"Cool!" he declared. Then he glanced at his mother, knitting his brows. He looked so much like his father when he did that. "Gas leaks don't cause carbon monoxide buildup, Mom. Only faulty burning of the fuel or a break in the exhaust system."
Katie hung on to the car door, staring at the house. She looked scared, bewildered, but she was doing a good job of hiding it. "Is our stuff all right? I've got important stuff in my bedroom. Those firemen aren't like poking around, are they?"
"They're just airing out the house," Marcy told Katie.
"And I don't know exactly what's wrong with our gas, I just know something wasn't working right and carbon monoxide was in the house. Now, I need both of you to get in the car and wait for your dad and me."
"You're coming to Dad's with us?" Ben climbed back into the front seat and slammed the door.
"Cool," Katie said, getting into the back of the car.
"We'll try to be quick." Marcy patted Ben's arm through the window and went back up the driveway. Jake was talking to Claire on the front porch. When she approached, they were both looking pretty grave.
"Chief Drummond filled me in," Jake said stiffly.
"Pretty far-fetched, huh?"
"I didn't touch any of our money," Jake said. "Not in all those months. Nothing but the household account I deposited paychecks into. Hell, I'm not sure I could tell you what accounts we have." He turned his attention to Claire. "I know we don't know each other well, Chief Drummond, but I'm telling you, I did not move or take any money from our joint accounts. I don't have a girlfriend, and I had no intention of skipping town with any money and abandoning my family. That's not the kind of guy I am."
Marcy's throat constricted with emotion again. Jake was right. He wasn't that kind of guy. It was one of the reasons she had fallen in love with him back in college, and again in the last couple of weeks. You just didn't run into many men these days with basic beliefs in loyalty and morality. And to think she had even considered a man like Seth Watkins. Maybe Phoebe was closer to the truth than she realized. Maybe she was nuts.
"Do you know where your sister is right now?" Claire asked.
Marcy shook her head. "I guess Jake told you that he ran into her at the mall. Coincidence, I suppose." She wasn't sure she believed it, but right now she wasn't too sure of anything. "Then I would assume she went on to her new apartment. She didn't say where it was, though."
"She didn't tell me, either," Jake joined in.
"I asked, but I guess..." Marcy tried to recall the conversation. "I guess we must have gotten interrupted because she never did say."
"She have a cell phone?"
Marcy nodded.
"Well, I'm making no accusations, mind you." Claire gestured. "But I think she and I need to talk. Could you call her?"
Marcy felt numb. "Sure. I guess." She watched Claire reach for her cell phone. "But not on your phone. She might not answer. The number calling in comes up on the display." She bit her lip, looking inside the open front door. "You think I could go in and get my phone and maybe some shoes and my toothbrush?"
"According to the fire chief, the carbon monoxide has dissipated to an acceptable level, but you should probably stay out since you were already exposed. How about if I get your phone for you, and Jake goes in and gets anything you might need from the house for the night?"
Marcy nodded silently.
"I'll just get some overnight things for you." Jake reached out to massage her shoulder. She could tell he was in shock about Phoebe, too. "Anything else besides shoes and clothes and your toiletries?"
"Um, my makeup bag. It's right on the bathroom sink."
"I'll be right back." He brushed his mouth against her cheek and walked inside with Claire.
"Found it," Claire said, coming out of the house a minute later holding up her cordless phone. "Right where Jake said it would be in the kitchen."
Marcy took it. "What do I say?"
"Pretend nothing's wrong. You just called to see if she needed anything before you went to bed. Try to find out where the new apartment is. We'll go by and pick her up."
Marcy hesitated, biting down on her lower lip as she tried to think about what she would say. She dialed her sister's cell phone. It rang. And rang. She got Phoebe's cheery mailbox message. "It's Marcy. I just wanted to see how you were making out at your new place. Call me. I'll be up a while, still."
"No answer." Marcy lifted the phone.
Claire exhaled slowly. "Listen, I've been thinking. I don't mean to scare you, but I don't think you should go back to Jake's tonight either. Could you just take the kids to a hotel?"
