couldn’t do anything but sit balled up in the corner of the couch and quietly go insane.

Jake knew that the longer the boys were missing, the more danger they were in. He checked in with the officer in charge of the search, discovered that someone had seen the kids in the park, but apparently no one paid much attention to them with so many other kids around.

The local search-and-rescue volunteers had been called out. The Laura Recovery Center Foundation sent in a local volunteer assistant with their hundred-page guide to mobilizing large groups of volunteers.

Even with all the help, the more time passed, the more helpless Jake felt. He wanted to join them, but every time he looked at Carly, he couldn’t leave her.

He turned on another lamp in the living room, watched as she struggled to her feet and left the room. He hoped she’d gone to lie down, but she was back in five minutes wearing a heavier sweatshirt.

She had washed her face though, and her hairline around her temples was still damp. Her skin was so pale it was nearly translucent.

“Are you hungry?” Jake had forgotten about dinner. He didn’t have a conscious desire to eat, but his stomach was rumbling.

Selma and Joe were in the kitchen arguing over whether or not people liked chili better over rice or without. Etta, her wig askew, was sound asleep in Carly’s rocking chair emitting window-rattling snores.

As soon as Jake mentioned food, Joe dished up a huge bowl of chili and rice.

“How about something lighter for Carly?” Jake suggested and Joe whipped up half a peanut butter and honey sandwich.

Jake carried it over to her, but she took one look, shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself again.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and everyone was on their feet at once. Jake opened it with Carly and Beauty flanking him. A searing light hit them both in the eyes.

A woman’s voice came from behind the intense glare, insistent and professionally insensitive.

“I’m Abbigail Klasa from the local network affiliate, KBCH 7, Eyewitness News. How are you holding up with your son missing, Ms. Nolan?” The reporter shoved the microphone closer to Carly’s face.

Carly blinked into the light. “What?”

“What went through your mind when you realized your only child was missing? Do you suspect foul play?”

Jake pulled Carly out of the blazing light and slammed the door.

She was trembling so violently that he was afraid she was going to collapse. Blindly, she reached for his hand and he took it without hesitation. She’d needed to hold onto something warm, something real in the midst of chaos.

He led her back to the sofa. She sank into it, rested her hands on her knees. He reached for her hands, found them cold as ice, even though the room was warm. He chafed them, held on tight. Finally she looked into his eyes, but no words came.

“I feel like hell. I’d give anything to make this all go away,” he said.

She shook her head, bit her lips to keep them from trembling.

When she could finally form the words, she said, “It’s not your fault.
I’m
the one who set this all in motion years ago. I never thought about how the older Christopher got, the harder it would be to move. I wasn’t thinking of his feelings, just that I couldn’t let them take him from me.”

He tightened his hand on hers. She swallowed a sob.

“I couldn’t bear to let anyone take my baby away, but right now, if it would save his life, I’d give him up, Jake. If that’s what it takes to keep him safe, I’d give him to Anna in a heartbeat.”

He held her tight, let her cry herself out on his shoulder. When she finally pulled out of his arms, he brushed her hair back off her damp face. Waiting was torture for them both, but the police had asked her to stay put, to wait for word.

“Would you mind if I left you long enough to see how the search is going? Selma and Joe will stay, and I’ll call you from the command post.”

Carly nodded. “Yes, go. I wish I could go with you. Anything would be better than sitting here in limbo.”

He knew that in a while the shock would wear off, and she would no longer be content to sit and do nothing, as sure as he knew she would never give up looking for Chris. She would wait a lifetime if she had to for her boy to walk through the door again, whole and unharmed, just the way he’d left.

39

ANNA WALKED INTO THE PENTHOUSE, CLOSED AND DOUBLE-LOCKED the door behind her, set the security alarm.

The click of her beige pumps echoed as she crossed the marble floor. Without quite stopping, she slowed down to glance at her reflection in the oversized gilt-framed mirror above the table in the foyer. Tonight every one of her sixty-two years was showing. She walked into the master suite, anxious to get out of her knit suit and panty hose and into bed.

