by Dana Mentink
He turned to find Heather openmouthed, a look of horror on her face, picture clasped between her trembling fingers.
He went to her. “What? What is it?”
“This man …” she whispered, the photo slipping from her fingers to the floor.
“Oscar?” He could hear her breath coming in little gasps. “Tell me, Heather.”
“This man,” she started again. “He’s the mailman.”
SIX
She finished packing the next morning. One of the advantages to living below the poverty line for months was she didn’t have many belongings. The horror still coursed around her body. Oscar Birch. She’d stood face-to-face with the pleasant, round-cheeked man who happened to be a cold-blooded killer.
The police surmised Birch had staged Choo Choo’s escape and subsequent return, wearing a postal uniform he’d lifted from somewhere. But why? Why go to the trouble? Just to terrorize her?
No, she thought grimly. To terrorize Bill.
To hurt him.
To send the message that Oscar could get to the people Bill cared about.
She zipped the suitcase closed. Oscar had made a mistake there. She and Bill might as well be strangers to each other. Bill was not acting out of love, merely protectiveness and the all-consuming need to defeat Oscar, the man who killed Johnny.
The feel of Oscar’s calloused fingers as he’d returned the dog remained on her skin. She’d actually invited the man in for a drink of water. He could have killed Choo Choo, or her, for that matter. Or he could have put a letter bomb in the mail that the police had confiscated; the man was an explosives expert, after all.
His words came back to her.
Nothing will stop this guy from doing his duty.
She sighed. Her departure came at a bad time—she knew she might never get another chance at a story about the DUSEL. Plus she really had nowhere to go, no job waiting. She hadn’t resigned from the Blaze yet, figuring she could at least finish out her stories long-distance until the month’s end. Then there was the matter of her insufficient means to rent an apartment. She could ask her father for money, but she’d rather go hungry than take any more of his hard-earned paychecks.
When the tingle of panic started up again, she said a string of silent prayers until it died away. God would help her survive. He would never forsake her. He’d proven that when she’d been at her lowest moment, afraid to trust herself or anyone else.
She looked out the window and saw Bill slouched in the front seat of his truck. He’d been there all night and she suspected he’d remain fastened to her like a shadow until she left South Dakota for good.
She felt a pang at leaving him, just as she had when she’d run with her tail between her legs months ago. Deep down, it was a relief to leave, to be forced away from any more possible encounters. A relief … and cowardice.
It was running away.
And she felt ashamed at her own eagerness to do so.
Bill’s presence in the truck spurred her on. There was no choice but to leave the crazy Oscar Birch behind and pray that Bill could capture him before he exacted his terrible revenge. She called to Choo Choo, and with one last look around the tidy cabin, she left, locking the door behind her.
Bill got out of the truck and walked over to her Jeep. “Got everything?”
She nodded.
He hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I’m sorry it had to come to this, but it’s the best thing. We both know that.”
Was he really sorry to see her go? She looked at his eyes, which he abruptly swiveled away from her. There was a profound relief in his face that shone through the carefully controlled expression. He was pleased that she was leaving, and the notion pained her.
“Where are you headed?”
She managed a smile. “Miami. I don’t think Choo Choo will like being put in a crate, but he’s a pretty good traveler. I’ll leave the car here until it’s safe to come and get it.” She eyed the cabin. “I hate to leave it here empty. I’m not sure when my father will be coming back.”
“I’ll keep an eye on it for you.” He loaded her suitcase into his truck and let Choo Choo in the front seat.
“Do you think you’ll catch him?”
His mouth tightened. “I’ll catch him.”
The chill in his words cut through to her core. “I hope you do, Bill. I …” She reached a hand toward him, wanting to touch that warm, brown skin. Instead she let it fall away.
I’m sorry that I ruined things with us.
The words wouldn’t come out. She could tell that he wouldn’t welcome them anyway. All he wanted was for her to leave Rockvale for good.
Swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth, she climbed into the passenger seat. Choo Choo gave her a lick and settled himself between her and Bill. They drove into a spectacular blaze of sunrise and headed toward the main road.
Heather remembered that she’d turned off her phone the day before. She reached into her bag and flipped it on. The screen indicated she had a voice mail.
Oscar?
Stomach tightening, she clicked on it.
Static crackled through the line, peppered with her father’s voice.
Honey … sorry I wasn’t home … know it will … hard but I am asking you to take care of … I’ll be home when I can. Call you soon … battery’s dying. Love you.
She felt a surge of joy at hearing from her father, but the message confounded her. She played it again.
Take care of what? What was he talking about?
There were no other new messages on her phone.
Bill gave her a puzzled look but did not comment.
She pressed her dad’s number. Ten rings and it went to voice mail.
“Dad, it’s Heather. I’m flying out of Rockvale today. I couldn’t understand your message. Call me back.” She hung up. “Weird.”
Bill raised an eyebrow. “Your father?”
“Yes. He wants me to take care of something, but I didn’t get the gist of it.”
“Whatever it is, call me and I’ll handle it for you.”
