“That’s a funny thing to say.” Scott pulled away from the curb, wondering where to go. He didn’t want to take Vicki home yet. He wanted to be sure she was all right. “What time is dinner? Could we get a Coke first? Have a few minutes alone?”
“Alone? At The Pit?” She grinned.
“I’ll drive through. We could go sit someplace else.”
She glanced at her watch. “Sure. I’d like that. I don’t want to go home yet. Mom is too perceptive, and I don’t want to tell her what happened. She’ll go down there with a shotgun and make David Altman eat his words.”
“You want me to do that?”
“Scott, you don’t have a violent bone in your body.”
“Well, it sounds like your mom does. And I’m not so sure about you.”
“If I ever get mad at you, Scott, run—hide—lay low for days. I’ll warn you only this one time.” She laughed, and he could see that she was recovering her sense of humor.
“Warning noted. Programmed into my computer. Will I get any advance signals that you’re ready to blow?”
“You won’t need them. It will be obvious. You might have a few seconds to escape.”
“Women who have violent tempers are usually also very passionate,” he teased, maneuvering into the line for the drive through at The Pit. Several people were getting an early start on dinner.
“Forget it. And the way I acted a few minutes ago—I just needed to get you to shut up. I can’t believe my self-esteem is so shaky. I know I’m not beautiful. I don’t want—I don’t need to be beautiful.” She was getting angry again.
“It’s just a bonus you got.” Scott turned away from her and ordered two Cokes, to go. “And believe me, the madder you get, the prettier.”
“Now we’re getting into clichéd movie lines.”
“Can I help it if I’m too awed to be creative? But it’s true. Your eyes get greener. Your hair gets wilder. Your—”
“Shut up and take the Cokes from Penny. She’d enjoying eavesdropping too much. And here. I’m buying.” She waved two dollar bills across his chest.
Since watching her had made him forget all about paying, he took them, tossing the change into his mother’s parking meter fund box. “Okay, independent lady. I don’t want you to feel obligated to me for any favors.”
“The only person I’ll ever feel obligated to is my mother,” Vicki said. “And maybe my father. But I assume they wanted me.”
“This has been a very insightful half hour.” Scott drove down to the school and parked under the row of wild cherry trees in the back lot. A flock of cedar waxwings took flight, then circled and returned to feed on dried berries that other birds had missed in the spring.
They both sat quietly, sipping their drinks, thinking their own thoughts. Actually Scott wasn’t thinking at all, just enjoying Vicki’s company. He could feel her energy filling the car, whirling around him, pulling him closer to her by the minute. The windows were rolled down, letting in the smell of early fall and the perfume of wild roses still blooming in the brambles around the trees.
“I don’t scare you?” she said, finally, in a quiet voice.
“Scare me? No, of course not. Why would I be scared?” He was. Terribly. Scared of caring for her too much. Scared she might change her mind about him at any minute. Say it, Scott—scared of falling in love with her.
“I think I scare guys away. Are you ready for the truth—nothing but the truth?” She grinned at him and he nodded. “The reason I’ve never gone steady is, I’ve liked a couple of guys enough, but I don’t think any of the guys I’ve gone out with ever got over being scared of me. Only two ever got up the nerve to kiss me. Some of them never got up the nerve to ask me out again after one date.”
“You are pretty intimidating. But how do you know they were scared? Maybe they just didn’t like you. Talk about ego.”
“Have you ever seen a box of popcorn shake so much, you couldn’t get your hand into it? Cody Lamar spilled his Pepsi all over my best skirt. And Randy Brownly—well, you don’t want to hear about Randy.” She started to smile, remembering.
Scott laughed. “We men from New York are probably much more sophisticated to begin with, and after a few years of surviving in the City, nothing scares us.”
“Oh, you’re just so worldly, I can hardly stand it.” The way she looked at him made him feel like the biggest nerd in the whole world, the biggest wimp who happened to score big on his first date—just by getting this girl to go out—and now has no idea what to do next.
