Live in Person

by Lynda Fitzgerald

  The woman checked the computer screen. “I don’t see her here. Are you sure you have the right day?”

  Allie didn’t have to try to look uncomfortable. Everyone in the waiting room watched her. “Uh—maybe she said tomorrow. I’ll—uh—call her. Thank you.”

  She repeated the process at radiology and outpatient surgery with minor adjustments to her spiel. At the Women’s Center, she hit paydirt.

  “Mrs. Levine. Yes, here she is.” She checked the clock on the wall. “I think she just left. You can probably catch her if you hurry.”

  Allie sprinted out of the office taking several wrong turns before she again found the entrance. From where she stood, she could see there was no Sheryl crossing the street, no Sheryl standing by the car, and because Allie had the keys in her hand, she knew Sheryl wasn’t inside the car. She turned and retraced her tracks. As she passed the ladies’ room, Sheryl stepped into the hall, her face the color of unleavened dough.

  She stopped when she saw Allie, then she brushed past her and hurried toward the exit. Allie had to run to catch her.

  “Sheryl, wait!” Sheryl’s cop stride was worth three of Allie’s normal steps. They were in the middle of the street before Allie caught her. She reached for Sheryl’s arm, but Sheryl shook her off. Allie stayed a step behind her all the way to the car. When she clicked the remote, Sheryl climbed in the car and clicked her seatbelt, then sat staring straight ahead.

  Allie climbed in the car. “Sheryl, whatever it is—”

  “Just drive. Please.”

  “Honey, you have to talk—” She broke off as Sheryl unsnapped her seatbelt and jumped out of the car.

  Allie caught up with her on the sidewalk. “Where are you going?”

  “I’ll catch a ride. You can go on back by yourself.”

  Allie’s concern turned to irritation in a flash. “Bullshit. Get back in the car. I brought you. I’ll drive you home.”

  Sheryl looked at her for the first time. Her eyes were red; her face appeared cadaverous. “No questions.”

  “Not if you don’t want—”

  “No conversation.”

  OK, so Sheryl intended to shut her out completely. Allie could work on that later. Right now, she just needed to get Sheryl back in the car. “Agreed.”

  After several moments of searching Allie’s face, Sheryl spun and headed back to the car. Allie didn’t let out her breath until Sheryl was safely snapped in her seatbelt.

  It was a long ride back. Allie kept her promise only because she was afraid Sheryl would jump out of the moving vehicle if she spoke. She turned the radio to an easy-listening station, only to have Sheryl reach over and snap it off.

  This was a completely new person in the car with Allie. Sheryl kept her face averted, but occasionally, Allie saw her reach up and swipe at her eyes. Sheryl wasn’t a crier, but Allie would bet her friend’s eyes weren’t dry once in the forty-five minutes it took them to get to the Coast.

  When they reached the intersection of 520 and A1A, Sheryl spoke for the first time, her voice raspy. “Take a right, will you?”

  A left turn took them home. “Sure. Where to?”

  “Just…” She motioned toward the south.

  Allie drove. She went through Cocoa Beach, Satellite Beach, and Indialantic. Only then, did she have a clue. “Sebastian Inlet?”

  Sheryl gave a short nod.

  Another fifteen miles of two-lane road landed them at Sebastian Inlet State Park. Until 1965, A1A had ended at the inlet, only to pick up again in Vero Beach, a few miles south. Then, the state hired Cleary Brothers Construction to build a fifteen-hundred-foot, concrete arch bridge to span the Inlet. Much of the area was already designated as wildlife preservation areas, but Florida turned the land at either end of the bridge into a state park, complete with lots of rules, and built a long fishing pier over the original jetty. But even that couldn’t spoil the natural beauty.

  A narrow two-lane road led to the parking area. Sand and sea and scrub palmetto. Who could ask for more? It had always been one of Allie’s favorite places, but she and Sheryl had never been there together.

  Allie barely had the Jeep in park when Sheryl jumped out and headed toward the fishing pier. Allie took off after her. Was that why they were here? Did Sheryl intend to throw herself off the end of the pier? Whatever she intended, her footsteps slowed as she neared the end. She stopped and leaned her forearms on the iron railings, staring out to sea.

