Nobody Knows

by Mary Jane Clark

  “Wow. I didn’t know that. That’s really bad.” The clerk turned to ring up the next customer.

  It wasn’t until he had locked the doors of the store that the clerk had a chance to think of it. The weird guy who came in last night. The one who thought no one saw him rip out the page from the phone book. The one who asked how to get to Calle de Peru.

  The clerk went to the phone book and paged through to the B’s. The page where Bayler would have been listed was gone.

  CHAPTER 65

  Islanders arrived at the evacuation center, staking out their territory. Sleeping bags, air mattresses, and cots lined the floors of the high school cafeteria, gymnasium, classrooms, and hallways.

  “I suppose this is where we should come if it gets too bad tonight,” Leroy mused aloud. “Maybe we should mark out our spot.”

  “If you want to,” answered Cassie without enthusiasm. She wouldn’t be sleeping, she’d be working. Felix would be shooting, she would be interviewing evacuees and writing a script for KEY to America. The morning broadcast would undoubtedly want a piece. Only Leroy might have a chance to get some rest.

  It didn’t take long to get what they needed for their story. Felix took some general shots of the evacuees and Cassie did a few interviews. They were leaving the building when Cassie’s pager went off. The tiny screen told her to call Yelena Gregory in New York.

  She tried to keep her fingers steady as she pushed the numbers on her cell phone. Maybe there was some news on the lawsuit. Maybe a settlement had been reached. “Cassie Sheridan answering Yelena’s page.”

  “Yes, just a moment please.”

  Yelena came on the line quickly. “How’s it going down there, Cassie? You keeping dry?”

  Cut the small talk, Yelena, Cassie thought with impatience. You know it and I know it. News presidents don’t call to discuss the weather.

  “We’re doing okay, but it looks like it’s going to get rough.”

  “I know you’ll do a great job.”

  “Thanks, Yelena.”

  “Uh, Cassie. I have something I want to tell you before you hear it from someone else.”

  “Something happen with the lawsuit?”

  “No. No news on that front.”

  Cassie’s mind raced. If it wasn’t the legal nightmare, then what? “Well, what is it, Yelena?” She braced herself.

  “Cassie, I’m sorry. I truly am. But we’ve felt it important to officially name Valeria Delaney as justice correspondent. She’s been doing a great job and she’s earned it.”

  Cassie tried to control her voice. “You told me that you were going to hold off, and when we finished with the lawsuit, I could be coming back to Washington.”

  “I’m sorry, Cassie.”

  “I hear you saying you’re sorry, Yelena, but sorry doesn’t cut it. That’s my job. This isn’t fair.”

  The argument about fairness sounded childish to her own ears. Fairness had nothing to do with anything anymore.

  CHAPTER 66

  This was the first kid he had ever seen who was eager to take his medicine.

  “I have to lay down on my side and you have to hold the pounder to my chest.”

  The machine did its work as the child coughed up phlegm into one Kleenex after another.

  “Who gave you my medicine? Did my mommy bring it?”

  “No. Your brother gave it to me.”

  “Vincent? Vincent brought it?”

  “Yeah, Vincent.”

  “Where is he? I want to see him.”

  “You’ll see him, don’t worry.”

  “When?”

  “When I say so. Now be quiet.”

  The little boy began to cry. “I want my mother.” The coughing increased, racking the small body.

  “Look, kid, try to relax. You’re going to see your mommy. I promise. But until we can get to her, you’ve got to do what I tell you.”

  Mark wiped at his swollen eyes.

  “Why do you have all that makeup? That’s for ladies.”

  “Not always. Men wear makeup in the movies and on television.”

  “Are you on television?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do you have it?”

  He answered the boy with another question. “Ever been to the circus?”

  “Yes, my mother took me.” Mark looked like he was going to start bawling again.

  “Remember the clowns?”

  Mark shook his head up and down.

  “Well, what do you think? You think those were their real faces? Of course not. They were wearing makeup.”

  “So, you’re a clown?”

  “On the inside, kid. On the inside.”

  FOR AS long as he could remember, all he had ever really wanted was reassurance that he was attractive, acceptable, lovable. He had found none in the house where he grew up.

  There was no touching in his house. No cuddling, no caressing, no good-night kisses. Even discipline was meted out without the touch of the human hand. A leather belt did that, or a yardstick, or the back of his mother’s hairbrush.

  He watched the boy lying on the studio couch. The child was breathing better now, the coughing less frequent.

  “You ever get in trouble, kid?”

  Mark look puzzled. “Whaddya mean?”

  “Does your mother ever hit you?”

  “No,” answered the child. “But she hits my brother sometimes,” he offered, wanting to please his captor.

  “What does she hit him with?”

  “Her hand.”

  The feelings inside were pushing, pushing to the surface. He needed to do it. He needed some release. “Come here, kid. Come on over here.”

  Mark got up from the couch and took the seat at the makeup table.

  “How ‘bout I make you up as a clown?”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  He drew and painted and powdered the small, soft face, remembering that first clown. The one at the circus he had begged his father to take him to for his birthday when he was just a little bit older than the boy who sat before him now. He could still remember his excited anticipation of that rare outing with his dad. The terror he felt when he had wet his pants in the circus stands. His father’s disgusted expression, the hissed threat of what would happen when they got home.

