by Judy Alter
“Mike,” I said softly, “The baby kicked me today.”
“She did?” He sat straight up in bed and threw his book on the bedside table. “Can I feel it?”
“No movement now, and it wasn’t strong enough for you to tell or I’d have pulled you into a bathroom, no matter what people thought we were doing in there.”
He laughed aloud. “That’s really exciting. I mean, it makes it seem real. Knowing there’s a real, moving life in there is good, Kelly.”
“Yeah, if Greg Davis doesn’t ruin it.”
“Kelly, I love you,” he said, reaching down to give me a gentle kiss. “I won’t let anything happen to any of you.”
“And you’re going off to fight a dragon on my behalf Monday.”
He gave me a wry look. “Well, sort of. Be glad the weather is okay. I can make it down and back in time for supper easily.”
So then I had to plan supper.
Chapter Thirteen
Sunday afternoon about two I called the Balcombs to ask if it would be convenient for me to visit. I know at Christmas most people have more leftovers than they know what to do with, but I wanted to take them something. Leftover turkey that I’d brought home from Claire’s didn’t seem quite right, so I took the half a cheeseball in the fridge, re-shaped it, rolled it in fresh parsley and pecan bits, and wrapped it in red cellophane with a red ribbon, chose a small basket from my humongous collection, and tucked in an unopened pack of rice crackers. I’ve found it smart to keep such things on hand.
Alma Balcomb sounded tentative. “I don’t know. It’s been a hard week for us.”
“I’m sure,” I said, “but I just want to come give you a hug. I’ve thought about you so much all weekend.”
“That’s kind of you. Yes, come ahead. I’ll tell Janice and Joe you’re on your way.”
On impulse, I tucked a bottle of nice pinot grigio in the basket, told Mike and the girls where I was going, and left. I parked in front of the Balcombs and walked up the sidewalk but this time I didn’t see the curtain move. Just before I rang that chime-like doorbell, I paused because I heard loud voices coming from inside.
“Mom, you must not tell her.” Janice sounded frantic, furious.
“Young lady,” Joe Balcomb said, “you will not tell us what to do. We’re all in this together, scared to death about your sister, and we will do what we think best.”
I decided it was time to ring the bell. It took a few minutes for them to answer. My guess was that they were collecting themselves. And when I was courteously shown in, I was aware that Janice had fled the room.
I offered my gift, saying that it was just a token, but I hoped they’d enjoy it.
“So thoughtful of you,” Alma said. “I know we will, though we’re not drinking people.”
Joe grabbed the bottle and said, “You may not be, Alma, but right about now I need a drink. Ms. O’Connell, will you join me?”
I shook my head. “Please, call me Kelly. But no, I can’t join you. I’m expecting.”
They both brightened a bit at this news, and Alma hugged me. “I’m so happy for you. You have two children, don’t you?”
Why did I feel a little dread when I answered yes?
Alma said, “Joe, I believe I’ll have just a bit of wine, and pour some for Janice. I’ll ask her to put this cheese and crackers on a plate. Kelly, what can I get you to drink?”
I asked for water, and pretty soon we were having a sort of mid-afternoon happy hour. Janice joined us, but she looked far from happy. In fact, she glowered at her mom.
“How was Christmas?” I ventured.
“Pretty sad,” Alma admitted. “We sort of went through the motions. Neighbors did invite us for dinner, but Janice refused to go….”
“I didn’t feel like being sociable,” the girl said. “Mom, enough.”
But Alma wasn’t to be stopped. “It was a good thing she stayed home because about five Sandra called.”
My hand shook when I put the water glass down, and it was an effort to keep my voice controlled as I said, “What a relief to know she’s alive.”
Alma looked startled. “We never doubted that. Did you?”
