Last Seen Alive

by Carlene Thompson

  “Then leave.”

  Rusty’s gaze shot to hers. “Leave? Just like that?”

  “Why not?”

  “Well… I…” He looked around. “My father counts on me.

  Chyna thought of the way Owen Burtram had pushed Rusty aside when he thought he was going to be arranging an elaborate funeral for Vivian Greer. “Maybe he doesn’t count on you as much as you think. If nothing else, I’m sure he’d want you to be happy, and if you’re not happy working at the funeral home—”

  “But I’m the heir to Burtram and Hodges.” Rusty colored slightly. “That’s what Dad calls me. The heir.”

  “Well, if you feel you must, stay until he dies. Then sell the place.”

  Rusty looked at her, his lips quirking in a half smile. “Chyna, you saw him. He takes such good care of himself, he’ll live to be a hundred.”

  “Who’s gonna live to be a hunert?” Ian burst out beside them.

  “All of us,” Rusty said gaily. “Maybe a hundred and ten. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

  “I guess. Would I have to be a duck on Hal’ween?”

  Rusty looked confused, but Chyna shook her head. “You could be anything you wanted, Ian.”

  “I wanna be Spidey-Man.”

  “Okay, at a hundred and ten you can be Spiderman.” Beverly had come up and heard the exchange. “You will let him be Spider-Man on Halloween, won’t you?” Chyna asked.

  Beverly smiled. “Certainly, but I’ll still insist on going with him to make sure he’s safe. Let’s see, will I push Ian’s wheelchair or will he push mine?”

  They all laughed, all except Ian, who didn’t understand why anyone had to be in a wheelchair. Abruptly he stopped trying to figure out adult logic and ran over to play with Michelle.

  “I’d better get to the hardware store,” Rusty said. “It’s not

  my favorite hangout. I’m not very handy, but I give it a try every so often. It’s been nice seeing you, Beverly. The kids are adorable.”

  “Thanks, Rusty. You should come over and have dinner with us soon. You’re welcome to bring someone.”

  “Dad?”

  “I was thinking of a female companion.” Beverly smiled.

  “Guess I’ll have to get a rent-a-date for the evening, then.” Rusty laughed, but Chyna heard the trace of sorrow in his voice. You poor thing, she thought. You must have spent thousands of dollars trying to improve your appearance and God knows how many hours working on shedding your shyness and insecurity, and you’re still alone. And you always will be, Chyna realized in one of those inconvenient flashes of insight.

  “Are you okay, Chyna?” Rusty asked.

  “Fine,” she answered edgily.

  “Okay. Didn’t mean to pry. You just looked a bit mournful there for a second. But I guess it’s natural under the circumstances. Once again, I’m sorry about your mother.”

  Rusty put his hand on Chyna’s shoulder. Abruptly the picnic table, the children, Michelle, and Beverly all disappeared from Chyna’s sight. She seemed to be standing near a clump of trees, most of them still bearing a few fading leaves. Then she heard the sound of running and she stepped behind one of the trees, holding her breath as she looked out at a narrow path. In a moment, a girl dressed in a navy blue running suit ran up the path. She was a serious runner, her steps and breathing measured, her face—her beautiful teenage face—intent and determined, her long ash-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. I’ve seen her before, Chyna thought dimly even though she was still lost in the vision. I’ve seen her…

  In a coffin.

  Nancy Tierney with her carefully arranged hair, folded hands, and shell-pink mouth sewn shut but still saying, “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight…”

  “Great seeing all of you.” Rusty lifted his hand from

  Chyna’s shoulder and the vision vanished. As he bade them a cheerful good-bye Chyna barely managed a smile, knowing that for a split second she had not been seeing through her own eyes but through Rusty’s—Rusty’s as he had watched Nancy on the evening run from which she had never returned.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  1

  Beverly seemed in a better mood when Chyna dropped her and the children off at their house. Kate and Ian begged to let Michelle spend the afternoon with them, but Chyna explained that Michelle didn’t feel comfortable with anyone except her. Beverly looked at Chyna in gratitude. Chyna knew Bev felt more relaxed than she had earlier, but not enough to handle two children turned hyper by the presence of a dog.

