The Way You Look Tonight (7 page)

His face suddenly turned red the way it always did when he wanted to cry but wouldn't let himself. He waved a piece of model railroad track in the air. ‘How're we s'posed to put the train together?'

‘We'll manage,' Deborah said, going to him and taking the track from his hand. Even Kim looked contrite as she put the cotton back in the box and scrambled down on the floor beside her brother. Scarlett, too, rushed to his side, instantly sympathetic. She lay down, put her head on Brian's knee, and looked up at him with such love and sorrow that all three of them burst into laughter.

‘Now look what you've done,' Deborah said. ‘Scarlett's going to cry, too.'

‘Dogs don't cry,' Brian said, wiping at a tear that had slipped from one eye.

Kim nodded her head. ‘Yeah, they do. Inside, where we can't see it.'

Deborah ran her hands over each child's head of shining hair. ‘Why don't we forget the train for now? It's way past bedtime.' The children threw her hostile looks, and she didn't have the energy to argue with them. ‘Tell you what, I'll fix some hot chocolate with cinnamon sticks and marshmallows. By the time we're done, Daddy will be home.'

Twenty minutes later, when both children sported foamy chocolate mustaches, Steve had not appeared. ‘I'm gettin' sleepy,' Kim finally admitted.

Thank you, God, Deborah thought with relief. If she could just get the children into bed and have some quiet time to think…

At that moment, the doorbell rang. Scarlett went into a frenzy of barking, and for an instant elation flooded Deborah. Steve! Then her happiness faded. Steve always used the door leading from the garage into the kitchen. He wouldn't come to the front door and ring the bell.

She flipped on the porch light and looked out through one of the paned windows high in the door. Evan and Barbara. And someone else behind them, someone who stood just out of range of the light.

While Brian held Scarlett's collar to keep her from dashing out, Deborah opened the door. Evan smiled tightly. ‘Steve not home yet?'

‘No. Please come in. Oh, Joe, I didn't see you at first.'

Joe Pierce, with his sandy-brown hair and lean face, stepped in saying something she didn't hear in a soft voice. All she could think of was Steve.

‘What's happened?' she blurted, aware that the children were gathered behind her, suddenly silent while the television rattled on in the background.

‘We just thought we'd stop by,' Evan said in a tightly controlled voice.

Deborah glanced at the children. ‘Kids, would you show Joe and Barbara your train-set?'

‘They've seen it,' Brian said.

Joe moved past Evan. ‘
I
haven't. Come on, Brian. I want to see if it's like the one I had when I was a kid.'

Brian looked doubtful. ‘You want us to go away so Evan can tell Mommy something bad's happened to Daddy.'

‘If something bad has happened to your daddy, we don't know anything about it. We just came for a visit,' Joe said. ‘Come on, kids. You too, Scarlett.' Deborah was surprised he remembered the dog's name. He'd only been in their home a couple of times. ‘Let me see the train.'

Barbara smiled encouragingly with pale lips. ‘Please, children. Your daddy wouldn't like it if you were rude to guests.'

Reluctantly the children led the two adults into the living room with Scarlett trailing suspiciously behind. Deborah took Evan to the kitchen, then said in a strangled voice, ‘What
is
it?'

Evan clasped his hands together. A crease appeared between his bright blue eyes. He looked tired and deeply concerned. ‘Deborah, you know about Artie Lieber, don't you?'

‘Artie Lieber?' she repeated vacantly. ‘The man who assaulted Steve's sister? What about him?'

‘He got parole two months ago.'

‘So soon? It's only been fifteen years.'

‘He played the game, Deborah. Got counseling, maintained the model prisoner role. Anyway, everything was going okay until last week.'

Deborah continued to look at him imploringly. ‘I didn't know Lieber was out on parole, but please don't make me drag every word out of you, Evan. What is going on? Where's Steve?'

‘We don't know. After you called the second time, I phoned Joe and we've been looking ever since. Then Barbara said we'd better get over here to you and leave the searching to the police.'

Deborah froze. ‘The police?'

‘Yes.'

‘I don't understand.'

Evan's tanned face seemed to tighten. He glanced away uncomfortably, then looked back at her. ‘Listen, Deborah, it was Steve's testimony that put Lieber away.'

‘Yes, I know that much.'

‘Maybe you didn't know Lieber always claimed Steve was lying – that
Steve
was the one who attacked Emily.'

