“Everything’s fine,” Tess said, surprised by the older woman’s perception.
Willa’s lips pursed almost imperceptibly. “I just mentioned it because I know Melanie has a tendency to be a little high-strung, and the last thing you need is more pressure right now.”
A note of disapproval in her voice, made Tess bristle slightly. “Melanie’s been a good friend to me, Miss Willa. I would be the last person to criticize her for anything, especially considering all she’s been through.”
“Oh, I know. I don’t mean to suggest…” Willa trailed off, her expression contrite. “I’m sorry. The two of you have been friends for a long time, haven’t you?”
“Since we were kids.”
“It’s only natural that you would defend her, especially considering that…well, you were in the car with her when she had the accident, weren’t you?” Before Tess could say anything, Willa murmured, “I suppose her resentment is only natural.”
“Resentment?” Tess asked in astonishment. “What are you talking about?”
“You can’t see it, can you?” Again, that inflection in her voice. The barest hint of something unpleasant.
What did Willa Banks have against Melanie? They both worked at Fairhaven, but Tess didn’t think they even knew each other very well.
Then, in a flash, something came back to her. A few days ago, Willa had come by the center and passed out a batch of chocolate-chip cookies she’d made. She’d insisted that everyone take one, and Melanie had grudgingly complied. But then she’d gotten that tight-lipped expression she sometimes got, and the moment Willa’s back was turned, she dropped her cookie into a nearby trash can. When Tess questioned her about it, Melanie muttered something about strychnine.
“What in the world are you talking about?” Tess had asked.
Melanie shuddered. “The last time I ate something at school that Willa made, I got sick as a dog.”
When Tess started to scold her, Melanie grumbled, “Oh, I’m not saying she did it on purpose. But she’s not playing with a full deck, Tess. I don’t think she should be allowed anywhere near those children, let alone be allowed to administer any medicine. Can you imagine what would happen if she gave the wrong dosage to a child? Or worse, the wrong medication altogether. I’ve spoken to the director about her, but if something isn’t done soon, I may have to take matters into my own hands.”
“Tess?”
Her attention snapped back to Willa Banks. The woman stared up at her with an apprehensive expression.
Tess said a little guiltily, “I’m sorry, Miss Willa, but you’re wrong about Melanie. We have occasional disagreements just like any other friends, but there’s no resentment. We’re like sisters. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really have to go. I’m expected at my mother’s for dinner.” She walked around to the side of the truck and opened the door.
“I hope I haven’t offended you,” Willa said anxiously, following on Tess’s heels.
“No, of course not. I’m just in a bit of a hurry.”
Willa nodded. “I understand. I won’t keep you any longer. Say hello to your mother for me,” she called after Tess had climbed into the truck and shut the door.
As she drove away, she glanced in her rearview mirror. Willa remained in the parking lot, staring after her, and an uneasy shiver ran up Tess’s backbone.
Where on earth had Willa Banks gotten the notion that Melanie resented Tess?
TESS’S HOME was located down a lonely little tree-shrouded lane about a quarter of a mile from town. She’d chosen the house not so much for the post–World War II bungalow style that she’d always loved, but for the enormous backyard that had come complete with a charming little playhouse and an old-fashioned wooden swing suspended from one of the massive oak trees that shaded the property. Both she and Emily had fallen in love with the place immediately.
And no wonder. The first two years of Emily’s life had been spent in a dreary, cramped apartment in Memphis near the university were Tess had both worked and gone to school to complete her degree in business administration. It was the same apartment she’d shared with Alan before he died, and the place was so dark and gloomy with its tiny windows and forest-green carpeting, so bleak with its unhappy memories, that on weekends Tess and Emily had spent much of their time in nearby Overton Park. Emily loved the outdoors, thrived in the fresh air and sunshine, but the crime rate in the park and in the city in general had always worried Tess.
When her mother told her that the Spencers had sold their vacation house on Marvel Lake, Tess had jumped at the chance to come back home. It was ironic, she supposed, that in fleeing the crime in the city, she’d placed her daughter in the most nightmarish danger of all.