  As they drove home, Michelle let out a huge yawn. “I believe you showed every tooth in your head,” Chyna laughed. “But I know how you feel. I think I could use a nap, too.”

  All thoughts of naps vanished, though, when Chyna reached Lake Manicora. At least fifty people must have been gathered level with the area where the tumbled-down gazebo stood, and someone had parked a gigantic SUV at the foot of the hill leading to Chyna’s house, blocking the road. She pulled up behind the SUV, stopped, and got out of the car with Michelle. Several people looked Chyna’s way, then quickly turned their heads. Baffled, she took a few steps forward, looking toward the gazebo, and nearly bumped into Scott Kendrick.

  “Scott!” she said in surprise. “What’s going on?” She paused, her face draining of color. “It isn’t Deirdre, is it? Have they found her?”

  “No, it’s a bunch of townspeople whipped into a frenzy over Deirdre because they’re certain she’s been kidnapped, just like the other girls,” he said grimly. “I let Irma bring me out here, mainly because I need to see you.”

  “Me? Why do you need to see me?”

  “Where’s Deirdre Mayhew, Chyna?” a man shouted from the crowd. “Got her stashed with all those other young girls who’ve disappeared?”

  “Why don’t you shut your big mouth, ignoramus?” Scott shouted back, then turned to Chyna, whose face had slackened in disbelief. Scott looked at her. “That’s why I needed to see you.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they entered the Greer house. Chyna could walk the hill in ten minutes, but she’d gone slowly because of Scott’s leg, even though he didn’t seem to be favoring it as much as when she’d first seen him. The guy driving the SUV had refused to move, and Scott and Chyna had been forced to walk. As soon as they entered, Scott said, “I’ve already called the police on my cell phone. They should be here any minute to get that horde out of the middle of the road.”

  Chyna had said little coming up the hill except to ask Scott if his leg was all right. She was still stunned not only that someone had blocked the road and refused to move, but also that someone else had asked her if she’d taken Deirdre Mayhew and had her “stashed with all those other young girls who’ve disappeared?”

  When they reached the house and went inside, Scott locked the door behind them. “You don’t think any of those people are going to follow us up here and come in, do you?” Chyna asked.

  “I wouldn’t put it past a couple of them. More like a few of them.” Scott looked out the window, then turned and gave her a solemn gaze. “You’ll have to be careful from now on.”

  “Scott, what in the name of God is wrong with that gang at the lake?” Suddenly Chyna looked at him, appalled. “When

  Zoey vanished, a lot of people thought I had done something to her. And now they think I’ve done something to Deirdre, don’t they?”

  Scott’s expression combined pity and anger. “Some of the stupid ones.”

  Chyna stared at him. “Does that go for Heather Phelps and Edie Larson, too?”

  “I wasn’t around when they vanished, but my mother said a few people mentioned that it was fairly odd that you were here—once over Christmas, once for your father’s funeral,” he said reluctantly. “Mom was outraged, of course, and both times you were in Black Willow only a couple of days. I also think you stayed close to home.”

  “I did. That Christmas I never went downtown, and Edie’s disappearance wasn’t reported until the afternoon after my dad’s funeral. I left
the next morning. That’s why I never heard any of this gossip, never knew people suspected me—” Chyna’s eyes filled with tears as Michelle moved close to her legs, sensing that her mistress was upset. Chyna simply dropped her purse on the floor, then knelt and hugged the dog. “I can’t believe people think I’d hurt these girls, Scott. Zoey was my best friend. I barely knew Edie. Heather came to a couple of my parents’ Christmas parties when she was in her midteens. And Deirdre? I met her once. What’s made people believe I did something to her?”

  “Better to say who made people believe you did something to her.” Scott gritted his teeth. “Irma Vogel.”

  Chyna gaped. “Irma Vogel! Scott, that’s ludicrous! I know when she worked here and I was a teenager she didn’t like me, but I haven’t seen her since …”

  “Since Zoey vanished.” Scott walked to the couch, his limp slightly worse than usual from the trek up the hill, and dropped down with a small groan. “She hated you because she was envious of you, and I’d bet my last dollar she was spreading rumors about you even then. I know she’s never let up on that ESP business.”

