You Can Run...

by Carlene Thompson

  Night in the hospital. Diana’s memory of events immediately preceding the blow to her head might be impaired, but she remembered every detail of Friday night when she stayed in Willow’s hospital room. The mysterious clinking of metal on ceramic in the bathroom, the closed bathroom door she’d watched slowly opening before she’d grabbed Willow and rushed into the hall where she immediately had been greeted by what had sounded like a hail of gunshots. No, she could not bear another night in the hospital.

  “No,” she said firmly. “I will not stay here tonight.”

  “Diana, if it’s what the doctor thinks is best—” Tyler began.

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  “You’ll be leaving against medical advice,” Nurse Trenton said.

  “So be it. I’m going home if I have to walk there!”

  Tyler sighed and looked at the doctor. “Diana’s stubborn and hot tempered,” he said as if he’d known her all of his life. She glared at him. “But we do have some cops waiting to talk to her.”

  “Cops!” Diana exclaimed. “The police want to know why I fell?”

  Dr. Evans ignored her. “She’s in no condition to talk to them. She can’t really help them now, anyway. She has memory loss.” He looked at Diana. “Do you remember anything else about what happened this evening?”

  “No, I honestly don’t. I wanted to talk to somebody. I don’t even remember who.” She looked at Tyler. “Where was I when I fell?”

  He hesitated then said, “Nan Murphy’s house.”

  “Nan’s!” Images of a messy coffee table, attic stairs, and Nan’s expressionless eyes swirled for a moment, then seemed to sink in mud. “I don’t know why I was at Nan’s.”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Tyler said, looking slightly relieved and not giving her a chance to ask any more questions. “I’ll go out and talk to . . .” He broke off. “The people wanting to visit Diana, and tell them they have to hold off until tomorrow.”

  Diana tried to sit up quickly, groaned, and lay down again. “I feel like someone ran over me.”

  “That’s why we’d like for you to spend the night,” the doctor said.

  “Will I hurt any less here than I will at home?”

  Dr. Evans smiled. “You’ve got me there, Ms. Sheridan. I’ll give you a prescription for an anti-inflammatory drug and a painkiller. And remember that when you get home, you must rest.”

  A short while later, Diana was signing forms attesting to the fact that she was voluntarily leaving the hospital against the doctor’s advice. She got dressed with Miss Trenton’s help while Tyler had her prescriptions filled at the hospital pharmacy. Then she and Tyler made a slow trip to his car—Tyler keeping both arms around her, and she not making any effort to shake them off. She still did not remember what had happened, and Tyler would not tell her. “Not tonight,” he kept saying. “Maybe tomorrow, if you don’t remember on your own.” As they drove to the Van Etton house, Tyler called Simon and told him Diana had refused to stay in the hospital. She realized he’d called Simon earlier, too, telling him what had happened. This time Tyler also alerted him to Diana’s memory loss. “Diana and I have agreed not to talk about what happened to her until later,” he told Simon.

  “Traitor,” Diana said as they pulled out of the parking lot. “I did not agree to anything. You simply told me how things were going to be.”

  “Yeah, I’m bossy,” Tyler said equably. “Also stubborn, headstrong, and hot tempered.” He looked at her, grinning. “Sound like anyone you know?”

  “Uncle Simon,” she answered promptly. “No one else.”

  “Okay, darlin’, whatever you say. I don’t want to get you riled up and make that goose egg on your head start thumping again.”

  Diana touched the large lump on her head. “I just want to know why I was at Nan’s.”

  “And your brain just wants you to give it a rest. It’s not as if you’re going to have amnesia for the rest of your life like some character on a soap opera. Everything will come back to you in a couple of days. Maybe even hours. Just settle down and go with the flow.”

  “ ‘Go with the flow,’ ” Diana muttered in irritation.

  Tyler sighed and said, “Let’s stop with the questions and listen to some music.” He pushed a CD into the player and Nickelback’s “Someday” poured through the car.

  “That’s one of my favorite songs!” Diana exclaimed. “I didn’t think . . . well, it’s not what I expected you to like.”

  “You thought it was all country music for me. Well, surprise!” He looked at her and smiled. “I’m just full of surprises, Diana.”

  “So I’m finding out.”

