Since You've Been Gone (8 page)

Rebecca pulled up in front of the house and, knowing no one would be inside on this beautiful day, led Sean around back. Esther emerged from one of the greenhouses, immediately spotted Rebecca, and rushed to her, hugging her fiercely. “No one told me you were coming!” She leaned back and frowned. “Sweetheart, I heard about your wreck.”

“First night home and I ran my car into a tree. I'm fine. I'm not so sure about the tree.”

“Trees can be replaced. So can cars. You, my girl, cannot.” Esther glanced down at the dog. “And this must be the temperamental Sean you've told about in your calls. He's beautiful, but we'll let him make up his own mind about me.”

“I think you'll be on the acceptable list.”

Rebecca looked at Esther closely. She'd feared the woman would look ill, debilitated, but she seemed just the same as she swept off her straw hat to reveal curly, shoulder-length silver hair that had never seen the inside of a styling salon. She had a weathered face, but her bright blue eyes belied her 75 years. Her tall body was slim as a girl's; she wore jeans, a loose checked shirt, running shoes, and an ever-present tiny gold cross on a chain around her neck. “Frank didn't call me about Todd until this morning,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “I can't believe it! I wanted to go to Molly's, but when I called, Bill told me to stay away for now.”

“You and me both. I guess it's a madhouse of reporters and sightseers around Molly's.”

“Disgraceful!” Esther swiped at a tear that had run down her cheeks, then frowned. “But Todd was taken only last night. You couldn't have gotten here so quickly even if they'd told you immediately.”

“I… I…” Rebecca, the writer of fiction, went blank. “It was just a coincidence that I came home at the same time.”

“Oh phooey, Rebecca Ryan! Molly spilled the beans about my cancer. Oh, don't gear up for a big denial. I see it in your eyes. But don't you worry about me. I'm going to be fine. I'll be running this nursery twenty years from now. I'm just burned up that I have lung cancer when I've never smoked a cigarette in my life!”

“Oh, Aunt Esther, you're wonderful!” Rebecca laughed as she hugged the woman again. “I should have known your spirits wouldn't flag. They never do.”

“Thinking the worst doesn't accomplish anything except to make you too depressed and upset to help yourself. And that's what we all have to do. Help ourselves—and others, of course. You came here to see about me and now it turns out you're here just in time to help Molly.”

“Oh, I don't know, Aunt Esther. I certainly wasn't much help to Jonnie.”

“I've always believed that was because you were too close to the situation. The tie between you and Jonnie jumbled up your ESP—not that I really understand the whole concept, and not that I don't have more than a little trouble accepting that such a thing can exist. But I saw it work too many times to doubt it anymore. And I do believe that God works in mysterious ways, even through something like ESP.”

“I wish everyone were as levelheaded as you about the phenomenon. Some completely doubt it, some think it's the work of the devil.”

“When that Tanner man was killed, you saved an innocent man from being punished for murder. I don't call that the devil's work, and I dare anyone to say it is!”

Rebecca had always loved Esther's spunk, her general acceptance of life and all its joys as well as vicissitudes. She only wished her own mother had some of Esther's spirit. “Come inside,” Esther said. “I made a fresh batch of lemonade and some gingersnaps this morning.”

Esther always had lemonade and gingersnaps when Jonnie and Rebecca visited and the children stuffed themselves. Esther loved and understood children. When she was young, she had taught grade school for years and had been a great favorite among the children for her patience and sense of humor.

Half an hour later one of Esther's employees came to the door to tell her about a problem. Esther turned to Rebecca. I have a lot of loose ends to tie up before I go to the hospital. I'll hurry.”

“Take your time,” Rebecca said. “I'll walk Sean around the grounds. I haven't seen them for a long time.”

Rebecca hoped Esther didn't see how often Sean lifted his leg as they hurried past the two greenhouses and back toward the pond. It hadn't been dredged for a few years and water lilies grew on its surface. Rebecca remembered her and Jonnie's delight and the sound of spring peepers in the evenings as they ran around catching fireflies in jars, then freeing them after they'd seen who'd caught the most. Now, large dragonflies hovered over the pond and tall cattails and sedge edged the murky water. Rebecca wondered if Esther had not dredged the pond because her funds were low. She had always refused to take money from Frank, but it was a shame to let this beautiful spot slip into neglect because she was too proud to accept a little help from relatives.