  “I haven’t talked about that with anyone except you for years!” Chyna exclaimed.

  “But people around here remember, Chyna. This isn’t a big city with a helluva lot going on. People rehash old scandals, old gossip, old mysteries, few though they are. Zoey’s disappearance is a mystery, and Zoey was your best friend who vanished right under your nose. Now, you take all that, mix it up in the head of Irma Vogel—homely, far from smart, violently jealous of any woman she thinks is a contender for any single man over twenty-five and under sixty, a dangerous gossip, and superstitious to boot—and you end up with a mess like we have down at the lake today. She’s been keeping the phone lines hot since dawn.”

  “Beverly did say Irma is the one who called this morning and told her about Deirdre being missing,” Chyna said faintly.

  “See? She probably sat down and made a whole list of people to call. Then she zipped right over to my place and rousted me out of bed to deliver the news. She wouldn’t even give me a chance to get dressed.”

  In spite of everything, Chyna couldn’t help smiling. “You can’t say she doesn’t know when to take advantage of a situation.”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “You’re blushing.”

  “Guys don’t blush, Chyna.” Scott’s dark gaze avoided hers. “I hate to ask, but since you didn’t offer, may I have something to drink?”

  “Oh, good heavens, where are my manners? Do you want a soft drink or something with a bit more kick?”

  “I would like a beer.”

  “A Corona is coming right up if Uncle Rex hasn’t drunk it all.”

  “Rex is here?”

  “He got in yesterday,” Chyna said as she headed for the kitchen, trying desperately not to think of the crowd outside, the crowd she could still hear yelling her name along with a few obscenities. “When Rex heard about Mom, he was down with the flu, so he got delayed in coming.”

  “I’m glad you’re not staying here alone.” Chyna realized

  Scott had followed her into the kitchen. Scott and Michelle. Chyna found a new six-pack of Corona beer in the refrigerator, poured one for Scott, fixed herself a glass of ice water, then gave Michelle a biscuit. Scott sat down at the kitchen table, looking out onto the dreary terrace. “That place is always so pretty in the summer.”

  “Beautiful. Or at least it used to be. Mom wasn’t much of a gardener and always hired a landscaper out of Huntington. There were blooming shrubs and banks of vivid flowers draped over arbors. And the fountain was always spotless.”

  “I remember. I came to quite a few barbecues here when you were just a little thing.”

  “You make me sound like I was a toddler, Scott. You’re only seven years older than I am.”

  “Well, when I was seventeen and you were ten you might as well have been a toddler as far as I was concerned.”

  “I seem to remember your coming to one of the Fourth of July parties when you were in your twenties.” Chyna smiled, recalling him at a party wearing tight black jeans, a black T-shirt, and a small gold hoop in a pierced ear. His mother, on the one hand, had been horrified, particularly by the earring, and had loudly told him he looked like a hoodlum. Chyna, on the other hand, had thought he looked breathtakingly sexy, like a rock star. And then she remembered—that party was the day before Zoey disappeared. Chyna’s smile abruptly disappeared.

  “Yeah, I wondered when you were going to remember the last Fourth of July party,” Scott said. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  “That’s okay. I think about it a lot, although I try not to. It was one of our best parties, what with Ron Larson getting thrown out by Uncle Rex.” She smiled. “Zoey and I thought that was terribly exciting.”

  Scott grinned. “It was pretty funny. Larson made a fool of himself, but then, that was his specialty. Do the Larsons still live around here?”

  “I don’t know. I never kept up with them.” She sighed. “I wonder if they still look for Edie.”

  “Maybe Mrs. Larson does, if she gets a chance between beatings. Somebody should have thrown Ron in the slammer a long time ago.” Chyna nodded, thinking of what a sad life Edie must have had with her one spot of joy being Gage Ridgeway. Please don’t let him be the one who hurt her, Chyna mentally asked no one in particular. She remembered seeing them together once. Edie had looked at Gage as if she adored him.