Marcy stared at Claire in confusion. "Sure, but why?"
"Because I don't know what's going on here." Claire's building frustration was obvious. "I don't know if your sister has anything to do with any of this. I don't know if the man you saw tonight does. I don't know if they're connected. I don't know if this has to do with Patti and April's killer."
"You want me to go somewhere my sister won't know to look," Marcy said softly.
"I think it would be wise. Until I get a chance to speak to her. I'll send a car out to patrol all the apartment buildings in town. Maybe someone will spot your SUV. We've got a record of the tag number."
Marcy leaned against the front porch rail and looked down at lavender pansies that had been crushed beneath the boot of one of the firefighters. "I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe Phoebe would really try to hurt me."
Jake walked out of the house, onto the porch with a gym bag over his shoulder. "I just grabbed what I could find. The kids already have their stuff."
Marcy slipped her arm through Jake's. "Claire wants us to stay at a hotel tonight and not your place."
Jake looked at her, at Claire, and back at her again. "Oh... Okay."
"Tell me where you want to stay and I'll have one of my cars escort you." Claire seemed preoccupied now.
"No, that won't be necessary." Marcy took a deep breath, clearing her head. "The kids are scared enough as it is. I don't want them thinking they're in danger. If Phoebe did do this, it was about me. Remember, she knew the kids would be with Jake until morning."
"Just about you," Claire repeated thoughtfully, as much to herself as to Marcy.
Marcy tried to read the police chiefs face. "What are you thinking?"
Claire shook her head. "Let me think on it. In the meantime, I'm going to give Jake some phone numbers. The station house and my personal cell. You call the station house and leave a message for me as to where you'll be." She started down the steps to the sidewalk, and Marcy and Jake followed. "Then I want you to take your son and daughter, go to the hotel, and try to get some sleep. I'll talk to you in the morning."
Jake glanced at the house.
"Don't worry. I'll be sure everything is locked up," Claire assured him. "Right now, you just need to get Marcy to bed. By all rights, she should be in the hospital right now getting checked out."
Jake looked to Marcy.
"I'm fine," Marcy said. "I'm not going to the hospital. I'm going with you and Ben and Katie. I don't want the three of you out of my sight right now."
Jake turned to Claire. "You're sure—"
"Everything is going to be fine." Claire patted him on the shoulder. "Just take your wife and children and go. We'll talk in the morning, I promise. By then, maybe I'll have something to tell you as far as when you can go home."
"And what about Phoebe?" Marcy asked. "I wouldn't want to accuse her of—"
"Let me talk to her before we make any more allegations," Claire interrupted firmly. "Now, go on. Get some sleep. You've had a long evening."
* * *
Claire watched Marcy and Jake walk down their driveway hand in hand, her mind racing in a thousand directions. Was the man Marcy saw earlier in the evening connected to the carbon monoxide? To have a better idea, she'd have to get an expert in to tell her how long the poison had been leaking into the house. What if there was no man, or if the prowler
was unrelated to the carbon monoxide? Weird coincidences happened all the time.
And where did Phoebe fit in?
Claire had a hunch. A sick hunch that didn't involve coincidences at all, but cold calculation. She had to get back to the station house to look into last year's records before she was going to be ready to voice her suspicion. She turned back to the house, spotting the fire chief. "Tobby, you got everything under control here?" she called from the sidewalk.
He gave her a thumbs-up.
"Go ahead and close the house when you think it's safe. I'll leave one of my officers here to be sure it's all secure and the front door is taped off before he leaves the premises. Talk to you tomorrow?"
He waved and, calling orders to the other volunteer firemen, he disappeared into the back of the house.
Claire gave her officer still on the scene instructions and then got into her cruiser and radioed the night dispatcher to let him know she was headed in. She was supposed to have been off hours ago. Luckily, Ashley had gone to spend the night with a friend so Claire could get away with pulling a double shift.
