* * *
After Jason and Stacey were finished cleaning up, they helped the children put on their pajamas and brush their teeth. When they were about to put them to bed, a knock sounded at the front door.
“I'll get it,” Jason said. “Go ahead and put the kids to bed. I'll take care of this.”
After Nikki was tucked in bed Stacey headed to Robby's room. She could still hear voices coming from the living room and wondered who it was at this time of night.
Robby was just getting under his covers as Stacey entered his room.
“Who's at the door?” he asked.
“I don't know, honey. Daddy's taking care of it.” She was distracted by what was happening in their living room. “Now go to sleep. You went to sleep too late last night.” She bent down and gave him a kiss.
“But Mom . . .”
“No 'buts', Robby. I mean it. You need to get to sleep.”
His shoulders sagged. “Goodnight, Mom.”
Stacey turned off the light as she left. When she went into the living room, Jason was alone. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were narrowed, but his face relaxed when he saw her.
“Who was that?” she asked.
He laughed in contempt. “The friendly police officers that have been at the Stone's house all day. They wanted to talk to Robby about Kyle.”
Stacey wasn't surprised. “They mentioned they'd want to talk to him.”
“Well, I told them no. As soon as he finds out what's happened to Kyle he's not going to want to go to school.”
“What would it really hurt to let them speak to him?” Stacey asked, surprised Jason had told them no.
“Look, Stacey, you know as well as I do that Robby came straight home from school yesterday and couldn't know anything. Why make him scared?”
“I suppose,” she said, then added, “You realize they'll probably come back when you're not home.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Just don't answer the door.”
She remembered she had wanted to discuss with him whether to tell Robby what had happened, but it was obvious he didn't want to tell Robby anything. She decided to broach the subject the next day, when he wasn't so upset about the police.
Stacey had completely forgotten to talk to Robby about Mr. Gowen.
* * *
Robby tiptoed over to his dresser and slid open his top drawer, pushing aside his underwear and socks, then lifting the object tucked into the corner. It glinted in the shaft of moonlight that trickled in through his partially closed blinds. He examined it closely and thought about Kyle.
Mr. Gowen had slipped it through the fence earlier that day telling Robby it belonged to Kyle. Robby had recognized it as soon as he had seen it. It was Kyle's lucky stone. Kyle insisted the clear, smooth rock held magical powers. Robby had been surprised Mr. Gowen had it. Gowen had said he’d found it in their treehouse and had asked Robby to keep it for Kyle for safekeeping. Robby had taken it without question and hidden it deep within his underwear drawer.
Hearing sounds from the living room, he quickly dropped the stone back into his dresser, slid the drawer back into place, and crawled under the covers.
Chapter Eight
Day 3 – Wednesday
As Stacey and her children left for school she noticed there were more news people in front of the Stone's house.
“Mom? Why are all those people at Kyle's house?” Robby asked.
Running late, she tried to hurry them along. “I don't know.”
When they reached some bushes near the school, Robby stopped. “This is where I was when it happened.”
Stacey looked at him, puzzled. “When what happened, sweetheart?”
He turned and looked at her with wide brown eyes. “When Kyle was tying his shoes.”
She laughed and ruffled his hair. “Oh Robby, you're so silly.”
“But Mom, I saw him.”
“Saw who? Kyle?” She was more confused than ever.
He started crying. “No! I mean, yes. He was tying his shoes and then he wasn't there anymore.”
A sickening feeling swelled in the pit of her stomach. “When was this, Robby?”
“The day the police were at Kyle's house. You know, when they were asking his mom and dad questions.”
“Come on, Mom,” Nikki said, tugging Stacey’s arm.
“Just a minute, honey.” Stacey knelt in front of Robby. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
He told her what he saw.
Shocked her son had been a witness to Kyle’s abduction, Stacey felt the blood drain from her face. “Can you tell me what the car looked like?”
Screwing up his face in concentration, he said, “I think it was brown and it looked kinda old.” He looked to her for approval
“Good, Robby. What else can you remember? Did it have four doors like ours or was it smaller?”
“It was smaller than our car.” His face lit up. “I remember! On the back part? You know, the trunk?” She nodded. “Well, on the lid part of the trunk it was all red. Like it didn't really go to that car.” He stood taller, somehow proud he had remembered that detail.
“Are you sure it was a brown car with a red trunk?”
He nodded, smiling. “Yes, Mom. 'Cause I thought it looked so funny to have two different colors on one car.”
She barely got out a whisper. “Good job, honey. We'd better get you guys to class.”
He tilted his head. “Are you okay, Mom?”
“I’m fine. Now let’s get you to school before the bell rings.”
Walking home, she thought back many years and recalled climbing into a little brown car to go out on a date. It was almost brand new then. Jason had been so proud of his car and so upset when they had come back from their hike to find that a huge branch had fallen off the tall redwood tree, right onto the trunk.
He couldn't afford to have it replaced with a new one so he had gone to a junkyard to find a replacement for the damaged trunk lid. The only problem was, it didn't match the rest of the car and he didn't have enough money left to buy a can of brown paint. After a while he had gotten used to the different colors and even after he could afford to buy paint he chose not to because of all the good memories associated with that car, just the way it was.
