‘Could you see him?’ she called to Pete.
‘Not really but he was strong enough to break that door.’
Strong like six-foot-two athletic Brody Montgomery would be. Vanessa rubbed her forehead as Queenie barked viciously at the spot where the man had vanished. ‘Clearly you’re not meant to be a guard dog who protects her mistress,’ Vanessa said, reaching out and rubbing the dog’s side reassuringly. ‘Pete, I think we should call the police now.’
FIVE
‘Brody? Brody are you here? If so, come and talk to me. That’s all I want to do – talk.’
Christian stood in the living room of the small, two-bedroom guest house he’d already searched twice. He wished desperately that Brody would appear, having hidden himself away in some cubbyhole Christian didn’t know about, but he knew that was silly. Brody wasn’t in the guest house. God knew where he was.
Christian went outside, locking the door behind him then unlocking it in the dim hope that Brody would find sanctuary in the guest house in the middle of the night. Yeah, sure, he thought sarcastically as he strode toward the main house. After all of this time, Brody would hide in the first place he knew his brother would look.
He’d tried to be calm in his office in front of Zane. He’d tried to be calm on the phone with Vanessa earlier in the evening, but underneath the act, he was seething. Vanessa had backed him into a corner. She’d threatened him – if he didn’t call Wade Baylor, she would. How dare she?
Because she’s terrified for her sister, a tiny voice inside him said. Because Roxanne has reappeared after eight years just as Brody has disappeared. It looked suspicious.
But it is a coincidence, he told himself. It’s a horrible coincidence with possibly dangerous repercussions for Brody. Christian was sure Brody had absolutely nothing to do with Roxanne’s kidnapping. He’d been heavily sedated with Thorazine and under the watch of his father the night when Roxane was taken. Gerald would not have eased up on Brody’s medication or lost track of his son for several hours. Besides, Ben Johnson from next door had been at the house. He’d known Brody was upstairs.
But he had not seen Brody. He’d sworn to the police he’d been at the Montgomery house an hour longer than he had and looked into Brody’s room to see him dead to the world. Ben had been Gerald’s best friend for twenty years. He hadn’t given a thought to stretching the truth for the sake of his best friend’s son. He’d died three months later of cancer. Gerald had told Christian the lie was Ben’s parting gift. And after all, Brody was innocent, Gerald had reasoned. But is that why Gerald hadn’t told Christian about Ben’s lie until the night he died? Christian remembered that after telling him, his father had looked at him doubtfully and reassured him that Ben’s ‘exaggeration’ hadn’t hurt anyone. Except for me, Christian thought. That lie has haunted me for years. Why was it necessary?
If only I’d been here, Christian mused as he entered the main house. If Dad had called me as soon as Brody was caught and returned home, I could have done something to help, if only to keep another pair of eyes on Brody. And I would have watched him like a hawk. Is that why Dad didn’t let me know Brody was home, why he didn’t tell me exactly what was going on? Because he didn’t want Brody to feel like a prisoner? Instead, Dad didn’t call me until the afternoon of the day Roxanne was kidnapped. Brody was already a suspect. I was too late to do anything to help him.
Christian paced around the softly lit living room decorated in calm blues, grays, and ivory with occasional touches of burgundy for contrast. His mother had refurnished the room six months before her death in a car wreck and been so proud of it. After she died, his father hadn’t changed a thing and later neither had Christian.
Accent lights glowed from the built-in shelving on either side of the fireplace. The top shelf on the right drew Christian like a magnet. He stared at the fourteen-inch-high gold trophy gleaming beside a framed color photo of Brody dressed in white shorts and shirt with a red, white and blue headband crossing his tanned forehead and holding down his longish, sun-lightened hair as he grinned rakishly while holding a trophy. As a child, Brody had been dreamy and removed, preferring to read and write fantasy stories. A natural athlete, when he was thirteen, he’d become fanatical about tennis. He’d always devoted himself to what caught his imagination and his idol had been Björn Borg, the sex symbol tennis champion famous in the Seventies. Brody’s expression in the photo said he felt as successful as Borg winning Wimbledon, even if he’d only won a state tennis championship. In the background, people were standing and cheering and when Christian looked closely, he could see Vanessa and Roxanne Everly, Jane Drake, Zane Felder and Derek Sherwin in the stands. The picture had appeared in newspapers throughout the state and on the internet and Brody had been ecstatic. A year later, the first symptoms of his illness manifested themselves and the golden boy had begun a tragic tumble into murky depression and heartbreaking confusion.