  Allie looked around as she caught her breath. On weekends, the pier was a madhouse of crazed anglers, many with several fishing lines in the water. Today, it was nearly deserted. A few hearty souls in wetsuits challenged the surf on bright-colored boards. The wind off the water was cold. Well, cold for Florida, she amended.

  She didn’t dare speak. Instead, she joined Sheryl at the rail and watched her watch the water. The currents here were treacherous. Waves slammed against the stone jetty, throwing spray head high. Allie was already wet and freezing, but Sheryl seemed oblivious to the elements. Just when Allie was about to cry uncle, Sheryl turned and looked at her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For dragging you here. For being such a bitch in Orlando. For everything.”

  Before Allie could tell her it was OK, Sheryl said, “I need to talk to you and Libby. Together. Do you have some time?”

  Allie felt her chest constrict. Together? Not good. “Of course. I have all the time you need. When?”

  “Now. I mean, as soon as we can get home.” She turned and headed back toward the parking lot, her steps slow now, as if she were slogging through deep beach sand.

  Allie tried to inject a playful note in her voice. “I don’t suppose you want to give me a hint, I mean, because I’m such a good friend and all?”

  Sheryl stopped and looked at her. “This is serious, Allie. I need to talk to both of you at one time. OK?”

  What could Allie say?

  Eleven

  Ever since the sheriff told them of Sidney’s escape, Teresa Finch had expected him to show up at the house. She knew he wouldn’t come when his father was home. Wally had never understood Sidney, which was probably one reason the boy had problems. Every child needed parents who loved him unconditionally. Her parents had criticized everything she and her sisters did, and Teresa decided early that she wouldn’t raise her children that way. She’d hoped for a houseful, but she had some problems with Sidney’s birth that ended her childbearing years. It didn’t matter. Sidney was enough for her.

  Teresa wasn’t a fool; she knew Sidney had problems, but so did most high-spirited youngsters. Wally accused her of sparing the rod to Sidney’s detriment, but she told him Sidney needed love and understanding, not the strap. She wouldn’t let Wally break Sidney’s spirit, and she certainly wasn’t going to do it. Wally never really came round to her way of thinking—they didn’t talk much about Sidney—but he eventually quit insisting she punish the boy.

  Now, Sidney was running from the law. It was ridiculous. She’d heard the story of what happened, and all this because Sidney was trying to protect the sheriff, who was not only Sidney’s boss, but also the one man who’d made an effort to help Sidney. Teresa remembered when the sheriff dragged Sidney off to the Everglades to “make a man of him,” as Cord said. For a full week, Teresa waited for the call telling her that they were sick, injured, or worse. Instead, Sidney returned a changed boy. From then on, Sheriff Cord Arbutten was Sidney’s guiding light. Now…

  She sighed and turned from the window. Watching the street wouldn’t make him come any sooner, and Wally was due home soon. Sidney knew Wally’s schedule as well as she did. Wednesday and Friday afternoons at the firehouse. Wally retired a few years back, but he still liked to spend time with the men. Teresa was just glad to have him out of the house some.

  Time to start thinking about dinner. As she stepped into the pantry, she noticed the lid on her mad-money canister was partway open. Had Wally borrowed some? Occasionally, he took
a five or a ten when he didn’t want to go to the bank, but he always put it back. She stood on tiptoe to reach the top shelf. When she opened the canister, she gasped.

  Gone. More than a thousand dollars. Wally wouldn’t take that much, not without telling her. She slumped against the wall. Sidney would, though. It wouldn’t be the first time. Of course, he always said he didn’t take it, but Teresa knew, just as she knew now. Her baby had been in the house, and she didn’t get to see him. It made her want to cry, but it meant he was around, and he was all right. She didn’t care about the money. Not if he needed it. Was it enough? What if he needed more? That would mean he’d come back, and maybe she would see him this time.

  She stuck the canister back on the shelf and then hurried into the bedroom and snatched her purse. Not quite two hundred dollars in her wallet. It wasn’t much, but it would do until she could get to the bank. Tomorrow. She’d make a special trip tomorrow. And she’d have to think of something to tell Wally.