  Scott glanced at Chyna’s solemn face and asked, “Hey, where’s Rex? You said he’d finally arrived.”

  Chyna frowned. “He did, but the garage door is up and his car is gone. He must have left for a while.”

  “No wonder, considering the crowd down at the lake.”

  “Oh, he wouldn’t have run from the crowd,” Chyna said, finally able to smile. “He would have called the police and enjoyed seeing the rabble kicked off the property. No, Rex has always been restless. I doubt if in all of his adult life he’s simply hung around the house all day. He’s has to be on the go, talking to people, having a good time. I’m sure he left before that bunch of fun lovers arrived.”

  Scott grinned. “Rex Greer suffers from nervous energy?”

  “I never thought of it as that. I always just believed he was outgoing.”

  “There’s outgoing and there’s obsessive. Rex’s behavior sounds obsessive to me.”

  Chyna looked at Scott with mock sincerity. “I’ll be sure to tell Rex you’ve diagnosed his problem.”

  “And knowing Rex, he’ll find me and punch me in the nose. As I remember, he didn’t used to take criticism well.”

  “He still doesn’t.” Chyna sighed. “I wish he were here, though. With that crowd down at the lake, I don’t like being left in the house alone.”

  Scott raised an eyebrow at her. “Am I invisible? Or do you just not consider me a person?”

  “Oh, Scott, I didn’t mean to insult you!” Chyna burst out. “It’s just that you’re injured—”

  “I was injured weeks ago. Now I’m just having a little trouble with my leg.” His hands clenched into fists. “I can

  still knock the hell out of anyone who tries to bother you, and I will, too!”

  Chyna maintained control for a moment, then lost it and burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?” Scott demanded.

  “You sound like my three-year-old nephew Ian blustering.”

  “I was not blustering—” Scott broke off, his face reddening slightly. “Well, maybe I was.”

  “There’s no maybe about it, Scott.”

  “All right. So I sounded like a three-year-old. I’ll accept that, but I can protect you.” He waved the beautiful hardwood walking stick in the air. “I still have this, you know.”

  “I’m very glad and I thank you, Scott,” Chyna said solemnly. “I appreciate it, although your mother might commit battery on you if you damage that thing.”

  “You’re probably right. I’m about to give it up, an
yway. My leg is getting stronger every day.”

  “Well, I’m glad you had the stick with you today. That walk up the hill couldn’t have been easy for you.”

  “Unfortunately, I’ll probably have to get out the Bengay tonight—I just love the smell of that stuff—but I am getting better. Much better.”

  “That’s great, Scott. The last few weeks must have been awful for you—” When she saw Scott’s face cloud, Chyna broke off and abruptly changed the subject. “I wonder if that crowd is still down at the lake? What do they think? That I abducted Deirdre and have her stashed in the basement?”

  “I don’t know what they think,” Scott said in disgust. “I only hitched a ride with Irma because when I was getting dressed I heard her organizing this little bash here. I wanted to get to the house to protect you. Then I called on my cell phone and no one was home, so I had to hang around with all those merry souls until you got back.”

  “Irma is probably furious with you for coming up here with me.”

  Scott’s face tightened. “I don’t intend to ever speak to Irma Vogel again. When she started all that crap about you and the lost girls and urging me to come and meet people up

  here, people who intended to do something about you, I only kept my mouth shut because I needed a ride and Black Willow’s fleet of three cabs seems to be in service elsewhere. Maybe the drivers are hanging out with the city cops, who still haven’t shown up.”

  “Why didn’t you come in your own car?”

  “My car is in New York, Chyna. I spent a week in the hospital after the accident; then I was flown here to Black Willow. I still wasn’t considered fit to drive, but I’ve used Dad’s old car for the last few days. Naturally, today when I really needed it, it had a flat tire, and I’m not up to tire changing, yet. I wouldn’t be surprised if Irma flattened it so I’d have to ride with her.” Scott paused. “You know, even before the accident, I was thinking of buying a new car. I believe I will, now. Think Ned will give me a good deal?”

  Chyna smiled. “I think Ned will let you have a car at cost. He’d probably give you one!”