I stared at her in amazement. Of course I doubted it. I feared for weeks, for it had been that long now, that Mike would come home with the report of a body found in a wooded field somewhere remote. Each night I said a prayer of gratitude that hadn’t happened. How could the Balcombs be so naïve? But I remember other cases where families held out hope when there was none—in rare instances their faith was justified, but in most cases that strongly held belief only made them more vulnerable when bad news came.
And why in heaven’s name hadn’t they called Mike?
I turned to Janice. “What did she say? Is she all right?”
Janice shrugged and avoided looking at me. “She says she’s all right. She wants to come home, but they won’t let her.”
My mind fixed on the word “they.” We thought, assumed, it was Greg Davis holding her. But “they” indicated more than one person. I knew I should call Mike right away, but then I’d have to go home to be with the girls, so he could question the Balcombs. I pushed on. “Did she say where she was or who ‘they’ were?”
Janice still looked resentful. “No. Someone was right there, listening to what she said. She just said she wanted us to know she was being treated well and in no danger. Then someone grabbed the phone and cut off the call.”
“Why didn’t you call the police? Specifically my husband?”
“She asked me not to. Said that would put her in danger. I suppose now you’re going to tell.” The hostility and anger in her voice and in her eyes were almost too much to bear.
“No, I’m going to let you do that. But, yes, I have to tell him.” I said my goodbyes to Joe and Alma, with a hug for the latter, and said I was sure Mike would be in touch that day. And then I was out the door—and speeding home to run breathlessly inside.
Mike looked up from the jigsaw puzzle he and Em were doing. “What’s the rush, Kelly?”
“Mike, the Balcombs heard from Sandra yesterday. You’ve got to talk to them.”
He wasn’t in as big as rush as I was. “That’s good. At least she’s alive. What did she say?”
I spilled out the story, sure that he’d jump up from the table and rush over to the Balcombs’ house. Instead, he said, “Look, Em. This one goes there and it completes that face.”
She clapped her hands.
“Em, I’ve got to go. You can keep working or you can wait until I get back.” He pulled out his phone, called someone and asked for a trace on a call to the Balcombs’ about five last night. “Probably a disposable phone but they can give me a general idea of the area where the call came from. I’ll go on over there, but I doubt I’ll learn much more than you did.” He put an arm around my shoulders. “Kelly, once more, you’re jumping into my work.”
“I didn’t mean to,” I said indignantly. “I went over there to make a compassionate call. This just happened.”
He raised an eyebrow at me as he got his jacket. I noticed he reached up on the high shelf for his service revolver and put it in his pocket.
“You going to call for someone to meet you there?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think I need backup?”
I wanted to ask if he didn’t why he’d put his gun in his pocket, but instead I sat down and started to work on Em’s puzzle, a complicated thousand-piece thing on Santa’s workshop.
Mike was gone about two hours, home in time for turkey soup for supper, and unusually silent about his mission. The girls ate in silence too, though Maggie commented that she was glad ‘that missing girl’ was alive. Then she said she and Jenny thought they might go to the mall since there was no school tomorrow and Mona said she’d drive and pick them up.
“No!” My voice came out louder and more strident than I’d meant. .
Mike raised that blasted eyebrow at me again.
“Mom, yo
u’ve let us do that before. What’s wrong now?”
Mike rescued me. “Maggie, you know someone’s threatening your mom, right?”
She nodded.
“That threat may extend to you girls, and we want to keep you safe until this is over. I have a feeling it won’t be long. Can you help us?”
Maggie pushed her soup bowl away. “Yeah, I guess. But it’s gonna be a long week of vacation. What’ll we do?”
My idea came bubbling out of my mouth. “Why not ask Keisha to take you girls? She wants to shop for a wedding dress and lingerie and all those kinds of things. She keeps saying she’ll shop online, but I bet she’d love a trip to the mall.”
Em’s eyes lit up. “Can I go too then?”
I looked at Maggie, who said, “I guess so, squirt, if you won’t be a pain.”
Em looked hurt. “I’m never a pain.”
Maggie just looked at her.