Christian’s chest tightened and he felt as if he couldn’t breathe. He rarely drank, but he decided tonight of all nights called for something that might ease his tightening muscles, his growing apprehension.
He retrieved an excellent brand of cognac from a kitchen shelf and poured it into one of the tulip glasses his father declared was the best glass for fine cognac, making his wife roll her eyes. ‘You act like you were raised on the stuff, Gerald,’ she’d tease. ‘When we were teenagers, we drank the cheapest wine right out of the bottle.’ Christian smiled at the memory and carefully holding his glass, he stretched out on the long, wide blue couch and took a sip, absently swirling the warm, smooth liquid in his mouth before swallowing and forcing himself to breathe slowly.
He closed his eyes, wondering if Brody had gone off his meds and why. He’d done it years ago, thinking he didn’t need them, but afterward he’d told Christian he’d learned his lesson. Maybe now a girl was involved – a girl Brody had never mentioned to Zane. He was extremely sensitive, particularly about his illness. He might have confided in her and she rejected him. He would have been crushed. Christian took another sip of cognac. Or it could have been something about the business. They were taking Blackbird public. That’s huge, Christian thought. Maybe Brody had gotten extremely agitated, stopped his meds and run from the source of his stress.
Except that agitation would have made Brody even more conscientious than usual about taking his medications. He would have wanted to be in top form. He wouldn’t have wanted to let Zane down.
‘Brody, where are you?’ he asked aloud. ‘Don’t you know the longer you’re missing, the worse suspicion of you gets?’
Which is why he’d given in so easily to Vanessa and called Wade, he admitted to himself. He’d known Vanessa too long to let her intimidate him. He’d decided it was better for Brody that he be found and prove he had nothing to do with Roxanne’s reappearance than let people build a case against him, maybe even hurt him if they found him.
Christian readily admitted he knew a lot about Brody’s illness but not everything – not the way his mind worked. He’d tried, but he didn’t have Brody’s illness. He didn’t understand all the twists and turns Brody’s thoughts could take. He didn’t understand Brody’s various delusions. When his father had died, Christian had promised he would take care of Brody. He’d said he’d never let anything happen to him. He felt tears rise in his eyes. And now look …
His cellphone rang. Christian jerked, nearly spilling his cognac, then wiped away the tears. He leaned forward anxiously and picked it up from the coffee table, nearly barking, ‘’Lo?’
A familiar voice chirped, ‘Chris? I mean Dr Montgomery? This is Jane Drake in the emergency room. You asked that we call if anything came up concerning Roxanne or Vanessa Everly.’
Christian tensed. ‘Who is it?’
‘Vanessa.’
Christian drove quickly to the hospital, praying that whatever had happened to Vanessa had nothing to do with Brody. Before he got out of his car, he popped a breath mint into his mouth. He wasn’t on call and he’d onl
y had two sips of cognac, but some of the staff had noses like bloodhounds. Tomorrow the rumor that Dr Montgomery arrived at the hospital drunk could have spread like wildfire. He hurried past the emergency room desk, called, ‘Dr Montgomery,’ to the on-duty nurse and rushed back along the hall. Only one room was occupied.
Wade Baylor stood outside the room. He was slightly less than six feet tall, sturdy, brown-haired, and looked older than his thirty-three years because of a perpetually hang-dog expression and sad, dark eyes. Smiles didn’t come easily to Wade but his perpetual calm and air of authority gave people confidence in him.
‘What’s going on?’ Christian asked.
‘A break-in at the Everly House.’
Christian tensed. ‘A break-in?’
‘Vanessa was sleeping in the room next to the tower. She heard someone in there. I don’t know what possessed her but she went tearing outside. She had her dog with her – it’s a collie – and was getting near the door at the same time the guy gave it his all and broke the doorframe. Pete McGuire had shown up by that time but he fell and twisted his knee. He’s getting treatment now. The intruder made it into the woods.’