She knew what to do. She set her paper cup on the dash, unbuckled her seat belt, and scooted over close to him, ignoring the stick shift. Taking his drink, she placed it beside hers, then put her arms around him and held him tightly.
A crashing sound made them both stiffen and look out the windows. A deer stood right in front of the car and stared through the windshield.
They laughed and stared back for a few seconds. Then Scott took Vicki’s chin and turned her face toward his. He kissed her, forgetting everything except her smell, the tickling of her wild curls against his cheeks, the warm sweetness of her lips.
But the deer had done them a disservice. The dark cloud that hung over all of Sparksville had sailed back into their consciousness.
“Only one thing scares me, Vicki,” Scott whispered into her ear, kneading her back as he held her close. “I couldn’t stand to lose you.”
She understood what he meant. “You’re not going to, Scott.”
“Promise me you’ll be careful. That you won’t go anywhere alone, even in the daytime.”
“When you put a tether on a wild bird, Scott, you lose it anyway. My father thought he wanted to become a falconer. He got a peregrine, trained it, worked it for almost a year. One day he came back without her. I asked him. why. Had she not returned to him? She had returned every time. But he said that didn’t seem natural to him. That something as wild, as beautiful as she was, would fly freely, soar to the top of the sky, then turn and come willingly back to captivity. He’d let her go, made her go.”
“Did he ever see her again?”
“Two days later, she found him. She came into the yard, landed in the tree closest to him. She stared at him for a long time. Then flew away again. He still sees her occasionally when he’s hunting. But she finds him.”
Scott understood what Vicki was saying. He would never stop worrying about her, probably even after they caught the killer of SueAnne and Belle. But he would hide his fear from her. Never mention it again. And keep his eye on her as best he could.
It was Vicki’s independent—and somewhat wild-spirit, that made him love her. That made her beautiful. Maybe he should go tell that guy Altman he was crazy if he didn’t see this in Vicki. But what difference did it make what the guy had said? Scott needed to forget it, and Vicki would probably be able to laugh about it tomorrow.
Chapter 8
The idea of introducing Scott to her parents was scarier than the real thing. It was the first time she’d ever brought a guy home to dinner. Her mother would know Scott was special.
Scott whispered as they gathered in the kitchen. “It’s obvious where you get your vivaciousness and your independent spirit, Vicki. You and your mother are just alike.”
“Thanks, Scott. I consider that a wonderful compliment,” Vicki whispered back.
“It’s all right to talk out loud.” Vicki’s mother put Scott at ease in seconds and had them all laughing during dinner, telling about patients she’d had. Some of those who lived in remote parts of the county were particularly superstitious or had peculiar habits.
“I have a baby due in November way up in County Corner. The mother is scared to pieces of going to the hospital, so I hope the delivery goes okay.”
“Why didn’t you become a doctor, Mrs. Valentine?” Scott asked. “It sounds as if you do the job of one often.”
Her mother looked at her dad and smiled. “Only when I’m delivering babies.”
“I h
ad something to do with that, Scott,” Vicki’s dad said. “Darcy was in medical school when she met me. I distracted her.” Her dad took her mom’s hand and rubbed it gently. It made Vicki feel warm inside to see them act this way, even though it was always obvious to her that they were still very much in love.
“I’m still distracted much too often.” Her mom laughed. “I could have gone back to school after I had Vicki, but I was happy. I still am. I think maybe being a nurse and midwife is just right for me. Delivering babies is one of the fun areas of medicine.”
“Daddy has the worst job, I think.” Vicki had been quiet, but now she joined the conversation.
“I consider myself part detective.” Her father sipped his coffee, staring at the contents of the cup. “I try to forget the rest.”
“Daddy does all the autopsies at the hospital.” Vicki supplied the answer to Scott’s question before he asked it. “Or did I tell you that already? Daddy, what did SueAnne and Belle die of? There are tons of rumors going around school. I want to know the truth.”