  In the circus ring, the clown had continued his antics, the grinning face mocking his already total humiliation.

  CHAPTER 67

  Screw KEY News. She’d had it.

  She had devoted her professional life to the organization and had sacrificed a good deal of her personal life as well. Somehow Cassie had thought her loyalty would be returned. If she played by the rules, gave it her all, surely KEY News would do the right thing by her.

  You fool. The fact of the matter was that everyone was expendable. You were useful as long as you were useful, but when things got too difficult or another option better suited their purposes, you were history.

  They could argue that they paid you for services provided and they had every right to decide how they wanted to staff the news division. That was surely true. But Yelena had promised that they weren’t going to hang Cassie out to dry. KEY News was going to stick by their award-winning correspondent. By naming Valeria Delaney to the Justice Department beat, KEY News was in fact announcing that it was leaving Cassie Sheridan behind.

  Cassie hated herself for her naïveté. Or had it been wishful thinking? She had gone docilely to Miami when they told her to, hoping that they would manage things, expecting them to take care of her. That had been a huge mistake. For a smart girl, you’ve been pretty damned stupid. You should have known you have to take care of yourself.

  On the ride back to the hotel from the evacuation center, Cassie stared out the window at the pounding rain and devised her plan. She’d be damned if she was going to roll over and play dead. She was going to show them, and herself, that she was one of the best reporters KEY News ever had.

  IN RECORD time she pound
ed out her script on the laptop. She showed it to Leroy and then e-mailed it to the Fishbowl. While waiting for approval, Cassie went back to her room and fished the business card from her purse.

  Sarge Tucker answered on the second ring. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”

  “About?”

  “The Boys Next Door and ‘Nobody Knows.’ ”

  “All right. Why not? But I’d prefer talking in person.”

  Cassie looked out the window, calculating that she still had to record her track and, later, do the live standup from the hotel balcony. “I can’t get away right now. Any chance you can come to me?”

  “In this mess? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  She held out the carrot. “I’ve heard that Merilee Quiñones was claiming that she wrote ‘Nobody Knows.’ ”

  “Where are you?” There was resignation in his voice.

  “The Inn by the Bay—it’s on Tamiami. There’s a Denny’s downstairs.”

  CHAPTER 68

  The tranquilizers had worked. Dozing on the couch, Wendy awoke to the sound of a crash at the window. She pulled herself up and looked outside. A giant palm frond lay on the grass at the base of the house.

  “Vincent?” she called out.

  The sound of the howling wind was the only response.

  “Vincent,” she demanded, checking his empty bedroom.

  Where was he now? She was going to kill that kid.

  She saw the note on the kitchen counter.

  Mom,

  Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.

  Vincent

  What was the matter with him? He knew that she was worried sick about Mark. It was just like Vincent, running off, not thinking of her feelings.

  She went back to the window and looked out again at the raging storm. Where could Vincent have gone to in this? Her mind went the natural next step. Vincent might drive her absolutely crazy, but she wouldn’t be able to bear it if anything happened to her other son.

  CHAPTER 69

  Cassie recorded the track that Felix would feed to New York.

  “I’ll be downstairs in the restaurant if you need me.”

  Denny’s was deserted save for the man who sat in the corner. A dripping raincoat was draped on the chair beside him.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” Sarge looked out the plate-glass window at the raging storm. “I should be at the evacuation center. Not here, defending myself against a baseless charge.”

  Cassie waited.

  “How did you hear that Merilee claimed to have written ‘Nobody Knows’?”

  “I have my sources,” said Cassie, thinking of the overheard conversation at the Ringling party, “and I’m not going to reveal them.” Sarge didn’t have to know how vague her information was or that she was on a fishing expedition.

  “Well, she was lying. Merilee didn’t write ‘Nobody Knows.’ I did.”

  “That’s a hard thing to prove, isn’t it?”

  The promoter shrugged. “Maybe, but I think I would have won if we went to court.”

  “But now you won’t be going to court, will you? Merilee’s not around to take you there.”

  Sarge picked up a napkin and wiped his damp brow. “Look”—he sighed—“I know it looks bad. A woman claims she wrote my song, a song that stands to make big, big money, and now that woman turns up dead. But, believe me, Merilee had a lot of irons in the fire. She was a real operator, and she made enemies along the way. I’ll admit it. I’m not sorry Merilee’s out of the picture, but I know I’m not the only one.”

  “Care to name names?” Cassie opened up her notebook.

  “Her boss at the porno place for one. Webb Morelle at Web of Desire Productions couldn’t have been too happy that she was demanding some of his action.”

  “And you know this, how?”

  “Merilee told me. We were neighbors, you know. She used to come over and we’d drink some wine and she’d run her mouth off about all her big plans. She had delusions of grandeur, that one.” Sarge shook his head. “My mistake was I played ‘Nobody Knows’ for her before I had it copyrighted, never thinking that she would claim it as her own. I should have known better.”

  Cassie wanted to steer the conversation back. “Who else was Merilee on the outs with?”