‘Is Vanessa all right?’
‘Not sure. The door flew back and hit her. I think she’s in X-ray, but she’s conscious.’
‘Can I go in and talk to Pete?’
‘Be my guest.’
A doctor working on Pete looked up at Christian. ‘He’s wrenched his knee.’
‘Of all the stupid things to do!’ Pete ranted, his white hair rumpled above his rage-red face. ‘No snow on the ground, nothing in my way, and I fell down like an old man!’
‘Didn’t the dog chase him?’
‘That big lump of love didn’t care for anything except her mistress. Vanessa was lying flat and Queenie was licking her and nosing her and whining to the sky.’
‘Pete, did you get a look at the guy’s face?’ Christian asked, feeling as if there was a band around his heart.
‘Nope. He had on a bulky quilted coat with the hood pulled up. I never got a glimpse of his face or a look at his hair as he ran away.’
‘Was it a kid? A teenager?’
‘Doc Montgomery, I told you I didn’t see his face. It could’ve been a teenager.’
‘How tall was he?’
‘I’m not sure. Six feet?’
‘Are you sure?’
‘No, I’m not sure! He was running!’ Pete glared, then his look softened. ‘Sorry. My knee hurts like the devil. I’m only guessing. Maybe he was a little taller than me. I told the sheriff all this.’
‘I apologize, Pete. I shouldn’t be grilling you. Six feet, you say.’ Christian hoped no one heard the relief in his voice. Brody was six two. ‘I’m glad you’re all right.’
‘Except for the pain. I’ll get some pain killers for that but I’ll be limping around for days.’
‘More like a couple of weeks with a brace and a crutch,’ the doctor said, and Pete groaned.
Christian stepped out of the room at the moment a nurse rolled Vanessa down the hallway in a wheelchair. Chris was surprised to feel his heart give a little leap of joy and he strode toward her.
‘How are you, Nessa?’
‘They say some bruises and a mild concussion. This means I have to spend a second night awake.’
Christian could tell she was trying to joke but her voice was thin and her hands trembled. He knew she was thoroughly shaken. ‘Why in God’s name did you go after an intruder by yourself?’
‘Oh, Chris, I don’t know. PTSD, a hero complex, no common sense.’ She looked deeply into his eyes. ‘We didn’t get the guy.’
If it was Brody, her gaze seemed to say, and he had a sudden impulse to kiss her for not saying the name aloud.
‘I know but Pete thinks it was someone around six feet. Maybe it was a teenager up to a prank. That’s happened before, hasn’t it?’
‘Well, yes, over twenty years ago. But it was summer – not cold. Tonight it was cold in the tower.’
‘Kids don’t think.’
‘If it was a kid – a teenager. We don’t know who it was—’
‘It wasn’t someone trying to break into the house. There aren’t any openings between the house and the tower.’
‘No, but maybe the person didn’t know that. I don’t think it was a kid—’
‘Wade will find out, I’m sure. At least you’re not badly hurt.’
‘Tell that to my head. I have a helluva headache.’
Another nurse appeared, beaming. ‘Oh, hi, Christian, Vanessa!’
‘Hello, Jane,’ Christian said, seeming to know from Vanessa’s blank expression she didn’t recognize her. Jane Drake’s thin mouse-brown hair was now lush and blonde, and her long, needle-thin nose was shorter and slightly turned up. Her small teeth wore perfect brilliant white veneers. ‘Vanessa, you remember Jane Drake.’
‘Hello, Jane,’ Vanessa said after a beat of surprise. ‘It’s been a long time.’
‘I’ll say!’ Jane grabbed Wade Baylor’s arm. ‘Have you heard we’re engaged?’
‘Yes, Audrey told me. I’m glad for you both.’
Wade looked embarrassed but gave them a small, tight smile. He gently removed Jane’s hand from his arm.
Christian said, ‘I think Vanessa’s all finished here. I’ll take her home.’
‘It isn’t necessary,’ Vanessa said.
‘Why?’ Christian smiled. ‘Did you drive yourself here?’
