by Janet Dailey
“So what made you finally call them?” John asked.
“Come around by the computer, and I’ll show you,” Traverton said. “Remember when I told you I was going to search the missing persons database? Take a look at what I found.”
He brought up a screen with a school-type photo of a woman. “I sent this to Packard,” he said. “But I asked him not to show it to you. I wanted to see your face when you recognized it.”
John read the text below the photo:
Bethany Ann Proctor, teacher, 39. Reported missing from Boise, Idaho, June 16, 2017.
John studied the woman in the picture—dark hair drawn back from a pale, narrow face, little or no makeup, as if she’d long since given up trying to look attractive. But her mouth was smiling, and her gentle brown eyes were magnified by her thick-lensed glasses—the same glasses John had discovered at the trailer site. A tiny gold locket, the old-fashioned kind that opened, hung around her neck on a chain so thin it was barely visible.
She looked like a good woman, a kind woman. “I hope you haven’t shown this to Philpot,” John said. “Anything he learns will go straight to Boone.”
“I know better than that,” Traverton said. “We’re going to keep quiet about this, at least until the team has searched the site. If Boone’s guilty of a crime, we don’t want to spook him.”
“If Bethany Ann is out there, we’ll find her.” John was surprised at the surge of emotion when he spoke. Before, he’d only been interested in a reason to arrest Boone and get him out of the way. Now there was this woman with a face and a name—a woman needing love, who’d trusted Boone Swenson and been betrayed even more cruelly than Emma. She deserved justice. And she deserved to go home.
CHAPTER 13
As John drove to pick up David at the restaurant, he tried not to feel like a nervous teenager going on a first date. Hope battled trepidation. He looked forward to being with his son. But there was so much more at stake here than a pleasant evening.
Would his intervention help keep David from trying alcohol again and open the door to a new relationship between them? Or would the boy shrug it off and go his own way?
John tried to remember what he’d been like at that age—already drinking heavily and angry at the world. Would he have listened if some well-meaning adult had stepped in and tried to help? Probably not. He was already set in his ways. And he hadn’t been much older than David when he became a father.
But it was different with David. He had a secure home with caring parents. The only disruptive influence in his young life was the father he’d barely known—the father who was trying to help him now.
Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he was about to make matters worse. But at least Marlena had been willing to give him a chance—maybe his only chance. He had to take it.
He pulled the Jeep up to the hotel and entered through the lobby. The restaurant was busy with Saturday night customers. He caught sight of Emma, bustling among tables. She gave him a quick smile and moved on.
Pearl, who was in on the plan, gave him a nod and disappeared down the back hallway. A few minutes later, David appeared, dressed in jeans and a down jacket. “Hi,” he said. “Mom didn’t tell me where we were going.”
“She wasn’t supposed to.” John could feel his heart pounding as he ushered his son outside. A heavy weight of awkwardness hung between them as they climbed into the Jeep.
“I don’t know what to call you.” David fastened his seat belt.
“You can call me John.” It was far too soon for Dad. He wouldn’t expect that. Not yet. Maybe never. But that was all right.
“Why did Mom say I could go with you tonight?” David asked as John pulled away from the curb.
“I think you know. After last night, she’s afraid you’ll grow up to be a drunk like your father. She wants me to show you a thing or two.”
“You’re not a drunk. I found that out on the TV after you crashed. The man said you were one of the best pilots he ever knew. You couldn’t do that if you were a drunk.”
“You’re right. I’m not a drunk. But I was, for a long time. It cost me my marriage—and it cost me my son.” At least they were having an honest conversation. “So tell me. What was it you had to drink last night?”
“My friend said it was gin. He got it from his dad’s liquor cabinet and brought it to the party.”
“How did it taste? Did you like it?”
“Not really. It tasted like medicine. But after I had some, it made me feel good. I wanted more.”
“So when did you stop?”
“When it was all gone.”
“So why did you do it?”
He shrugged. “Because I could. Because I was curious. Because I was mad at my mom. I don’t know, I just did it.”
John drove in silence, taking the long way around to where he was going. For now he’d said enough. He wanted David to do the talking.
“Is it true what my mom says, that being an alcoholic is passed down in families—like your mother drank, and so did you?”
“I don’t know. I started drinking when I was thirteen because my mother kept liquor around, and because it helped me forget things that made me feel bad, like remembering my father in prison.”
“Yeah, Mom told me about him. She said he killed a man. Is that true?”
“Yes, but he didn’t mean to. That’s a story for another time.” John could only hope there might be another time. “I don’t drink anymore, but I’m still an alcoholic. That means the craving will always be there. If I took one drink, it would be like I’d never stopped. That’s why I don’t drink at all. Not even beer.”
“And that craving’s passed down in families? Is that what my mother meant?”
“It could be.”
“So I could be an alcoholic, too?”
“Maybe. And if you are, that’s a good reason not to start drinking at all.” John pulled into the church parking lot.
“Hey!” David jerked upright in the seat. “Don’t tell me you’re taking me to church!”