  The Van Etton house seemed to be lit from basement to attic, and all of the landscape lights glared as well. When they reached the house and Simon rushed out to greet Diana, she laughed and said, “What’s with all the lights, Uncle Simon? Are you expecting a dignitary?”

  “Yes. You.” Simon flung his arms around her and hugged her fiercely. “What on earth made you go—”

  “Tomorrow,” Tyler interrupted. “Plenty of time for questions tomorrow.”

  “He’s driving me crazy,” Diana said in a half-annoyed voice. “I can’t remember anything and he won’t tell me what happened, and he won’t let anyone else tell me, either.”

  “It’s best that you concentrate on resting,” Simon said. “Come inside out of the night air. You need to go straight upstairs to bed.”

  Diana shook her head as she crossed the threshold. “I want to sit down in the library for a while, first. I’d like a glass of cognac, Simon.”

  “Well now, I guess you would but it’s not recommended for people who’ve just gotten a concussion and are taking medication. And I know you aren’t yourself yet, my dear, because you have never asked me for a glass of cognac.” He looked up at Tyler, beaming. “Who did you bring home instead of Diana?”

  Simon lowered Diana on a couch as if she was an invalid, while Clarice appeared with a heavy afghan that she tucked tightly around Diana. Simon disappeared and almost immediately returned with a glass of beer for Tyler and ice water for Diana, along with one of her anti-inflammatory pills and a painkiller.

  “Where’s Willow?” Diana asked after obediently swallowing her medication.

  “You tucked her in before you left to get ice cream,” Simon said with a hint of sarcasm. “Don’t you remember?”

  “Sir, she has short-term memory loss,” Tyler said quickly. “I told you—”

  “Yes, you did, and I sound like I’m the one with short-term memory loss.”

  “Diana, would you like a glass of milk or more ice water?” Clarice asked.

  “No. If Simon is going to be stingy with the cognac, I’d like to go to bed.” Diana suddenly felt ill-tempered with everyone fussing over her, and the pain in her head and hip abruptly rising a few notches. She slowly stood up.

  “Oh, dear, you must let Tyler and Simon help you up the stairs to bed,” Clarice cried. “You don’t want to fall again!”

  “I don’t remember falling down stairs the first time,” Diana returned, angry with herself for sounding so cross. Everyone was simply trying to help her. She forced the semblance of a gracious smile. “I’ll take the elevator. Good night, Uncle Simon, Clarice. And Tyler, thanks for a lovely evening. We’ll have to do it again sometime when I remember what it is we did.”

  2

  “I made a complete fool of myself today.” Jeffrey Cavanaugh sat in his dimly lit hotel room, holding a glass of bourbon in one hand and rubbing the other through his rumpled hair. His complexion was ashen and his eyelids puffy. “Now you’re supposed to tell me I wasn’t all that bad.”

  Blake Wentworth, seated across from Jeffrey, looked at his brother-in-law with clear, ebony eyes and said, “I can’t tell you that you weren’t all that bad. You were, Jeff. You almost hit Diana Sheridan, which was bad enough, but to make things worse, your daughter was watching.”

  Jeffrey winced and closed his eyes. “God, how cou
ld I? I barely even remember what I was doing. All I felt was rage and a sense of betrayal. Betrayal! It’s ludicrous. Penny betrayed me a long time ago. Why did I find her pregnancy such a shock?”

  “Maybe because you always said she ran away because of another man, but I don’t think you really believed it.”

  “I did. I think there were always other men, just like with Yvette.”

  “Well, today, you had proof. Before, you just thought there was another man. Today, you had no choice but to accept the truth.”

  “Maybe that was part of it,” Jeffrey said miserably, taking a sip of bourbon. “But I saw her, my beautiful Penny, so grotesquely burned. And when she woke up, she was in such agony.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “When the doctor said she was pregnant, I knew for certain there was a man. If she hadn’t run off to be with him, she wouldn’t be dying a horrible death.”

  Blake frowned. “Why do you think Penny is dying because of another man?”

  “Because if she’d stayed home with me where she belonged . . .” Jeffrey shook his head as if confused. “If, if, if . . . So many things could have been different if.”

  “For instance, if Yvette hadn’t died, you never would have been with Penny.”