She turned Sean's leash loose, knowing he wasn't fond of water and wouldn't jump into the scummy pond. Instead he ran aimlessly for a couple of minutes, then headed toward the log cabin about fifty yards from the pond. Rebecca followed him, recalling how the cabin had intrigued her, Jonnie, Doug, and Molly. Built around 1770, it had sheltered
one of the first families in the area, a couple named Leland who farmed the land and reared three children to adulthood and lost two more to smallpox.

Rebecca tried the cabin door although she knew it would be locked. She peered in one of the windows that had replaced the greased paper used by the original Lelands. The inside was bare except for an old wooden table in the middle of the main room and a rocking chair in the nearest corner. Along one wall sat a stone fireplace and in the opposite corner was a built-in china cabinet. Rebecca doubted if the Lelands had had much fine china to display. Perhaps the cabinet had been built in anticipation of luxuries to come. A garden spider had constructed an impressive web between a juniper shrub and the door frame.

Rebecca turned away from the cabin. Sean bounded happily toward her, stood on his hind legs, and wrapped his forelegs around her waist. She bent to hug him and dropped a kiss on the top of his head, touched by his affection for her in spite of his general fear of humanity. He dropped down and headed for the pond, seemingly entranced by the few brave sunfish that remained. He dipped a paw in the water, then fastidiously drew it back.

The movement sparked a memory in Rebecca. She had been eleven and devastated when she'd awakened to find her hamster Melvin dead. Frank had brought her and Jonnie and their Irish setter Rusty to Esther's, knowing how much Rebecca loved the nursery. In spite of everyone's attempts to cheer her, though, Rebecca had continued to droop. Then Jonnie abruptly stripped off his T-shirt and jeans to reveal garish bathing trunks. He dived into the pond, displaying the aquatic acrobatics at which he'd excelled since age four while Rebecca remained unable to swim more than two feet without sinking straight to the bottom. In the midst of his showing off, 100 pounds of dog leaped in beside him, mistaking his whoops of delight for cries of despair. The two flailed until Rusty got a firm hold on Jonnie's arm and pulled him, protesting and gasping, through the weeds to the shore. While Jonnie lay helpless with giggles, Rusty
shook vigorously then looked around proudly at Rebecca, Esther, and Frank, clearly awaiting kudos for his bravery. Rebecca had bent double with laughter, the hamster temporarily forgotten.

Rebecca giggled at the memory. Jonnie had been trying to brighten her mood and he had, only not quite the way he'd intended. But he hadn't minded his own embarrassment as long as he'd made her laugh. He'd always wanted to entertain, to see people have fun. He'd possessed a basically kind, joyous, and expansive spirit….

A fish bobbed, sending ripples flashing in the sunlight, out and away, out and away, slighter and slighter…

The sun dulled. The sound of bees buzzing in a nearby clump of larkspur grew distant, inaudible. Rebecca no longer felt the heat of the day or the sting of perspiration running into the cuts on her forehead. She knew what was happening but she was powerless to stop it. This time she didn't
want
to stop it…

The room was chilly. His ankles and wrists were rubbed raw from chafing against their metal cuffs and his jaw ached from being forced open by a gag. His head throbbed. His chest felt tight. He was dully afraid.

His fear sharpened when he heard footsteps coming toward him. The rustle of clothing. The smell of sweat beneath something else. Cologne, old and tainted. He lay still, waiting. A hand grabbed his finger and bent it backward until he moaned. “They screwed up the ransom,” a voice rasped. “Your loving family wanted to make sure they didn't lose their money, so they brought cops in. FBI. They knew what would happen if they did that. They were warned.” The tormentor jerked the finger until the bone snapped and he screamed against his gag. “They signed your death warrant, Ryan …”

“Rebecca?” A voice floated languidly from far away. “Rebecca, you're walking into the water.” A hand clamped on her shoulder and pulled her backward. “Rebecca, stop!”