Glancing at her home now, Tess wished she could take some comfort in the wide front porch she’d recently painted or in the flower beds she’d carefully tended all summer. But all she could think was that when she went inside, Emily wouldn’t be there.
Tess got out of the truck and stood for a moment as memories washed over her. She could almost see Emily sitting on the porch steps, eating an ice-cream cone. Emily on her knees, passionately digging in the dirt as she helped Tess plant impatiens. Emily, playing in the sprinkler. Emily, laughing. Emily, crying. Emily, calling out to her mother in terror…
Grief tightened around Tess’s heart as she stared at the house.
She didn’t want to go inside. This place, her and Emily’s first real home, had once meant so much to her. The house, the yard, even the isolation had become a haven to Tess after a hard day’s work, but as she stood in the darkness tonight, a strange, unsettled feeling came over her. This house was no longer her home. No longer a place of solace.
Maybe I should have stayed at Mama’s tonight, Tess thought, getting the box of flyers and envelopes from the Explorer. But once she’d gotten to Joelle’s, she’d found that she couldn’t settle down to dinner or to work, so she’d given up and come home early. Home, but not home.
Letting herself in through the front door, she dropped the heavy boxes on the living-room floor, then walked down the hallway to Emily’s bedroom.
Not a day went by that she didn’t spend time in her daughter’s room. First thing in the morning. Last thing before she went to bed at night. Odd times during the day, when she couldn’t seem to function, when she needed to feel a connection with her daughter.
It was dark in the room, but Tess was so familiar with the area that she didn’t need a light. She could see the outline of the sleigh bed, the tiny writing desk against one wall, the antique armoire that sat in a corner, doors opened to reveal a formation of Barbies, Beanie Babies, and, on the top shelf, Madam Alexander dolls.
Emily was very particular about the way she arranged her toys, and Tess sometimes wondered if it was practicality or an uncanny perception of life that caused her daughter to put the expensive dolls, the untouchable dolls, out of reach—away from temptation—while she kept the rank-and-file toys on the lower shelves.
Crossing to the window, Tess parted the curtains and stared out at the backyard. The moon was up, casting a sterling light over the grounds and throwing the woods beyond the fence into deep shadow. In the spring, she and Emily picked wildflowers in those woods, and in the fall, wild grapes for jelly. But Tess avoided even looking at the woods much these days. She was too afraid of what might be hidden there.
Turning from the window, she lay down on the bed, smoothing her hand across the pink-and-white coverlet. She could still smell Emily, that sweet, little-girl fragrance that was like sunshine and laughter, and, yes, even tears. But the scent was fading. Tess closed her eyes, trying to get it back.
She reached for Emily’s teddy bear, wanting to cuddle it close, the way she wanted to hold her daughter. But the bear, Emily’s favorite toy, wasn’t in its usual spot on her pillow.
Tess turned on the bedside lamp. Warm light flooded the bedroom, highlighting the armoire where the lifeless eyes of Emily’s dolls seemed to gaze back at her.
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Uneasiness churned in Tess’s stomach. The teddy bear wasn’t on the bed or on the floor nearby. Nor had she placed it by mistake with the rest of Emily’s toys. It was nowhere to be seen.
And then, very faintly, came an indefinable sound from somewhere deep in the house.
Tess’s hand flew to her chest, and in the space of a heartbeat, a million thoughts flew through her head. Someone was in the house with her. Someone had taken Emily’s favorite toy. But who? And for God’s sake, why?
The noise came again, and the hair at the back of Tess’s neck prickled in fear as her mouth went completely dry. Slowly, she got up from the bed and walked out into the hallway, looking first one way and then the other. The living room was at one end of the corridor, her bedroom at the other. For a moment, Tess stood perfectly still, hearing nothing now but the sound of her own heartbeat echoing in her ears.
Had she left the front door unlocked? Her years in the city had made her cautious about such things, but her mind hadn’t exactly been working on all cylinders lately.
