Since You've Been Gone (42 page)

But it wasn't. And now the awful news had to be broken to Molly. They couldn't even rely on Bill for this one because they'd kept the whole thing a secret from him, which would enrage him. God, what a mess.

Rebecca decided to talk with her mother. Certainly Frank had already told her. She was probably as upset as
Rebecca. She pulled on a robe and went to her mother's room.

She entered without knocking and found Suzanne lying half out of the bed, her mouth open, a spilled bottle of wine beside her on the floor. Rebecca couldn't believe it. Her mother had been so together yesterday and the previous evening, so in control. And now here she lay, dead drunk, oblivious. What had happened to all her good intentions? What had happened to her knowledge that everyone needed her, especially Molly?

Rebecca was suddenly furious, strode to the bed, and shook her mother hard. “Wake up,” she said sharply. “Wake up, damn it. There's bad news.”

Suzanne's mouth worked and she mumbled, but she did not open her eyes. Rebecca picked up the wine bottle, set it on the bedside table, then hauled her mother back into the bed. Her face was slack, wine staining the front of her nightgown. “Mother, open your eyes!” Rebecca commanded. “How could you do this? Last night was
so
important. Too important for you to face sober? Is that it? I said to open your
eyes!

“Beck, where Jonnie?” Suzanne slurred. “Find Jonnie?”

“Jonnie is dead,” Rebecca said brutally. “And now Todd will probably die, too. No one picked up the ransom money. Do you hear me?”

“Tryin'. Can't think.”

“Open your
eyes.”

“Can't. Don't know what's wrong.”

“You're drunk, that's what's wrong. Mother, I am so angry with you I could …” Rebecca sat down on the bed. “I've never seen you this drunk. What set you off?”

Suzanne moved her head on the pillows. “Don't know. No dinner. Waiting. Music. Then don't ‘member. Sorry. So sorry. But don't 'member.”

“Wonderful. You're a great help, as usual.” Rebecca looked at her mother in disgust and confusion. “Never mind. Just lie here and sober up. Leave everything to Frank as usual. He's the one who has to tell Molly no one picked
up the ransom and we still don't know where Todd is.”

“Oh God,” Suzanne mumbled. “Oh God. Want to help.”

“Well, you've seen to it that you can't. Have a lovely day, Mother,” Rebecca snarled, then flung out of the room.

But for all her anger, she was deeply hurt. She'd been so encouraged, so proud of her mother yesterday. The woman had suffered two terrible blows—the death of her husband and her son. Then she'd indulged in a weakness Rebecca knew nothing about. After all, alcoholism was a disease. She knew that. But Suzanne had seemed so sincere about trying to crawl out of the well. And last night, such an important night, she'd crawled in again. How could she?

Rebecca went downstairs for coffee. Betty said, “Mr. Hardison told me he was going to see Miss Molly. He didn't say about what, but I could tell it wasn't good news. Do you know anything about Todd?”

She couldn't tell Betty about the ransom drop. She had to tell Bill first. And without explaining about the failed drop, she couldn't explain how hopeless things looked for Todd. “I know he's alive. I also know he's sick,” she said truthfully.

Betty's hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, lordy. Poor little mite.”

“Betty, you didn't come over last night, did you?”

“No. Your mother sent me to our apartment early—said I looked tired. Why? Is there somethin' I should've done?”

“No. It's just Mother. She is
so
drunk.”

Betty's eyes widened. “What? After her doin' so much better?”

“I know. I'm baffled because she's much drunker than usual. She must have gone on a real bender last night.”

“Well, she's mighty upset over Todd. Still…”

“I just wondered what could have sent her off the deep end like this.”

“I have no idea, honey. Things just seem to get worse and worse around here.”

That was an understatement, Rebecca thought as she showered and dressed. A week ago she'd been on her way
to Sinclair. Now she felt as if she'd always been here and the trouble had never stopped. Maybe her presence had made things worse. They certainly hadn't made things better.

Which was why she did not want to go to Molly's. Molly already resented her for not being of more help with Todd. Frank had devastating news to deliver. What would Rebecca's presence do, except underscore her failure in Molly's eyes as well as her own? No, for both their sakes she would stay home. Hopefully by now Clay had given Molly a sedative and she was asleep under Esther's loving care. Thank goodness Jean Wright wasn't still around interfering. As far as she knew, the woman had never returned.