‘That's ridiculous,' Deborah burst out, appalled at the accusation but equally shocked that Steve had never told her of it. ‘Steve wouldn't hurt anybody, especially his own
sister
!'

‘I know that as well as you do. But Lieber stuck to his story for all those years. And Deborah, he was spotted in Charleston yesterday. That's what Joe called about last night. He wanted to warn Steve that Lieber was here in town – just half a mile from your house, as a matter of fact.'

‘Oh, God.' Deborah closed her eyes. ‘There's more, though, isn't there? Go ahead – tell me,' she said dully.

‘Just that Lieber once told a cellmate that when he got out he was going to make Steve pay for putting him away. And now Steve is missing.'

Steve's not missing – he's just misplaced, Deborah almost said, then started giggling. Evan threw her a disconcerted glance. ‘I'm sorry,' she said, gasping. ‘I'm just…I'm just…' The room darkened and she sagged. Evan caught her before she hit the floor. ‘Good lord, I've never fainted in my life,' she mumbled.

He sat her on the bench of the refectory table and went to the cabinet where they stored the liquor. She saw him pour dark liquid into a glass. ‘Chivas Regal, twelve years old,' she could hear Steve saying to Pete. Oh, lord.

‘Drink this,' Evan ordered.

‘I hate whiskey.'

‘Drink!'

Deborah drained the glass, then almost choked as fire burned down her throat and into her chest. Barbara rushed into the kitchen. ‘Deborah, are you all right?'

‘She will be,' Evan said.

‘I'll bet Steve walks through that door in the next ten minutes,' Barbara told her.

Deborah looked at her through a haze of tears. ‘No, he won't. I knew it when we came back from shopping. Deep down I knew it.'

‘You did not,' Evan said as if he were speaking to a child. ‘You're just scared. Anything could have happened. Steve might be stuck someplace with a flat tire.'

‘He knows how to change a tire, Evan.'

‘Well, some kind of car trouble.'

‘You don't believe that or you wouldn't have told me about Artie Lieber.'

‘Maybe I jumped the gun. I should have kept my mouth shut about Lieber.'

‘Lieber?' Deborah looked up to see Pete Griffin standing in the door, his face red from the cold, his thinning hair mussed. ‘Sorry to burst in on you like this, but Adam said you were worried about Steve, and every time I've called your phone's been busy, so I decided I'd come and check on things for myself. I thought I was going to have to present identification to that guy who opened the front door. Now what the hell's going on and what's this about Lieber?'

‘Artie Lieber is in town. I'm afraid he's gotten to Steve.'

Pete's face sagged. ‘How? When?'

‘This afternoon. And I don't know how.'

‘Deborah, it could easily be something else,' Evan said. ‘You mentioned that he had an appointment this afternoon. But you don't know who it was with, do you?'

‘No. I'm not even sure there
was
an appointment. He didn't sound like he was telling the truth. I think maybe he was just trying to get me off his back about going to the mall Christmas shopping.'

‘You two didn't have a fight, did you?'

‘No. We've had about five fights since we've been married. Over stupid stuff. And today we had words because he was acting so mysterious about this so-called appointment.'

Evan's expression stiffened. ‘So you two had a bad argument today?'

‘No. We were irritated with each other, that's all. We've never had a
real
argument. Just a few infrequent spats.'

Her eyes filled with fresh tears. Barbara took her shoulders in her firm hands with their short nails. ‘We shouldn't have come here and scared you like this over nothing.'

‘I think I needed to know that Lieber is in town and maybe got to Steve,' Deborah said raggedly. ‘Oh God, now I understand. We had a prowler last night. Someone hiding in the evergreens. Steve acted like a wild man, running out there barefoot. Now I know why. I also know what he was saying as he circled the trees – Lieber. He thought Artie Lieber was out there. And he must have been. He just waited until he got Steve alone. And then he—'

‘Look, Deborah, the police are already in on this,' Evan said crisply. ‘Normally a person isn't officially declared missing for twenty-four hours, but Steve's an assistant prosecuting attorney and under the circumstances…well, they aren't going to let it slide until tomorrow afternoon.'

‘I'm glad. But I think it's too late.'

‘Stop saying that,' Pete ordered. ‘It's probably nothing. Maybe Steve went to a movie.'

