Missing (35 page)

 
Charlie was immediately taken with her gentle manner and sweet voice, but he couldn't help thinking of Margie.

 
When he turned around, Wes saw it on his face.

 
"Ally settled the pain," he said.

 
Charlie nodded, remembering Wes's condition when he'd left him. Looking at him now, he'd find it difficult to imagine him as anything but a man in control. He eyed Ally with new respect.

 
"You must be something special."

 
"What I am right now is a mess," Ally said.

 
"We got caught in the fire on the mountain," Wes explained. "Came too damned close to not making it out. Her father is in the hospital. Her brothers' whereabouts are as yet unknown."

 
Charlie's expression changed. He'd had no idea that the situation in Blue Creek had been so serious.

 
"Forgive me," he said. "I had no idea. I was just so focused on finding Wes that.

 
"It's not your fault," Ally said. "You were justifiably happy to see Wes. I know the feeling. Seeing him strikes me the same way."

 
Charlie grinned. "Whoa, honey, you've got it bad, don't you?"

 
Ally looked up at Wes, then sighed. "Actually, it's just the opposite. I've got it good."

 
"You win," Charlie said. "Now tell me, Wes, what's the deal with the CDC and the DEA all over the place out there?"

 
"In a nutshell...there's a chance that a local 'mad scientist' has created some new form of bioterrorism, or just some drug that makes things go crazy."

 
Charlie's mouth dropped. "Here?"

 
"Up on the mountain," Wes said.

 
Before Charlie could question them further, the telephone rang. Ally was sitting right beside it. She answered on the second ring.

 
"Hello."

 
"Miss Monroe...this is Agent Hurley. Is Wes Holden there?"

 
"Yes. Just a minute please." She held up the phone. "Wes, it's Agent Hurley for you."

 
"Who's Hurley?" Charlie whispered as Wes took the phone.

 
"DEA," Ally said.

 
"This is Holden," Wes said. "What's up?"

 
"I'm asking you not to react visibly as I speak. I think it would be better if you didn't indicate to Miss Monroe in any way that we have some serious news regarding her brothers."

 
Wes felt as if he'd been sideswiped. He'd hoped against hope that they would have good news, but this didn't sound like it. Still, like Hurley, he didn't want Ally to suffer needlessly.

 
"Oh. I see. So what do you think?" Wes asked.

 
"I don't think. I know. We have a situation, and the sooner you get here, the better."

 
Wes nodded and smiled, then turned to Ally and winked, as if nothing was amiss.

 
"Sure. I can do that. Are you sending a car?"

 
"There's one already waiting. Oh...and don't worry about contaminants. We'll take care of that when you get here."

 
"Okay. See you shortly."

 
Then he hung up the phone and turned to Ally.

 
"Honey, I'm afraid shopping for new clothes is going to have to wait."

 
"Is it something about my brothers?" she asked.

 
He frowned, as if considering the conversation he'd just had, and felt horrible for lying.

 
"No. At least, I don't think so. Hurley didn't mention them by name. He wants to go over some of the details of my run-in with Storm again. I hate to leave you, but I shouldn't be long."

 
"I want to go with you," she said.

 
He looked at her foot and then frowned.

 
"You're in no shape for that, and you know it. You can't even wear a shoe, and with all those unhealed cuts and scratches, I don't think you should be anywhere around all that soot and debris. But if you don't want to stay here in the motel by yourself, I could take you to Granny Devon's niece."

 
Ally frowned. She didn't like the idea of being left behind, but she also didn't want to visit and chitchat when her world was coming apart.

 
"If you'll bring me a bucket of ice and a cold pop from the machine outside, I think I'd rather just stay here," she said. "I can watch TV and maybe catch up on the sleep I didn't get in the hospital last night."

 
"Good girl," Wes said. "I shouldn't be gone too long, and if I'm delayed, I'll call."

 
"I'll get the ice and pop," Charlie offered. "What's your poison?"

 
Ally grinned. "Anything brown. I'm not a big fan of the lemony-lime tastes."

 
Charlie hurried to run the errand as Wes kissed her goodbye, then, when he would have walked away, turned and kissed her again. Ally sighed with contentment. Despite having lost her home, if there could be good news about her brothers, she would consider her life about perfect. "Wes?"

 
"What, honey?"

 
"You promise to let me know immediately if there's news?"

 
"Yes."

 
"Good or bad...still want to know."

 
"It's a promise."

 
Charlie returned with two Cokes, a bucket of ice and three candy bars.

 
"Three?" Ally asked, as he dumped a Snickers bar, a Milky Way bar and a Butterfinger in her lap.

 
"Better too many than not enough," he said.

 
Ally grinned. "Bringing a woman chocolate in bed is dangerous stuff."

 
Wes grabbed Charlie by the arm. "Let's go before I have to fight you for my woman."

 
Laughter followed the two men out of the room. Ally settled back against the pillows with a cold can of pop and reached for the remote. After she'd chosen a station, she laid the remote aside and picked up the Milky Way.

 
"He called me his woman," she said, and then stifled a giggle. "I think this calls for a celebration." She tore the wrapper from the candy bar and took a big bite as The Price Is Right came back on air after a commercial and Bob Barker called for another contestant to "Come on down."

 
Once outside, Wes's demeanor changed. Charlie frowned.

 
"Something's wrong, isn't it?" he asked.

 
"Maybe," Wes said.

 
"I'm going with you."

 
"Then get in," Wes said, pointing to the van that was waiting near the office.