Clay called about fifteen minutes later. “I'm back at the hospital recovering.”

“Then things were bad with Molly?”

“My God, Rebecca, I've never seen such emotional pain. It would have been better if she'd screamed and railed. But she just stared. She just
left,
went somewhere deep inside and didn't say a word. I gave her a sedative.”

“Do you think she'll come out of this or go comatose?”

“People rarely go into comas because of shock. She'll come out. Then what will happen I don't know. She'll certainly need psychiatric help.”

“Oh, Clay, listen to us. We're talking like Todd is dead.”

“Rebecca,” he said hesitantly, “if he
does
have appendicitis and we can't find him today …”

“I know. If only things had been different. If only Larry had been able to pick up that ransom money.”

“Larry?”

“Yes. Frank thinks he was the kidnapper and never picked up the money because he was killed first.”

“Hmmm. Well, I guess it's as good a theory as any. It's just that all this seems out of character for Larry.”

“Why? Because he's such a fine fellow?”

“No, because he's such an impatient fellow. This kidnapper waited days to demand ransom. We don't know why, but whatever the reason, I have trouble imagining
Larry looking after a kid for almost a week before asking for money. Larry wants everything and he wants it
now.
At least he used to. And he ran a bigger risk of getting caught, trying to stash the child for so long. It just doesn't make sense.” He sighed. “But what do I know?”

“You knew Larry a lot better than Frank and I did.” Rebecca paused. “If
Larry did
take Todd, do you think Lynn knew?”

“If she knew where Todd was being held, she would have gotten him back to the family. She's not a likable person, but she's no Larry. And she wouldn't want this scheme to backfire on her brother. She wouldn't give Larry away, but she'd put a stop to this hideous plan if she could. So I'd say if Larry took Todd she either didn't know, or she didn't know where Todd was.”

“Wait until she hears Larry was murdered. Maybe you should stop by Doug's and sedate her, too.”

“Angel that I am, I thought about that. I called, but no one's answering the phone there. They could be with the police; or if she's hysterical, Doug probably took her to the emergency room.”

“I have trouble seeing Lynn as hysterical. I guess Frank is on his way home.”

“He should be. He doesn't look too good. Oh, not bad,” Clay said quickly. “Just tired. But he won't be home for a while. Esther didn't want to leave Molly, so she asked Frank to go out to the nursery and pick up some things for her since she'll be staying a few more days. She made a list. Frank told me he was glad to be going. He said the nursery needed some work—something about the pond needing dredging and the house needing a new roof—but Esther would never let him contribute a cent to the place. He said he's going to take the opportunity to look things over, get some crews out there on Monday to make financial estimates, and hopefully have the work completed by the time Esther gets home.”

“The place does need work,” Rebecca said. “I noticed last Sunday that the pond is in awful shape. It used to be
beautiful. The whole place was. Frank grew up there, you know. Or rather, his father's brother and Esther took him in when he was a boy after his parents were killed. Jonnie and Doug and I always loved the nursery. I'm sure Frank does, too.”

“Well, he sure wants to keep it in good condition. And Esther is a fireball. I'll bet you'll be just like her when you're in your seventies.”

“I hope,” Rebecca said vaguely, thinking of her mother. Good Lord, what if she turned out like Suzanne?

“What are your plans for the day?”

“To hang around here and see if I'm needed. And you?”

“Back to the hospital. They're going to kick me out if I keep taking time off.”

“In spite of all that charm you keep telling me about?”

“You still haven't noticed it. I'll have to try harder.”

No, you won't, Rebecca thought. His charm was already almost more than she could resist. But romance had never worked out for her. Eventually her “gift” became too much for men to handle, especially when they decided she could read their minds, which she'd never been able to do. Besides, Clay's life was in Sinclair, and she could never live in Sinclair again, especially if they lost Todd.

“Thought any more about my father's birthday party tomorrow?” Clay asked.

“I really think it's a family affair,” Rebecca said, her thoughts making her sound crisper than she meant to. “And I wasn't invited by your mother.”

