A Faint Cold Fear (41 page)

Sara asked, 'Is Daddy okay?' Her father had been overcome when Sara had told them about Richard Carter. He had walked away before Sara had finished telling them what had happened.

'He's standing at the end of the hall,' Cathy said, not really answering the question.

Sara took a sip of the tea and scowled at the taste.

'It's strong,' Cathy agreed. 'Will Jeffrey be here soon?'

'Should be.'

Cathy stroked Tessa's hair. 'I remember watching y'all sleep when you were babies.'

Sara used to love hearing her mother talk about their childhood, but she had such a clear sense of before and after now that it hurt to listen.

Cathy asked, 'How's Jeffrey?'

Sara drank the bitter tea. 'Fine.'

'This was hard on him,' she said, taking a tube of hand lotion out of her purse. 'He's always been like a big brother to Tessa.'

Sara had not let herself consider this before, but it was true. As horrified as she had been in the woods, Jeffrey was just as frightened.

'I'm beginning to see why you can't stay mad at him,' Cathy said as she rubbed lotion into Tessa's hand. 'Do you remember that time he drove to Florida to pick her up?'

Sara laughed, but more from her own surprise that she had forgotten the story. Years ago, when Tessa was on spring break from college, her car had been totaled by a stolen beer truck, and Jeffrey had driven down to Panama City in the middle of the night to talk to the local cops and bring her home.

'She didn't want Daddy to come get her,' Cathy said. 'Wouldn't hear of it.'

'Daddy would have said "I told you so" all the way back,' Sara reminded her. Eddie had said only an idiot would take a convertible MG down to Florida with twenty thousand drunken college kids.

'Well,' Cathy said, rubbing lotion into Tessa's arm, 'he was right.'

Sara smiled but withheld comment.

"I'll be glad when he gets here,' Cathy said, more to herself than Sara. 'Tessa needs to hear it from him that this is over.'

Sara knew that her mother had no way of knowing what had happened between her and Mason James, but she felt exposed anyway.

'What?' Cathy asked, always able to sense when something was wrong.

Sara confessed easily, needing to unburden herself.

'I kissed Mason.'

Cathy seemed nonplussed. 'Just kissed him?'

'Mama,' Sara said, trying to hide her embarrassment with outrage.

'So?' Cathy squirted more lotion into her palm and rubbed her hands together to warm it. 'How'd it feel?'

'Good at first, then…' Sara put her hands to her cheeks, feeling the heat.

'Then?'

'Not so good,' Sara admitted. 'I just kept thinking about Jeffrey.'

'That should tell you something.'

'What?' Sara asked, wanting more than anything for her mother to tell her what to do.

'Sara,' Cathy sighed. 'Your greatest downfall has always been your intelligence.'

'Great,' Sara said. "I'll be sure to tell my patients that.'

'Don't get haughty with me,' Cathy snipped, her tone low, the way it always got when she was annoyed.

'You've been so damn restless lately, and I'm sick and tired of watching you pine after the life you could have had if you'd stayed here in Atlanta.'

'That's not what I'm doing,' Sara said, but she had never lied well, especially to her mother.

'You have so much in your life now, so many people who love you and care for you. Is there anything you want for that you don't have?'

Sara could have made a list a few hours ago, but now she could only shake her head.

'It might do you some good to remember that at the end of the day, no matter how smart that brain of yours is up there, it's your heart that needs looking after.' She gave Sara a pointed look. 'And you know what your heart needs, don't you?"

Sara nodded, though honestly she wasn't sure.

'Don't you?' Cathy insisted.

'Yes, Mama,' Sara answered, and somehow she did.

'Good,' she said, squeezing more lotion into her hand. 'Now go talk to your father.'

Sara kissed Tessa, then her mother, before leaving the room. She saw her father at the end of the hallway, standing at the window watching traffic the same way Sara had been doing in Tessa's room. His shoulders were still stooped, but the faded white T-shirt and worn-out jeans he had on were unmistakably Eddie.

Sara was so like her father sometimes that it frightened her.

She said, 'Hey, Daddy.'

He didn't look at her, but Sara could feel his grief as clearly as she could feel the cold coming off the window. Eddie Linton was a man who was defined by family. His wife and children were his world, and Sara had been so focused on her own suffering that she hadn't noticed the struggle her father had endured.

