He must have closed his eyes and begun to drift off when some shift in the sounds around him snapped him back awake. He jerked to a sitting position, listening. Abby was no longer in the cone of light at her work table.
He jumped up off the mattress and reached for the gun he’d left on the floor next to him.
It wasn’t there.
CHAPTER 24
Christ! How could he have fucked up this badly? Jason’s heart was rioting in his chest and his mouth had gone dry as he turned in a full circle, scanning the shop. He didn’t hear anyone moving.
Cool air moved against his cheek. A door or window had been opened.
“Abby?” he called softly as he moved quickly deeper into the building.
He passed the flower cooler. The area grew darker as he moved farther from the single source of light over the work-table, but his eyes were well adjusted to the dimness.
The back door was standing wide open.
“Abby?” he whispered loudly.
Only the wind whispered back.
He glanced around for a makeshift weapon and picked up a garden shovel propped near the door. Gripping it tightly, holding it over his shoulder ready to strike, he moved through the doorway. He restrained his movement, inching quietly when he wanted to run wildly, yelling her name.
He scanned the area near the building. It amazed him how much deeper the night was out here than in town.
Trees swayed and shrubbery shivered. Spanish moss fluttered in the old oaks. But he saw no humanlike movement.
Check for a vehicle first. He turned to the right and walked close to the building toward the front.
His car was there. No other.
The river.
His gut tied itself into a tight knot as he thought of Abby being dragged to a boat, taken from him forever.
He started to run toward the path to the old dock. As he passed the corner of the building, something snagged his ankles, sending him sprawling face-first on the ground. He heard the shovel hit the ground somewhere off to the right.
Rolling toward the shovel, he grasped blindly for the handle; the crack of a gun right next to him stunned him into stillness.
He looked up. Abby stood not three feet away, holding his gun with both hands, aiming it in his direction.
“What the fuck?” he said at the same time she said, “Oh my God!”
She lowered the weapon.
He scrambled to his feet. “You almost shot me!”
“I told you a gun was a bad idea.” She shoved it into his hands. Then she added, “You were safe; my first shot was up in the air.”
“What are you doing out here?” he demanded, his heart still rocketing around inside his chest.
“I thought I heard something.”
He grabbed her by the arm and hauled her toward the back door. “If you hear something, you’re supposed to wake the person who knows how to use the gun.”
“Don’t yell at me.”
“I’m not yelling.”
“You are—”
“Shhhhh!” he said. He strained to listen. There, beneath the wind, was the distinct sound of a boat motor.
Abby’s eyes grew wide. “I told you I heard something.”
His grip tightened on her arm until she said, “Ouch.”
“Sorry.” He loosened his hold. “Let’s get back inside.”
When they were once again behind a locked door, Abby said, “I left the door open so you could hear if I saw someone and called for you.” She held herself in smug confidence. “Should we call the Sheriff?”
He wanted to shake her, an urge spurred by fear, not anger. Instead of shaking her, he crushed her to his chest and buried his face in her hair.
“Don’t you ever take a chance like that again,” he said.
Her felt her trembling and realized just how false her bravado was.
She whispered, “Not a chance.”
By the time Sergeant Kitterman finished his search for evidence—only finding a repeat of the footprints on the riverbank—it was eight o’clock and fully light.
Abby needed to get the flowers to Randall and Roberts Funeral Home. She had to be back out here by ten to receive the flower order she’d placed while Sergeant Kitterman was combing the property looking for traces of their prowler.
As Kitterman drove away, Abby asked Jason, “If the Explorer is still flat-footed can I use your car?”
Jason was scheduled for office hours today. Already he’d had to call and cancel a nine o’clock appointment.
“I’m sure if you call people and explain the situation—”
“This is my job, Jason. It’ll only take me a couple of hours and then I’ll come straight back to your house.”
He pulled his BlackBerry out of his pocket. “Maybe I can rearrange—”
“No.” She cut him off. “You see your patients. I can get Dad to come out with me if it’ll make you feel any better.”
“I thought you weren’t telling him.” He eyed her with suspicion.
“I won’t have to. I’ve got plenty of excuses to get him out here. He always wants to help.”
“Two hours?” he asked.
“Tops. The delivery is at ten. I should be finished by noon. Drop the flowers at Randall and Roberts; I’m at your place before one o’clock.”
“If it’s only two hours, maybe we can get a deputy to stay with you,” he suggested.
“That’d be great.” She started toward the front door of the shop. “You call and see if it’s doable while I load the flowers.” Fat chance. The sheriff had made it clear they were understaffed due to budget cuts and spread entirely too thin to work effectively.
When she came back out with an arrangement in her hands, Jason was smiling. “A deputy will be here from ten to twelve.” He ducked and put the gun into the glove box of his car.
“Easy as that?”
He hesitated and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Yep.”
She eyed him, wondering what he’d said to convince the sheriff to assign a deputy to her for those two hours.
She said, “Thank you.”