Vicki hadn’t gotten an opening to ask her father this question before. And he might not answer it in front of Scott, or at any time. She knew her father tried to protect her when he could. She had learned medical details about SueAnne from gossip. It would be much less frightening to know the truth.
“Well, this is common knowledge now, or I wouldn’t be able to say. There wasn’t a mark on either of them. I could find no reason for their dying. It was as if they both just faded away. I’ve tested for every disease, every possibility I can think of. Nothing shows up.”
“Could there be some new disease—something—well, I don’t want to say this—because my dad works at the reactor. But could there be some leakage or something in the air—”
“Scott, I thought of that. Even though every clue points to murder in both cases, I tested for radiation, for some new-age virus, everything. It’s the biggest puzzle of my career. I’m stumped.”
“There was no type of physical assault, Vicki.” Her mother put her hand over Vicki’s. “It didn’t appear that SueAnne suffered at all.”
Vicki bit her lip. “Physically.”
“Of course. We have no idea what she might have gone through mentally.”
“I think I can add what I’ve found out from my mother,” Scott said, “since it’s probably common knowledge, too, or speculation. My mother thinks both girls were locked up someplace or held prisoner after they disappeared.”
“What for?” Vicki’s outburst brought her to her feet. “Why would anyone lock a girl up and not—not—”
She left the words unspoken, but everyone at the table knew what she meant. This wasn’t how she’d planned that Scott’s visit would go. Her family liked to play games together. She’d hoped that after dinner they could light a fire in the fireplace and play a few hands of canasta, or teach Scott to play mah-jongg. She wanted to see if he enjoyed being a part of her family. Doing that was like a test. She wanted to see if he fit into the type of family she wanted to have someday.
She had no idea if Scott would even be in her future, but it was a fantasy she played out when she met a guy. The habit came from the admiration Vicki had for her parents, the life they had built together that isolated them from the rest of the world. She knew a lot of kids her age weren’t close to their families, but she was, and right now, at least, she wanted Scott to be a part of her family, too.
Looking at Scott, Vicki could see the worry in his eyes. He reached out and took her hand, not embarrassed to do so right there at the dinner table.
Her mother took her other hand. “Vicki, sit down, calm down. I don’t want you to keep worrying about this. I wish you could forget it.”
“How can I forget? SueAnne was my best friend. I knew Belle. We’d all gone to school together since fifth grade. Don’t ask me to forget about them, Mom.”
“I’m not asking you to forget SueAnne, Vicki.” Her mother squeezed her hand, then picked up her coffee cup and sipped, staring into the blackness of the liquid.
Vicki took hold of her mother’s arm, reestablishing the contact between them. “Mom, I’m scared. All the girls at school are scared. We need to talk about this.”
“I know, honey, I know. And I’m glad you’re scared. That’s one way to be cautious at all times. I hope this won’t happen again, but—but—”
“Maybe we should get Scott to keep his eye on you, Vicki,” her father teased, lightening the discussion. “If it won’t be too much of a hardship on him.” He looked at Scott and grinned.
“Well, it would take a lot of time, and in the past, I’ve been known as a serious student, so we might have to study together, too, but maybe I could manage it.” Scott appeared to be making a decision.
“Daddy, you’re embarrassing Scott. I didn’t ask him here to be embarrassed.” It was Vicki who was embarrassed.
“He doesn’t appear to be reluctant to do this for us.”
“I’m sure!” Vicki hopped up and started clearing the table.
“We’ll do that, Vicki,” her mother said. “You say good-bye to Scott for the evening. You don’t want his grades suffering.”
After making a lot of noise dumping her silverware into the sink, Vicki headed for the living room. Scott followed her.
He took her arm and turned her around. “It’s three against one. I’m your new guardian angel.” His smile was infectious.
“If you’re an angel, Scott Lawrence, I’m the new Miss Arkansas. Go home. I need to study, too. I’m going to have to get my scholarships the hard way, not through some beauty pageant.”