She eased her police cruiser onto the main road, watching the Edmonds' car taillights disappear around the curve ahead of her. Her heart went out to the family. They were such nice people, and they had been through so much. To think the situation might even be worse than they realized bothered her. It just wasn't right. It wasn't fair. But as her father had taught her as a child, life was rarely about fairness, and dwelling on life's injustices only prevented her from doing her job. So she would do her job as the chief of police of this town, and she would tuck her emotions away.
Claire didn't do the filing at the station so she wasn't even sure she could locate what she was looking for tonight, but she knew there was no way she was going to be able to sleep until she pored over the accident report from the near-fatal last December on March's Bridge. An accident that she wasn't sure now had been an accident at all.
* * *
The Bloodsucker sipped his coffee. Good old Loretta made the best coffee on the East Coast. At least that was what he had heard others in the diner say. Some locals expressed that opinion. Some tourists. He didn't really know because he hadn't much of an opportunity to sample the coffee up and down the East Coast.
What he was sure of was that Loretta had the best éclairs around. He thrust his tongue into the center of the pastry and sampled the sweet, yellow pudding-like center that he loved. It was his second one. A greedy piggy. That's what Granny had called him. A greedy piggy. If she had seen him eat two éclairs in one night, she probably would have pushed his nose in it, rubbed it all over his face. Or worse...
The Bloodsucker took another sip of the coffee that seemed even more delicious after the bite of chocolaty, pudding-filled éclair. He should have asked for decaf. He wouldn't sleep well tonight.
He wouldn't sleep well anyway. It was Marcy. She was keeping him awake. He couldn't stop thinking about her and her beautiful face. Her smile and the nice way she talked to him. He couldn't sleep because he couldn't stop thinking about her blood.
Going to her house tonight had been unwise. He'd been there too many times already. Even parking his car on the other road and cutting through the woods was dangerous. Someone was going to recognize him, realize he was out of place in that setting. That was part of the trick of deceiving people—always looking like you belonged, even when you didn't.
The Bloodsucker lifted the coffee cup to his mouth. He was seated in a booth in the diner near the back. Fit right in. Nobody thought it was in the least bit odd that he would be here this time of night.
As he sipped the coffee, he saw a car pass the diner and he took a second look. A grin broke out on his face. He couldn't believe his good fortune! Never in a million years had he expected to see Marcy again tonight.
What was she doing out so late? It occurred to him it might be the sister. But he knew it wasn't. It was Marcy all right; he just knew it. He knew it because they had a connection.
It had to be a sign. Her being right there in front of him. A sign that the time was just about right.
It was time for him and Marcy to be together. He could taste his anticipation, sharp and tangy on his tongue. He was so clever. So smart. He already had the place prepared for her. Already knew where she would go when he was done with her.
Chapter 13
Marcy sat on the edge of the double bed in the hotel room and leaned over to kiss Ben's cheek. Katie had protested at having to share a bed with her little brother, but she'd been appeased by the promise of breakfast out in the morning and, after Ben's ball game, a trip to the outlets to buy the tankini she wanted.
Both children were asleep now. Katie was sprawled out in shorts and a tee, her hair spilling over the white pillow case. Ben was curled in a ball, knees to his chest, his thumb near his mouth. It seemed like only a very short time ago that he had sucked his thumb. Now he appeared so old to her at nine, nearly grown up.
Her nine-year-old who had probably saved her life with his safety obsession. She'd never tease him again about it.
"You okay?" Jake asked, coming out of the bathroom in boxers and a gray T-shirt.
She nodded. She really was ok.
"Then let's see if we can get some sleep." He left the bathroom light on and closed the door all but a crack so the kids could find their way in the dark if they needed to. "Tomorrow is probably going to be a long day."
He took her by her hand and led her to the bed they would share tonight. She sat down obediently and let him remove her sneakers and then lay back on top of the sheet, her head on the pillow. Jake had already pulled the bedspreads off at Ben's request; riddled with germs, he had explained.
Jake went around the other side of the bed and climbed in. For a moment they lay side by side, only inches apart, unmoving. The only light in the room was the streak that fell from the crack in the bathroom door and a faint patch that leaked from behind the generic curtains over the windows.