Slipping out of her shoes, she moved down the hallway on bare feet, peering around the corner into the shadowy living room. Moonlight flooded into the room through the large windows at the front, and Tess searched every corner for anything amiss, some stray movement. Seeing nothing, she hurried across the hardwood floor and checked the bolt on the front door, letting out a breath of relief when she found it locked.
Retracing her steps down the hallway, she flicked on the light in her bedroom, making a quick search of the closet and underneath the bed. By now, she was beginning to relax. The sound she’d heard had either been her imagination or nothing more threatening that settling wood.
Still, she knew she wouldn’t rest until she’d checked every room. The bathroom was just past Emily’s bedroom, and Tess flipped on the light, her gaze scanning the sink where Emily’s toothbrush rested in a Little Mermaid cup. She threw back the shower curtain, revealing Emily’s favorite shampoos and soaps, bottled in cartoon-character containers and lined up like little soldiers on a tile ledge above the tub. No one was there, either.
Tess went back out into the hallway. A smaller corridor veered off to the left and led straight back to the kitchen. Something lay curled on the floor where the two hallways connected, and for a moment Tess’s breath froze. Not long after they’d moved in, a snake had gotten into the house. It was just a harmless garter snake, but Tess and Emily both had almost gone into hysterics before Tess had calmed herself enough to throw a bath towel over the wriggling serpent and carry it outside.
She stared at the coiled darkness, and seeing no movement, inched toward it. Whatever it was, it didn’t appear to be alive, thank goodness.
Then, as she drew closer, recognition shot through her. She bent and almost reverently picked up the frayed burgundy ribbon.
“Mama, Brown Bear’s necktie fell off again. Can you fix it for me?”
It was almost as if the question had been spoken aloud, and Tess stood perfectly still, the ribbon clutched in her fist as if it were somehow connected to her daughter. As if, like a divining rod, it could somehow lead her to Emily.
Another sound came from the kitchen, and Tess’s knees almost buckled. Hope, as blinding as a spotlight, flooded through her, and without thinking, she tore down the hallway. “Emily? Emily!”
She shoved open the kitchen door and reached for the light switch. “Emily!”
In the bright glare, Tess stood blinking in confusion when she found the kitchen empty. The connection to her daughter was so powerful, the hope so profound, that she’d fully expected to see Emily sitting in her place at the table.
Across the room, the back door stood ajar. Without a moment’s hesitation, Tess flung it open and recklessly threw herself down the porch steps. A part of her knew what she was thinking was impossible. A part of her knew it couldn’t be true. But she wanted it to be true so badly.
Please let it be Emily, she prayed over and over. Please let it be Emily.
“Emily? Is that you, baby? Emily!” Please, please, please.
A dog barked somewhere down the street, but no other sound came back to Tess. The silence was almost deafening.
“Emily?” She heard the quiver in her own voice, the edge of desperate hope. “Emily?”
Her gaze scanned the moonlit yard. She moved to the side of the house, her breath coming in painful little spurts. “Emily?” Softer now, more frantic. “Emily?”
The side door to the garage hung open, as if someone had just stepped inside.
Tess’s heart stopped, then pounded in double time as the adrenaline began to flow through her veins. She put her hands to her cheeks. Her skin felt clammy, deathly cold. She took a long, measured breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Her panic.
“Emily?”
Entering the garage, Tess reached for the light switch, but then she remembered that the bulb had burned out several days ago and she hadn’t gotten around to replacing it. She turned and propped open the door, letting moonlight filter in.
She could make out shadows, indistinct shapes. Bicycles. A lawn mower. A metal rack of paint cans and solvents. At the end of the rack, another shadow, something Tess couldn’t quite identify. Then the shadow moved—
And in that instant Tess knew with an almost mind-numbing dread that the eyes staring at her through the darkness were not her daughter’s.