Listen to her, inviting Scott to compliment her again. What was going on? She’d never been concerned about being beautiful before. How could one guy with one unnecessary comment on her looks throw her self-esteem so out of whack? She hoped Scott didn’t feel obligated to respond to her comment.
The way he did respond was much more acceptable to her. She leaned against the front door, thinking about his lips on hers long after he’d left.
And his saying, “I’ll pick you up in the morning, Vicki,” didn’t make her feel dependent on him at all. Just loved.
There was no better antidote to fear. Nothing could go wrong for her again if Scott kept loving her.
Choosing
He took his time deciding on the next girl. There was no hurry. He left no clues, no evidence when he left the girls. He was in no danger and in no hurry. For the moment, he felt satisfied.
They had released his poems to the newspaper. He had wondered how long they’d keep them secret. Seeing them in print, though, made him realize that he should take more time writing them, make them better.
Perhaps his next guest might enjoy helping him write the rhymes. It would give them something to talk about. After all, the poems were like eulogies, weren’t they? How often does a girl get to write her own hymn of praise?
The idea amused and excited him, and it wasn’t long before he had another guest picked out.
Chapter 9
The morning newspaper created a sensation in the Lawrence household, which would surely be followed by the same response at school, Scott knew. One part of the murder story had been kept secret as long as possible.
He stared at the headline, knowing this meant what happened to SueAnne and Belle really was murder, and that there really was some nutcase out there loose.
SERIAL KILLER IS POET. MURDER RHYMES RELEASED.
His mother walked in, buttoning her suit blouse, jacket over her arm. She looked tired as she picked up the coffee Scott had poured for her.
“Sit down, Mom,” Scott begged.
“No time, Scott. Have they sensationalized the case enough? Let me see the headlines.” She reached for the front page.
“The National Enquirer couldn’t have done better, Mom. Isn’t there anything you can do?”
“We kept this secret as long as we could. People have a right to know all the facts.”
“Vicki—all the gir
ls at school—are scared enough already.”
“I don’t blame them. But being scared makes them alert.”
“That’s what Vicki’s mother said.”
“How’d it go last night?” His mother did sit down. She was going to give him a few minutes.
“Her parents are as great as she is, Mom. I hope you can meet them soon.”
“I know her father, Scott. He’s a very sensitive man, which isn’t always the case with the job he has to do. I’m eager to meet her mother.” She drank down half the cup of coffee. “I’m sure Vicki knows better than to take a ride with a stranger—that kind of thing.”
“She’s riding with me and Berk this morning.”
His mother smiled and stood up. “There’s a lot of risk connected to that. But she has good taste in men. I’ll say that for her.”
Scott grinned. “Don’t let the turkeys get you down.” He watched his mother slide into her suit jacket and head for the door, her high heels clicking on the tile kitchen floor.
“Easier said than done. But I’ll try.” She paused. “I’m sorry you’re so much on your own since we got here, Scott. I’ll make it up to you later. And I’m eager to meet Vicki.”
“No problem, Mom. I know what you’re doing.”
“I’m glad someone does.” She left, leaving the door ajar.
Within seconds a voice called from the back door. “Yo, Scott? Ready?” Alan Berkman’s spotty face peeked around the corner.
Scott folded the front page of the newspaper and stuck it into his notebook. He did it without thinking, not even sure why he wanted to carry it with him to school.
“See the headlines?” he asked, when they climbed into the jeep.
“No.” Berk started the engine and swerved into the street. “What’s new?”
“I’ll show you later. I wish Vicki didn’t have to see the story.”
Scott had already asked Berk if he’d stop for Vicki. He wished he had his own car. He was going to work on his dad. Maybe he’d even try to make his parents feel guilty about being so busy, being less of a family than they’d ever been. He was ready to do anything for wheels. Like this morning. He didn’t want to share Vicki with Berk.
The Photographer II Page 5
