Can't Find My Way Home

by Carlene Thompson

  ‘A couple of times.’

  ‘Did she want to know about my father and Mark? Did she ask what they were like?’

  ‘She had her mind made up about what they were like, Brynn. She hated them, especially Mark.’ Garrett went silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘She knew him.’

  ‘Rhonda knew him? Personally? She made it sound as if she only knew who he was when he came back to Genessa Point! Why didn’t you tell me she actually knew him?’

  ‘I didn’t want to make matters worse. She was already getting out of control. I wanted to keep her away from you.’

  Brynn took a minute to digest this news. She didn’t know whether or not to be mad at Garrett for withholding information. She decided that before she made up her mind, she’d ask more questions. ‘How well did she know Mark?’

  ‘Not well. It was through Nathan. They went out a couple of times.’

  ‘Really? She acted like she didn’t know him!’

  ‘Brynn, she was too out of it to know much of anything. Besides, they only went out a couple of times. They were both sixteen, she was pretty, and Nathan’s always been every girl’s dream. I think they just went to see a movie and maybe spent an evening at that year’s festival. Nathan didn’t like her.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He said she was weird.’

  ‘Weird? How?’

  ‘At sixteen we weren’t into analyzing girls’ personalities – looks, yes, personalities, no. He said she was weird and nosy. She asked too many questions about his life, his sister – pretty much how much money he’d inherit someday.’

  ‘How much money? That was tactful.’

  ‘Yeah, it pissed him off. She was fairly persistent, though. He was glad when summer was ending and she went home with her mother.’

  ‘If you knew all of this, why did you start a relationship with her?’

  ‘Because it happened a long time ago. She was so young.’

  Brynn thought Garrett sounded defensive. ‘She was single and she acted perfectly normal when I started dating her – at least for a couple of months. Then I started seeing trouble. She got possessive … Well, we don’t need to go over all that again.’

  ‘No, we don’t. She was obviously troubled.’ Brynn hoped that sounded polite. Just because Rhonda was dead, Brynn couldn’t manufacture kind thoughts for her. She asked, ‘How’s Nathan?’

  ‘Stunned. Shaken to the core.’ Brynn could picture him shaking his head. ‘God, what a thing – stuck on that Ferris wheel with Rhonda convulsing, bleeding, choking to death in his arms. And he took her up there to get her off my back.’

  ‘It’s awful, but at least he’s all right.’

  ‘I heard Tessa was having heart palpitations, her lips turned blue and she almost fainted. They had to sedate Tessa and Nate insisted she be kept at the hospital all night. He stayed in her room with her.’

  ‘He shouldn’t have bothered. Tessa’s indestructible.’ Brynn realized how acidic she’d sounded and was embarrassed. She’d always tried to keep her dislike of Tessa a secret. She had no reason to hate someone for defending herself. But Tessa had killed Brynn’s father, and nothing could ever convince Brynn that Jonah Wilder had tried to murder her. She quickly changed the subject. ‘Garrett, Cassie told me Ray used to do a lot of cocaine. I have a feeling that’s why Rhonda was with him – he was her supplier.’

  ‘Did you tell Cassie about Ray and Rhonda?’

  ‘Yes. Last night. She wasn’t surprised that they were together and she’d already wondered if Rhonda was doing coke. Garrett, where is Ray now?’

  ‘We haven’t found him yet. His car isn’t at the Bay Motel and that can’t be good. We’ve put out an APB for him.’

  ‘You think he murdered Rhonda?’

  ‘I think he gave her that cocaine, and she certainly didn’t put strychnine in it.’

  ‘Why would he kill her?’

  ‘I don’t have any idea. Certainly not because she was giving him too much business.’

  ‘How’s Savannah?’

  ‘I’m not sure. First there was what she saw last night, then this morning I told her she can’t be in the play tonight. There’s too much going on in this town. I want her safe at home.’

  ‘I can’t believe the town’s still having the play!’

  ‘The mayor says townspeople will be disappointed if the play is canceled. What he means is that a lot of people have bought tickets. He doesn’t want to refund the money.’

  ‘Savannah must be heartbroken.’

  ‘She is. After I told her, she stomped off to her room and went to bed. She won’t get up. I had to ask Mrs Persinger – better known as the Doily Lady – to come sit with her at our house. I also talked to Savannah’s great-aunt in Ohio. I’m sending her there until things settle down around here.’

