Final Call

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “I’ll call you about the safe.” Shannon’s eyes followed Liam, who was already opening the door to my store.

  “Okay.”

  It was awkward leaving Shannon, though it hadn’t always been. Now I never knew if I should hug him or say something to push him away. Lately, I’d really, really wanted not to push him away, but there was still Jake, and I didn’t want to hurt him.

  I followed Liam into my store and motioned him to wait in the back room so I could help Thera with the rush of people. Normally, I would have taken time to at least wave to Jake, but there was no chance of that now. Saturday mornings were always brisk in the antiques shop, and I had to hurry from my early morning tae kwon do class to get there in time to help. The afternoons usually picked up from there. It was good for my pocketbook, though it made it hard to dart out at lunchtime for a brief shooting lesson. Unfortunately, Saturday was the only time Shannon was available during the day, and an evening seemed too much like a date to me.

  “How did the lesson go?” Thera asked. As usual her white hair was swept up on the top on her head in an elegant knot, and she was wearing all blue, which she insisted was a calming color.

  That reminded me of the weight in my coat pocket, one I couldn’t rid myself of in front of my customers. “Apparently, I’m a natural.”

  “I thought you might be. You have good instincts.”

  I shrugged off the coat and set it under the counter, followed by my boots. I wiggled my freed toes and sighed with relief.

  “Well, about most things,” amended Thera, glancing at my feet in disapproval. She was always worried I’d catch my death of cold, even in midsummer, or contract some strange illness, no matter how many times I told her I washed my feet more than most people washed their hands—and how they touched a lot worse things on doorknobs. She didn’t want to hear it.

  “I hope you got a chance to grab some lunch,” she added, “because it’s been like this the whole time you were gone.”

  “I did.” We’d grabbed a sandwich on our way to the range. I felt bad for leaving Thera on a day when it was so busy, but Shannon had been insistent. I knew he still felt responsible for the last time I’d been hurt.

  When we were down to the last customer at the register and two more who were browsing, Thera turned to me, waving a blue-clad arm. “I can take care of the rest. That boy seems kind of anxious. He’s poked his head out a half dozen times already.”

  “Thanks.”

  In my narrow back room, which ran the width of my store, Liam wasn’t sitting in the comfortable easy chair that beckoned to me with an almost hypnotic call. He’d taken off his coat and laid it on the long worktable but was pacing from the shop door to the bathroom at the far end. He was as lanky as always—college life hadn’t improved that—and his hair looked as though he hadn’t combed it in a week, though it didn’t seem greasy.

  “So what’s up?” I asked, ignoring my easy chair and going to heat water on the stove so I could make a nice soothing tea. I wanted to ask if he was in trouble, but he’d come to me, and I’d let him tell me what he wanted in his own time. I took two mugs from the overhead cupboard.

  “It’s Rosemary, my sister.”

  I turned to look at him more closely. His brown eyes were worried and tinged with red that probably came from too many late nights and cram study sessions. “What about her? Is it her birthday again? Do you need a present?”

  My attempt to lighten the mood didn’t even register. “She’s missing.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  He stopped pacing and pulled at the side of his hair. “She was supposed to meet me yesterday for lunch when she had a rehearsal break, but she never showed up.”

  “Maybe she forgot.”

  “She wouldn’t do that. We haven’t seen each other in like a year. She’s not even answering her cell. I’d go to her apartment, but I don’t know where she’s staying. My parents say she’s a flake and not to worry, but that’s only because they’re still mad about how she dropped out of college to tour with that theater company a couple of years ago.”

  I had to play devil’s advocate. “What makes you think they’re wrong?” I placed a tea bag in each mug. Peach, Liam’s favorite, with no caffeine or anything else to get him more worked up.

  “She’s only been back a few weeks, and she wouldn’t leave without seeing me. We’ve talked a lot on the phone, and she was all excited about a new part she was trying out for with some other theater company. Said it was a smaller outfit but with better connections. She practiced day and night to get the part, and then she did. She was so excited. I know she wouldn’t just disappear. I went over to the company, but she hadn’t shown up to rehearsal yesterday.” His eyes held mine. “Please, Autumn. I don’t know who else can help.”

  “Maybe the police.”

  “That’s why I asked if that guy was a cop. I thought I recognized him from the newspaper article about that real estate fraud business going on last summer. I was hoping he was and that you might get him to help.”

  Oh, I’d read that wrong. I’d been thinking Liam’s problems were the kind that bordered on unlawful and that it’d be easier to convince him to make good without Shannon hovering over us menacingly. “Well, she’s an adult with a history of taking off, so the more proof we have, the better. But if your sister really is missing, we’ll need to let the police search for her. They have information I don’t have access to.”

  “Yeah, but they can’t read imprints.” He crossed to the worktable and yanked a plastic grocery sack from the pocket of his coat—a deep pocket by the size of whatever was in the bag. “She had a cubby at the theater company. I took these from it when they weren’t looking.” Liam flushed. “It wasn’t stealing.”