She’d pushed herself to the limit today, talking Carly into letting her meet Christopher in the park. On the way home aboard the commuter plane to LAX, she’d begun to question what she was doing.

If only Charles were alive, he would be the one in charge. Everything would be out of her hands.

After Rick died, she’d been angry and helpless. Like Charles, she had wanted to strike back at the girl who’d taken her son from them. If it hadn’t been for Caroline or Carly or whoever she really was, Rick would have never been racing back to Borrego.

Charles had put everything in motion. After Rick’s memorial, he contacted Art Litton, sat down with him, and came up with the plan to offer the girl money, more than enough money to make most people’s heads spin—but Carly had refused.

She’s been a good mother.

All day, try as she might, Anna couldn’t keep that thought from popping into her mind. Christopher was a delightful child, the kind of child any parent would be proud of. Though she’d like to deny it, she knew that he hadn’t gotten that way by himself.

And seeing him in the flesh brought home the truth—he was a living, breathing, energetic little boy, and she was a sixty-two-year-old woman.

When he’s fourteen, I’ll be seventy!

Even though his room was ready and waiting for him, she was now faced with the reality of the situation. This was no place for an active child, let alone a dog. When she won guardianship, she would have to move again, find a house with a yard or a place on the beach.

She’d pushed herself too hard today. After the limo dropped her off from the airport, she’d quickly changed clothes and attended the Nineteenth Annual Benefit and Silent Auction for the Children’s League.

As physically and mentally exhausted as she was, the event seemed to go on forever. On the heels of her flight back, three hours of small talk with a table full of divorcées and widows had nearly done her in.

Once in her room she automatically picked up the television remote, jabbed the on button and tossed the remote on the bed before she walked into the dressing room.

Peeling off her panty hose and then her beige St. John knit, she listened to the teaser for the eleven o’clock news. Something about a hijacked bus on the 91 Freeway. She mentally tuned it out until her attention was captured by the anchorwoman’s next words.

“. . . we’ll go to a small town up the coast where a Long
Beach private investigator is involved in a search for two
missing six-year-old boys.”

Her heavy gold earrings clattered when she dropped them on the marble countertop. She grabbed a thick terry cloth robe off a hook near the dressing room door and hurried back into the bedroom. A series of inane commercials blasted from the television, so she hit the mute button until they ended.

Perched on the edge of the bed, she turned on the sound again and waited through breaking news with live film coverage of yet another bus hijacker being taken into custody.

When will these idiots realize car chases are getting old?

After highlights of the national news there was yet another teaser before a few thirty-second commercials. Finally the female anchor was back. Thin, Hispanic, still beautiful despite too much stage makeup, she stared at the Teleprompter.

“Now we’ll take you up the coast to Twilight Cove, a small tourist town just off of Highway One near San Luis Obispo where it seems a private investigator from Long Beach has found himself involved in the search for two missing six-year-olds. Let’s go to reporter Abbigail Klasa with our affiliate station KBCH in San Luis Obispo. Abbigail, what can you tell us about the search for the missing boys?”

“Well, Tamra, let’s just say things are tense here in the usually quiet seaside town of Twilight Cove where local sheriffs and volunteers have been combing dangerous hillsides as well as the treacherous coastline for the two missing youngsters, who are best friends and T-ball teammates.”

Anna clutched the remote, her attention riveted on the screen. A photograph suddenly replaced the image of the reporter, a shot of a T-ball team, all of the boys lined up in matching uniforms and baseball caps. Slowly the camera focused in on two of them and the image widened until it filled the screen. They stood side by side with their arms around each other’s shoulders, their sweet smiles showing missing teeth.

Anna gasped and covered her mouth.

“We’ve learned the two are best friends, but no one has yet to explain why Matthew Potter and Christopher Nolan have run away. Matthew’s parents remain positive that the two boys will be found safe and sound. No Amber Alert has been issued as there is no indication the boys were abducted.”