  Back to the pantry. As she started to lift the canister down to put the money inside, Wally stuck his head in the door.

  Teresa let out a small scream. “Wally, you scared me!”

  “Sorry. Here, let me help you.” He reached up and pulled the canister down. “I was coming to put back the ten I borrowed the other day.”

  She tried to take it from him. “No, I…”

  Wally opened the canister and looked inside. He looked at the money in her hand and back at the empty canister. “Tessie? You want to tell me where all that money went?”

  “I—I—”

  He waited. When she said nothing more, he turned and walked out without a word.

  ■ ■ ■

  Sidney had parked two doors down and had watched Allie’s house for most of the morning. He saw her leave with Levine. He didn’t know how long she’d be gone, but he had to make his move now, while the construction workers were sitting down on the beach eating lunch. He probably had half an hour tops.

  He was a redhead today, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, which his strap-on boobs filled out nicely, if he did say so himself. He sauntered as well as he could with a fucked-up leg and foot along the walk to the front door. After slipping on surgical gloves, he pulled the little leather case out of the purse hanging from his shoulder. It only took him about ten seconds to get past the deadbolt. The fools paid six ninety-five for a piece of metal he could probably pop with his foot and considered themselves safe. The only thing that kept a house safe was a dog.

  And speaking of dogs. He saw the little mutt run down the hallway as he opened the door. Some watchdog.

  Sidney closed the door behind him and crossed the living room in four strides, in time to see the pooch run into some kind of home office. He pulled the door closed. There, that took care of the dog—for now. And it altered his plan. What would cause Allie Grainger the most grief? He hesitated only a minute. He had a lot to do, and he had to do it fast. He was only sorry he wouldn’t be here to see her reaction.

  Back at the car, he rummaged in the trunk. Fortunately, he’d stored some of his future surprises in here. He was afraid to leave it in the trailer in case that sleazeball who’d loaned it to him decided to poke around while he was gone. He grinned when he uncovered the glass jar.

  Twenty minutes later, he was leaving when a thought struck him. He crossed to the back door and opened it several inches, pulling off his red stained gloves before he slipped out.

  The construction workers were back at work when he rounded the house to the front. He got a few catcalls, so he tried to inject a little wiggle in his walk. Apparently, his disguise was effective.

  As he climbed behind the wheel of his latest vehicle, he saw a car pull up in front of her house. A tall guy got out and strode to the door as if he owned the place. Sidney watched as he rang the doorbell. Then, he knocked. And again. Finally, he propped an envelope up against the door before he got back into his car and drove away. After a brief hesitation, Sidney put the car in gear and followed him.

  ■ ■ ■

  “Come in with me,” Sheryl said as they neared the house. They were the first words out of her mouth since they’d left the Inlet.

  “OK. Let me walk Spook and—”

  “Now.” Her eyes cut over at Allie. “Please. Spook can wait. I mean, if you were writing, he’d have to wait, right?”

  This new Sheryl was scaring her. “Right.”

  Allie pulled into Sheryl’s driveway instead of her own. The houses were less than a block apart, squat cinderblock structures from about WWII, with small sandy front yards and patchy vegetation. The difference was that Allie’s was directly on the beach; Sheryl’s across the street and three doors down.

  This time, Sheryl didn’t bolt from the car. Instead, she sat for several minutes staring at nothing. The front curtain twitched. With a sigh that sounded like resignation, Sheryl unsnapped her seatbelt and climbed out of the car.

  Allie followed a few paces behind. She didn’t want to hear what Sheryl had to say. It couldn’t be good, not if Sheryl was this upset. She’d considered half a dozen diseases, with cancer being at the top of the list. Allie knew Sheryl couldn’t have children; that’s what had broken up her marriage. Could the problem be related to that?

  Libby was ensconced on the chair nearest the window, her walker to the side. When they entered, Libby tried, but failed to paste on a smile. Her gaze went from Sheryl’s blotchy face and red eyes to Allie’s face. Her brow creased as she looked back at Sheryl. “Are you all right?”

  Sheryl sank on the sofa. She didn’t speak until Allie sat. “No,” she said, staring at the floor. “I—” She cleared her throat and began again. “I went to the doctor and—”

  Allie was holding her breath, and she knew Libby was too.

