Suspicions (23 page)

“In other news . . .”

Stacey wondered who, besides herself, was
considered a possible suspect. Again, she thought that whomever had
killed Gary was probably behind the kidnapping.

If the police don't find the true culprit
soon, she thought, it's likely that I, along with Jason, will
become their prime suspects. Her hand shook as she realized they
could even get arrested for this. Who would take care of Robby and
Nikki?

A new fear came over her as the possible
scenarios ran through her head.

Then the face of Deanna Everett/Jackson
leaped in front of her eyes. What if she really did kill her own
husband? What would keep her from killing again? Did Mark know what
kind of woman he was involved with? And why did she leave town at
the same time the ransom was delivered and Gary was murdered?

Carefully putting the vegetables back in the
refrigerator, she knew she would have to go back to the police
station. Even though she was going to investigate Deanna tomorrow,
common sense told her not to wait to let the police in on her
fears. But she didn't want to talk to Perkins. And she didn't
really want to talk to Detective Clemens either, especially after
she had seemed to turn on Stacey. She settled for writing a note to
Perkins. She wrote: Check into Deanna Everett or Jackson for a
connection to the murder of Gary Tomlison and the kidnapping of
Kyle Stone. She's staying at the Hyatt Regency Hotel in San
Francisco.

She didn't sign her name.

When she gave it to the desk sergeant, he
told her Detective Perkins was in if she'd like to talk to him
directly. Declining, she instead asked if he would give the note to
him.

She got out of there as quickly as she
could.

This time when she got home Jason was in the
family room playing a game with the kids. They all looked up as
Stacey entered the room.

“Where have you been, Stacey?”

Emotionally exhausted, she decided not to
tell him about the mess with the police just yet. She didn't want
him to worry about her and besides, he might not let her go to San
Francisco if he knew how deep she was into this.

“I just had some things to take care of.” She
gave Jason a bright smile. “But I really need to go to San
Francisco tomorrow.”

Jason jerked his head in surprise. “What on
earth for?”

“Please just trust me. I have to go.”

He didn't look convinced but nodded anyway.
“You don't have to ask me for permission.”

“I know, but I wanted to tell you.”

He smiled and turned to the children, asking
them to play without him for a while. Then, taking Stacey by the
hand, he led her into the living room, away from the children. He
sat her down on the couch and knelt in front of her. “Stacey, I
just want to tell you again how sorry I am for everything with
Patricia.”

She looked down at the floor, then back up
into his blue eyes, her joy dampened. “I know you are, Jason. Now
what are we going to do to make sure it doesn't happen again?”

He stood from the floor and then sat next to
Stacey. “I've decided to tell her once and for all to leave me
alone.”

Sighing, Stacey said, “I hope that works, but
I think she has other things in mind.” She remembered Patricia's
threats from the previous night.

Jason gave her a puzzled look, but she
ignored it. She was determined to have a good evening. “What do you
want to do for dinner?” she asked. “Do hamburgers sound okay? I'll
go get them.”

“Sure. That sounds fine.”

As she drove to the fast food joint, her mind
wouldn't stop analyzing her situation. Truly believing there could
be a link between Deanna and Gary, she hoped that giving Deanna's
name to Perkins would clear things up and their life could get back
to normal. She thought about the connections they shared: They both
worked at the school, they both knew Mark Stone had money, and now
Gary was dead and Deanna was out of town. Why?

Day 7 – Sunday

The inside of the Hyatt Regency Hotel in San
Francisco was an indoor garden. The entire ceiling was made of
glass and on sunny days the sun shone down onto the live trees that
filled the atrium. Flowers streamed over the tops of wooden
trellises, with tables and chairs resting underneath. The rooms on
the inner part of the hotel looked down onto this indoor Eden. The
rooms on the outer side looked over the bay and the planes gliding
into the San Francisco airport.