He had worked so hard to build a safe and happy home for his children. Eddie's reticence toward Sara this week had not been because he blamed her; it was because he blamed himself.

Eddie pointed out the window. 'See that guy changing a tire?'

Sara saw a bright greenish yellow box van, one of the HERO squads the city of Atlanta hired to keep traffic moving. They were equipped to change tires, give a jump start or a free gallon of gas if you broke down on the side of the road. In a city where the average commute could be two hours and it was perfectly legal to carry a concealed handgun in your glove box, this was tax money well spent.

'In the box van?' she asked., 'They don't charge for that. Not a dime.'

'How about that?' she said.

'Yeah.' Eddie let out a long breath. 'Tessie still sleeping?'

'Yes.'

'Jeffrey on his way?'

'If you don't want him-'

'No,' Eddie interrupted, his tone definitive. 'He should be here.'

Sara felt a lightness in her chest, as if a heavy weight had been lifted.

She said, 'Mama and I were just talking about the time he drove to Florida to pick up Tess.'

'I told her not to drive that damn car down there.'

Sara looked at the traffic, hiding her smile.

Eddie cleared his throat more times than needed, as if he did not already have Sara's undivided attention.

'Guy walks into a bar with a big lizard on his shoulder.'

'O-kaaay…,' she said, drawing out the word.

'Bartender says, "What's your lizard's name?"'

Eddie paused. 'The guy says, "Tiny." The bartender scratches his head.' Eddie scratched his head. 'Says, "Why do you call him tiny?"' He paused for effect.

'Guy says, "Because he's my newt!"'

Sara repeated the punch line out loud a few times before she finally got it. She started laughing so hard that she got tears in her eyes.

Eddie merely smiled, his face lighting up as if the sound of his daughter laughing was pure joy to him.

'God, Dad,' Sara said, wiping her eyes, still laughing. 'That's the worst joke ever.'

'Yeah,' he admitted, putting his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. 'That was pretty bad.'

FRIDAY

EIGHTEEN

Lena sat on the floor in the middle of her dorm room, surrounded by boxes containing everything she owned in the world. Most of her belongings would be stored at Hank's until she could find a job. Her bed was going to Nan's, and she would sleep in the spare room until she had enough money to move out on her own. The college had offered her Chuck's job, but under the circumstances she never wanted to see the security office again. That bastard Kevin Blake had not even given her severance pay. Lena took consolation in the fact that the board had announced this morning that they were going to start looking for a replacement for Blake.

The door creaked as Ethan pushed it open. The lock had not been fixed since Jeffrey broke it days ago.

He smiled when he saw her. 'You put your hair up.'

Lena resisted the temptation to take it down. 'I thought you were leaving town.'

Ethan shrugged. 'It's always been hard for me to leave where I'm not wanted.'

She gave a thin smile.

'Besides,' he said, 'it's kind of hard to transfer out right now, considering the university's under investigation for ethics violations.'

'I'm sure it'll get worked out,' Lena said. She had worked at the college for only a few months, but she knew how scandals operated. There would be fines and a lot of stories in the papers for a few months, but a year later the stories would be gone, the fines would still be unpaid, and some other asshole professor would be stabbing someone in the back literally or figuratively to ensure his own fame and fortune.

'So,' Ethan began. 'I guess you squared things with the cop.'

Lena shrugged, because she had no idea where things stood with Jeffrey. After interviewing her about Richard Carter, he had told her to show up at the station bright and early Monday morning. There was no telling what he had to say.

Ethan asked, 'They ever figure out about the panties?'

'He jumped to the wrong conclusion. It happens.'

Again, she shrugged. 'Rosen was a freak. He probably stole them from some girl.' She could imagine Andy sniffing more than glue on a lonely Friday night. As for the book, Lena could have read it on one of her own lonely nights, buying some peace in the library before it was time to go back to her hovel and try to sleep.

Ethan leaned against the open door. 'I wanted you to know that I'm not leaving,' he said. 'In case you see me around.'

'Will I see you around?'

He shrugged, noncommittal. 'I don't know, Lena.

I'm trying real hard to change here.'

She looked at her hands, feeling like a monster.

