Carol must have fainted. When she came around, the first streaks of dawn cast a bloody glow through the window reminiscent of her gory vision. She still felt ill and groggy. She stumbled toward the bathroom to get a drink. The water helped, but not much. She was shaking all over.
Carol was still fighting for control when the phone rang, sending a sharp jolt through her body.
She grabbed the receiver and shouted breathlessly, “Hello!”
“Jesus, Carol, you trying to bust my eardrum?”
“Jesse?” His was the last voice she’d expected to hear. Tears of relief sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Jesse, I’m so glad it’s you!”
“Hey, are you okay, honey?”
“Sure, Jesse.” Her voice was a quivering whisper. She desperately wanted to tell Jesse what she’d seen, but the words wouldn’t come. “Just worn out, I guess.”
“Hey, I shouldn’t have called so early. I forgot about Mardi Gras yesterday. I guess you and ole Frank were out pretty late, huh?”
“It’s okay, Jesse. I was awake. There’s something I have to tell you.”
“In a minute, Carol. First, let me tell you about this Jones character.”
“They caught him? Oh, thank God, Jesse!” At last, something good had happened, Carol told herself.
Jesse soon dashed her hopes. “Afraid not. But we do know for sure now that he’s in the New Orleans area. A couple of sightings. He gave the sheriffs guys the slip both times they spotted him. They’ll catch him, though. Just a matter of time. Have you told Frank yet?”
“No, Jesse! God, no! And I sure hope we don’t have to tell him—ever. Right now, he’s so caught up in guilt over Eileen that I’m really worried he might go off the deep end. And it’s all my fault.”
“What do you mean, Carol, about it being your fault?”
“Oh, it’s too involved to explain over the phone.” She glanced again at Eileen’s gown. How she hated the thing! “You just can’t tell Frank about Jones, that’s all.”
“Then you two better lay low for a few days ‘cause otherwise Frank’s sure to get wind of the dragnet that’s out for this guy. Is there somewhere y’all could go till Jones is picked up?”
“Go?” Carol’s mind was whirling with the visions she had just seen. She had to make herself tell Jesse. “Oh, yeah, Jesse! There’s always somewhere Frank and I can go to get away.”
“Well, I’d strongly suggest a little vacation, then. Hey, Carol?”
“Yes, Jesse?”
“You haven’t seen anything else have you—weird stuff, I mean?”
There it was, the perfect cue. Now she was forced to tell him. She steeled herself. “Yes, Jesse, I have. Jones is definitely the one who murdered Eileen and I heard him tell her that Frank will be next. What I saw before happened the day Jones took her away.”
“Away where?”
Carol shook her head and tried to stop trembling so she could continue. “I don’t know. Someplace in the swamp. He kept her there, Jesse. He beat her and… then he killed her and then…” Carol’s voice broke. She couldn’t go on.
“And what, honey? Take it slowly, but you have to tell me the rest. Do you know where we can find the body?”
“The body,” she repeated dully. “No. It’s gone. I mean, you’ll have to search a lot of different places. I can’t tell you exactly.” Carol spoke every word separately, slowly as if each syllable were frozen in ice.
“Jesus Christ!” Jesse swore softly. “Dismembered? If Frank ever finds out—”
“Dammit, Jesse, he can’t find out!” Carol broke down on the phone, first screaming at Jesse, then sobbing uncontrollably.
“Take it easy, honey. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll manage,” Carol whispered, gulping back more painful sobs.
“Good girl! Now you get ole Frank outta there till this all blows over. Call me if you need to talk to somebody.”
“Jesse?”
“Yeah, Carol?”
“Frank and I are going away, probably today,” she said evenly. “If you don’t hear from us for a long time, don’t worry. We’ll be together and we’ll be all right.”
“What do you mean by a long time, honey? A couple of weeks? A month?”
“Longer,” Carol whispered through her tears. “Much longer. ’Bye, Jesse.”
She hung up before he could ask any more questions.