Stacey walked into the lobby and went
straight to the front counter, getting in line behind a businessman
who carried a suitcase in one hand and a briefcase in the other.
When he finished checking in, Stacey stepped up to the counter. The
clerk asked her how he could help her and she hesitated for only a
moment. “Can you tell me what room Deanna Everett is in?”

Looking disappointed, he informed her he
could not give her the room number but he could call Ms. Everett
and let her give out her room number herself.

Not see any other option, Stacey agreed. The
clerk typed some information into his computer, then, as he picked
up the phone, another clerk pulled him aside to ask for help with a
problem he was having.

He turned to Stacey. “Excuse me a
moment.”

She nodded and smiled, but when he turned his
back she stood on tiptoe and quickly glanced at the computer
screen. She was able to see Deanna's room number before he turned
back to her.

Stacey smiled at him again. “You know what? I
don't really have time to talk to her right now. Perhaps
later.”

“As you wish,” he said.

Walking away from the front lobby and into
the atrium, she went to the bar and asked for a glass of water, her
throat suddenly dry at the thought of talking to Deanna. She sat at
an unoccupied table and watched as people finished their
breakfasts.

Any hunger she felt at skipping her own
breakfast in order to leave early in the morning for the
ninety-minute drive vanished as she thought about how close she was
to finding the truth. Jason hadn’t liked it when she wouldn’t tell
him why she was going to San Francisco and had balked at her going.
But after she had explained it was the only way to get their
situation resolved he had finally relented, saying he expected her
home before the day was through. She agreed, glad he trusted her
enough to let her come here without any explanation.

Thinking about him and how important he was
to her gave her the confidence she needed to confront Deanna and
find out the truth. Finishing her water, she left the atrium and
walked down the few steps to the main lobby.

She stepped into the elevator with four other
people. After they pushed the buttons for their floors, she reached
over and pressed number eight. When the elevator stopped on the
third floor, two people got off and one person got on. On the sixth
floor two more people got on. There were now five people on the
elevator besides Stacey. When they reached the eighth floor, the
doors slid open silently. Stacey was about to make her way to the
front of the car when she saw Deanna standing there, waiting to
enter. Pressing herself against the back wall, Stacey turned her
head.

Three people stepped off and then Deanna
entered, punching the button for the fifth floor. Not yet prepared
to talk to Deanna, Stacey felt alarm. Deanna turned and faced the
doors as soon as she entered. As the elevator began to move down,
Stacey silently prayed the other two people would be enough of a
shield to block Deanna’s view of her if she turned around. Looking
through her purse with studied concentration, Stacey let her
shoulder-length hair fall in front of her face.

The elevator stopped on the fifth floor and
Deanna stepped out, turning left. Stacey stayed on, not sure if she
should follow her. The elevator began moving again. Making a quick
decision, Stacey pushed the button for the fourth floor. She had to
wait until the other two occupants disembarked on the lobby floor
before the elevator began moving upward again.

Once it stopped on the fourth floor she
quickly got out and turned right, down the hall to the door leading
to the stairs. She pulled it open and ran up the stairs to the
fifth floor. When she got there, she pulled the door open and
peeked out. Not seeing Deanna anywhere, she stepped out into the
hallway and tried to catch her breath, winded from the short
sprint.

Maybe I should start that exercise routine
I've been putting off, she thought.

She walked past the elevator, heading in the
same direction she had seen Deanna go. It had already been about a
minute and a half since Deanna had stepped off and Stacey hoped
Deanna hadn't already reached her destination.

Cautiously following the hallway, she came to
a curve and slowed as she approached, glancing around the corner,
then almost gasped. There stood Deanna, leaning against a railing,
staring out the large window that overlooked the San Francisco Bay.
An airplane approached, coming in low, heading toward the
runway.

Stacey stood there, wondering what Deanna was
doing.