  “She couldn’t stand that actor she had to work with. Van something or other. And by the looks of the welt on her arm she showed me one time, he wasn’t too fond of her either.”

  “Anyone else?”

  Sarge thought a moment. “Well, there was one poor slob I felt sorry for. I can’t remember his name. From the sound of it, he had fallen for her hard. But she was just using him. She had her cap set for some eye doctor, and she was stringing this other clod along as a backup in case the doctor didn’t come through.”

  The doctor must have been Harry Lewis, thought Cassie. Who was the clod?

  CHAPTER 70

  The late afternoon sky was dark and ominous. Vincent had to push himself through the wind and sheets of rain, stopping at the worst gusts to grab hold of a tree or street sign.

  At the beach, roaring waves crashed on the Old Pier. As Vincent looked out at the concrete structure, Gideon flashed through his mind. All the hours they had spent together on the pier. All the good times they had had. No more.

  If only he hadn’t found this stupid ring!

  Vincent patted at his rubber slicker, feeling the tiny bulge from the zippered pocket inside the jacket. The ring was there, safe and sound. He was going to keep his side of the bargain. This guy better keep his.

  The boy waited.

  HE DROVE toward Siesta Key with Mark strapped into the front seat beside him. Safe enough. With the dark skies and the drenching rain, nobody was going to notice the boy.

  “We’re going home?” the five-year-old asked, recognizing familiar landmarks through the rain.

  “Yeah, we’re going to meet your brother.”

  It was going to be a relief to get rid of this sickly kid. Sweet or not, let him be somebody else’s problem.

  But as the car approached the North Bridge, his anticipation turned to panic. Police cars and barricades blocked the entrance.

  Absolutely no one was being allowed on Siesta Key.

  CHAPTER 71

  “Someone called us with something, Mrs. Bayler. The clerk at the 7-Eleven says a man came in early last evening and asked directions for Calle de Peru.”

  Wendy digested what Deputy Gregg’s words could mean. “You think this man might have come and taken Mark?”

  “It’s a possibility we have to look at. Has anyone called?”

  “No. Only a couple of hang-ups. How are you going to find this guy?” Wendy demanded.

  Danny wished he knew. The clerk had described a man of medium build with a beard and grayish hair. But the kid had said there was something not quite right about the guy’s appearance, though he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Danny suspected a disguise of some sort. “We’re doing everything we can, Mrs. Bayler,” he tried to reassure her. “In the meantime, you and Vincent have to get off this island.”

  “Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m going, especially if someone has Mark and could be calling.”

  The sheriff’s deputy understood. If Robbie was missing, he wouldn’t leave either. “Well then, at least let us take Vincent to the evac center.”

  “That might be a good idea,” Wendy admitted, “if Vincent was here for you to take.”

  CHAPTER 72

  The furious gust blew him to the sand, pinning him there. Vincent struggled to get up but was blown down again and again. He managed to crawl toward the road, finding partial shelter under a boarded-up beach house perched on metal pilings. He huddled beneath his rain-jacket, wiping the stinging water from his eyes, the wet, gritty sand from his face. How long had he been waiting?

  He peered through the torrential sheets of rain,
searching for some kind of movement. Car lights or a human figure. Two human figures, he hoped, one grown, one small. Instead, the only activity was the ceaseless crashing of the white-capped waves smashing onto the shore.

  How was the guy going to see him beneath this house? He had to get out there and stand in a spot where he would be visible. With head tucked, he headed out again.

  Each step took all his strength, planting his thin legs as firmly as he could into the sand for support against the punishing wind. When he reached the pier, Vincent was exhausted. Still, he clung to the hope that the man who had Mark would come. When he came, he’d have to be able to find him. If Vincent could climb on top of the pier, the guy would surely be able to spot him.

  He hoisted himself up onto the concrete shelf. His rubber coat flapped against his body as he turned his back on the turbulent water, searching the dark beach for a sign of the man.

  At the next gust of wind, Vincent felt himself propelled forward and his feet skid along the slick cement, struggling, in vain, to keep his balance.

  CHAPTER 73

  Hurricane Giselle was slated as the lead story on Evening Headlines. Felix was downstairs in the parking lot, manning the satellite truck. Cassie stood, miked up and ready, at the door to the hotel balcony.

  “When we’re through here, we’re getting ourselves to the evacuation center,” Leroy ordered, watching the boats tossing like bath toys in the marina across the road.

  “No argument from me,” replied Cassie. “We’d be nuts to stay here any longer.”

  The Evening Headlines fanfare began to play on the television set. Cassie pulled up the hood of her yellow slicker, took a deep breath, and stepped out onto the balcony. Through the open door, she watched Eliza Blake welcome the audience and lead directly to the report from Sarasota.

  Images of lines of fleeing traffic and people camped out at the evacuation center filled the screen, along with the predictable shots of roaring waves and jiggling palm trees. The pictures Felix had taken at the marina and from Harry Lewis’s boat rounded out the piece, along with a sound bite from Jerry Dean about potential economic hardships and a spokesman from the National Hurricane Center comparing Giselle with past storms.