  ‘Oh. Does she like her great-aunt?’

  ‘No. But she’ll be safe.’

  Brynn sighed. ‘What a shame. I know how hard she’s worked on her part in the play.’

  ‘She has an understudy.’ After a moment, Garrett said, ‘She’ll just have to be a grown-up and accept this even if it makes her hate me for a few months.’

  ‘She’d never hate you, Garrett.’

  ‘Maybe, but she can resent me. It doesn’t matter, though.’ Brynn heard the steel in his voice. ‘Given what’s been going on in Genessa Point lately, I have to protect her no matter how she feels about me.’

  By early afternoon, Brynn’s nerves were getting to her. She wanted to take a long walk, but Garrett still had surveillance on Cassie’s house. After thinking it over for a few minutes, she decided to tell the policeman posted out front she’d like to walk around the block a couple of times, thinking he wouldn’t believe that was too dangerous for her to do on her own.

  ‘You walk, ma’am, and I’ll creep along behind you,’ the young cop had said with a friendly smile. ‘You won’t even know I’m here.’

  Brynn started out with high hopes, but by the time she’d passed four houses, she realized she’d glanced back at her guardian twice. Once she’d smiled, once she’d waved. This wasn’t going to work, she told herself. She was too self-conscious. But she also couldn’t just sit in Cassie’s house.

  Brynn considered going to Garrett’s house and visiting Savannah, but she was afraid the girl might see a visit as a vote for her being allowed to participate in the play. She didn’t want to come between her and Garrett again, as she’d done on the day she’d met Savannah and allowed the girl to be her sightseeing guide when she knew Garrett didn’t want Savannah to go with her. Besides, she agreed with him. If Savannah had been her daughter, she wouldn’t want the girl to be out in public surrounded by so many strangers.

  She also wouldn’t want Savannah to be in this town – a town where a man had been stabbed through the heart and left in a vacant house, a town where a young woman had been given cocaine heavily cut with strychnine, certainly meant to kill her. Brynn closed her eyes for a moment, picturing Rhonda flinging her arms, arching her body and gasping for air before she died on a beautiful Ferris wheel. She hadn’t liked Rhonda. She’d thought Rhonda might be dangerous. But had she deserved such a gruesome death? Had she deserved death at all? Someone had thought so. But who?

  Someone who’d given her cocaine laced with strychnine. How long had the strychnine-laced cocaine been in her body? Garrett had said symptoms of strychnine poisoning would begin to show within fifteen to forty-five minutes. It was obvious now that Rhonda had been using for a while. Her suddenly erratic behavior at Cassie’s store now made sense. Had rejection by Garrett caused her to start? Probably not. She could have had a history with the drug. But what drove her to snort so much cocaine the night of the carnival? And who could have laced it with strychnine? Was she already so high that all of her senses were dimmed? Brynn sighed. Rhonda had wanted to dull the pain, but she was certain Rhonda hadn’t wanted to die.

  As Brynn walked in the well-maintained neighborhood of two-story homes built mostly in the se
venties and eighties, she abruptly felt a gaze fixed on her. She slowed down and looked at the house to her left. Every window showed only the edges of opened draperies. The same with the next house. That didn’t mean no one was peeking at her, she thought. No one else was walking the neighborhood with a police car trailing behind them.

  Her cell phone rang and she jumped. She fished in her purse until she found it and glanced at the caller ID. G. Traymore. She didn’t know anyone named Traymore. She hesitated, then answered.

  ‘Miss Wilder? Brynn Wilder?’ asked a pleasant, young male voice.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m Greg Traymore in Baltimore. I’m a friend of Mark’s. I’ve talked to the Baltimore police about him and the sheriff in Genessa Point, but I know how much Mark cares for you and I think I should talk to you, too.’

  Brynn stopped on the sidewalk. The patrol car stopped, too, so she decided walking was better. She didn’t want to answer questions from the patrolman.

  ‘I’m so glad you called,’ she exclaimed. ‘I knew Garrett – Sheriff Dane – spoke to you but I wanted to talk to you myself. He gave me your phone number. I was going to call this evening.’