Carol glanced at the clock. Eight-thirteen. Frank was probably still sleeping. At any rate, she didn’t want to tell him her plan until she’d made another call. She had a friend in real estate back in North Carolina. Carol started to dial her number, then changed her mind. Better to deal with a stranger, someone who wouldn’t ask questions. She checked the business cards in her wallet. Sure enough she had the card of another realtor back home. She dialed him instead.
“Good morning. Wilson Land Development,” a secretary answered perkily.
“Mr. Wilson, please.”
Within twenty minutes, Carol had arranged everything with the real estate dealer. She told him she was getting married and would not be returning to North Carolina in the foreseeable future. He was to rent her house and her shop for an indefinite period of time. She even provided him with the name of a local lady who had expressed an interest in her antiques business.
“I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” Carol told Mr. Wilson. “It may be a year or more. If you could simply take your commission, then deposit my rent checks in one of your accounts to be held for me until I return…”
He agreed to take care of everything and wished her a happy honeymoon. End of problem! Frank’s business matters wouldn’t be that simple. But then, Carol reminded herself, she had no guarantee that the two of them could actually stay in the past once they went back. They’d seemed to have little control over their comings and goings during previous visits.
“Black Vic wants me back there,” Carol reminded herself aloud. “And if I can convince Frank to go, we’re going for good this time. It’s the only way. It has to work.”
She sighed and got up from the bed. It was time to think of normal, everyday things—bathe, dress, eat.
As she headed toward the bedroom, her eyes lit on Eileen’s gold and green gown. With a vicious swipe, she whipped it off the chair and took it into the bathroom. Grabbing the metal trash can from under the sink, she stuffed the dress into it.
“Not good enough!” she said bitterly. “You’ll just turn up again if I toss you out with the garbage.”
She snatched a book of hotel matches off the back of the toilet, lit the whole pack and tossed them onto the gown. The filmy fabric caught instantly. But this wouldn’t do either. Any minute her smoke alarm would start screaming.
Carefully holding the can with its smoldering contents, Carol went out the door and around to the back of the parking lot where the dumpsters were. If anyone asked, she would say that she tossed a burning cigarette into the full can and accidentally started a fire.
No one asked. She stood beside the dumpster until the gold and green fabric was only filmy black ash. Then she tossed can and all into the trash.
Brushing her hands off, she said, “That’s the end of that!”
Frank stood at his window, staring out over the courtyard and the parking lot behind it. What the hell was Carol doing now? Burning old love letters? Or maybe it was some kind of voodoo rite. He continued to watch her, frowning as he sipped strong coffee to try to stop the shakes. Oddest damn thing! He’d felt hung over when he woke up a while ago. He knew he hadn’t had anything to drink last night. Not that he recalled, anyway. There seemed to be big gaps in his memory this morning. If he was going to have blackouts—shoot!—he might as well go back on the bottle. Just black everything out!
Carol turned and started back toward her room. She had an odd expression on her face, and he could tell she’d been crying. What the hell was going on?
“Hey, Carol!” he called, opening his door to wave her up.
She turned and st
arted slowly toward the stairs. He could tell as she came closer that she was fighting for control. Something had happened last night, something that he couldn’t remember. Whatever it was, it was serious.
“Hey, darlin’. Happy morning after,” he said, forcing a light tone into his voice. He brushed Carol’s cheek. When he did, she grabbed him about the waist, clinging tightly, and buried her face against his bare chest.
“What’s the matter, Carol? Come on in and tell ole Frank.” He was trying to keep things light, but he had a feeling something really heavy had come down while he was out of it.
“Now, what’s this all about?” Frank asked as soon as he had led Carol to a chair. “Why the tears?”
Carol hadn’t prepared herself to face Frank this soon. She’d meant to go back to her room, wash her face, brush her hair, and look fresh and glowing by the time he woke up. Her plans never seemed to work out, though. She wanted to yell and sob and tear her hair, tell him that the madman who’d tortured, raped, and murdered Eileen was out there somewhere this very minute lying in wait for him. She wanted to beg him to go back with her—back to Vic and Cami’s safe, unthreatening lives, where they could love each other without all this danger, this heartache, this guilt. Of course, she couldn’t do that. So now she’d just have to make the most of a bad situation.