  Jeffrey looked at him sharply. “If Yvette hadn’t died, we would have divorced. The marriage was wrong from the first month. People tried to tell me about her—that she was wild, unstable, incapable of love. But all I saw was her beauty.” He took another sip of bourbon. “She was beautiful, wasn’t she, Blake?”

  “Yes, I’ll have to say that for her.”

  “She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Still. Even Penny wasn’t as beautiful as Yvette.

  “Yvette’s physical beauty just hid the ugliness underneath.”

  “Ugliness is too harsh a word!” Jeffrey flared. “She could be charming, lighthearted, and so much fun. She wasn’t some exquisite doll meant to be dressed up and shown off like her parents seemed to think. And what her father did to her as a child! I get nauseated even thinking about it.” Jeffrey hung his head. “Blake, she was sick and no one did anything for her. Not even me. The psychiatrists said she was schizophrenic. They said she should be put in an asylum—but I couldn’t do that to her. There had to be another answer, but I didn’t find it in time.”

  Blake leaned forward. “Jeff, she needed to be hospitalized. Medicine wasn’t enough for her—she wouldn’t take it regularly and she needed a controlled environment with no late hours at parties, no alcohol, and no chance to act like a complete hellcat the way she did the last few months of your marriage.”

  Jeffrey closed his eyes. “I can still see her that last night before the trouble began. Yvette with her blond hair pulled up, that flowing blue cocktail dress, the necklace—She loved that necklace.”

  “No wonder. What woman wouldn’t love a five-carat canary diamond surrounded by countless blue diamonds?”

  “I designed it for her, you know, because she was so intrigued by that Egyptian myth about a blue lotus with the golden center.”

  “I do know, Jeff. Can we please not talk about this again?”

  “Yvette never took off the necklace,” Jeffrey said as if he hadn’t heard Blake. “Not when she slept, not even when she bathed or showered. When she was lying dead on that sidewalk in San Francisco, though, she wasn’t wearing it.” Jeffrey’s voice turned angry. “People said I tore the necklace off her before I threw her out the hotel window, Blake, but I didn’t.”

  “I know you didn’t.”

  “After she jumped, people were swarming all around her. Someone in that crowd stole it. That’s what happened to the necklace. I didn’t take it from her and I certainly didn’t murder her!”

  Blake closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. Then he looked piercingly at his brother-in-law. “Jeff, whenever you drink too much, you start talking about Yvette and that damned necklace,” he said in a steely voice. “We have been over this a thousand times since Yvette died. Who are you trying to convince? Surely not me. I’ve never doubted you for an instant. You know I haven’t, so stop declaring your innocence, and for God’s sake, pour out the rest of your bourbon. Then you can try thinking about Penny. She’s still alive!”

  After a tense moment, Jeffrey said quietly, “I have not forgotten Penny—not since she left me and certainly not today. But thinking about Penny makes me also think about Yvette. Mother thought Dad was the devil incarnate and she believes I’m just like him. Maybe she’s right. I’ve brought tragedy to both of my wives.”

  “Jeff, you’re not only being morbid, you’re also talking like a lunatic. You didn’t hurt Yvette or Penny. The only thing you’re guilty of is marrying two women who weren’t right for you. End of story.”

  “Well, don’t mince words, Blake,” Jeffrey said without rancor.

  “I never do when I’m talking to you or Lenore.” Blake tried to stifle a yawn but couldn’t. “It’s nearly midnight and I’d be dead on my feet if I were on my feet. Think you can sleep now?”

  “When I finish my glass of bourbon, I’ll go to bed. I promise. Sorry I took up so much of your time. I forgot you have a lovely lady waiting for you.”

  “Actually, I don’t,” Blake said leadenly. “Your sister is still furious with me for throwing that chokehold on you in the park. She took another room for the night.”

  “Another room?” Jeffrey looked flabbergasted. “Doesn’t she realize you kept me from assaulting that woman? That you did me a favor?”

  “Apparently she doesn’t see it that way. She only knows I was mean to her big brother.” Blake smiled grimly. “She even got a room on a different floor.”

  “I’ll call her.” Jeffrey rose quickly and headed for the phone. “What’s her room number?”

  “Forget it, Jeff. She gets like this sometimes. Nobody is perfect, but she’s as close as you can come and I’m lucky to be married to her. That’s why I simply give her time to herself when she’s angry with me. She’ll get over it.” He sighed. “I hope.”