“Only to the basement. I’m taking you to a meeting of the people who saved my life.”
David hesitated. “What will I have to do? Will I have to talk to people?”
“Not unless you want to. Just sit in the back with me and listen. It won’t be long—about as long as one of your classes at school. Then, unless you want to hang around, we can go get pizza and sodas.”
“Can’t we just get pizza and sodas?”
“Not this time. Come on.”
They climbed out of the Jeep and walked around to the basement entrance of the church. David dragged his feet but didn’t argue. John stopped him at the top of the stairs. “There’s one rule I forgot to mention,” he said. “You might see a few folks you know tonight, but nothing about who you saw or what they might have said can leave the meeting. You can’t tell anybody about this except that you went. Understand?”
“Yeah. Is it sort of like a secret club?”
“Sort of. That’s why it’s called Alcoholics Anonymous.”
“So everybody here is an alcoholic?”
“Right. And they’re all either trying to get sober or stay sober. I haven’t had a drink in seven years, but I still go.”
Downstairs, the meeting had just started. They sat in the back, David slumping in his chair as if wanting to make himself invisible. He cast furtive glances around the small room. There were about twenty people in the meeting, sitting in rows with their backs toward him.
“Holy shit!” he whispered to John. “That bald guy is the soccer coach at school. And the woman over there with the red scarf is my friend’s mom. I didn’t know they were alcoholics.”
“You never saw them here. And they never saw you.” John shushed his son.
They listened while people stood and talked about their struggles with alcohol in their lives. Some looked well off. Others looked like they’d slept on the street. Some were still summoning the strength to quit drinking. Others had
been sober for years but still needed the support that came from sharing. John chose not to stand tonight. He didn’t want to call attention to David or embarrass him. He could only hope his son was taking in what he heard and thinking about it.
After the meeting, John might have stayed for coffee and cookies, but he knew David would be more comfortable leaving. The boy was quiet as they walked to the Jeep. John waited for him to speak as they drove to the nearby pizza parlor, went inside, and ordered a large combo and Cokes.
“So how often do you go to those meetings?” David asked after the server had taken their order.
“Every couple of weeks, at least. It helps. And it gives me a chance to help other people.”
“Do you get up and say, ‘My name is John, and I’m an alcoholic’?”
“I do. That’s part of the recovery process, letting people know you have a problem.”
“My name is David and I’m an alcoholic.” He spoke the words as if trying them on, then laughed and shook his head. “No way. I’m not ready for that.”
“I’m hoping you’ll never need to say that. So is your mother.” John looked at him across the booth, filling his eyes with the sight of his son, filling his memory with the sound of his laughter. There was nothing on God’s green earth he wouldn’t do for the boy. But he knew better than to voice the thought.
The server set their pizza on the table. David wolfed down two big slices before he spoke again.
“What made you decide to stop drinking?”
“I hoped that if I was sober, I could go back to court and get to have you with me part-time. It didn’t work. The judge ruled against me. When it happened I almost started drinking again.”
“I’m sorry. My mom has said some awful things about you.”
“I know. And a lot of them are true. I gave her a bad time, and I was never there when she needed me.”
“I don’t know when I can be with you again.” David slurped his Coke through the ice in the bottom of his glass. “My mom says that tonight is just for one time. After that, it’s back to the old rules.”
John’s heart sank. He should have expected this. Still, it was hard to hear. “Your mother’s the boss,” he said. “We’ve got to respect her wishes. Promise me you’ll do what she says and not argue or try anything behind her back. Otherwise you’ll get us both in trouble.”
“I’ll be eighteen in the spring. Then I can do whatever I want. Maybe you can even take me flying.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” John said. “Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time. All the time we want.”
Even as he spoke, John felt a strange chill of foreboding. What if he was wrong? What if this was all the time they would ever have?
He had promised to have David home by nine-thirty. After they finished the pizza, and they’d exchanged phone numbers, he drove to the trim white house on the hillside and stopped in front. He’d hoped Marlena wouldn’t come outside. She didn’t. But he could see her silhouette against the front window sheers where she watched for her son.
“Thanks.” David unbuckled his seat belt and unlatched the door. “Tonight was good. I learned a lot. I mean it.”
“Can you promise me you’ll think long and hard before you take another drink?” John asked.
David climbed out of the Jeep and stood at attention next to the open door. “My name is David, and I’m an alcoholic!” he intoned in a somber voice.
John had to laugh. “Get going, you mutt!” he said.
David closed the door and walked up the porch steps. The door opened, framing Marlena in the light. Then the boy stepped inside and was gone.
All the way down the winding street and into town, John struggled to control a rush of churning emotions. He had waited more than half his son’s lifetime for tonight. Though it was a simple outing, it had been all he could’ve hoped for. He would be counting the months until the next time.
But with so many uncertainties in life, how could he be sure the next time would ever come?
Acting on impulse, he parked the Jeep across from the hotel. There was one thing he needed right now—Emma in his arms. She should be getting off work any minute. He wouldn’t stay long, but he couldn’t go home to his lonely cabin tonight without seeing her.