After dinner, I called Keisha, who was delighted with the idea. “Mona can go too, and we’ll go early enough that José can escort us. Course he can’t see my gown.” Then she hesitated. “You be all right in the office alone?”
I assured her I would, and we agreed that the girls would stay with Mona until ten o’clock in the morning, when Keisha and José would pick them up, take them to the mall, and even buy them lunch at one of those awful food court places.
Late that night, Mike told me he didn’t get much more out of the Balcombs than I had—more than one person, apparently safe quarters, no obvious distress. “I don’t think the parents know any more, but the sister does. She’s hiding something. I think maybe she hears from Sandra more than she lets on and only told her folks yesterday because it was Christmas. Sort of like a Christmas present.”
“But if she knows more, why would she hide it?” I asked.
“I think someone’s threatening her—either with her sister’s safety or her own. But she’s one scared puppy.”
“Can you trace the call? “
“Phone company says disposable cell phone, made from somewhere on the west side of the city. And he’s smart. Turns it off when he’s not using it.”
“Leaves a lot of territory,” said.
“Yeah. I asked them to put a bug on the Balcombs’ phone—with their permission of course. And one on our land line, now that we have one. Not that it will do much good. He seems to have your cell number. We may have to bug that too.”
I bit off a comment about asking my permission—sometimes I was just too prickly for my own good. Thinking of his trip the next day, I asked how this connected to Jo Ellen North. He put his head in his hands and said, “No way that I can see. That’s puzzling me, and believe me, I’ve been thinking about it.”
As he turned over to go to sleep, Mike said drowsily, “Kelly, take your gun to work tomorrow.”
“I already promised Keisha.” But his request sent a chill through me. He was nervous about me in the office alone, and if he was, so was I.
****
The next morning, I saw Mike off at six-thirty—I protested he didn’t have to leave that early, and he simply said the earlier he left the sooner he’d be back. I wished he weren’t going, but that wasn’t my call. Jo Ellen would stonewall him that much I knew. But he would have to see for himself. Mike was darn good at sizing people up, so who knows what he’d discover.
I wakened the girls, but I was so edgy I know I was cross with them. They didn’t have to hurry—if I was a bit late opening the day after Christmas, I doubted the real estate market in Fairmount would collapse, and Mona would be home until at least nine-thirty, so there was no rush getting them to her. And yet I hurried them, even while scolding myself for being compulsive.
“I want, just one day this week, to sleep until I wake up,” Maggie said sullenly. “Even if I wake up to an empty house.”
That wasn’t going to happen, but I bit my tongue and promised to see what I could do about it. Then I rushed them into the car and took them to Mona’s apartment, stopping only to be sure they were inside and with Mona and Jenny. Then I got to an empty office and wondered why I was in such a hurry to get there. I made coffee and read the paper. Real estate would wait.
An uneasy feeling settled over me at the office. As I worked I kept glancing out the front windows—why had we thought an office with plate glass windows was a good idea? I felt like a sitting duck. I had my gun in my jacket pocket, my cell phone by my hand, and I still jumped at every noise. Usually I’d tell you I like solitude sometimes, but today I longed for someone, anyone—except Greg Davis—to come in to talk about houses or the neighborhood or something.
The phone rang exactly once, and when I answered it eagerly, it was Mike telling me he was pulling into the prison complex at Gatesville. Of course I was relieved that he was safely there but that had never been one of my major worries. I asked him to call when he left, and he said he would.
By eleven o’clock, I felt myself going stir-crazy, so I decided it was time to drive the neighborhood. I had three street appraisals to do, and in general I just wanted to see if there were any For Sale by Owner or For Rent signs out. Even then I was cautious, weaving in and out of one-way and dead-end streets that an outsider to the neighborhood wouldn’t know and watching carefully for anyone following me. That was a bit silly because I had no idea what kind of car Greg Davis drove. I couldn’t concentrate on street appraisals, and it occurred to me I should come back with Em to do them. She always had definite opinions on houses that I was considering, and she more often than not proved to be right. Of course that gave me a pang, thinking about the girls happily shopping with Keisha. Of course they were safe. I’d have heard if they weren’t.