  3

  Raindrops hitting the window . . .

  Barry White leaned in close to Diana, his deeper than deep sensuous voice singing “Never, Never Gonna Give You Up” in her ear. Red. Red dripping down her face. Red pooling on the floor and a face . . . lifeless eyes . . . empty eyes . . .

  Raindrops hitting the window . . .

  Diana’s nose tickled. She rubbed it and turned her head slightly. More tickling. Fumblingly, she reached up and shut her hand around Christabel’s fluffy tail. “Wha’ are you doing?” she mumbled. “Go sleep.”

  The cat maneuvered her small body next to Diana’s ear and trilled. Then she trilled louder. Louder. Then the trill turned into a demanding “Quack.” “Romeo?” Diana muttered. “Go ’way. Both of you.” Another trill. Then “Quack. Quack! Quack!”

  Abruptly, Diana reached full awareness. She looked at the window. Darkness. No raindrops. She looked at the clock: 2:10. Christabel now stood on her chest, looking balefully into her eyes, and Romeo scooted in a circle on the floor, quacking.

  “What’s wrong with you two?” Diana asked as if they could answer her. “Why aren’t you asleep in your beds? Why aren’t you with . . .” Her gaze flew to the open bathroom door. “Willow. Where’s Willow?”

  Christabel jumped off the bed as Diana threw back the sheet and light summer blanket. She turned on her bedside lamp and flew through the adjoining bathroom into Willow’s bedroom. The night light glowed enough to show her Willow’s empty bed. She flipped on the overhead light, wincing at the glare. As soon as her eyes adjusted, Diana looked around the bedroom and even in the closet. Then she noticed a window opened about six inches. Willow never wanted a window open at night.

  A shiver of apprehension rushed through Diana as she opened Willow’s door and started out. The cats tried to come with her, but she shut them in the room. She didn’t have time to carry Romeo downstairs, and she didn’t want him tumbling down as he tried to keep up with Christabel. On the first floor
, Diana padded barefoot through the library, the room officially known as the drawing room, the dining room, a little-used room that had been her great-grandmother’s “office,” and every inch of the kitchen, including the pantry. She looked at Clarice’s shut bedroom door and thought about waking her, but the woman had looked exhausted when Tyler brought Diana home from the hospital.

  As she walked back toward the kitchen, she noticed the back door open about an inch. Simon checks all the doors before going to bed, Diana thought. He would have never forgotten this one. She opened the door wider and looked into the night. Two acres of the Van Etton property stretched to a large wooded area—much larger than the woods behind Willow’s house. Would she have gone back there at night?

  Immediately answering her question, Diana saw a flash of light-colored cloth at the edge of the woods. It was there, and then it vanished. Was she seeing the new light-blue pajamas that she’d bought for Willow? Had Willow worn them tonight? Diana cursed her faulty memory. Then she caught another glimpse of something light, something darting among the trees at the edge of the woods.

  Willow.

  Diana grabbed an old raincoat hanging on a coat tree near the door. She wrapped it around herself, ignored her bare feet, and ran out the door. The night felt warm and somehow luxurious. Diana’s head ached. She tried to run but her hip hurt. That was because of her fall, she told herself, and it didn’t matter now. She needed to forget the pain and concentrate on Willow.

  She crossed the concrete terrace and stepped onto the lawn. The grass felt cool and damp with dew. Diana tried again to run, but the jabbing pain in her hip wouldn’t let her. She managed a trot, which was painful but bearable. She passed by the concrete pedestal holding an old and valuable sundial and automatically looked up at a crook between a limb and the trunk of an oak tree where a robin kept watch over her four newborns.

  While looking upward, Diana stepped hard on a rock that sent a red-hot blade of pain up her leg, almost causing her to fall. If I’d only grabbed my shoes before I left my bedroom, she thought. But the shock of having the two cats waking her in the middle of the night with a “trouble alert” seemed to have wiped all good sense out of her injured head. If the situation were not so dire, she would be marveling with Simon over the cats’ perceptiveness. Diana was certain Christabel had snapped awake either when Willow raised her window or left the room. The little cat had sensed something was wrong, and had managed an incredible feat—dragging Romeo from his nightly coma in order to awaken Diana. Standard procedure for most dogs but quite an accomplishment for two cats.