Lover's Lane (30 page)

“I know. Were you scared?” She pushed his hair back off his forehead and kissed him.

“Not in the daytime. But when it got dark and Matt kept cryin’ for his mom, I got kinda scared, too, but I couldn’t tell him.”

“Tomorrow you’ll have to call and tell Matt you’re sorry.”

Chris sighed. It was going to be hard to say he was sorry out loud, but he couldn’t imagine life without his best friend, either.

“You know why I ran away, Mom?”

“I think so, but why don’t you tell me?”

“I heard you and Jake arguing. I heard you tell him that we were moving, and I didn’t want to go.”

“Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do, Christopher, no matter how much it hurts . . .”

“But this is my house. This is where I’ve always lived. And Matt is my friend. He’s my blood brother, Mom. I don’t want to move away from him.”

He watched a tear fall off the end of Mom’s lashes. She tried to wipe it away real quick, but he saw it just the same.

“We’re not moving, honey. Don’t worry about it. This is our home.”

“Then why were you so mad at Jake? What are you scared of?”

“I’m not scared,” she said. But she didn’t look at him when she said it. She pulled his covers up to his chin and kissed him one more time. “You need to get some sleep. We’ve both had a pretty rough day. Even poor Beauty is already sound asleep.” She glanced down at the dog sleeping next to the bed and then reached for the bedside lamp on a table she had painted the color of a fire engine for him.

“Mom? Will you leave the light on?”

She did better than that. She crawled under the covers, drew him close, and he fell asleep with her arms around him good and tight.

Carly slipped out of Chris’ bed, stepped over Beauty, who was asleep in her dog bed, and left the door to the room open as she wandered down the hallway to the kitchen. The small living room seemed immense tonight, the shadows outside the uncovered studio windows had taken on a dark, ominous quality. Wide awake, too keyed up to sleep, she almost admitted to herself that she wished she’d taken Jake up on his offer to sleep on the couch.

She poured herself a glass of milk, physically tired enough to sleep for a week but mentally keyed up. Recalling what Jake had said about reporters, she turned off the kitchen light and all but one small light in the living room. Then she walked over to the front window and slightly pulled aside the curtain.

Jake’s car was still in the parking space in front of the house.

She leaned toward the window, squinted against the glare of Etta’s porch light and saw Jake, sound asleep, in the passenger’s seat. With a shake of her head, Carly cracked the front door open half expecting a reporter to leap out of the bushes, but everything was quiet out front, so she walked up to the window on Jake’s car. Before she could tap and awaken him, he sat bolt upright, recognized her, and slowly smiled.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned as he opened the door.

She whispered, “Jake, what are you doing out here?”

“Watching the house.”

“With your eyes closed? Are you crazy?”

“I’m beginning to think so.”

“Go home.”

“I’ve slept in the car lots of times.”

“I didn’t think private investigators were supposed to fall asleep when they were on surveillance.” Despite everything that had happened, she found a smile slowly spreading across her face and a warmth replacing the lingering chill of fear she thought she’d never lose.

“Nope. Not leaving. Go on in and go to bed. Lock up and just forget about me out here in the cold car. Don’t give me a second thought.” It appeared he meant what he said. He wasn’t going anywhere.

She let go a long, drawn-out sigh, mostly for his benefit.

“Okay, you can sleep on the couch. But don’t make me regret this.”

With a triumphant if not sleepy smile, he climbed out of the car, locked it, and followed her inside. Carly left him in the living room pulling off his shoes, and when she came back carrying a pillow and a blanket, he was trying to wedge himself into the cramped space on the couch.

She dropped the pillow and blanket on his stomach, turned out the light, and headed for her own room.

“Don’t worry about me here folded into this little space. Don’t give me a second thought.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” She couldn’t help but smile, thankful that he couldn’t see her face.

“Wanna bet?”

By the time she turned out her light and wearily crawled into bed, she was thankful she hadn’t taken him up on his bet. More than anything, she ached to be held the way she’d held Christopher, cuddled and comforted. She longed to hear that everything would be all right, that the worst was over, but a nagging little voice deep down inside wouldn’t let her believe anything of the sort.

She could hear Jake tossing and turning in the other room as he tried to make himself comfortable on the too-small sofa, and she was tempted to go to him, to invite him into her bed. Not because she’d forgotten what he’d done or how he’d lied, but because she longed for him to hold her, to pretend that things were the way they’d been before.