  ‘Mark gave me your number a couple of weeks ago.’ Greg paused. ‘He said if things didn’t go the way he planned, I might want to talk to you.’

  Brynn felt as if a lump of ice had settled in her stomach. ‘If things didn’t go the way he planned in Genessa Point?’

  ‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘I know the whole story about your father, Miss Wilder. I didn’t think it was a good idea, but there was no talking him out of the trip. He’s been drinking a lot lately, he lost his job … well, I guess you know all that.’

  ‘Unfortunately, yes.’

  ‘Well, there’s something that’s been bothering me. I didn’t tell the Baltimore police or Sheriff Dane because I thought they’d ignore it. But I can’t stop thinking about it.’

  Brynn turned a corner, seeing the sidewalk stretch before her but not registering. She was aware only of a strong, cool breeze whispering through tree leaves, blowing her hair, freeing a piece of silvery paper from beneath a fence and sending it across the street.

  ‘Brynn, are you there?’ Greg asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m outside and a chilly breeze came out of nowhere. Go ahead.’

  ‘Well, both my wife and I were friends of Mark’s. We were worried about him and she suggested she bake some lasagna as an excuse to go check on him. When we got to his apartment, he was half-drunk and looked like hell – sorry – and newspapers and clippings were scattered all over the place.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Brynn said, thinking that while she’d been walking along the beach in the evenings, dreaming up the plot for her latest book, Mark had been on a steep emotional decline. ‘I wish I’d been there.’

  ‘I don’t think he would have let you do anything for him. He talked about you a lot, Brynn. He loved you, but he also admired and respected you, talked about how much stronger you were than him. He wouldn’t have let you into his apartment. Anyway, my wife and I nearly forced ourselves in and we all ate. Then we went in the living room,’ Greg went on. ‘Honestly, it was hard to find a place to sit. Mark was beginning to sober up and I got him talking about the Orioles – he’s still interested in baseball. While we were talking, my wife glanced around at the newspapers. She didn’t try to straighten them – Mark had them in some kind of order. She saw one with a headline about another murder in Genessa Point.

  ‘She said that on the opposite page was a follow-up story about a car wreck that had happened two days earlier. A car had swerved to miss what the driver thought was a person but was in fact a mannequin. Two people were hurt. When my wife asked Mark about it, he got this distant look on his face. He didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. Then he started shouting, “The mannequin! Not me … not Garrett.” He smacked himself on the forehead and said something about how stupid he’d been and maybe what she’d written was true.’

  ‘She? Who?’

  ‘I don’t know. I was afraid to start asking questions because he’d get rid of us. My plan didn’t work. About ten minutes later, he asked us to leave. He was polite and thanked us for dinner, but he said he had work to do. Does any of that mean something to you?’

  Brynn paused. ‘I remember something about a car wreck caused by a mannequin from the store where my mother worked. Does your wife recall the date of the newspaper?’

  ‘I asked her. She doesn’t. She also said the number of victims wasn’t in the headline. Sorry.’

  ‘That’s all right. Sounds like it was a hectic evening.’

  ‘It sure was. We were being so careful not to upset Mark. The next day I called and Mark said he was going to Genessa Point to find out the truth about his dad. Remembering that car wreck set him off. That and whatever she had written. I thought you might have the answers. I didn’t want to bring it up to the Baltimore police or to Sheriff Dane because I thought maybe Mark had something to do with the wreck.’

  Brynn stopped walking, feeling tears rising in her eyes. ‘That was very thoughtful of you, Greg. I really appreciate you not dragging the police into it.’

  ‘Hey, Mark’s my best friend. And that newspaper was old. The wreck happened a long time ago and no one was killed.’ Greg went silent for a moment. ‘And the guy I know wouldn’t have anything to do with a prank like that.’

  ‘I can’t imagine my brother ever doing such a thing, either, and not just because I love him. He was a good kid, Greg. Always.’

  ‘That’s what I figured.’ She could feel, even if she couldn’t see, Greg’s smile. ‘It’s been nice talking to you, Brynn. Let me know just as soon as you find Mark. The Orioles had a great game last week. He’ll be ecstatic.’

