by Gayle Roper
Seaside, New Jersey. No way was a pervert going to call California from New Jersey just to breathe hard. Sherri? And why didn’t she say something? He pondered the riddle and could find no satisfactory answers.
He’d had a late night last night and slept in. He had only a slight hangover headache, thank goodness, but his stomach gurgled with need. He couldn’t remember if he’d had any dinner last night, or if he’d just drunk the night away. He shrugged carefully, not wanting to jiggle his head. Who cared anyway? He pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and left his bedroom without bothering to shave or brush his hair. Saturdays were for relaxing, even if Hank did call it indolence. He was a millionaire now. He could be and do anything he wanted. Scratching his empty stomach, he wandered into the dining room, late for lunch.
Was it Sherri who was calling and not speaking? It was the question of the hour. As if his thinking caused it to happen, the phone on the sideboard rang.
Patsi, semialert for once, picked up before Tuck could beat her to it.
“Hello?” She waited. “Hello. Is anyone there?” She pulled the receiver from her ear and stared at it as if she could tell by looking who was calling. She glanced at Hank. “The line’s open, but no one’s talking.” Then her face blanched, and her eyes went wide. “Sherri.” Patsi’s voice was a whisper, half hope, half fear.
A chill climbed Tuck’s spine. Why couldn’t it be a pervert? He’d rather have a pervert any day.
Patsi slapped the phone back on her ear. “Sherri? Is that you? Sherri? Speak to me, darling. Tell me you’re all right. Tell me where you are. We’ll come get you. I-I love you, Sherri. We love you. Please come home.” She started to sob so hard she could hardly talk. She shook from head to foot.
Hank rushed to his wife, his face taut with concern. “Don’t do this to yourself, Patsi.” He reached for the phone, but Patsi stood, stepping away from him.
“No, Hank. It’s Sherri. I know it is.”
“Patsi, don’t.” Hank looked about to cry.
“Sherri,” she screamed into the receiver. “Don’t go! Please, don’t go!”
Tuck watched Hank and Patsi, his heart accelerating. His eyes narrowed as he saw what he now considered his second million disappearing.
Stay lost, Sherri! Stay dead!
Hank trailed Patsi, the phone still clamped to her ear, until she was backed against the wall. Then he grabbed the receiver and held it to his ear, listening. He shook his head and set it in the cradle.
“She was there. I know she was!” Patsi covered her face with trembling hands.
Hank reached for his sobbing wife. He grasped her hands and pulled them down, winding them around his own waist. Her face, already bloated from antidepressants and lack of exercise, was blotched from crying, and Hank looked old and haggard. He gathered her in his arms and held her while Tuck watched with dispassionate curiosity.
“I’ve got to take her to the bedroom and get her a sedative,” Hank told Tuck as he led her away. He never took his eyes off her.
Tuck watched them leave. Then he raced to his room and checked the Caller ID.
When Sherri first disappeared, the police tapped their phones, ready to trace any calls that asked for a ransom. Hank was a wealthy man, and a ransom demand seemed a logical expectation. To everyone’s surprise, no such calls came, and Tuck became convinced that Sherri and her boyfriend had been waylaid by some crazy and killed.
At times he found it in himself to wonder what she might have gone through, though when he carefully examined how he felt, it was more curiosity about what might have happened than distress that she might have suffered.
He checked the readout on the Caller ID that he’d bought after the police had moved out, taking their equipment with them. It wasn’t the 800 number. It was a new number with the 609 area code. Making certain his door was closed so his father couldn’t hear, he dialed the number. It rang and rang. Finally someone answered. “Yeah, what do you want?”
“Is this the SeaSong?”
“Huh? What’s a sea song?”
“I may have a wrong number. Can you tell me who I’ve reached?”
“This is Ricky, man. I was just walking by.”
“Walking by what?”
“The phone.” Ricky was getting peeved. “What’d you think I was walking by?”
Tuck could hear noise in the background, but he couldn’t distinguish anything specific until a voice yelled, “Come on, Ricky! We’re not waiting any longer.”
“Shut up,” Ricky roared back. “I’m coming.”