By noon I decided I was hungry and went to the Grill, where I ordered a hamburger steak, medium rare, with mashed potatoes and salad with ranch.
“You expecting Mike? Want to order for him?” Peter asked.
“Nope, just me today. Thanks, though.”
I found a seat at a table in the back room and pondered. I didn’t want to tell Peter that Mike was out of town because who knew who else was listening. If that wasn’t paranoia, I didn’t know what was. Deliberately I got out my phone and began checking Facebook, but I knew I was simply trying to keep my mind off my anxiety. I wanted Mike back in Fort Worth, Keisha back in the office, and the girls safely at home with me.
Just as my food was delivered, my phone rang. Keisha gushed, literally. “We are having the best time. And wait till you see my wedding gown. Em picked it out. It’s just perfect. We’re going to have lunch, shop a bit more, and then we’ll be at the office by three. I got to catch up on all the details you ignored all day.”
“I did not leave anything undone. If fact, I had a fine, productive day by myself.”
“Yeah, sure. You eatin’ lunch at your desk?”
“Nope. I’m at the Grill. Havin’ a great meal. See you later.” And I punched the off button. They’d be back in two hours or a little more, and I’d be just fine until then. I polished off every bite of my meal and headed back to the office with a renewed sense of self-confidence. I’d write up notes on the street appraisals, even though I’d been haphazard about them. As I thought about the three houses, more details came back to me, and I decided I’d bid on two of the three.
So there I was, acting brave, working on my computer, when something crashed through the front window. I jumped, screamed and looked—and then I screamed again. It was a bottle of liquid with a rag stuffed in the top. I knew enough about Molotov cocktails to go into an absolute spin. I had the sense to grab my phone, but my feet seemed leaden, not willing to listen to the brain that was telling them to move—quickly. I finally made it to the rear hallway of the building, knocked on the office next door and yelled, “Evacuate, now!” and finally found myself in the parking lot, waiting for the noise of an explosion.
Nothing happened. For five long minutes, nothing happened.
The people from the accountant’s office stood around looking at me
as though I’d lost my mind.
With shaking hands I dialed the district police office and reported what had happened. The order came back, “Stay clear of the premises. We’ll be right there.”
I relayed this advice to the people standing around me, but they looked skeptical. Still none of them went inside.
Then a new cause for panic crept into my brain. What if Keisha brought the girls back and went in the front door right now. I punched the speed dial number for Keisha’s phone and asked where they were.
“Oh, honey, we’re still shopping. We just bought your girls some lingerie.” She chortled. “They’re getting’ to that age, you know.”
I did not want to discuss the issue of girls and bras and age at that point. “Go to the house,” I ordered. “Don’t come to the office.”
“Kelly, you okay?”
“Yes, I think so. Just do what I ask.” And once again I ended the call.
The police arrived, compete with a Hazmat team, and one lone officer I didn’t know came to talk to us. “We think it’s harmless,” he said. “But we’ll ask you to stay outside for a little longer.”
Eventually they decided it was water inside the bottle, but they tried, without success to get prints off the bottle and took it away as evidence. “You did the right thing,” one of the officers told me, as though he were patting a child on the head and telling me I was a good girl.
I called Anthony, told him what had happened, and asked him to come clean up and board the window. He said, “Right quick, Miss Kelly. I be there right quick.”
While I waited, I began picking up the largest pieces of glass and putting them in a cardboard box I found in a closet. Bless Keisha, she always knew everything would come in handy sometime. Then I began to sweep, dumping the dustpan of glass shards into the same large box.
Anthony was distraught when he arrived. “Miss Kelly, I do that. You don’t.”
“I had to keep busy,” I said. “Is your shop vac in your truck to get the rest of this?”