  “Of course not.” I poured the hot water into the cups and took a deep breath. Probably these imprints wouldn’t tell me anything. Since the items had simply been sitting on her shelf, it wasn’t likely I’d have to relive a murder or a kidnapping.

  I hoped.

  Liam waited, the sack extended. I handed him a warm mug before removing the antique rings I wore to dull any unexpected imprints I might accidentally touch when I was out and about. When I wasn’t wearing gloves, that is. The rings held comforting imprints that would counter any negative ones, but they would also get in the way of my perception.

  I removed the rings slowly, deliberately. I knew I was delaying. Months had passed since I’d come across a seriously evil imprint, but I remembered how it had sapped my strength. I wondered what might happen if someday I went too deep, if the imprint was too strong, too horrible. Would I recover?

  There was no one to ask, so I didn’t know. I’d been helping Shannon and his partner, Tracy, on cases, but I suspected Shannon had deliberately kept me from consulting on the really bad ones—murders, rapes, brutal muggings. I hadn’t pushed. Now I felt guilty. While I was protecting myself, how many more people had been hurt?

  Leaving my tea untouched, I reached for the grocery sack. Liam watched me intently, not pushing. He was that sort of kid. Patient, studious, dedicated to his sister.

  Gently, I shook out the contents of the sack onto the worktable—a worn copy of a play script, a square bag with a makeup brush peeking out the zipper, a pair of leather gloves, a brush, and a small see-through purse filled with elastics, hair clips, and bobby pins. It wasn’t much, but if she’d used these objects every day, there might be imprints. Probably not on the gloves, though they were leather and had a better chance than regular cloth. Clothes that were often washed and things easily dismissed or forgotten never evoked enough emotion to hold imprints. Fortunately, or my life would be a living nightmare. I’d have to wear gloves to buy fruit and milk at the corner grocery.

  There were imprints on the objects. I could feel them radiating, beckoning. What I couldn’t tell without touching t
hem was if they were positive or negative imprints. If I could figure that out, my life would be a lot more simple.

  “Autumn,” came a voice from the door.

  I looked up to see Jake’s dark, good-looking face, framed by the black dreadlocks that always made people stop and notice. In his typical snug T-shirt, he looked strong and a little dangerous, but if you’d seen him helping little old ladies in his herb shop, you’d change your mind about that in a hurry. He’d been my best friend for years and a little bit more than my friend this past summer. I’d trust him with my life.

  “Hi, Jake.”

  His eyes took in the objects Liam had brought and the antique rings I’d set down next to them. A flash of hurt registered on his face. Once he’d been my biggest supporter where imprints were concerned, but after our summer run-in with a branch of organized crime and a crooked attorney who’d stooped to kidnapping and illegal adoption, Jake had begun to exhibit reluctance about my reading imprints. He no longer brought in anyone who wanted imprints read, and he didn’t encourage me to talk about helping people. I knew his guilt ran deep about having been unable to protect me, and nearly dying himself hadn’t helped matters, but I figured that was something he would have to get over on his own. I’d finally been honest with myself about what I now saw as my calling, and I couldn’t let his fear stop me, even if I knew it stemmed from love. Besides, what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

  Or so I’d thought.

  There had been a time when, if Jake had found me about to read something, he would have put his arms around me and drawn me close for a strengthening kiss—and a part of me still wished he’d do that. But he knew I was torn, and that was enough for him to back away. Not completely, though. He’d made it very clear how he felt about me. Now it was my turn. He was my best friend, and I loved him, but I didn’t know if I loved him enough. As much as he loved me.

  “You remember Liam,” I said to cover the awkwardness.

  Jake dragged his eyes from the table. “Oh, yeah. Hey, Bean Pole, how you been?”

  “Okay.” Liam nodded a greeting but didn’t elaborate, anxiousness exuding from him in waves. I’d better hurry, or he might lose it altogether.

  “His sister’s missing,” I added. “I’m going to—” I shrugged. “You know.”

  Jake’s gaze came back to me. “You should have called me. I’d like to help.”

  I knew what it cost him to say that, but I wasn’t sure I wanted him to stay—though if the imprints were bad, it’d be safer for me if he did. He knew what to do.

  Jake glanced out the door into the store and frowned as though remembering something.

  “Did you need help in the Herb Shoppe?” I asked. He could be here only to see me, but he’d had just as many customers or more than I had, so I suspected another reason.

  “No.” His face became more animated, but the line of concern on his brow deepened. “There’s a woman in the Herb Shoppe. Her name is Suzy Olsen. She came in looking for your mom.”

  “For Summer?” My adoptive mother had died when I was eleven, and I was surprised one of her acquaintances hadn’t heard.

  “Not Summer. Well, not directly. She was looking for Summer but only to ask about Kendall. She says she knew her.”

  All at once there wasn’t enough air in the room. Kendall was the almost sixteen-year-old who’d died after giving birth to my sister and then to me—twins who’d been separated by the attending physician, Floyd Loveridge, and given to two adoptive couples. I knew little more than that, and every lead we’d researched had gone dry.

  Until now.