  EIGHTEEN

  ‘Twenty minutes later, Brynn was pounding up the stairs in Cassie’s house, headed for her second-floor office. The computer, which Cassie rarely used, seemed to be calling Brynn’s name. ‘Thank God you’re not still sitting in the computer shop “on the blink” as Cassie says,’ Brynn murmured, as if the machine could answer her. She turned the computer on, went to the internet and searched for the Genessa Point Gazette. On their webpage, she searched the archived articles for ‘mannequin.’ Disappointed, she found nothing. She thought of trying ‘car wrecks,’ but that was too generic. Even in a town of twelve thousand people, not counting the tourists in the summer, wrecks happened all the time. Besides, she didn’t know the year of the wreck or the names of the people involved.

  Letting out a huge sigh, Brynn glanced through the email subjects. She’d expected to see ads for fashion, colognes and shoes, but Cassie must have a different address for her store computer to which those emails were sent. Most of these seemed personal. And there were few of them. Brynn felt guilty that she hadn’t emailed more regularly.

  Finally she saw a subject that made her sit up straight: Pics from Mark. These had to be the pictures Mark had taken on the Saturday Cassie and Mark had walked around town together early in the day. Later that same day, he’d disappeared.

  Brynn clicked on the email and saw that there were five photos attached. The first showed Cassie wearing dark wash jeans and an ivory short-sleeved tier top. She stood in front of a rail fence beside a garden of sunflowers. In the next photo, Cassie leaned against her sonic orange Hyundai Coupé, wearing sunglasses with a sunflower tucked behind her ear. She was laughing and the sun glistened on her reddish gold hair.

  They’d ventured away from Cassie’s house for the third photo, with Cassie sitting at a Cloud Nine table holding out a delectable Chocolate Dream. Cassie posed on a park bench, probably at Holly Park, in the next photo. Brynn was about to open the final photo when her cell phone rang. She answered without looking at the caller ID and was silent for a moment when an unfamiliar female voice asked, ‘Miss Wilder? Brynn Wilder?’

  Brynn hesitated, catching her breath, before she answered, ‘Yes?’

  ‘This is Miss Kern, Doctor Ellis’s nur
se.’

  ‘His nurse? I thought he’d retired?’

  ‘His private nurse, Miss Wilder. Maybe you didn’t know, but for the last few days he’s been confined to bed rest in his home. I’m taking care of him.’

  ‘Oh, my, I didn’t know.’ Brynn felt a wave of guilt, remembering his collapse at her feet when she berated him at his daughter Joy’s grave. ‘Is he improving?’

  ‘Not really. Frankly, I don’t think he wants to recover.’ The nurse’s voice was low. She doesn’t want Edmund to hear her, Brynn thought. ‘He asked if he could see you this afternoon.’

  ‘This afternoon? Could it wait until tomorrow?’

  Miss Kern hesitated. ‘Well, possibly, but … well, it’s just a feeling I have, but I think if you wait, he may not be able to speak to you. He’s very weak and he’s adamant about seeing you.’ She lowered her voice even farther. ‘He says it’s a matter of life and death.’

  ‘Do you think he’s … well …’

  ‘In his right mind? Yes, Miss Wilder. He’s perfectly lucid.’

  As angry with Edmund Ellis as she’d been for years, she couldn’t forget his gray and dying look the last time she’d seen him; she couldn’t forget how harsh she’d been to him; she couldn’t forget how she’d once cared for him – almost as much as she’d cared for her father.

  ‘Tell Doctor Ellis I’ll be there within an hour,’ she said. ‘Be sure to tell him I’ll come.’

  ‘I’ll tell him. And thank you, Miss Wilder. I just have a feeling that … well, that it’s vitally important he sees you as soon as possible.’

  Brynn turned off Cassie’s computer, hurriedly left her office and ran out to the patrolman, asking him to take her to Doctor Edmund Ellis’s home. God only knew why he was so insistent about seeing her, she thought, her hands trembling, but she knew it had to be something important.

  When Brynn dashed out of Cassie’s house, she once again had that strange feeling of being watched, and not by the surveillance cop. She looked around and saw hardly anyone. Festival activities were taking up the time of kids who would usually be seen on the sidewalks and she pictured women starting dinner for their husbands. She smiled. Most women had full-time jobs nowadays. Her imagination was hopelessly locked in the past, playing over and over images of her mother who only worked part-time so she could always fuss over the big dinners she fixed for her family every evening.