“Come on, Carol,” Frank coaxed. “Out with it!”
Knowing she had to lie, Carol avoided Frank’s direct gaze, staring instead at her hands in her lap. “I’m upset over last night, Frank. Actually, I guess it was this morning. We left the ball just before midnight.”
“Did we?” Frank mused aloud. “I don’t even remember that part of the evening.”
Good! Carol thought.
“Do you remember what happened when we got back here to your room?” she asked cautiously.
“Bits and pieces. A lot of stuff jumbled up together.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “To tell the honest-to-God truth, Carol, it doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
Carol prayed that he had forgotten the incident over Eileen’s gown, but there was no way to be sure without asking him directly and that would never do. She could only hope that now that the offending garment was gone, it had disappeared completely from Frank’s memory as well.
“You don’t remember anything about leaving the ball, Frank?”
His eyes went wide and Carol’s heart sank. But when he spoke, his words came as a pleasant shock to her. “That’s it! I remember now. I went back, didn’t I? That’s why the evening seems so fuzzy. I was back being Vic… playing around with Cami. Of course.” He grinned broadly. “That little Cami’s something else!”
“Sometimes, she is,” Carol answered cautiously. “Can’t you remember exactly what happened, Frank? The last time Vic took Cami to bed?”
His grin died a quick death. “Yeah! Why’d you remind me? She’d changed. She was scared and cold. Vic hated it and he hated himself for making her do it. Then I came back too fast and brought him with me. He was here—right in the damn bed with us. Yeah, I remember now, Carol. He better stay where he belongs from now on, the bastard.”
“You asked what’s wrong with me, Frank. Well, that’s it.”
Frank whirled around as if he might catch sight of Black Vic. “You mean, he hurt you? By damn, I’ll cut his gizzard out!”
“No, no!” Carol rose and placed a restraining hand on Frank’s arm. “He didn’t hurt me; I hurt him, by not being there when he needed me. Things go all wrong for Vic and Cami when you and I aren’t with them, Frank. They aren’t themselves—that is, they are themselves and that’s not good enough. You and I are the rest of the equation. They need a part of us to become a whole, real, loving couple. Without us, their relationship is doomed. And if Vic and Cami never find happiness, you and I won’t either.”
“I’m happy!” Frank snapped.
Carol answered with a humorless chuckle. “Sure you are! You’re deliriously happy and so am I, Frank. Tell me, what are your plans for us?”
“Plans?” He looked at her blankly.
“I can’t stay here forever. I have a business to run, a life of my own to lead. Unless you mean to make me a better offer.”
“Hey, Carol, don’t push me.” Frank backed away from her as he spoke. “You know I love you, but…”
“But what, Frank? But you can’t marry me? Well then, I have a suggestion. Vic is already trying to find his wife and set things in order so he can marry Cami. Of course, none of that will work out unless we go back and help. Our option is to stay here where nothing will work out for us because you aren’t yet free. I don’t think you ever will be.”
Frank heard the tears threatening in Carol’s shaky voice and came to her. He put his arms around her, resting his forehead on hers. “I’m sorry, honey. I can’t help it. I wish I could.”
“I know you can’t help it, Frank. That’s why I say we should go back and stay as long as it takes.”
The full impact of her words took several moments to sink in. When they did, Frank raised his head, staring her straight in the eye. “You mean live back there… be those other people?”
“Vic and Cami aren’t ‘those other people,’ Frank. They’re us—you and me—in a former life. We’ll be the same as we are now, only better, more complete. Don’t you understand?”
Frank gave a low whistle and turned away. He went to the window and looked out, but he wasn’t really seeing anything. When he swung back around to her, his face was a mask of dismay. “Carol, do you realize what you’re suggesting? We can’t just vanish like that. Hell, what would people think?”