The front door to the restaurant was already locked. He could see the dinner crew finishing the last of the cleanup. Emma glanced around and spotted him through the glass door. She smiled and turned the lock to let him in.
“So how did it go?” Pearl asked.
“Not too bad. He’s a great kid.”
“He is,” Pearl said. “Emma, you two run along. We’re almost done here.”
He walked her into the lobby, where three people were standing by the desk. He ached to take her in his arms and kiss her till they both ached with need for each other, but he couldn’t do it here. He hesitated, thinking it might be best to say good night and leave.
“Come on up.” Emma nodded toward the stairs. Grateful, he followed her.
* * *
Emma’s hand trembled as she turned the key in the lock. Last night, when she’d held John in her arms, he’d been weak and injured. But he appeared to have made a good recovery. It was a very different John who followed her into the room and locked the door behind them. The room was dark. Neither of them turned on the light.
She wasn’t sure what to expect. She only knew that she felt safe with him, and that she loved him.
“Come here.” He caught the ties of her apron, turned her around, and gathered her close. His kiss was deep and hungry, his mouth devouring hers. She went molten in his arms, loving the feel of him, the taste of him, wanting his hands in all the places her grandmother had warned her she should never let a man touch. She could feel the hard ridge of his maleness against her hips. She knew what it was, and she wasn’t afraid.
She offered no resistance as he lowered her to the bed, then stretched out on his side, next to her. His kisses became gentle and tender as he cradled her close. “You know what I want, Emma,” he said, brushing her hair back from her face.
“I know.” She reached down and skimmed the fastening of his jeans with a fingertip that trembled slightly. What did she know about lovemaking? Her experience was limited to what she’d read in books and a few bouts of awkward groping from college boys that had left her feeling vaguely dirty. This shimmering, burning ache that surged through her body was like awakening to magic. She wanted to go where it was taking her—where he was taking her.
“What are you thinking?” He had propped himself on one elbow and was looking down at her in the darkness. “Are you afraid?”
“Only afraid that I’ll do something stupid to spoil it for you.”
He kissed her, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on her uniform. “Silly woman, nothing you could do would be stupid. But I really would like to get you out of this godawful outfit.”
Feeling bolder, she asked, “Remember the last time I undressed and made you look away?”
He laughed. “Are you offering to let me look this time?”
“Do you want to?”
“I want a front row seat.” He sat up, took her hands, and helped her off the bed. The room was dark, but enough moonlight filtered through the blinds for them to see each other.
She started on the buttons; but then he stood up, clasped her in his arms, and kissed her long and hard. “I have a better idea,” he murmured huskily. “Let’s undress each other.”
They started gently, Emma shy at first. But as the urgency caught like flame to tinder, they were soon tearing at each other’s clothes, hungry to caress each other skin to skin.
John’s naked body was like sculpted bronze, smooth, solid, and strong. She couldn’t get enough of touching him, all of him. He moaned as she stroked him, stunned by her own boldness. When he broke away for a moment she wondered why, then realized it was to protect her.
He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her between his knees
. She pressed his head against her as he kissed her breasts, burying his face in the cleft between them. For the space of a long breath they clung like that. Then he pulled her into the bed. She was ready for him, all fear and hesitation gone. John was making love to her, her body responding to his, soaring in a world of beautiful sensations.
It was, perhaps, the best moment of her whole life.
Afterward, as she lay curled in contentment, he slipped out of bed and began pulling on his clothes.
“Can’t you stay?” She looked up at him, wondering how it could be possible to love someone so much.
“I need to go now,” he said. “I’ll be meeting the troopers at first light. But the next time we make love, I don’t want to have to get up and leave you. I want to lie all night with you in my arms, then wake up and do it all over again.”
“I think I’d like that,” she whispered.
“I’ll make sure you like it.” He leaned over and feathered a kiss across her lips. “I’ll call you when I get back from the trailer site,” he said. “If you don’t hear from me, you’ll know that I’m still with the troopers, and we’re still looking for evidence.”
“Be careful,” she said.
“And you be careful, too. Stay in the hotel. Don’t go out alone for any reason. Someday soon, this will all be over, Emma. It’s got to be.”
He leaned down for a last, lingering kiss. Then he turned, crossed the room, and stepped out into the dimly lit hall. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Emma alone.
* * *
At first light John arrived at the state trooper post and met the investigation team—two troopers named Reuben and Pete, along with a dog handler named Ted and a golden Labrador named Daisy, both on loan from Juneau. The heavy-duty van was loaded and ready to go. Glancing into the open back, John saw an assortment of shovels, cameras, gloves, and evidence-collecting kits, a stack of Kevlar vests, a stretcher, a carton of body bags, a cooler, and Daisy’s travel crate, with the friendly dog already settled inside.
“Does she mind getting hauled on these outings?” John asked, making conversation with Ted, a young Tlingit with long hair braided and wrapped like his own.