“I'll have her call.”

“No. Please. I don't mean to be rude, but I can't go to a party tomorrow.”

“I understand.” Clay sounded somewhat chastened. “I should have thought of how you'd feel. I'll talk with you later, okay?”

“Yes. Fine. Good-bye, Clay.”

She hung up feeling miserable. “The Ice Princess emergeth,” she said aloud, baffled at herself. She cared about Clay. She more than cared about Clay. And she'd brushed
him off like he was a pesky salesman. After all he'd done for her. In spite of all she felt. She'd have to apologize. But what would she say? “Sorry. I'm crazy about you, but you scare me to death. So go away and leave me to my loneliness.”

“Oh hell,” she said aloud. She hadn't noticed Sean sitting by her feet. He looked up at her and cocked his head. “You heard me. Hell. Romance is a pain.”

Rebecca wandered restlessly around the house for about twenty minutes. Then she thought of Clay saying Frank didn't look well; yet he was walking around Esther's ten acres of land in the heat. She wasn't sure if any staff was working today. If Frank had another cardiac incident, he would be alone.

She attached Sean's leash. “Ready for a trip back to the nursery?” She found Betty in the kitchen. “Frank has gone out to Esther's. I think I'll go out, too, and make sure he's all right. Would you check on Mother from time to time? She's really in bad shape. I want to not give a damn, but I'm worried.”

Betty smiled. “Sure you give a
darn.
She's your mother and you love her. But don't fret. I'll look after her,” she said. “And you look after Mr. Hardison. We don't want any more upsets in this family.”

Rebecca left off the air conditioner and rolled down the car windows. Sean stuck out his head, letting his hair blow and his ears flap as he sported a dopey, happy smile. Rebecca wished she felt like smiling, but all she could think of was Todd. Was he dying, alone and scared? Or was he already dead? She shuddered, remembering his merry cinnamon-colored eyes, the giggle that seemed to come from the depths of his being, his endless curiosity, his delight with life. No matter what happened, Esther's deep faith let her believe that there was a reason for everything. Rebecca wished she could believe that, too. But she couldn't. What possible reason could there be for depriving a pure and happy spirit like Todd from all the years of life ahead of him?

She'd been so lost in thought she almost missed the turn into Whispering Willows Nursery. The Thunderbird kicked up dust in spite of the recent rains, which hadn't had much effect after the long dry spell. Ahead loomed the huge white house and in front sat Frank's Mercedes.

Rebecca parked in front of the house. As she passed Frank's car, she noticed the parking lights were on. He must have accidentally pulled the knob, she thought. She opened the car door and bent in, looking at the dash. She felt as if she were in the cockpit of a jet. How many extras did this car have? While she peered at various knobs, buttons, and controls, Sean leaped by her and settled on the passenger's seat. “We are not going for a ride in this car,” she told him absently. “And don't get any nose prints on the window. Frank will kill me.”

She continued to peruse the dash. Sean sat impatiently for a moment, then leaped into the backseat. When at last she found the correct control for the lights, he was snuffling in a plaid wool blanket. “Stop that!” Rebecca ordered. But Sean continued to sniff, then tried to drag the blanket into the front seat. “What's the matter with you? Your favorite old acrylic blanket not good enough anymore? Got to have virgin wool? You are one spoiled boy.”

She forced him to drop the blanket, earning her a glare from the brown and blue eyes, and dragged him from the car. “We'll stop at McDonald's on the way home and I'll get you a hamburger to make it up to you, okay?” Sean continued to glare. “All right, a Quarter Pounder with cheese. And a sundae. Then you can have indigestion tonight but be triumphant that you proved who's boss. Or are you just in love with the Mercedes? Got news for you, boy—we can't afford one. Now come on.”

Sean dragged as they climbed the verandah steps. The front door was unlocked and Rebecca walked into the coolness of the hall. “Frank?” she called. No answer. But she saw a shopping bag sitting by the door. She riffled through it, finding underwear, jeans, a new toothbrush, a copy of
Gone With the Wind.
When the phone on the hall desk rang,
Rebecca jumped like a thief for pawing through Esther's possessions. She picked up the receiver.