‘Oh, Pete, you know he
never
goes to movies. He says he can't stand the sound of people chomping on popcorn and slurping soft drinks while the film is showing.' Deborah held her glass out to Evan. ‘Another shot, please.' Evan hesitated, then poured. She sipped this one more slowly and spoke, almost to herself. ‘He was a very serious, reserved man, and sometimes he could be inconsiderate without meaning to be, but he was never cruel.
Never
. We've been married seven years. He's never disappeared like this. If he's going to be
very
late, he calls.'

‘Always?' Evan asked.

‘Well, there have been a couple of times…'

‘And this could be one of them.'

Deborah shook her head. ‘The only times he hasn't called is when he's caught up in work, but he's not working today. Mrs Dillman said he left at 2.30.'

‘Mrs Dillman?' Barbara repeated. ‘That crazy old lady next door?'

‘Sometimes she's accurate.'

‘And most of the time she isn't. Deborah, he could have left right before you got home from the mall. In that case, he would have only been gone…'

‘About three hours,' Deborah said. ‘But if he
did
leave at 2.30, he's been gone over seven hours. He might even have left shortly
after
we did, which would mean he's been gone eight hours. What about the hospitals?'

‘We've checked,' Evan said. ‘No one matching his description has been brought in.'

Joe came into the kitchen. He was taller and slimmer than Evan although not nearly so classically handsome. His face was weathered, his tanned forehead slashed by a thin two-inch-long scar above the right eyebrow, his smile less easy and dazzling than Evan's. He was originally from Texas and he'd always reminded Deborah of an old-fashioned cowboy, tough and sinewy, used to riding the range enduring storms, droughts and Indian attacks. He belonged in a Louis L'Amour novel. Like Evan, he was wearing jeans. Unlike Evan, he wore a scuffed leather jacket instead of a well-tailored suede one, with a tee-shirt underneath and cowboy boots. He had a slight beard stubble, and Deborah noticed the lines shooting from the corners of his gray eyes, as if he'd been looking at the sun too long.

‘Joe, did Steve say anything to you last night that might explain all this?' Deborah asked.

‘No. Nothing. I just told him Lieber had been spotted in Charleston.'

Deborah rubbed a hand over her forehead. ‘I don't understand. If he thought Lieber was here and dangerous, why didn't he tell me?'

‘He said he didn't want to worry you.'

‘
Worry
me?' Deborah repeated loudly. ‘The children and I were
out
today and he wouldn't even go with us. How worried could he have been?'

‘Plenty,' Joe said firmly. ‘But Evan told me you'd gone to the mall this afternoon. Steve probably thought you'd be safe there with all those people. And he'd already asked me to get in touch with a friend of mine at a local PI agency. They were going to provide around-the-clock protection for the three of you starting tomorrow morning. He was more scared for you and the kids than for himself. Lieber already damned near killed his sister. He didn't want him going after his wife and children.'

‘So you knew all about this, too?'

‘Yeah.'

‘And you?' Deborah asked Pete.

‘I knew Lieber had gotten parole, but not that he was in town or that Steve was worried about anything. He seemed fine at the party.'

‘I can't believe Steve didn't tell
you
about Lieber,' Evan said to Deborah.

Joe threw Evan a sidelong look. ‘You know what he said.' His slow, husky voice was so different from the loud, commanding tones of Steve and Evan, who were used to delivering dramatic closing arguments in court. ‘He didn't want to scare her. And that's exactly what you're doing.'

‘Better to scare her than keep her in the dark.' Evan brushed his hair back from his forehead. ‘God, here we are arguing when Steve's missing and Deborah's a basket case. Sorry, Deborah. Lawyers are naturally argumentative.'

‘I'm not a lawyer,' Joe said.

Evan's jaw tightened in irritation, but he ignored Joe. ‘Deborah, we're going to need some information from you.'

‘Like what?'

‘Steve's license plate and driver's license numbers, his credit card numbers, that sort of thing. And we also need to know if any of his things are missing.'

‘His things?' Deborah echoed.

‘Yes. Like clothes.'

‘Why would his clothes be missing?'

Evan looked uncomfortable. ‘It's just procedure. The police will want to know.'

‘They want to know if there are any indications that he ran off voluntarily,' Joe said.

Deborah was stunned. ‘Voluntarily? Of course he didn't go voluntarily. Why would he?'

She suddenly had a vision of Steve and Alfred Dillman in Las Vegas with their gambling and liquor and ‘tarts'. She smiled for a moment before her eyes filled again. If only that ridiculous scenario were true. It was so much better to think of him there than missing, perhaps at the mercy of Artie Lieber.