Carol shrugged. “Darling, who cares what they think? Neither of us has any permanent ties—no parents to grieve for us, no children depending on us, not even a pet between us to go hungry if we disappear forever.”
“Foreverl” Frank gave another low whistle and wiped a hand over his sweating brow. “Do you realize how long forever is?”
“It’s as long as I’ll love you, Frank, as long as I want to be with you.”
He came to her then and crushed her in his arms. His mouth came down on hers—hot and hungry and bruising. Carol clung to him, as driven by desperation as by longing.
“It’s the only way for us,” she whispered when he finally released her.
Frank stood silently staring at her for so long that Carol began to tremble. She could almost hear him going over everything in his mind, trying to decide what to do. Finally, he bent down and kissed her briefly, tenderly.
“So, what do we have to do to get ready for this mind-blowing final leap? Should I pack a suitcase? Should I put in for extended leave at the station? And what about the post office—a change of address card? I don’t think they deliver to Condé Street any longer. It’s been changed to Chartres for a long time now.”
“You don’t do any of those things, Frank. You sit down on the bed here with me and we talk.”
He grinned. “Just talk?” he asked, pulling her down on top of him.
She rolled away. “Talk!” she repeated. “Our biggest problem, as I see it, won’t be getting back to Cami and Vic’s time, but staying there. We keep getting jerked back to the present. I think before we go, we need to make a pact between us that neither of us will return without the other and that we will stay until Vic and Cami are happily married and settled. At least that long. Maybe we’ll never come back, if all goes well.”
Frank acted as if he were only half-listening. He was busy at her “Dollywood” shirt again, easing it up to get at her breasts.
“Frank? Did you hear what I said?”
“Every word, darlin’.” He rolled the tee-shirt up under her arms, then bent over her to lick her nipples.
“Frank, this is serious!”
“Sure is, honey!” He was fumbling at her jeans now, trying to get the zipper down while Carol tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore him.
“I think our best bet for getting back in a hurry is to go to the dock tomorrow morning early. Maybe C
hoctaw will be there.”
“Yeah, and until then we can just stay right here,” Frank murmured against her breast, sliding her jeans down over her hips.
“Maybe we can and maybe we can’t,” Carol answered. “An odd thing happened back in my room a while ago. I heard Black Vic’s voice. I’m not sure he’s gone back. He may still be hanging around.”
Finally, Carol’s words had Frank’s full attention. He sat up and growled, “What the hell for?”
Carol forced her expression to remain dead-serious. “I don’t know. Maybe he enjoyed last time so much he’s sticking around, hoping you’ll get me in bed again.”
“Goddammit! That does it!” Frank leaped off the bed, fists up, ready to fight. “Show yourself, you sorry sonofabitch! Right now. We’re going to have this out once and for all. What I do with my woman in my bed is none of your damn business and you just better stay out of it. You hear me, Black Vic?”
“I think they probably heard you all the way to Canal Street, Frank. Hush, now!” she urged. “It’s not going to do you a bit of good, taking potshots at a ghost. If you want to straighten Black Vic out, the best way to do it is to go back and be the right kind of person once you’re inside his skin.”
Frank flung himself back down on the bed beside Carol and glanced at her “Dollywood” shirt. It was down, covering her again. He decided to do something about that right away and set about stripping it from her.
“Frank, you’re ignoring me.”
“Oh, no, I’m not, honey.” He bent forward and kissed her erect nipples.
“Then you’ll go back and you’ll make Vic behave himself?”
He looked into her eyes, his own bright with desire. “Do you promise to make Cami act properly passionate when Vic’s with her?”
“I do,” Carol assured him. “Cami won’t be afraid and no one will have to feel guilty,” she ended pointedly.
“Well…” he stalled.
“Are you willing or not, Frank?”
He was fiddling with her shirt again. “I’m always willing, Miz Marlowe.” Frank cleared his throat, then added in a deeper voice, “Or should I say, Mademoiselle Mazaret?”
Whispers in Time Page 31