“Hey, Ricky,” Tuck yelled before Ricky hung up on him. “Tell me exactly where this phone is. Please, man.”
“Well.” Ricky was silent for a minute.
“Yo, Ricky! Are you still there?” Tuck asked, afraid he’d lost his connection.
“I’m looking for the street sign, man. Give me a break here. I’m trying to help.”
“Oh, sorry,” Tuck forced the words between clenched teeth. He hated to apologize to anyone, let alone a buffoon like Ricky. He could just imagine the body piercings and tattoos.
“This is the phone at Tenth and the boardwalk, and I gotta go.” The receiver slammed.
Tuck hung up. Tenth and the boardwalk where? Seaside where the SeaSong was? Tuck went to his computer and called up the Seaside, New Jersey site. He scanned the list of B&Bs in town; they all had the 609 area code.
He lay on his bed thinking. Was Patsi right? Was it Sherri calling? He sat bolt upright as a terrible premonition barreled into him. Sherri was getting ready to come in out of the cold. She missed her mama, poor little girl, and wanted to come home.
Well, not if he could help it, she wasn’t. He began planning an immediate trip to Seaside, New Jersey.
To the SeaSong.
Eighteen
JENN WAS SO excited and nervous that she felt sick to her stomach. Derrick would be here any minute now. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
How did she get to be so lucky?
He was the handsomest guy in the senior class. He was funny and popular and smart. All the girls wanted to go out with him. She still couldn’t believe he had picked her, especially after the party mess. Aunt Cassandra hadn’t made this date any easier either.
“She wants to meet you.” Jenn had told Derrick yesterday at school.
He looked at her as if she was crazy. “No way. I’ll beep the horn so you know I’m there. That’s what I always do.”
Jenn’s palms went all sweaty. She wiped them on the seat of her jeans. “You have to come to the door.”
He did not look thrilled, and Jenn thought she might hyperventilate. After all, he already had more than enough reason to resent Aunt Cassandra.
“It’ll only take a minute.” She felt like she was begging.
Derrick watched Marge Jacobs walk by with more than a little interest.
“Hi, Derrick,” she purred.
Jenn looked away, knowing this was his way of reminding her that she was the fortunate one. There were lots of others if she became too much trouble.
Derrick turned back to her. “Look, Jenn—”
She broke in. “She’s just not used to being a parent.” Jenn’s eyes pleaded for his understanding. Even though he was absolutely the most wonderful guy in the world, he was also very touchy. “Please. Do it for me. It’s only this once.”
He just looked at her for a long minute. He hadn’t exactly sneered at her request, but it had been close. His nod had been abrupt and unenthusiastic. “I don’t like being told what to do.”
He was so annoyed, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell him about Aunt Cassandra’s other requirements for their date. With only minutes until he arrived, Jenn stood with her hand pressed to her stomach to ease the swirling discomfort. What would he do when he found out they were going with Jared and Jeannie? Or that she had to be home by midnight?
She shuddered and pushed those worries to the back of her mind. She would concentrate on how she looked. This p
roblem she could control.
She glanced in the little mirror on Aunt Cassandra’s door. Maybe she should change again. Maybe the red sweater with the falling leaves knit in it was too dressy with her jeans. Maybe she should go put on that plain black shirt and her black stretch slacks. Or was that too edgy, like she was going to dye her hair blue or something? How about the yellow top? It was bright and happy but not too wild.
Jared thudded down the back stairs and into the kitchen wearing his jeans and a Seaside sweatshirt.
“Ready, kiddo?” he asked Jenn. “You look nice.”
She was thrilled he thought so, even if he was only her brother. She nodded, not certain she could speak without sounding breathless.
The doorbell rang.
Jenn froze. She swallowed convulsively. So much was at stake in the next few minutes. It had to go right. It had to!
She felt a gentle push from behind.
“You need to let him in,” Jared said.