‘Very funny, Dr Montgomery, but maybe Sheriff Baylor—’
‘Should stay here with Pete,’ Christian interrupted. ‘Besides, I’m sure all of this gave your grandmother quite a shock. I can check her over and reassure her that her granddaughter is in fairly good shape. Now get dressed and we’ll fill out your release papers.’
While he waited, Christian approached Wade again and said quietly, ‘Wade, Pete says the guy was about six feet tall.’
‘I know. But he’s approximating.’
‘Yeah, but Brody’s—’
‘Taller. I know.’
‘Have you released the news about him being missing?’
Wade nodded. ‘I was going to give it another day and release it tomorrow on the six-o’clock news, but after tonight, I can’t take any chances. I’m sorry, Chris.’
‘I understand.’
‘Brody wouldn’t have gotten into so much trouble when Roxanne was kidnapped if our former sheriff had done his duty and kept police supervision on Brody instead of turning him over to your dad. It’s not that I didn’t respect your father, but most people thought he’d do anything to protect his son. There should have been an officer at the house until Brody left for his stay at the rehab hospital.’
‘I know that, too. I’m sure we’ll find out something about Brody tomorrow. His partner Zane Felder is here in town searching. He probably knows Brody better than anyone except me.’
Wade nodded slowly. ‘That’s good. I wish we could have had another day without publicity.’ He looked solemnly at Christian. ‘When we were teenagers, Brody and I were friends. I don’t want to hurt him and I want you to know that I get no pleasure from hunting him down like a criminal. Sometimes I hate having to follow my duty instead of my feelings.’
SIX
After a night propped on firm pillows while watching television in Grace’s bed, Vanessa finally toppled sideways during the morning news. She knew that everyone dreams every night, but her sleep seemed blessedly peaceful and dreamless. At one point she was vaguely aware of the room becoming brighter and a dull pounding noise somewhere in the house, and she pulled a pillow over her head and went back to sleep. Finally, slowly, consciousness returned. With her eyes still closed, she fumbled on the bedside table until she found a clock, then opened one eye: 12:45 p.m. People argued loudly on the television and she grappled for the remote control, shut off the TV set, and groaned. How could she have slept until afternoon? And why did her head still hurt?
Vanessa slowly descended the stairs and s
aw Audrey carrying Grace’s lunch tray to the kitchen. ‘Well, you’re finally up!’ She frowned at Vanessa’s forehead. ‘With only a bump on the forehead and a shadow around one eye. Not much in the way of battle wounds.’
‘They feel worse than they look. I need some aspirin.’
‘Come in the kitchen. Aspirin and coffee coming right up.’
Vanessa sat down at the long kitchen table and swallowed the aspirin Audrey brought her along with some water. Then came a steaming mug of coffee and a spiced muffin. ‘I’m not sure aspirin and coffee are going to help,’ she complained. ‘Shouldn’t I feel better by now?’
‘You will. I didn’t get banged on the head but I was up all night, too. I had to make certain you didn’t go to sleep.’
‘Oh, Audrey, I’m sorry!’
‘I wasn’t sleepy anyway. Too much excitement for me.’
‘How about Cara? I hope she wasn’t frightened.’
‘She was at first. Then she was glad that you weren’t hurt and finally elated that Queenie had gone out with you and stayed to protect you. She hugged that dog half to death last night while you were at the hospital. This morning she couldn’t wait to tell Sammy all about it when she got to school.’
Vanessa sipped more coffee. ‘Sammy’s staying here tonight, isn’t he?’
‘Yes. It’s the Christmas party at Nia’s.’
‘You don’t think Sammy will be afraid to stay here after the break-in?’
Audrey looked at her incredulously. ‘Sammy? He’ll love it. And if you’re thinking about Derek objecting, Sammy will probably have the foresight not to tell his father about the incident.’
‘Ah, a wily child. Audrey, did the police search the woods?’
‘Yes, but they didn’t find anyone.’
Vanessa remembered Christian insisting last night it must have been a teenager playing a prank and his harping on about Pete’s approximation of the intruder’s height. She hadn’t had the heart to tell him that Pete had been half-asleep – that’s why he’d fallen – and he couldn’t have accurately gauged the man’s height. Christian wanted desperately to believe it wasn’t Brody – so desperately he’d grab at any straw.
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