Amanda poured herself a glass of grapefruit
juice and set it down on the counter, then picked up the bottle of
pills her doctor had prescribed for the stress and popped the lid
off. Putting the pill on the back of her tongue, she picked up the
glass of juice and drank it down quickly, tossing her head back in
the process.

She heard a sound and turned to see Mark
standing there.

“Do you really need to take those?” he asked,
pointing to the bottle on the counter.

She didn't feel like fighting, but she also
didn't like his tone of voice. “Doctor McCullough prescribed them
for stress and they do help me to relax.”

“You don't see me taking anything for my
stress, do you?”

Beaten down by the weeklong ordeal, she was
not up to his verbal sparring. “I'm glad you don't, Mark. But I
need to.”

Setting the glass back on the counter, she
walked into the living room where an FBI agent was stationed. He
had the Sunday paper on his lap, reading the latest news story on
Kyle's abduction.

Amanda looked over his shoulder. “What are
they saying now?”

The agent put the paper down. “Good morning,
Mrs. Stone. I didn’t hear you come in.”

She smiled at him wearily. “That's all right.
Can I get you some coffee?”

He held up his mug. “Already have some,
thanks.”

“I'll be upstairs if you need me.” She turned
and went up to her bedroom. Unbuttoning her robe, she slowly pulled
her arms out of the sleeves, then tugged her nightgown over her
head and went into the bathroom to take a shower. Standing under
the steaming water, she let it caress her tensed neck muscles. The
medicine began to work its magic and she felt calmer, less frantic
about Kyle.

She turned the water off and toweled herself
dry, then put on some clothes and sat at her dressing table, slowly
pulling the brush through her freshly washed blond hair. Stopping
mid-stroke, she stared at her reflection. She could see she had
grown new worry lines around her mouth and eyes in the last
week.

She began brushing her hair again and thought
about Kyle. Why hadn't the kidnappers released him yet? They had
gotten their money the previous day. What were they waiting for?
Panic crept in and she had to take several deep breaths to gain her
equilibrium. She finished doing her hair and started on her
make-up. It wasn't that she cared how she looked, she really could
not care less, but she did care how Kyle would see her when he came
home. She wanted him to see his mother the way he was used to
seeing her; hair done, clothes neat and a face that wasn't pale
from worry.

When she finished her beauty routine, she
walked over to her bedroom window, pulled aside the curtains, and
looked down on the circus that was her front yard. The reporters
seemed to multiply on a daily basis. She couldn't even open her
front door without flashbulbs going off in her face or microphones
being shoved under her nose. She gazed on the assembled crowd, lost
in thought, until she noticed movement in one section of the
street. They had spotted her and began angling their cameras toward
her window. Dropping the curtain back in place, she wandered out of
her room and down the hall to Kyle's room.

She sat on his bed and picked up his pillow,
holding it to her chest and pressing her face into it, breathing in
his scent. She remembered how he liked to give her ten hugs and ten
kisses every night when she tucked him in. Often he would ask for
more and although she would occasionally oblige, most often she
would ruffle his hair and tell him it was time to go to sleep

As she thought about those nights he asked
for more hugs and kisses, her heart constricted with the thought
that she would give him one hundred kisses and hugs if only he were
there to accept them. After a few minutes, she felt dampness on the
fabric and realized it was wet from her tears. Setting the pillow
back down at the head of the bed, she straightened his covers then
went to his desk and lined the books up neatly. Then she went down
the hall to the linen closet and pulled out a dust rag. She brought
it back to Kyle's room and began wiping every surface.

She wanted his room to look nice when he came
home. Once finished, she looked over her work and felt satisfied
that it was acceptable. Dropping the dust rag into his hamper, she
saw his pajamas resting inside. Picking them up, she rubbed them
against her cheek and as she smelled his sleeping scent, she began
to sob.

An arm went around her shoulder and she
looked up to see Mark standing next to her. She was surprised to
see he had tears in his eyes too. He pulled her into his arms and
wept with her.