He’d stood by her all day and long into the night. He’d been there to keep her from falling apart at the seams while Chris was missing. The boys might still be missing if he hadn’t thought to look for them at his place.

Tossing back the covers, she climbed out of bed and headed back down the hall. Every nerve in her body was thrumming as she padded barefoot down the hall wearing nothing but a long T-shirt that covered her to her thighs. By the time she reached the hall door and could see Jake on the couch, she realized that he had fallen sound asleep.

She tiptoed close to the sofa. His dark lashes brushed his cheeks, his hands rested atop one another on his broad chest. She reached down and pulled up the blanket that had half fallen to the floor and then tucked it around his feet. Then, without thinking, before she went back to bed, she kissed him on the forehead, so gently that he didn’t even stir.

42

JAKE SLEPT UNTIL SEVEN THE NEXT MORNING WHEN BEAUTY nudged his hand with her cold nose. Groggy, he staggered to the door to let her out, walked out on the porch to make sure she didn’t run off, and waited while she did her business. When the dog ran back up on the porch, he thanked her for not taking a dump and then let her back inside.

He walked down the hall, looked in on Carly first. She was sound asleep, her eyelids puffy and showing the ravages of all the crying she’d done the day before. Tempted to crawl in beside her and hold her while she slept, he made do with walking over to her bedside, reaching down to run his fingers down her long hair and gently pulling it away from her cheek.

Beneath his fingertips, her skin was warm and tantalizing, but he forced himself to walk away. He left her door partially open and went to look in on Chris.

Like his mother, the boy was sound asleep, stretched out on his stomach, snoring softly. Jake refused to think of how last night might have ended, or how they might still be searching today and tomorrow and beyond.

He went back into the living room, put on his shoes, and left the house, headed for Sweetie’s and a very tall, very dark cup of coffee.

Outside at a café table, he called Kat.

“It’s about time,” she groused when she heard his voice.

“You sound pretty pissed off for so early in the morning.”

“I gave up calling you last night. Is your phone broken?”

“We were sort of in the middle of something up here . . .”

“I know. You look great on television, by the way.”

He groaned. “You saw it?”

“I always watch the eleven o’clock edition of Eyewitness News. They save the goriest, most titillating stories for late night. Anna Saunders tuned in, too. She called about a dozen times,
demanding
Carly’s phone number.”

“You didn’t give it to her, did you?”

“What do you take me for? Of course not. She gave up after a couple of hours. Everything all right with the kids?”

“They’re fine.”

“Thank God. What about The Obsession?”

He ran his hand over the stubble on his jaw.

“Her name is Carly. She’s been better.” He heard the office call waiting cut in. “You want to get that?”

“They’ll call back. Our phone’s been ringing off the hook. Your little thirty-second interview made one hell of a commercial. Quite a few suspicious wives want you to personally handle their . . . cases.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m not joking. You looked
very
good on television. Better than in real life.”

“Someone, either Anna Saunders’ lawyer or Anna herself notified the Twilight Police about the guardianship petition. Child Protective Services interviewed Christopher.”

“I heard that on the early morning news when they did a follow-up to last night’s story. I noticed they didn’t get another interview out of you or Carly, though. Is it true that you found the boys?”

Jake groaned. “The kids ended up at my place. If I’d been thinking straight I would have figured it out sooner and saved a lot of time and misery.”

“You haven’t been thinking straight for a few weeks now. That’s what happens when your heart gets in the way. Your head stops working. The good news is the kids are safe.”

“The bad news is, Anna’s lawyer has more ammo to use against Carly.”

“Such as?”

“Neglect. Child endangerment. They’re bound to argue Chris must have been unsupervised in order for him to run off.”

“Child Protective Services didn’t hold him last night,” she reminded him.

“No, but I can’t see a lawyer dropping something like this.” He fell silent for a few seconds.

“I hear you thinking,” she said.

“I am. As long as I’ve got my computer with me, I’m going to see what I can dig up on Anna Saunders.”

“Bingo.” Kat’s chuckle sounded downright evil.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’ve been wondering when you were going to think of it. I’m already one step ahead of you.”