Jenn nodded, forcing herself forward. She had to get to him before Aunt Cassandra. She pushed the swinging door open and went into the entry hall. What she saw made her blood run cold. Derrick stood there, handsome and solemn, surrounded by Aunt Cassandra and Dan. At least it looked like surrounded, they were so big. Derrick was slight and not quite as tall as Aunt Cassandra. Jenn thought of him as lean and elegant, like a tiger prowling the jungle. He didn’t need bulk like Dan and Jared and her father. He commanded just by his presence.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Aunt Cassandra said to him, offering her hand.
“Yeah, me too,” he said as he shook. Jenn was proud of him. He managed to look as if he actually meant it.
“I’m sure Jenn told you she has a midnight curfew,” Aunt Cassandra continued.
“Uh, sure.” Derrick threw Jenn a bland glance, but his left brow was raised like it was when he was scornful or mocking.
She closed her eyes in embarrassment.
“But then I know you and Jared will see that she gets here on time.” Aunt Cassandra gave an insincere smile. Dan just stood beside her and loomed.
“Jared?” Derrick said, frowning.
“We’ll be waiting up for her, of course,” Aunt Cassandra continued.
“Right there.” Dan pointed to the common room.
Let me die right now, Jenn thought. I can’t stand it!
“Of course,” Derrick agreed, eyeing Dan uncertainly. Jenn could almost hear him wondering who in the world Dan was.
“Hey, Derrick,” Jared said easily, pushing Jenn before him.
“Ah, here she is now.” Aunt Cassandra slipped an arm around Jenn’s shoulders.
Jenn smiled at Derrick, ignoring her aunt’s arm as best she could. “Hi.” She tried to sound perky, no easy task when she’d never been so mortified, so terrified in her life.
Derrick opened his mouth, but Jared took that moment to slap him on the back. “We’d better get going. Jeannie’s expecting us.”
Derrick stumbled a bit under the blow but recovered quickly. “Jeannie?”
“Jeannie Stanley. You know her, don’t you?”
“Well, sure. With the names Smith and Stanley, we always sit near each other. We have since kindergarten.”
“Good.” Jared jingled the keys to Aunt Cassandra’s car. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be late. We might miss the coming attractions. I love the coming attractions.”
“We’re double dating,” Jenn said, trying again for perky. “Won’t that be fun?”
She shouldn’t have asked. The thundercloud eyes he turned on her made it very clear what he thought. She fought to keep her chin from wobbling.
Aunt Cassandra and Dan walked out onto the porch with them, watching as she and Derrick climbed into the backseat of Aunt Cassandra’s car, waiting for them at the front curb. Jared took the driver’s seat. Derrick’s wheels sat abandoned.
The Patchetts chose that moment to leave for dinner. They joined Aunt Cassandra and Dan for the big send off.
“Have fun!”
“Enjoy the movie.”
“Drive carefully.” This from Aunt Cassandra.
“Hands in your own laps,” called Mr. Patchett who proceeded to roar with laughter at his wit. His wife laughed loudly too.
Jenn had never felt so humiliated.
It only took a couple of minutes to get to Jeannie’s house, minutes that passed in silence except for Jared’s tortured rendition of “The Gambler.” It was bad enough that he was a fan of country western instead of rock, but did he have to sing Kenny Rogers, for Pete’s sake? He could at least do Tim McGraw or Garth Brooks. The evening had barely begun, and she was already ready to fold ’em and walk away, maybe even run. Her only happy thought was that things couldn’t get worse.
Jared parked the car, climbed out, and went to Jeannie’s door. Silence filled the car, deep and brooding, the kind that ate you alive.
“I’m sorry,” Jenn finally forced herself to say. She felt like crying. She had wanted things to go so well tonight.
For a few minutes Derrick said nothing, his head turned away as he stared out the far window. Then he tilted his head and turned to her with an utterly charming, quite cocky smile. “You know, it just occurred to me that there’s something to be said about having to ride in the backseat.” He reached for her and pulled her close. He leaned down to her ear and said softly, suggestively, “No one can see what we’re doing.”
Jenn’s eyes went wide. “Wh-what will we be doing?”
Before he had a chance to answer, the front passenger door opened, and Jeannie climbed in. She turned immediately and said, “Hi, Jenn. Hey, Derrick.”