Stacey had finally made him get rid of it several years before. At least he had told her he had gotten rid of it.
“What a strange coincidence,” she murmured as she entered her home.
Preparing to go over to Amanda’s house to report this important piece of information, she wondered if it was possible that Jason’s old car had been used in Kyle’s kidnapping.
How bizarre, she thought, that someone we know would have her child kidnapped using a car we once owned.
Then, with unexpected clarity, she recalled the conversation from the night before. She heard Jason say, “I knew they had at least one million. But two! Wow! I never guessed they had that much money.”
Halfway to the front door, she stopped. Why would he have been guessing how much money the Stone's had? They had never talked about the Stone's financial worth before. How long had he been thinking about it? And why did the amount the kidnappers had asked for match the amount Jason thought the Stone's had?
And why, she wondered, wouldn't he let the police talk to Robby last night? Did he know about Robby's observations? Or was he really just concerned for Robby's well-being? And he said he'd been running an errand on the very afternoon of the kidnapping.
Then, a comment Jason had made a few weeks before crept into her memory. Once again, they had been discussing their growing pile of bills and Jason had said almost to himself, “There must be something I can do to get my hands on a large amount of cash. Something quick and easy.” When she had asked him what he meant, he’d shaken his head and said, “Nothing. Nevermind.”
Could Jason be involved? She wondered. She shook her head and said out loud, “Let’s just look at this rationally, Stacey.” He told me he sold that car to the dealer
ship where he works. Someone probably bought it and this is all just a horrible coincidence.
Or, she thought, as a cold finger of fear danced up her spine, he could have stored it on the back lot. He had seemed reluctant to get rid of that car. I had to practically threaten him to even get him to agree we didn't need it anymore. And I don't recall ever seeing any money from the sale of that old car.
The shrill ring of the phone startled her. Reversing direction, she went to the kitchen and picked up the phone, answering tentatively. “Hello?”
“Stacey? Is that you?”
“Yes, who is this?”
The caller laughed. “It's me, silly. Patricia.”
Stacey didn't want to deal with her director right now. “What do you need? I'm kind of busy.”
“You're always busy, Stacey,” she said with a tone Stacey couldn't quite put her finger on. “The happy little homemaker, always taking care of her husband and children.”
Jealousy, Stacey thought, and almost laughed out loud. She's jealous of me. Patricia Summers, with her perfect hair and make-up and her cocky attitude. The irony was too much for her and the tears started to fall.
“Stacey, are you there?” Patricia asked.
Stacey didn't want her to know she was crying. She faked a cough and took a deep breath. “Just a minute, Patricia.” And after a moment, “Sorry about that, a frog in my throat or something. Now, what was it you wanted?”
“I have some products for you. Can I come by this evening and drop them off?”
With an incredible amount of self-will, Stacey forced her brain to think about business. “I have an early party tonight, but I should be home by nine o'clock. Why don't you come by then?”
“I'll be there,” Patricia sang out. “Oh, and Stacey? I want to take you out to lunch today. Does that work for you?”
“Actually, Patricia, today's not good for me. Let's do it some other time, okay?”
Silence on the other end. Then, “I really need to talk to you.”
With reluctance, Stacey agreed to meet Patricia at a nearby restaurant at one o'clock. She knew it was probably best to keep up a normal front.
Stacey hung up the phone and forced herself to think about the Beautiful You cosmetics party she had booked for that night.
I am definitely not in the mood to have a party tonight. Maybe I can get out of it, she thought as she picked up the phone and called the woman who was scheduled to host the party.
“Hi, Annette. This is Stacey Hunter.”
“Oh, Stacey. Hi. I'm sure looking forward to the party tonight. Eight people are definitely going to be there and they're all big on makeup so it should be a good one.”
Knowing she was committed, Stacey tried to be enthusiastic. “Great! I'll see you then.”
She hung up the phone, resigned to going. She consoled herself with the thought that it would probably be a big moneymaker and they could certainly use the money. Unless, she thought, a grim laugh bubbling out of her throat, Jason just arranged for us to receive one million dollars.
She needed to talk this over with someone she could trust and immediately thought of her sister, Megan, who lived up in Washington State. She was three years younger than Stacey but they had been close growing up; having a father in jail gave them a shameful bond.
After all the years of their mother pressuring him to provide more and more material possessions for their family, her father had finally gone too far, stealing from others until he had been caught. He had ended up in jail and Stacey’s mother had left him, taking Stacey and Megan with her.
As Stacey thought about her father, she remembered how shocked she had been when she had learned he’d committed a crime - a crime that put him in jail. She’d had no idea he’d been doing anything wrong. He had seemed perfectly normal. She wondered if her mother had had a clue about what he was doing.
I guess sometimes even those we’re close to can be doing things we don’t know about, Stacey thought. Is that what’s happening here? Could Jason be involved and I’m just clueless?