Anna’s cell phone rang while she was seated in her beautician’s chair about to have a color treatment rinsed.

She hadn’t slept all night, but she never canceled if she could help it. It was almost impossible to get another appointment.

“Would you hand me that, Trina?” Anna pointed to her purse, hoping the girl moved fast enough to grab the phone before the voice mail went on.

“Hello?” Anna signaled the beautician to turn down the stereo. She never knew why the shop played such hideous rock music anyway when half of the clientele was over fifty.

“Anna, this is Art Litton. Do you have a few minutes?”

“A few, Art, but—”

When she heard his voice, she wished she hadn’t picked up. The lawyer had been calling her every two hours with updates since last night. His excitement, combined with the perverse amount of pleasure he was getting from gaining the upper hand irritated her as much as her own conscience.

“I contacted a friend in Child Protective Services and pulled some strings to see if we could get our hands on any information before the preliminary hearing. It wasn’t easy.”

“But you got it.” She knew it wouldn’t be cheap, either. Her heart started pounding the way it had done off and on since she’d seen the first news report last night.

Thank you, God, for keeping Christopher safe.

“Anna?”

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“I said I don’t want you worrying, but we’re up against a small-town mentality here. As of noon today nearly everyone but the mayor of Twilight Cove called Child Protective Services
volunteering
interviews on Carly Nolan’s behalf. She may come off looking like Mother Teresa.”

Even after her initial shock began to wane once Christopher was safe, her hands still shook whenever she thought about how close she’d come to losing him for good, the way she’d lost Rick. Anxiety caused her heart to pound.

On the other end of the line, Litton was going on and on. Anna tried to focus.

“. . . they have a statement from Jake Montgomery on record that attests to Ms. Nolan’s conscientious care and deep concern for the boy. Montgomery has an outstanding reputation. He’s been an expert witness in countless cases, from forgery to embezzlement. It won’t be easy to discount his interview. Nor will it look good to have him on the other side since he was a friend of your son’s.”

“Of course he’s on her side. He’s slept with her.”

“No kidding!” His glee was almost tangible.

A pang of guilt hit Anna. “I really don’t know that for certain. It’s just a hunch.”

“If they have been intimate, that would certainly color his testimony, and we could get it thrown out.”

She heard him scribbling away. “I really have to go, Art.”

“I’m more confident than ever that things are going to go our way. We’re going to have that boy in Long Beach where he belongs before you know it.”

She went perfectly still as an image came to mind of Christopher hanging on the railing above Twilight Cove.

I just saw a dolphin jump. They go like this . . .

We have a beach by our house.

“With all of the support she’s getting, Carly Nolan is going to come off as hardworking, devoted single mother, isn’t she?” It wasn’t as far from the truth as what Anna once thought. She pictured the shaken but determined young woman she’d met on Sunday. The mother Christopher obviously adored.

“Maybe not after I get to the bottom of the boy’s running away. Don’t you get discouraged,” he urged. “Think of Charles.”

She had been thinking of Charles, which was the reason Anna thought that she was having such a hard time meeting her own eyes in the beautician’s mirror. She saw Trina hovering behind her, anxious to rinse out her hair.

“You didn’t by any chance learn
why
Christopher ran away did you?”

“The official report said there was a misunderstanding over something his mother said about them having to move. The idea upset him so much he took off, and his best friend went with him. If we can prove she was going to flee again and skip out on the petition hearing, we’ve got her.”

Another knot tied itself off in Anna’s stomach. If Christopher had been so upset by the prospect of moving somewhere
with
Carly, what would happen if he were forced to move to Long Beach without her?

As if he sensed doubt in her silence, Art Litton said, “We all knew this wouldn’t be pretty or easy, Anna. You have to stay strong.”

“It’s all a lot more complicated than I thought it would be.”

“It’s what Charles wanted.”

What about what I want?

She wished she knew exactly what it was that she
did
want.

Dealing with the reality of Carly and Christopher, having met them, actually having held her grandson, had put things on an emotional level, one that left her with more doubt than certainty. Jake Montgomery had known exactly what he was doing when he had talked her into going to Twilight Cove.

“Let me take you out to dinner tonight. We can talk this over at length. I’m confident that we can still win. Hey, what
happy
child runs away from home?”

Dinner with Art Litton hammering case points over and over was the
last
thing she needed after getting virtually no sleep last night.