She heard Sean growl before he lunged and clamped on
someone's leg. There was a shout; Rebecca focused on Douglas's shocked face, and then she commanded, “Sean! Halt!” He clung to the leg and she kneeled, running her hands down his sides. “Sean, stop it,” she murmured. “Good boy.” He immediately loosened his bite.

Rebecca looked up at her stepbrother. “Doug, are you okay?”

He took two slow steps away from Sean and rolled up the right leg of his jeans. Just above the ankle was a shallow bite, blood barely showing in four spots. “Has he had his shots?”

“For every known dog ailment.”

“Then I'm fine. Thank goodness for heavy denim.”

“He's not a bad dog. He thought you were hurting me.”

“Relax.” Doug smiled. He had his father's black hair and hazel eyes, but not the patrician features. His nose was broader and his cheekbones less prominent. He was barely five-foot-nine and slightly stocky. In fact, in the last eight years he'd put on about 20 pounds, Rebecca noted. What in high school had been a “cute” face was now turning into a pudgy one. His dark hair was also receding from his forehead. Rebecca was surprised by the change in him.

“I was standing over there watching you look at the pond and suddenly your face went blank,” he told her. “Then you started walking into the water. It's dirty. Besides, I know you can't swim and there's a sharp drop about two feet past the bank.” He frowned at her. “You were saying ‘FBI.' You said it a couple of times. What did you mean?”

“I…I don't know.” She'd entered a mind that was hearing about a ransom drop that had failed because the FBI had been brought into the case. But there had been no ransom demand for Todd. The FBI was not involved. Her stomach clenched. Jonnie. For Jonnie there
had
been the FBI and ransom.

The truth hit Rebecca like a blow to the head. This vision wasn't about Todd—it was about Jonnie. A moment ago she'd glimpsed into the mind of someone who had been dead for over eight years.

Rebecca swayed and Douglas caught her. “What's wrong?” he demanded. “I heard about your car wreck. Are you dizzy? Let me carry you back to the house.”

“No, please, I'm fine,” Rebecca said thinly, knowing she'd never been less “fine” in her life. My God, she thought, all those years ago when Jonnie needed me, I saw nothing. Why now, when it doesn't matter anymore? What the hell kind of sick cosmic joke is this?

“Joke?” Doug asked. “What's a joke?”

Now she was speaking her thoughts aloud. Douglas had been her stepbrother for 16 years but she felt as if she barely knew him. She certainly didn't want him to know about the images flashing through her mind. “Maybe I
have
overdone it today.” Rebecca tried to sound calm. “I can walk back to the house, though. If you try to carry me, Sean will probably tear off your leg,” Impulsively she linked her arm through Doug's. “Walk with me.”

“Gladly.” He gave her a sideways glance. “I'm sure you know all about Todd. Have you ‘seen' anything?”

“No.” Rebecca would not discuss what she'd seen with anyone except Bill and Molly. She did not want gossip spreading, resulting in half the town looking at her as if she were an oracle and half looking at her as if she were a lunatic. She was already angry that she'd blurted out her first vision in front of Clay Bellamy, but that could not be helped now. Still, Doug had no right to probe her thoughts. He wasn't close to Molly or Rebecca. “I haven't been any help at all, which is why I am avoiding the subject of Todd,” she said firmly. “Tell me about your teaching.”

Doug looked taken aback by the rebuff, then reacted gracefully. “Well, I teach history to seventh graders. The students can be a handful, reaching adolescence and all that. And most of them aren't riveted by the subject.” He smiled. “If anyone had told me when I was in the seventh grade that I'd end up teaching history, I'd have laughed myself silly.”

“You weren't exactly the scholarly type.”

“Too busy picking fights, although I dreamed of being
a flashy cop. Then I started hating the police …”

“After Larry was shot by the police. Of course he wouldn't have been caught if it weren't for me, for which your wife will never forgive me.”

“Larry is Lynn's brother,” Doug said coolly. “Certainly you can understand how she feels, even if she isn't being fair. It's hard to be rational where family is concerned.”

Esther had spotted them walking slowly toward the house. She must also have noted the linked arms and interpreted the contact as a sign of something amiss.

“Rebecca, you're pale as a ghost. Go right inside and sit down. Or lie down. I knew you were overdoing it. Should we call a doctor? What happened to your slacks?”