The thought made her sick. Wondering how she could find out for sure, she considered simply calling Jason and asking him. Then she thought about his possible reaction.
If he’s not involved, he’ll be insulted I would even think such a thing. He would be furious at me. And if he is involved, he’s certainly not going to tell me. I’m just going to have to figure it out for myself.
Finally, Stacey tried to call her sister. Not surprised to find no one home, Stacey left a message. Then, as a new worry presented itself, she began pacing.
What will I do if the police want to talk to Robby? What if Robby tells them about the car and they discover Jason once had one just like it? Will they consider him a suspect? What will that do to our lives?
But what about Kyle? Her thoughts continued. Getting him back is the most important thing. Right?
She jumped at the sound of knocking on the front door. She didn't feel up to talking to anyone and tiptoed to the door. Looking out the peephole, she saw two police officers standing on her front porch. Her heart banged against her ribs.
Do they already know about Jason's car?
She stood there, not even breathing. They knocked again and still she held her breath. After a moment they walked back down her driveway. Stacey exhaled loudly as she continued watching through the peephole. The officers had stopped and were talking to her neighbor, Margie, who was waiting on the sidewalk in front of Stacey's house. She bristled with anger as she watched Margie gesture toward Stacey's house while she spoke with the police. The officers nodded then followed Margie down the sidewalk.
What is she up to now? Stacey felt perspiration forming under her arms as she contemplated what was happening. She felt helpless and vulnerable, not knowing how much the police knew.
And seeing them talk to Margie only made things worse. She thought about the trouble she'd had with her neighbor and was engulfed with anger. Margie often complained about Robby and Nikki. “They keep looking in my backyard,” or “They're throwing rocks over the fence.” The complaints were endless. And Margie had two children of her own. Stacey thought she would have some understanding of the ways kids behave, but apparently her children never did those things. But what really made Stacey angry was the time Margie had accused her of looking through Margie's windows.
Margie had come knocking on Stacey's door one afternoon to complain about another petty offense Stacey's children had allegedly committed. When Stacey began to defend her children, Margie had turned her accusations on Stacey.
Margie's hands had been on her wide hips as she spoke. “We like our privacy and you look in our windows.”
Stacey had been incredulous. “What are you talking about?”
“When we got new blinds no one noticed, but you came over and started talking about them.”
That was when Stacey knew the woman was truly disturbed. She just didn't think in a rational, normal way. It was then that Stacey knew it was best to keep her distance from Margie. And, since then, she hadn't spoken to her more than was necessary to be civil.
Stacey thought about Amanda and what she must be feeling today. Dare I call her to see if there's any news? What if she can tell by my voice that something's wrong? Stacey bit her lip in consternation, undecided about what to do. Finally she picked up the phone and called her neighbor.
“Hello?” A subdued voice answered.
Stacey recognized Amanda's voice at once. “I'm sorry, Amanda. It's just me, Stacey.”
“Oh. Hi.”
Stacey wondered if Amanda's phone calls were being recorded. I'd better be careful how I sound, she thought. “I just wanted to call and see how you're doing. Have you heard anything?”
“I appreciate your call. But no, we haven't heard anything from them.”
Stacey chewed on her bottom lip, trying to think of what to say, knowing every utterance might be recorded. “I, uh, is there anything I can do to help you? Do you want me to come over
?” She desperately hoped the answer would be no.
“If you want to. But I'm okay right now.”
Stacey could hear voices in the background. “Do you have a lot of people over there now?” She could hear her own voice becoming shaky as she recalled her doubts about Jason's innocence and she wanted to get off the phone as soon as possible.
Amanda laughed humorlessly. “Yes, I have a houseful.”
“Um, maybe I can stop by later then? When it's not so crowded?”
“Okay. Whatever works for you. Thanks, Stacey.”
Stacey hung up the phone with relief. She knew if they had talked much longer she would have burst into sobs from the stress of her uncertainties about Jason. Wandering over to the couch, Stacey sat down heavily and tried to control the shaking in her hands.
Chapter Nine
The sound of subdued chatter greeted Stacey as she entered the upscale restaurant. This was where Patricia always took Stacey when they had one of their little lunch dates. It was usually a treat for Stacey to go out to eat, but today she was barely holding herself together. She looked around the room and saw Patricia waving her over to a table for two.
Walking over to the table in the corner, Stacey realized that, really, Patricia was just doing her job. The directors were encouraged to take their beauty consultants out to lunch occasionally to keep up communication and morale. At first Stacey had truly enjoyed these outings, but lately Patricia had begun to get on Stacey's nerves. Something about her really bothered Stacey. Not sure what it was, she tried to ignore the feeling and be friendly.
Stacey slid into the chair and forced a smile on her lips in response to Patricia's greeting.
“Are you feeling all right, Stacey?” Patricia asked, seeming concerned. She reached across the table and touched Stacey's hand.
The comment warned Stacey to shape up before more questions were asked. Sitting up straighter, she put a more genuine smile on her face. “Of course. Why?”
Patricia pulled her hand back to her side of the table. “You just look a little tired or something.”
Suspicions: a novel of suspense Page 5