“I’m sorry. I’m tied up this evening.” She rubbed her forehead between her brows and sighed, wished she’d stayed home and tried to nap. “Art, what happens if we lose?”

“What do you mean?”

“If the judge doesn’t grant the petition for guardianship. What will happen then?”

“We’ll take some time to regroup, wait for her to trip up, gather more information, file all over again.”

The only one who would win in that case would be Art Litton himself. How eager would Carly Nolan be to let her see Christopher once the hearing was over? She knew exactly how she would feel if she was in the young woman’s place.

“Anna? Anna are you there?”

“I’m here, Arthur.” She waved Trina back over to the chair. The girl wrapped a fresh towel above the black smock over her clothes. “I’ll have to call you back. I’m at the hairdressers, and if I don’t get the color rinsed out of my hair, I’ll be sitting in the courtroom bald.”

Carly took Monday and Tuesday off and kept Chris home from school Tuesday. Wednesday morning she woke up to a rainy day that started off bad and threatened to spiral into awful.

Chris started whining that he didn’t want to go to school and took thirty minutes to dress. After coercing him into his clothes, she had to stand over him to be certain he ate a bowl of cereal and a piece of toast, then handed him lunch money and prodded him out the front door.

Betty Ford’s right front tire was flat as a pancake, so Carly hauled Christopher back into the house before he found every puddle on the street, and she called Selma to say she’d be late. She then dialed up Arlo Carter to see if he could come up and help her change her tire.

By the time Arlo got there, she was soaked, but she had the tire off the car. He jumped out of the high cab of a tow truck covered with surfboard logo stickers. I Live to Surf was emblazoned on his license plate holder. She decided that he had gone to bed covered in grease. It was only eight in the morning, and there wasn’t a spot on his hands, arms, or face that wasn’t already smeared.

“Hi, Carly. Cool. You got the tire off. Step aside, and I’ll finish this up for you.” Oblivious of the rain, he walked to the back of the wagon and pulled out her spare and then examined the flat.

“Looks like you ran over a nail.” He pointed to it with a greasy finger. “When you called, I was kinda worried you were gonna tell me that new alternator went out.”

“What new alternator?”

“Aw, man.”

“What’s the matter?”

He shook his head. “I just went and opened my big mouth, and I promised him I wouldn’t say nothing.”

“Promised who?”

“That dude from down south. Montgomery. Last month when he had your car towed in? He stopped by to see what was wrong with it. I, like, told him you needed a new alternator, and he had me charge all but twenty-five to him. He told me to tell you that the car only needed a spark plug.” He laughed through his nose.

Feeling about as lusterless as the faded white finish on Betty Ford, she shoved her wet hair back and glared at the hood of the car.

Jake had paid for a new alternator for her and hadn’t said a word about it.

“Well, hey, that’s done.” Arlo spun the last lug nut into place, stood up and hefted the old tire. “I’ll take this one into the shop and plug it for you. I’ll call and let you know when you can come in, and I’ll switch them.”

Still shaken by what Jake had done, she managed, “Great, thanks, Arlo.”

She towel-dried her hair, changed clothes, and loaded Chris back into the car, but not without another argument.

“What’s wrong, Chris? I thought you were looking forward to hot dog day, and besides, the mobile science lab is here, and you always like that.”

He shrugged, stared out over the lower edge of the window.

“Come on. Talk to me, kiddo.”

“I’m afraid Matt’s not gonna be there, and all the kids will be looking at me weird because . . . of what happened.”

“Matt will be there. I talked to his mother yesterday to make sure. If anybody teases you, just ignore them.”

“Aw, Mom. That’s impossible. I’ll still hear them, and it will make me sick at my stomach.”

She knew that better than he did, but was short on any better advice this morning. When they drove up in front of Twilight Elementary, she kept the engine running. Reaching across him, she lifted his door handle and let the door swing wide.

“Have a good day, honey.” She kept it light, as if things were fine. “And
run
to the door so you won’t get all wet. I’ll be right here to pick you up.”

If they were handing out Golden Globes in Twilight for Best Actress in a Drama performance, she certainly deserved a nomination.

When she finally walked into the diner at nine, Geoff was in hushed conversation with Selma in a window booth. When they saw her they stopped talking. Selma waved her over.