He would, too. She glanced at his serious profile, the weathered face that didn’t smile often, but lit up when it did. He didn’t laugh often, either, but in the last few weeks of their time together, he’d seemed happier than she’d ever seen him. She wouldn’t forget the moment he’d opened her cookbook present and thumbed through the pages as if they contained the secrets of the universe. Shame closed in on her again.
Why hadn’t she been able to control herself?
Why had she ruined everything?
Because you’re powerless over alcohol, Heather, and you needed God to save you, just like He’s carried you through every day of your sobriety.
Repeating the truth gave her a feeling of calm. She had the sudden urge to share her thoughts with Bill, but again the words refused to come out.
Instead she stroked Choo Choo and puzzled over her father’s message until they rolled up to the small airport. Checking Choo Choo in wasn’t as traumatic as Heather had feared. The dog willingly climbed into the crate. “I’ll see you soon, boy.”
Choo Choo collapsed on the bottom of the crate and curled up for a nap.
The terminal was relatively uncrowded, but still humming with folks checking bags or waiting at their respective gates, poking away at laptops and cell phones. She turned to thank Bill and release him from his babysitting duties when her eye was caught by an older person standing near a vending machine. The woman had graying hair cut short, a cardigan draped over one arm in spite of the summer temperatures. She gripped a cane in the other. Something about the woman drew Heather’s attention.
A leather pocketbook hung from the lady’s shoulder, worn and scarred but somehow familiar. Very familiar. Heather drew closer.
The woman’s posture, ramrod straight in spite of her disability, struck a chord.
“Heather?” Bill said.
She ignored him and moved forward just as the woman turned.
>
Heather cried out.
Her shock was mirrored on the face of the woman, who stared openmouthed for a moment before she composed herself, gripping her cane more tightly.
“Hello, Heather.”
Heather stood there, frozen in silence. Bill reached her side and took her arm.
“What is it?” he murmured, his voice low, gaze shifting from the woman to Heather. “Who is this?” he added in a whisper.
“It’s …” Heather forced the words out, her mouth suddenly gone dry, her whole body trembling. “It’s my mother.”
Bill found himself at a loss. The two women stood there staring at each other until the older lady extended a withered hand to him.
“Margot Stark.”
He shook it gently and introduced himself. “I gave Heather a ride to the airport.”
Margot looked at her daughter. “Oh? Is she leaving town?”
Bill knew that this was the same woman who had walked out on Heather when she was just a child. For the life of him, he had no idea what to think about coming face-to-face with the lady now. He could tell by the emotions flooding across Heather’s face that she didn’t, either. Heather seemed incapable of making any kind of move, so he took her arm and led them to an unoccupied group of chairs. “I need to return a phone call. I’ll be right over there.”
He picked a spot where he could see them and keep an eye on the entrance at the same time. Heather didn’t look at him as he moved away. Her face was dull with shock, hands gripped into tight balls on her lap.
What would this bombshell do to her? Part of him wanted to head over and tell the woman she had some nerve dropping back in on Heather’s life as if she hadn’t destroyed her daughter decades ago. But he thought of his own sister, Leanne, and her two daughters, grown now. No matter where Kelly and Rose went, he secretly believed his nieces would never fill the hole left by their mother’s struggle with addiction and her subsequent death.
Another death he hadn’t been able to prevent.
If they got the opportunity to put things right, wouldn’t he want them to have it? Maybe this was Heather’s chance.
Gritting his teeth, he checked his watch. The emotional drama was certainly unexpected, but it couldn’t distract him from the bigger issue. The flight left in a half hour and if he had to carry Heather over his shoulder, she would be on it, mother or no mother. He tried not to listen, but their conversation carried to him anyway.
“Why are you here now?” Heather croaked.
Margot carefully laid the cane across her knees. “I had another stroke and the paralysis left me unable to manage the stairs to my apartment, much less hold down a job. To be honest, I was having a hard time meeting the rent. I called your father’s cell phone. He said I could stay in the house if you would allow it.”
Heather shook her head and stared. “So that’s why you came back? You needed a place to live?”
“Yes. Those are the facts. You look upset. Did I say something wrong?”
Heather’s mouth worked for a moment before she answered. “Wrong? What could be wrong? There’s a deranged killer stalking me and now you show up.” Tears began to flow down her face.
Bill tensed, waiting for Margot to reach out a hand, but her fingers gripped the cane and she did not move. He allowed himself another moment of hesitation before he found himself sitting beside Heather, an awkward arm around her shoulders. “Ms. Stark, there is a fugitive at large in Rockvale, a man named Oscar Birch who wants to punish me. He’s attempting to do that by terrorizing Heather.”
A flicker of fear crossed Margot’s face. “I see.” She nodded slowly. “So you and Heather are together, then?”
Bill flushed, grateful that Heather appeared not to hear. “No. Not anymore, but Oscar thinks so. It would be better for you not to come to this town for a while.”
Margot pursed her lips, and cocked her head slightly. It was a gesture he’d seen Heather make many times. “I am an old lady now, Mr. Cloudman, and I don’t have much to lose. I’ll stay. But you’re correct in helping Heather leave town if that is the safest choice for her.”