"Do you really think Phoebe would try to harm me?" Marcy whispered. She turned to look at Jake and then crawled closer, dropping her head on his shoulder. He made her feel safe. And as she ran her fingers over his chest, she felt a stirring of excitement inside her. There would be no hot sex between them tonight, not with their children asleep beside them, not with everything that had happened tonight. But lying close like this, she could feel the promise of future nights crackling in the air.
Jake wrapped his arm around her and slipped his hand beneath her shirt to brush her skin with his fingertips. "I don't know, honey. It sounds crazy, but—"
"But she's done crazy things before," Marcy finished for him. "The impromptu trip to Mexico, marrying that guy in Las Vegas she'd met at the slot machine."
"Vic, " Jake offered.
"Vic," she repeated. "And then there was the time she put all that money into the buffalo farm." She chuckled, but felt sad rather than humored by her sister's antics. "Ah, Jake," she groaned. "What are we going to do about the money?"
"One thing at a time. Let's find out what happened at the house first. If she tried to poison you, she's got bigger problems than theft charges."
"Maybe there's something wrong with her. Maybe she's sick." She glanced at him, biting down on her lower lip in indecision. "I think she might be bulimic, Jake."
He scowled. "Of course she is. She's been barfing up all the good meals we've fed her for years. Where've you been, hon?"
She stared at him. "You knew?"
He shrugged. "I guess I didn't know for sure until she moved in after your accident. I heard her in the bathroom a couple of times."
"Did you say something to her?"
"Sure. I even offered to get her some help. She said it wasn't true. She said she had a flu bug."
"And that was it?"
"Marcy, you can't help people who don't want to be helped."
She was quiet for a minute. How had she missed the signs and Jake hadn't? Men were notorious for being unpercept
ive. Had she been that caught up in her own misery? Apparently so.
So she hadn't realized Phoebe was ill. That was no excuse for her sister to steal from her. "But we worked so hard to save that money," she mused aloud. "Part of that is supposed to be for our retirement."
He kissed her shoulder, and she could feel the warmth of his mouth through the fabric of her shirt. "I should have been more careful, less trusting. I was just so damned worried about you."
She smoothed his bare arm beneath her fingertips.
"But money can be replaced," he said. "I can make more. Your French Bistro, with its magnificent homemade soups and breads, is going to be such a success that in a few years, ten thousand dollars will mean nothing to us." He rubbed her bare stomach beneath her shirt. "I'm just glad nothing happened to you, that you're safe. I almost lost you once. I can't bear the thought that it could have happened again."
She smiled in the darkness. The sincerity in his voice touched her in a place he hadn't touched in a long time. Her experience tonight made her realize how precious moments of happiness were. How easily they could be shattered. A person could lose their brakes and drive off a bridge at any moment, breathe in noxious fumes anytime.
"When we can go home, I want you to come too. I don't want a divorce, Jake. I want you." She rolled onto her side to face him. "That is, if you still want me." She gazed into his dark eyes. "If you'll give me another chance."
He threaded his fingers through her hair and drew her head closer until her lips touched his. "Another chance? I'd give you a hundred. And not because you look like a million dollars, though that is decent perk." He grinned the way he had back in the old days. "I'd give you another chance because I love you, Marcy. Always have. Always will."
"I love you, too," she whispered, tearing up.
He kissed her again, this time quick. An end to the conversation. "Let's get some sleep."
She rested her head on Jake's shoulder, and within ten minutes she heard him breathing rhythmically. However, sleep did not come so easily to her. Taking care not to wake him, she scooted over onto her side of the bed. She glanced at the sleeping forms of her children and thought about what Jake had said about nine lives. She really was fortunate. Tonight could have turned out so differently. She needed to keep that in mind in the days and weeks to come. No matter what happened with Phoebe, she had to prevent herself from wasting time, wasting energy, wasting her God-given gifts and talents again.
She'll Never Tell Page 23