  “I thought something had to be really wrong with me. I mean, I’ve been sick for so long. So, I called a doctor in Orlando.”

  “Why Orlando? Why not someone local?” Allie didn’t know why she asked the question. Maybe to stall off whatever Sheryl was going to tell them.

  It didn’t work. Sheryl ignored the interruption. She looked from Allie to Libby and then back down at the floor. “He told me—I’m pregnant.”

  Allie and Libby both gasped. Libby spoke first. “Still?”

  Sheryl looked at her. “What do you mean, ‘still’?”

  Libby blushed prettily. “Well, honey, I knew you were pregnant. When you didn’t tell me and then made that doctor appointment, well, I thought—”

  Allie finished for her. “That she was going to get an abortion?”

  Now, Sheryl gasped. “You knew? You both knew?”

  “Not me,” Allie said, her head still spinning from the news. “I thought you were dying of cancer or something.”

  Sheryl turned to Libby. “How—I mean—when…”

  Libby reached over and clutched Sheryl’s hand. “I only had one pregnancy, but the symptoms were obvious. The nausea. The exhaustion. Crying at the drop of a hat. It might have been thirty years ago, but I’ll never forget those early weeks. Do you mean you never suspected?”

  “Why would I? The doctor told me I couldn’t have children.” She glanced at Allie. “I thought I was dying too.”

  Libby’s face was alight, her eyes sparkling. “A baby in the house. How wonderful! Now, I have a reason to work even harder on my walking. I can’t take care of a baby and drag a walker around, can I?”

  Allie was still in shock. “I don’t understand. How could the doctors have been wrong? I mean, didn’t they perform tests?”

  “Yeah. Sure. Lots of tests. He said the results weren’t conclusive, but when I didn’t get pregnant, well, we assumed…”

  “Ernie assumed,” Allie said. She knew about Sheryl’s devastation when Ernie dumped her to move on to more fertile ground. Now, he was a couple of years into his second marriage with no little Ernie clone bouncing on his lap. Allie wondered what he’d say when he heard Sheryl was pregnant—because he’d hear. Sheryl’s parent
s had stayed in touch with the creep, determined that he and Sheryl would get back together one day.

  “Have you told Del you might be in a family way?” Libby ventured tentatively.

  Allie hadn’t even thought of that. Of course Del was the father. How would he take the news?

  “I can’t,” Sheryl said, shaking her head violently. “We talked about it a bunch of times. He said he doesn’t want kids. I told him I couldn’t have kids, so we didn’t use anything. He’s going to think I laid a trap for him. He’ll hate me. Oh, God, what am I going to do?” She looked from Libby to Allie, her eyes filled with tears. “And how can I still be a cop and have a kid?”

  “The same way the other female officers do,” Libby said. “I’m sure the department has a maternity leave policy. And you have me as a built-in babysitter. Oh!” she clapped her hands together, grinning. “I couldn’t be more pleased for you.”

  Allie felt a smile begin to form on her face. “And a built-in honorary aunt across the street. Oh, Sheryl, do you know how wonderful this is? You can have children.”

  The tears in her eyes spilled over. “But—but what if it isn’t OK? I mean, kids are born with birth defects and stuff like that. What if it dies? What if I die in childbirth?”

  Allie and Libby laughed.

  Sheryl swiped at her tears and glared at them. “And what if Del doesn’t want the baby?” The laughter died.

  “Then, he’s a complete fool,” Libby said abruptly, “and I don’t think Del’s a fool.”

  Sheryl looked at her gratefully. Then, she turned to Allie. “Will you come with me to tell him? I can’t—”

  Allie reached out and took Sheryl’s free hand. “Sure, and if he isn’t happy, I’ll help you beat the hell out of him.”

  Sheryl smiled for the first time. “Oh, I’d like to see that. Mr. Black Belt would have you on the floor in two seconds.” She looked back at Libby and seemed to be struggling. “You don’t mind? I mean, that it’s not Joe’s?”

  This time, Libby had tears in her eyes. “Of course, I don’t mind. Well, you know how much I’d love to have Joe’s child, but honey, a baby’s a baby. They’re all precious.” She wiped her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”