Heather stiffened and her head came up. She stared at her mother, and the naked emotion on her face made Bill want to pull her to his chest and hide her from the world. She was overwhelmed, but underneath was an undercurrent of white-hot anger.
“I’ve wanted you to come back for so long,” Heather said, brushing the tears from her face. “And now that you have, I’m sorry about it.”
Margot blinked. “Why?”
“You should have come back to be a mother to me,” she whispered. “That’s the reason you should be in Rockvale, not because of your health or rent or whatever.”
Margot shifted and there was a flicker of uncertainty on her face that quickly disappeared. “Heather, by now you must know I was never very good mother material.”
Heather stood and cleared her throat. “That lesson I learned.” She turned to Bill. “Thank you for the ride.” She kissed him on the cheek and he fought every instinct to prevent himself from pulling her close.
In a moment, she was gone.
He turned back to Margot. “Ms. Stark, I still recommend you find someplace else to stay, but if you are determined to be in Rockvale, I will drive you out to the cabin.”
Her eyes remained on the corridor where Heather had been a few seconds before. “Yes. That would be very good of you, Mr. Cloudman.”
Bill sat uneasily behind the wheel. He’d long ago decided he would rather face an angry felon than a hysterical woman. He wished he could rewind the tape and play the whole airport scene again, only the way it should have gone. There would be a tearful greeting, Ms. Stark would beg Heather to forgive her abandonment and they’d both fly away arm in arm to put their lives back together. He wondered what Heather would be like with her mother’s love in her life. Maybe if Margot had appeared earlier Heather would have escaped her battle with alcohol. Heather had told him her father had tried to be both parents to her. Bill knew that was an impossible job. He’d tried to be the parental voice of support and reason for his older sister, Leanne, in spite of the years between them.
But he hadn’t come between her and the drugs.
Neither had the love of her two daughters.
He was grateful that Margot Stark appeared lost in her own thoughts until they rolled up to the cabin. He helped her from the truck and brought her bag into the house, checking thoroughly for signs of Oscar’s presence. There were none, so he left her his number with instructions to call if she needed anything.
On his way out she laid a cool hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Cloudman, thank you for helping my … for helping Heather.”
He nodded and continued out the door.
He did not want to be on that property anymore. There was something empty and forlorn about it now. The irony of Margot’s return on the heels of Heather’s departure was too much. He checked his watch. She’d be in the air soon. After a quick glance up to the cliffs that seemed to scrape the sky, he returned to the truck just as his phone rang. He smiled at the sight of the familiar number.
“Hello, Aunt Jean.”
“Hey there, Billy. It’s a wonder an old aunt could get such a busy young fellow on the phone.”
He laughed. “I’ve always got time for you.”
“You’ve always got time for my pie, more like it.” Her voice grew serious. “I was remembering all those warnings you gave me about this Birch fellow and how I should be on the lookout and such.”
A flash of foreboding crept up his spine. “Yes?”
“Well, I found an envelope on my porch this morning with your name on it.”
Panic flashed through him. “Don’t open it. Don’t touch it.” He was already gunning the motor to life.
“Too late. The dogs got it and I had to wrestle it away.” She chuckled. “At least we know it wasn’t rigged to explode.”
Bill could hardly hear over his pounding heart. “Just leave it alone and I’ll
be there in a few minutes.”
He disconnected and drove as fast as he dared toward Aunt Jean’s.
SEVEN
Heather had to stop several times before she made it onto the airplane. A lacerating pain stabbed through her heart. Her mother was back, but not for her daughter. The woman had come merely for a rent-free place to live, after all the years of silence, all the years of pain. Heather had been praying since she was ten for her mother’s return and now she couldn’t understand why.
God, why does this have to hurt so much? And why now?
“Can I help you find your seat?” a dark-haired flight attendant offered.
Heather realized she was standing in the middle of the aisle. She shook her head and tried to take some deep breaths as she trudged to her seat.
Her mother’s face was fixed in her memory and she could not tear it away.
The strong features, the perfect posture.
The hands that she had longed her whole life to hold.
Think about Miami. You can start over, away from Mother and Oscar.
And Bill.
She felt his concern in the way he’d put an arm around her shoulders.
His job was to get you on the plane, Heather. Don’t mistake his actions for anything else.
So many years, she thought. So many years it had taken for her to recognize that the root of her bad decisions, her helplessness against alcohol, was the blinding need to ease the hurt from her mother’s abandonment. She did not understand for one minute why her father would allow his runaway wife back in his own life. He’d never officially divorced her, and Heather didn’t understand that, either. Surely Margot had hurt him as badly as she had hurt Heather by walking away without a backward glance.
Skin stinging with cold and emotion, she listened again to her father’s voice mail message.
I’m asking you to take care of …
Heather filled in the rest.
Your mother.
Take care of the woman who had left her? Walked out and never looked back? His request was another slap of betrayal. She fought a surge of helplessness that she had not felt since she’d gotten sober, the nasty spiraling storm that thundered through her. Was there no one left to be her safety in this storm? Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed a clumsy, stumbling prayer.