Randall and Roberts Funeral Home was located in an old yellow and white Victorian diagonally across the street from St. Andrew’s. Jason pulled his car into the alley and parked by the rear entrance. Abby walked on ahead with the first arrangement as Jason got the next one out of the backseat of his car. She was already through the door when he noticed the Robards’ Cadillac sitting on the street at the side of the funeral home.
He hurried toward the door, hoping Abby wouldn’t run into them. He also hoped Jessica had stayed home until the viewing began late this afternoon. Even with the medication he’d prescribed, this day would push her to the limit.
Belatedly, another thought sprang into his mind. Was the casket already in the room where Abby would have to place the flowers? He didn’t want her to go in there alone. He took the back steps two at a time.
Just as he put his hand on the door handle, he heard a woman shouting. The shrieking got louder when he pulled the door open.
“Get out… get out… get out… get out!”
He set the flowers on a table by the door and ran toward the voice, which led him to the big room with wide double doors at the front of the building.
He walked into a scene from a soap opera. Abby was standing frozen in the middle of the room, a stricken look on her color-drained face. In her hands she held the empty flower container. Flowers and greenery were strewn around the floor as if tossed by a tornado. That tornado had been Jessica Robard.
Ken held his wife from behind, wrapping his arms around her to prevent further attack. Jessica strained against him, her face a furious red, her teeth bared.
“You took the only thing I live for! I don’t want anything you’ve touched near him!” She thrust her body forward, trying to break her husband’s hold.
Ken saw Jason. “For God’s sake, do something with her!”
For a split second, Jason hesitated.
His instinct was to go to Abby. His responsibility dictated he help Ken calm Jessica.
He put a hand on Abby’s shoulder as he passed her. He said quietly, “Go out in the hall. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Abby didn’t move.
He squeezed her shoulder slightly. “Abby, please.”
She broke out of her stunned state and nodded, backing away as if afraid to expose her back to Jessica.
Jason moved directly in front of Jessica, blocking Abby from her view, crushing delicate flowers underfoot with each step.
He said her name quietly, repeating it until she looked him in the eye. “Will you come and sit with me for a minute?”
She was breathing as hard as if she’d run a sprint, but she’d stopped straining against her husband.
Jason prompted, “Will you?”
She gave a nod and seemed to relax a little more.
He shifted his gaze to the senator. “Let her go.”
Ken Robard released her the way one would a wild animal, cautiously with slow, steady movements.
Jason took her lightly by the elbow. “Let’s go sit down.”
“She won’t take her medication. You have to do something,” Ken said. “I can’t have her acting like this this afternoon.”
Jessica slapped her husband so hard her handprint was immediately visible. “You bastard! You don’t care about anything except your career. You don’t care about me… or Kyle.” She looked at Jason. “He was off screwing who knows who and I was all alone when I found out our son was dead. I’m always all alone—”
“Jessica!”
“It’s true!”
“I was working—”
“Give Jessica and me a few minutes, will you, Senator?” Jason put an arm around her and led her to a sofa at the end of the room.
It took fifteen minutes to get her calmed and semi-rational. All the while Jason had to force himself to stay put, to not leave her and go to Abby.
Finally, Ken came quietly back into the room. He stood in front of his wife with his hand extended. “Let’s go home,” he said softly, with so much love in his eyes that Jason was amazed at his quick transformation. “You can rest for a while.”
All of Jessica’s fight had been used up. She slowly reached out and took his hand, then stood. They walked out of the room without another word, Jessica moving beside her husband robotically. She’d promised to take her medication. For her sake, Jason hoped she kept that promise.
He followed them out, concerned she’d fly into another rage if she saw Abby. But Abby wasn’t in the hallway.
He found her in the office, sitting with Jim Roberts. The color had come back to her cheeks.
She stood up. “Jim and I were just talking. He’s going to hold all of the flowers in the back until I bring the rest of them. I’m going to replace all of the cards that have my logo with plain white ones. That way people’s condolences will be delivered, and maybe Mrs. Robard won’t be so upset.”
She was acting as if that whole scene hadn’t transpired. Jason looked at her for a moment, trying to read the emotions beneath the surface.
She started toward the office door. When he didn’t fall in behind her, she said over her shoulder, “Well, come on. Help me unload the last of these flowers.”
He looked at Jim Roberts, who shrugged and said, “She’s sure handling this well.”
Denial is not handling it.
Jason hurried to catch up with her. She was nearly to the back door when he did. “Abby,” he said, catching her arm.
She turned to face him and he could see how hard she was fighting to maintain control. “Please, Jason. Don’t. Just let me do this my way.”
He removed his hand and gave her a nod. “Let’s get those flowers in here.”
Ten minutes later, they were at the Verizon store, getting Abby yet another cell phone and activating it. There was no way he was letting her out of his sight without one.
When they reached his house, he got out of the passenger side. He noticed the Explorer was still in the driveway, but it was without wheels, sitting on four jack stands.
“Okay.” He set his hands on the top of the car and leaned down to look at Abby through the open door. “Straight to the shop. No detours. And don’t even get out of the car if the deputy isn’t there when you get there.”