An odd, strangled noise escaped Anna as she stared at the screen filled with the image of Christopher and his friend. It was uncanny how much Chris looked like Rick at the same age. The same sun-streaked hair. The same dimple in his right cheek. His eyes even crinkled when he smiled, just like Rick’s.

The camera moved from the photo to Jake Montgomery standing beside the reporter. Patrol car strobe lights knifed through the darkness around them.

Anna covered her mouth with her fist, leaned toward the television. The reporter held the microphone in front of Jake.

“How did a private investigator from Long Beach become involved in the search, Mr. Montgomery?”

“Ms. Nolan and her son are friends of mine.” Jake Montgomery clammed up, reticent to say more, frustrating the reporter with his silence.

Anna watched, aware of the agitated beat of her heart, fearing it was going to burst. She took a deep breath, held it, let it out.

Dear Lord, you’ve only just let me see Christopher, talk
to him, hold him.

Do you truly give only to take away?

I’ve already lost so much.

Anna sat in dazed silence as the young reporter wrapped up the interview. The anchor promised the L.A. audience they would learn the outcome of the search as soon as it happened. Then the news broke for another spate of commercials.

The phone rang almost immediately after, and she jumped up, stumbling as she made a grab for it, half hoping it might be Carly Nolan with news that Christopher had been found. But after what Anna had said today, she doubted Carly would call her at all.

It was Art Litton.

Before Anna could say a word, he was crowing into the phone.

“Have you seen the news? We’ve got her now.”

She shivered, thought she might retch.

“My grandson is missing, Art, and that’s all you can think about? What if he’s been kidnapped? What if he’s hurt?”

“And if he is hurt, whose fault is it? Hers.”

“I . . . actually, I’ve been thinking of reconsidering, of dropping the petition or whatever it takes to stop this thing from—”

“You can’t, Anna. Not now. Look what’s happened.

What kind of mother lets her kid run off like that? Surely you don’t think she has any right to Christopher after this, do you?”

He sounded so certain, so persuasive. Just like Charles. He was always telling her what to do, what was expected of a Saunders. She pictured Jake Montgomery standing with his arm around Carly this afternoon. Perhaps they’d gotten together later, maybe they’d wanted Christopher out of the way. She’d heard of people locking their kids outside. Maybe Carly had wanted an hour or two alone with Jake, maybe she’d left him outside with instructions not to disturb her, and he’d wandered off.

Surely the woman she’d met earlier wouldn’t have done any such thing . . .

“You can’t leave him in that kind of a situation, Anna.”

“He’s . . . he seems happy, Art. And well adjusted.”

“How would you know? You can’t tell anything from a photo on television.”

“I’ve seen him. I was up there today, in Twilight Cove. Jake Montgomery convinced me to go up and meet Carly Nolan . . .”

“I would
never
have advised something like that, and you know it. You could jeopardize our case.”

“Which is why I went on my own. I can’t help but wonder if my visit had something to do with Christopher’s running away.”

“And you think he’s well adjusted?”

“I did. He’s darling. Polite, intelligent. She’s done a good job, Art.”

“You listen to me, Anna. Charles wasn’t just a client for thirty years. He was one of my closest friends. I know what he wanted. You can’t let him down now. Besides, you aren’t doing this solely for Charles, you know. You have a responsibility to Saunders Shipping. Christopher will take his rightful place at the helm.”

“What if that’s not what he wants?”

“You’ll never know what he wants if he grows up under her roof.”

“I don’t think she’d object to me seeing him. I—”

“You don’t know
what
she’s likely to do. I’m going to hang up and call you first thing in the morning unless there’s some word on the boys before then. Don’t even think about backing down now, Anna. Christopher needs you. He obviously needs a more stable situation. Don’t you agree?”

“Well, yes, I—”

“You try to get some sleep.”

“Are you
kidding
?”

“Then at least lie down and rest. I’ll call you in the morning.”

He hung up, but Anna cradled the phone in her lap. Unable to move, she stared blindly at all the lawyers on a rerun of
The Practice
on television.