Fury overcame her fear. She knew the rational thing to do would be to go inside and call the sheriff’s department. But the intruder would be long gone before the police could get there. And Tess knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that whoever was in the garage with her had taken Emily. The kidnapper was trapped, cornered. And if he—she—refused to lead Tess to Emily, she would kill him.
“Tell me where my daughter is,” she said in a low, feral voice. She hardly recognized the sound of it. “Tell me!”
The shadow seemed to shrink against the wall, to cower as Tess spoke. The knowledge that she had the power to instill fear emboldened her. She reached behind her, plucked a hammer off the wall and slowly moved across the garage toward the shadow.
“I’ll kill you,” she said. “I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me where my daughter is.”
The shadow moved, just slightly, but Tess froze. Then came the sound of metal scraping on concrete. Tess glanced up. In the darkness, she could barely discern the heavy metal rack as it came crashing toward her.
Chapter Eight
Tess sat on the front-porch steps holding an ice pack to her head.
“Sure you don’t want to go to the hospital and have that bump checked out?” Abby Cross plopped down beside Tess on the step and folded her arms over her knees. She and Dave Conyers had arrived shortly after Tess’s initial call to the sheriff’s station. Lieutenant Conyers was still inside with a team of deputies and forensic technicians, while other officers combed the woods out back.
Tess shook her head. “I’m okay. I appreciate your concern, but I don’t want to leave the house. They might find something.” She put the ice pack on the porch behind her and tentatively massaged her head with her fingertips. She had a goose egg, but nothing too serious, thanks to her reflexes. She’d jumped out of the way of the metal rack in the nick of time, but she’d fallen in the process, banging her head against the concrete floor of the garage. And the kidnapper had gotten away.
She glanced at Abby. In the muted light from the living-room window, she could see the detective’s sober expression. “How much longer will it take?”
“They’re almost finished. Hopefully, we’ll get lucky, but there’s not a lot to go on.”
Tess turned back to stare out into the front yard. Police cruisers were parked at the side of the road in front of her house, and she could hear the static transmission from one of the radios. The sound, along with the flashing lights, created a surreal effect in the darkness.
Abby touched her shoulder. “Tess? Are you sure you’re okay?”
Tess cl
osed her eyes briefly. “I was so certain it was Emily. I mean, a part of me knew it was impossible, but I couldn’t help hoping. I couldn’t help thinking that maybe a miracle had happened. Maybe she’d gotten away somehow, and she’d found her way back home to me. It does happen that way sometimes. You hear about stories like that on the news—” Her voice broke, and she turned away. She knew what Abby was thinking. What Tess was thinking herself. You also heard about the stories that didn’t turn out so lucky.
She hugged her legs, resting her chin on her knees. “That’s why I went out to the garage. I thought when she heard my car pull up, she might have gone running out there to find me. Only—”
“It wasn’t Emily,” Abby said softly.
Tess swallowed past the lump in her throat, trying to beat back a rising tide of emotion. “I was so close,” she whispered. “If I’d seen who was in the garage…If I’d been more careful…we might know where Emily is right now.”
“You can’t beat yourself up over this, Tess. You did what any mother in your position would have done. You went looking for your child.”
Tess’s eyes filled with tears. “I just want her to come home. I just want to find her. Why can’t we find her?”
“We’re doing everything we can.”
She gazed at the sky. “I keep thinking about when she was little. She wasn’t an easy baby. She didn’t sleep through the night until she was nearly two years old. Sometimes I used to get so exhausted from being up with her that I would have done just about anything for a good night’s sleep. Now when I go to bed…the house is so quiet…I’d give anything to go back to that time…to be able to hold her in my arms and rock her…”
“I know.”
“I want her to be all right. I want her to be safe. God, you can’t imagine the things that go through my head at night.”
“I think I can,” Abby said.
Tess glanced up at her. “Of course. Sadie. I’d forgotten.”
This time it was Abby who turned her gaze to the darkness. “When she first disappeared, I didn’t think Naomi would get through it. I thought we were going to lose her, too.”
The Tempted Page 10