“That’s the third time you’ve said that. I think I’ve got it.” She reached for the glove box latch. “I don’t want this.” She picked up the gun and held it out to him with the tips of her finger and thumb, like it was the reeking carcass of a dead squirrel.
He didn’t take it. “Keep it in the glove box—just in case.”
“Jesus, Jason, I nearly shot you last night.”
“I’ll be here, safe.”
She did not look amused.
“The deputy will have his own gun,” she said. “I don’t need one.”
She was probably right; she had no business with it. It was as likely to be used against her if she hesitated—and she no doubt would. When she’d thought he was an intruder, she shot up in the air.
He finally leaned inside the car and took it from her. While he was still hidden from view, he tucked it in the front of his waistband, under his shirt; no need to freak out the neighbors.
“Call me when you get there,” he said. “And before you leave to come back.”
“It’s the middle of the day. I’ll have a deputy. I’m going to be cautious. Stop worrying. I’ll be fine.”
She hit the button for the power window and put the car in gear.
He stood there watching her drive away, his instincts shouting not to let her go.
Once she turned the corner, he finally left the street. He was halfway to his front door when his cell rang. He reached in his pocket, thinking Abby was making a sarcastic point to call when she reached the next block. But it was Lucy’s number on the screen.
“Since you were in such a snit yesterday,” Lucy said, “I thought I’d let you know the high school called. Bryce didn’t show up again today. Now you deal with it so it’s done properly.”
He took a long breath to rein in his temper. “Did you find out where he was yesterday?”
Jason let himself in the front door and made his way into his office.
“He got home late and had homework to do,” Lucy said defensively. “I was waiting to discuss it with him when he got home from school today.”
“Homework? He’d skipped school.” Jason unlocked the outer door to the waiting area, then went to his desk.
“It was a project that was due.”
He sighed. “Due, like today… when he didn’t go to school again?”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot. How did I know he wasn’t going to school today? He’s been in such a foul mood lately, he hardly talks to me at all.”
“Have you checked with his friends? Is anyone else missing from school today?”
“How am I supposed to find that out?” she asked. “The school won’t give out information on other students. And if they’re not in school, I doubt their parents know about it.”
She was right. Still, it pissed him off that she hadn’t dealt with this last night. “Call me when he gets home.”
He heard his patient come into the waiting area.
“All right,” she said.
He disconnected the call, put his phone on silent, and went to greet Mr. Brubecker, his first appointment of the day. He wasn’t sure how in the hell he was going to keep his mind on his work with Bryce off who knew where and Abby running around alone.
During the session with Mr. Brubecker—who always spent at least the first twenty minutes complaining about his wife of forty years—Jason’s eyes kept straying to his BlackBerry. It was on his desk, shielded from his patient’s view by a stack of books.
Finally, a text message came in. He discreetly checked it.
Deputy Bigelow and I are having a party. Wish you were here.
Jason suppressed his
smile and refocused on Mr. Brubecker, who was finally getting around to discussing his medical condition.
Two hours and three patients later, Jason broke for lunch. He hadn’t heard from Abby telling him she was on her way back into town yet. He almost called her, but didn’t want to delay her getting her work finished. He wanted her back here so he could keep a protective eye on her.
Silly, he thought, she was with a deputy sheriff, who should be perfectly capable of guarding her. But when it came to Abby, he trusted no one as much as he did himself. He was invested in ways no officer of the law performing his duty ever could be.
He tried to call Bryce again. When his son didn’t answer, Jason texted him, betting he was more likely to read it than to check his voice mail.
You’re busted. Call me ASAP.
Jason began to assemble a mental list of places he was going to search for his son if he didn’t hear back from him by the end of the work day.
Just as he was headed from the kitchen to his office, he got the call from Abby. His heart lifted at the sound of her voice.
“All packed up and headed to Randall and Roberts. Deputy Bigelow and I just parted ways at the end of the lane. I should be at your house in forty-five minutes or so. I have to change the cards on the arrangements already at the funeral home, and set everything up in the viewing room.”
“Let the staff take them into the viewing room,” he said, his hand tightening on the phone.
“Probably a good idea.”
He’d been braced for contention, probably something about professional presentation or some such thing he’d have a difficult time arguing against. He was still waiting for a “but” when she said, “Listen, can you leave your kitchen door unlocked? That way I won’t interrupt you when I get there.”
“All right,” he said. “And Abby?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
Abby drove slowly toward town; she didn’t relish the thought of going back into the funeral home. But, she assured herself, the viewing was still three hours away. The Robards had had their private time with their son this morning—which Abby had unwittingly interrupted. So the chances of another scene with Mrs. Robard were slim.
Abby had managed to do her work by blocking out the fact that these arrangements were for a boy whose death she was responsible for. As soon as she had the delivery behind her, she was looking forward to locking herself in Brenna’s room and taking a nap. Maybe she could just stay there until morning. It would be the best way to make certain she didn’t give in to her desires and go to Jason’s bed again. She’d proven she was too weak to leave when she should.
Sleep No More Page 24