Jenn shifted away from Derrick, self-conscious about being so close to him in front of Jeannie and Jared, who now took his place behind the wheel.
Jeannie bounced in her seat. “This is going to be such a fun night.”
“Oh, yeah.” Derrick’s sarcasm was so sharp that Jeannie’s happy smile faltered.
They drove off.
Jenn wasn’t paying attention to where they were going because Derrick had hold of her hand and kept running his thumb over her knuckles. She concentrated on the thrill of his touch. When the car slowed, then stopped, she said, “Are we there already?”
“Nah,” Jared said as he beeped the horn. “We’re picking up one more.”
One more? Derrick looked at Jenn, dropped her hand, and scowled. She held out her hands to show she had no idea what was happening. Suddenly the door next to her was pulled open, and Paulie climbed in, all six feet, two inches and 240 pounds of him.
No, not Paulie. Please, God, not Paulie!
Caught between Derrick and Paulie, Jenn felt as squeezed as any orange about to become juice. She could imagine all too clearly what Derrick was thinking even before she heard his snort of derision. She wanted to die, and she knew for a fact that Jared would die as soon as they got home. She was going to murder him herself.
Oh, God, what are You doing to me? Can’t I just have a nice normal date like everyone else?
“Hi, Jeannie, Jared,” Paulie said, grinning like the idiot he was. “Derrick.” He didn’t smile at Derrick. He finally looked at Jenn and said, his voice low and warm, “Hi, Jenn.”
Jenn stared straight ahead, ignoring the puppylike enthusiasm of her brother’s best friend. She knew he had a crush on her, but she usually managed to stay away from him whenever he came to the house. Now here he was, sitting so close that his huge shoulders were pressed against hers.
The evening went downhill from there.
Nineteen
TUCK MADE CAREFUL plans for his trip to New Jersey. It excited him to plan the perfect crime.
Ah, the zing of upping the ante.
Knowing he didn’t want to get near Sherri, didn’t want her to see him and recognize him, shooting was the obvious choice. All those years of target practice would finally pay off. He grinned. Wouldn’t Hank be pleased to know that Tuck was making such good use of one of the skills he had
passed on to his son?
Knowing how intense airport security was, Tuck carefully packaged two of his guns, a rifle with a great scope and a .38 handgun, in a sturdy cardboard box filled with foam peanuts. He wound packing tape around and around and around. He took the box to the UPS store in a mall forty-five minutes away and mailed it overnight to himself at a Mail and Such store in Seaside that he’d found on the Internet.
“It won’t get there until Monday,” the clerk said. “Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
“Exactly when I need it,” he said, paying cash. As he waited for his change, he brushed the bushy mustache he wore glued to his lip.
He didn’t use his own name for his ticket purchase. He’d lifted the license and a credit card from the wallet of the guy in front of him at the bar in a dark, crowded taproom last night. The guy had been about his height and coloring, so his license picture matched Tuck’s appearance well enough, and he was drunk as a skunk, feeling no pain. Bump, lift, slip out the license and card, bump, replace. The guy would be none the wiser until it was too late to do anything about it. Tuck repeated the action at another dreary, dark bar, stealing another identity.
Again considering security, Sunday he brought nothing suspicious with him on his cross-country trip, just a backpack full of a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, a heavy rugby shirt, and three changes of underwear. He wore a heavy jacket over his sweater and jeans and carried a paperback he lifted from Hank’s library, a murder mystery. He loved the private joke of it.
When he boarded his plane at the crack of dawn, he held out Ken Whalin’s license and the ticket in Ken Whalin’s name. The attendant smiled and passed him through. As he walked down the jet way, Tuck smirked. Served Ken Whalin right, wherever he was. Such identity theft was exactly why they told you not to put your wallet in your back pocket, especially in a crowd.
Tuck landed at Philadelphia International Airport with no trouble. The parents thought he was on a short vacation trip to Hawaii, and so did everyone at the office. He expected no one to call to check on him. He smiled. No one cared enough. As he passed a trash receptacle, he tossed Ken’s IDs and his return tickets inside.