‘All the numbers are written on a paper in Steve's desk,' she said shakily. ‘You know how meticulous he was. Barbara, if you'll get that paper – I think it's in the top right-hand drawer – I'll go upstairs and check for missing clothes.'

The house had old-fashioned, narrow closets. When Deborah opened Steve's, she almost cried. Meticulous. Yes, that was Steve, even when it came to his clothes. Everything was in order – shirts all together, pants neatly folded over hangers, suit jackets hung with precision, shoes polished and standing in an even line. The gray wool suit she'd picked up from the cleaners on Friday was still swathed in plastic, as if it was to remain forever pristine.

‘Stop it,' she said aloud. ‘He'll wear it again. Just concentrate on what you're doing.'

She closed her eyes, trying to picture what Steve had been wearing that morning. Jeans, a navy-blue crew-neck sweater, and Nike running shoes. Of course, none of those articles was in the closet. Everything else was.

She went to the dresser drawer. There lay his underwear, wrinkle-free and almost regimentally ordered. He hadn't quite broken those childhood habits of obsessive neatness instilled by his mother. Lined up were seven pairs of undershirts, seven pairs of jockey shorts, eleven pairs of dark socks and three pairs of white crew socks. Only the underclothes and socks he'd worn yesterday and today were missing.

She glanced at the dresser top. His watch was gone, but his wedding ring lay forlornly next to a bottle of aftershave he never used. At first she was startled, then she remembered he'd developed a rash beneath the ring a few days ago. He hadn't worn it since. Still, its presence seemed to say something significant, as if it signaled the end of the marriage.

She came back downstairs to find Pete, Evan and Barbara in the kitchen. Joe and Adam were with the children in the living room. ‘Nothing is gone except what he had on today.'

‘How about a coat?' Evan asked.

Deborah motioned toward the coat tree beside the kitchen door. ‘His blue down jacket is gone.'

‘Nothing else?'

‘Not that I can find.'

‘Was there much cash in the house?'

‘A couple of hundred dollars, maybe.'

‘Where did he keep it?'

‘In his desk drawer.'

‘I went through every drawer of his desk,' Barbara said reluctantly. ‘I didn't find any money.'

Pete frowned. ‘He could have used the money for Christmas.'

Evan didn't answer as he looked at a sheet of paper with typed numbers. ‘I'm going to the police with this.'

‘Thank you,' Deborah murmured, feeling as if she were speaking from under water. Everything seemed muffled and unreal.

‘I'm spending the night,' Barbara said.

‘Oh, Barbara, you don't have to do that,' Deborah answered automatically.

‘I want to. Besides, you and the kids don't need to be alone.'

‘They sure don't.' Joe had appeared at the door again. He's like a wraith, Deborah thought. He's suddenly just there without warning. ‘I'm staying, too.'

Barbara, Deborah, and Pete looked at him in surprise, and he went on in his slow, husky, measured voice, ‘You women don't need to be alone with two little kids and Lieber on the loose, so don't give me any women's lib crap. I'm staying. Steve would want me to.'

Evan threw him a sharp glance. ‘I'm perfectly capable of staying with them.'

‘Or I could stay,' Pete offered.

Deborah smiled at Pete. ‘Thanks, but I know you don't like to leave Adam alone at night.'

‘He's not a little boy, Deborah. I think he can make it through one night alone.'

Joe interrupted. ‘Don't worry about it, Mr…'

‘Griffin,' Pete supplied. ‘Pete.'

‘Don't worry about it, Pete. I said
I'll
stay,' Joe repeated firmly. ‘You look after your boy and Evan can go to the police.'

Evan's jaw flexed again. Deborah knew Evan didn't like Joe. ‘Evan thinks Joe should walk around in a suit looking like an FBI man,' Steve had once told her, but there was something vague about his voice.

‘I thought Evan never judged on appearances,' Deborah had challenged.

‘Well, maybe it's more than that. Evan doesn't trust Joe.'

‘Why?'

‘He thinks Joe's dangerous.'

‘But you've said Joe is such a great investigator.'

‘He is, but you know how it is with some people. Evan and Joe are like oil and water.'

That old conversation faded away as Evan said testily to Joe, ‘I'm not going to waste time bickering with you. Barbara and you can
both
stay. I'll call after I talk to the police.'