 
As they drove through Blue Creek, Charlie talked, and Wes mostly just listened. Everything Charlie was talking about was no longer as pertinent to Wes's world as it had once been. The politics of the military and war were understood best by those who'd lived it, and while he understood that life, he wanted no more of it. But there were things Charlie could tell him that he desperately wanted to know. He knew nothing of the days after the bombing, things that he needed to know.

 
As the driver crossed the bridge over Blue Creek, the planks rattled beneath the tires, and once again the sound reminded Wes of machine-gun fire. Unconsciously, his fingers curled around the edges of the seat as sweat broke out across his forehead. He made himself focus on the black burn scar on the mountain.

 
Charlie didn't know what had just happened, but he saw the change in Wes's expression and knew he was in trouble.

 
"Wes?"

 
Wes's gaze was fixed, his senses tuning out everything as images of the past threatened his hold on the present.

 
Charlie frowned, grabbing Wes's arm.

 
"Wes! Hey! Where did you go?"

 
Wes flinched, then shuddered as Charlie's insistence finally soaked through. He blinked, then took a slow, deep breath as he turned his gaze to his friend.

 
"What did you say?"

 
Charlie groaned. "Man, you're still battling it, aren't you?"

 
Wes had to think about what Charlie meant before he could answer.

 
"You mean the flashbacks? Hell, yes."

 
Suddenly all the crap Charlie had been rattling on about seemed trivial.

 
"I'm sorry, buddy. It's just that you looked so good standing there in that motel room that I forgot looks can be deceiving."

 
Wes shrugged. "It's all right. Mostly I do okay, but once in a while, something will trigger a memory and I lose it."

 
"Do you remember much about being taken prisoner?"

 
Wes's lips thinned as he looked away. "Enough."

 
"Sorry. End of questions, okay?"

 
"I've got some for you," Wes said.

 
"Shoot," Charlie said, and then grinned. "Sorry, poor choice of words."

 
"Where did they bury Margie and Michael?"

 
Again Charlie felt like a heel. He kept making jokes, and Wes kept breaking his heart.

 
"Margie's parents claimed the bodies. They buried them in the family plot in Savannah," Charlie said.

 
Wes thought it obscene that the only way to refer to his wife and child was in the past tense.

 
"That's good. Margie would have liked that," he said, and swallowed past the knot in his throat. "Did you go...? To the services, I mean."

 
"Yes."

 
"Thank you," Wes said, as the knot continued to tighten. "It's been over a year, and that had been bothering me...not knowing where—" Suddenly he stopped talking and shoved his hands through his hair to keep from hitting the back of the seat with his fist. God, but he hated this feeling of being out of control.

 
"So tell me about Ally," Charlie said. "She's really different.... From Margie, I mean."

 
"She makes me feel."

 
Charlie frowned. "Feel what, buddy?"

 
Wes looked at Charlie, surprised that he didn't understand.

 
"Anything...everything. There was a time when I couldn't" Then he changed the subject as they drove past the Monroe property. "That's where she and her family used to live."

 
The only things left were the concrete foundation and the steps that had led up to the porch. The rest was a pile of charred and smoking embers.

 
"Damn shame," Charlie said.

 
A couple of miles later, Wes realized that Uncle Dooley's house was still standing, but only because the walls were concrete and the roof was metal. The vines were all gone, but they would grow back. Ally would be glad to know the little house had survived.

 
"That's where I was living," Wes said, pointing to the little house.

 
Charlie smiled. "Sort of looks like a toadstool."

 
"It belonged to Ally's uncle, Dooley Brown. I'm thinking that he had a pretty good sense of humor."

 
"How so?" Charlie asked.

 
“Take a look at the house. What does it remind you of?"

 
Charlie glanced over his shoulder for one last look as they passed it by.

 
"Oh...I don't know...sort of like something from a Disney movie, or some miniature silo."

 
"Dooley Brown was a dwarf."

 
"You're kidding me."

 
"No. First two nights I stayed in that house, I kept bumping my chin on my knees when I tried to get out of bed. Everything is normal-size, but lower to the ground."

 
Charlie just shook his head. "Yeah, I get what you mean about the sense of humor."

 
At that point, the transmission in the van began to pull as the grade steepened.

 
"Heck of a long way up here," Charlie said.

 
"Not far enough," Wes said, as he thought of the evil and destruction Roland Storm had wrought.

 
When they finally reached the end of the road, it became obvious where the fire had started.

 
Storm's house was gone, as were the drying sheds and the barn. The field was a mass of charred stalks, with a burned-out tractor and trailer in the middle, like a bad metal sculpture on a plot of destruction.

 
"Lord...this looks like a war zone," Charlie muttered.

 
Wes got out without commenting. There was little to be added to the truth. Then he saw Hurley coming and braced himself for bad news.

 
"Mr. Holden, thank you for coming," Hurley said.

 
"This is my friend, Colonel Charlie Frame," Wes said, then frowned when he realized the DEA were in regular clothes. "No spook suits?" he asked, referring to the containment clothing the CDC often wore in zones hot with infectious diseases.

 
"Shero says it's not necessary. His people have only dressed out because they're taking samples all over the place. He also told us not to touch anything, which makes investigations hell."

 
"Then why am I here?" Wes asked.

 
Hurley pointed to Shero, who was sitting on the bumper of a van, reading what appeared to be a small book.

 
“To talk to him."

 
Wes walked over to the doctor.

 
"Must be a bestseller," he said.