'Yeah.'

'I want to have something with you,' he said. 'But not like that.'

'Sure.'

'You could move somewhere and start over.' He waited before saying, 'Maybe when I find a transfer, we could go together?'

'I can't leave here,' she told him, knowing he would never understand. Ethan had left his family and his way of life without looking back. Lena could never do that to Sibyl.

He said, 'If you change your mind…'

'Nan will be back soon,' she told him. 'You'd better go'

'All right,' Ethan nodded, understanding. 'I'll see you around, right?'

Lena did not answer.

He gave her back her own question. 'Will I see you around?'

His words hung in the air like fog. She let herself look at him, taking in his baggy jeans and black T-shirt, his chipped tooth and his blue, blue eyes.

'Yeah,' she said. 'See you around.'

He pulled the door to, the latch not catching. Lena stood up, dragging a chair over to the door and propping it under the knob to keep it closed. She would never be able to do that again without thinking of Richard Carter.

She walked to the bathroom. Her reflection in the mirror over the sink was a little better now. The bruises around her neck were turning greenish yellow, and the cut under her eye was already scabbing over.

'Lena?' Nan said. She heard the door hit against the chair as Nan tried to open it.

'Just a minute,' Lena said, opening the medicine cabinet. She jiggled the bottom board loose and pulled out her pocketknife. Traces of blood were still on the handle, but the rain had washed most of it away. When she opened the blade, she saw that the tip had broken off. With some regret Lena realized that she would never be able to keep it.

The chair under the door popped against the knob again. Nan's voice was filled with concern. 'Lena?'

'On my way,' Lena called. She closed the blade with a snap, tucking it into her back pocket as she went to let Nan in.

The End

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The first thing I always read in a book is the acknowledgments, and I hate when there is a long list of people I don't know being thanked for stuff that has nothing to do with me. Having written three books now, I understand why these lists are necessary. I know you can't put pearls on a pig, but the following folks have gone above and beyond the call of duty promoting the Grant County series here and abroad, and I am eternally grateful for all of their hard work.

At Morrow/Harper: George Bick, Jane Friedman, Lisa Gallagher, Kim Gombar, Kristen Green, Brian Grogan, Cathy Hemming, Libby Jordan, Rebecca Keiper, Michael Morris, Michael Morrison, Juliette Shapland, Virginia Stanley, Debbie Stier, Eric Svenson, Charlie Trachtenbarg, Rome Quezada, and Colleen Winters.

At Random House UK: Ron Beard, Faye Brewster, Richard Cable, Elspeth Dougall, Mike Dugdale, Georgina Hawtrey-Woore, Declan Heeney, Alex Hippisley-Cox, Vanessa Kerr, Mark McCallum, Marilyn Moorhouse, Susan Sandon, and Tiffany Stansfield.

There are countless others, and my apologies for leaving anyone out.

My agent, Victoria Sanders, inspires me to reach great heights. Editors Meaghan Dowling and Kate Elton are the Dynamic Duo. I consider it a gift that we all work so well together. Dr. David Harper, Patrice lacovoni, and Damien van Carrapiett helped me keep the medical passages as true to life as you can be when you're writing fiction. Cantor Isaac Goodfriend wrote 'Shalom' for me in twenty different languages. Beth and Jeff at CincinnatiMedia.com are two of the best, most authoritative author Website designers/administrators around. Jamey Locastro answered some very frank questions about never you mind. Rob Hueter talked to me about Clocks and took me shooting.

Remington.com has a killer online tutorial about shotgun safety that kept me entertained for hours.

Speaking of which, special thanks to online friends whose Siren song pulls me away from work. Please stop. I am begging you.

Fellow authors VM, FM, LL, JH, EC, and EM deserve many thanks for listening to me whine. (You were listening, right?) My daddy has always supported me, and not just with no-interest loans. Judy Jordan is the best mother and friend I could ask for. Billie Bennett, my ninth-grade English teacher, deserves all the praise she'll allow - which is never enough.

On a more personal note, thanks to the Boss, Diane, Cubby, Pat, Cathy, and Deb for making New York not such a horrible place to visit these last few times. Y'all just don't know.

Lastly, to D.A. -I could as soon forget you as my existence.