  Chapter 2

  When I’d first learned I had a twin, I tried to track down my birth mother’s family, but so far the only clue I had was from a former adoption agency worker, BervaDee Mendenhal, who had placed my mother with Winter and Summer Rain during her pregnancy and who later took my sister, Tawnia, to her adoptive family in Texas. Though BervaDee and Dr. Loveridge later became romantically involved, he never confessed his secret, and she hadn’t known Kendall had delivered twins until we appeared on her doorstep seeking our identity. After Dr. Loveridge’s death, BervaDee found a letter in his belongings from Kendall meant for her child but opted not to forward it to Tawnia, the one baby she was aware of, because it clearly stated that Kendall had changed her mind and wanted her child to be raised by her foster family, Winter and Summer Rain, and not the couple she’d contracted with in Texas.

  In the end, Kendall received her wish, as I had been adopted by Summer and Winter. The contract with the other adoptive parents in Texas had also been honored by Tawnia’s placement. Only Tawnia and I had lost out on each other in the deal, though I wouldn’t have given up my life with Summer or Winter for anything, and Tawnia felt the same about her parents.

  At first I was so grateful to have found Tawnia that nothing else really mattered. Tawnia had been the one who struggled more with anger and resentment about the separation, and I had to help her leave the past alone and focus on our future. Yet in the past year since my talent emerged, I found myself more and more curious about my biological family. Now it was I who struggled, while Tawnia expended her energy in caring for her husband and new baby daughter.

  “Autumn?” Jake asked.

  I wanted to rush out and question the woman, but Liam was staring rather desperately at the items he’d brought. “Can you ask her to wait?” I said. “I really do want to talk to her.”

  “Sure.” Jake looked again at the table and at Liam. “I’ll be right back.”

  I was going to tell him he didn’t have to return because I knew he had customers, but the truth is, I was relieved. I nodded, and he squeezed my shoulder before leaving.

  “If you gotta go talk to her, I can wait,” Liam said, which was nice of him, since he was practically oozing worry. I can’t read people the way I can the imprints they leave, but I didn’t need any talent to read him.

  “It’s okay.” I’d waited thirty-three years—what was a few more minutes? Besides, I really liked Liam, and his presence here told me he had nowhere else to turn.

  I focused my attention on the worktable and stretched out my hands. My fingers tingled in anticipation.

  Wait. Had Jake called the woman Suzy? In the letter from my birth mother, Suzy was the name of one of the owners of the café where she’d worked during her early pregnancy. I’d searched for the café, hoping the owners knew something about my biological family, but without luck. It had to be the same woman.

  Concentrate, I told myself. I needed my wits about me to remember what I experienced. Imprints always repeated themselves in exactly the same way, so if I paid attention, I wouldn’t have to reread something in order to tell Liam about it. That was a good thing because reading imprints—at least negative ones—was exhausting.

  I dropped my eyes to the script, which read For the Love of Juliet! in large lettering. This seemed the most likely to have imprints, or it would if she’d cared about the part. No reason for more delay. I picked it up and the imprint began.

  Excitement. Rosemary/I had gotten the part, and now all she/I needed to do was to impress the right people and she/I’d be on my way to Broadway. No more second-rate theater companies or staying in rundown motel rooms crammed with other actors. My chance at last! I was going someplace. My parents would finally understand my dream. And Liam would be proud. A wave of love and longing for my brother filled me.

  “What is it?” Liam asked anxiously.

  I shook my head, indicating that he should wait. Another imprint was coming on the heels of the other, a slightly older one, as I always experienced the most recent imprint first.

  Anger. Resentment. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to do my best, regardless. I deserved this chance. No way would I throw the audition because of a little threat.

  The imprint faded, followed by others that we
re much older. At least four years. Apparently they recycled these plays, but the previous actors’ emotions hadn’t been forceful enough to give me an image. No matter. They wouldn’t have anything to do with Rosemary’s disappearance now.

  I took my hands away before the imprints could replay. If imprints were really bad, I could get stuck in a loop and wouldn’t be able to let go. This one had been mild by comparison, and Rosemary’s love for Liam had actually strengthened me.

  Jake had reappeared in the room and was staring at me anxiously, ready, I knew, to hand me something with a positive imprint if it looked like I should need it. I found his concern both touching and annoying, which made me feel sad. I hadn’t always resented him for knowing me so well. Or had I?

  “Rosemary did get the part three days ago,” I said, “and was really excited about it. She thought it was her big break.”

  Liam frowned. “Must be the connections then, because that place was kind of a dive. Not even as respectable-looking as the other theater place she was at.”

  That was odd, but I put it in the back of my mind to think about later. “There was an early imprint from last week that was strange,” I continued. “Someone threatened her about auditioning.”

  “Threatened her?”

  “Yes. I saw a sheet torn out of a small notebook in her hand and felt how upset she was about it, but I didn’t see what it said or receive any indication of who had sent it. She was determined to go through with the audition despite the threat.”

  “Maybe she tucked it in here.” He picked up the script and flipped through it without finding anything. “Guess that was too much to hope for.”

  “Maybe she didn’t keep it. Or it’s wherever she’s staying.”

  “A threat could mean she’s in trouble.”