“Of course I need something. Why else would I be calling you? Joe has to help me. I’ve been trying to reach him, and his phone is turned off.”
Why else indeed would Sandra be calling? “Joe is in a meeting. He won’t be home for another couple hours. I’ll ask him to call you.” This was ridiculous. Why saddle Joe with a potential problem? “But that’s not necessary. I can take care of anything that you need. Joe is always glad to help you, but, after all, you’re my mother, Sandra. Now what can I do for you? Do you need money?”
“No, I don’t need money,” Sandra said curtly. “And you can’t help me. I need Joe for this. He’s the detective. I’m in my car on the way to your place. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” She hung up.
So much for getting any more work done on the reconstruction, Eve thought ruefully as she pressed the disconnect. Her mother had always been self-absorbed and had a tendency to blow up small problems into gigantic ones. She had probably received another traffic ticket and thought Joe should fight it for her.
She went back to her worktable and carefully placed one more depth marker before she stepped back and wiped her hands on the towel. “Sorry, Janelle, I have to take care of this first. I’ll get back to you later.” She heard a car on the road leading to the cottage. “She usually doesn’t take long. Joe and I are too boring for her.” Eve was grateful that Sandra led a busy life, with lessons and card parties and trips out of town with her different social groups. At least she was off the drugs that had plagued her while Eve was growing up. She hadn’t touched them since Eve had given birth to Bonnie. Those seven years before Bonnie had been killed had been the only period when Eve and her mother had been truly close and bound in the common bond of their love for the child. After Bonnie’s death, both Eve and Sandra had tried desperately to survive in their own individual ways and just drifted apart. Sandra had suffered another tragedy years later, when her adopted son, Mike, had been killed at college, and she had bitterly blamed Jane MacGuire, Eve’s adopted daughter, for not taking better care of him. Jane had always acted as a big sister to Mike and had pulled him out of jams since they had been kids. But that was one jam she hadn’t been able to fix for him. No amount of arguing could convince Sandra that Jane had done everything she could for the boy. Since then, Sandra had withdrawn from contact with any of the family except when she needed something.
Like now.
Eve forced a smile as she threw open the front door. “Ten minutes. You must have been closer than you thought.”
“I was in a hurry.” She strode into room. “And, no, I didn’t get another ticket. Though I don’t see what good it does to have someone working for the police department if he’s not willing to take care of little things like that.”
“That’s called corruption, Sandra. And Joe is never corrupt. He told you that you were out of luck when you asked him the last time.”
“It’s just a little thing.” She went to the automatic coffeemaker on the counter and put in a K-cup. “It’s not as if I were dealing drugs or something.”
“Is that why you want to talk to Joe?” Her lips tightened. “No way, Sandra. I won’t let you put him on the spot like that.”
“No, that’s not why I need him.” She took her cup of coffee and wandered over to the reconstruction on the worktable across the room. “Another one, Eve?” She made a face as she looked at the skull that looked like a voodoo doll with the red markers piercing it like swords. “Ugly. I’d think you’d get tired of this job. So depressing.”
And Sandra had shied away from anything depressing all her life. That rejection was evident in every aspect of her appearance. She must be seen as young and beautiful no matter what her age. That’s why she had asked Eve to call her by her first name from the time Eve was only a child. She had always been Sandra to her daughter. She was smaller than Eve and very pretty, with stylishly layered red-brown hair that flattered a face that had undergone at least two face-lifts, to Eve’s knowledge. Very good face-lifts—she looked almost as young as Eve these days and was far better dressed. She was wearing a short beige skirt, high heels, and a cream-colored hip-length sweater with a glittering gold multistrand necklace.
“Yes, I do get depressed occasionally,” Eve said quietly. “How can I help it? But what I’m doing can bring resolution to parents who have lost their children to monsters. You know that, Sandra. I’d have been grateful if someone had been able to do the same for me when Bonnie was taken.” She looked her in the eye. “We both went through hell not knowing, remember?”
Her eyes slid away. “I try not to remember. I’m not like you, Eve. You’re stronger than I am. You always work and try to change the world. Well, I don’t care about the rest of the world. I care about me.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “And why not? I grew up in the slums and kept getting beaten down. I never hurt anyone. All I ever wanted was a good time. I deserve the right to forget about all that ugliness.”
“I grew up in those same slums, Sandra.”
“It was different for you.” She walked away from the reconstruction. “You made it different. I was weaker; I couldn’t fight them. But that doesn’t mean I was wrong. I had to do what they told me.”
Eve frowned. What was Sandra talking about? The drugs she’d been on all those years ago? “I’m not condemning you for anything, Sandra.”
“You’d better not. I did the best I could. My mother wanted me to have an abortion when I got pregnant with you. I kept you.”
“This is all past history. Why are you bringing it up now?”
“I don’t know.” She gestured toward the skull. “Maybe it’s that ugly thing. It made me think about— Where’s Joe? Shouldn’t he be home by now?”
“Soon.” Sandra was definitely upset. Her hands were shaking, there was color in her cheeks that wasn’t rouge, and she was moving around the room like a bird afraid to land. Joe didn’t need to have to deal with her in this state. “Maybe. It could be longer. Why don’t you talk to me? Joe will tell me anyway. We don’t keep secrets from each other, Sandra. Why do you need a police detective?”
“I don’t need a detective. I just want to have someone check into something for me.” She amended quickly, “Well, not for me. It’s for a friend in my casino club. Jackie Mestrad.” She frowned. “But I don’t want to talk to you, Eve. That’s not what I planned. I don’t want you involved.”
“What you ask Joe involves me. So we’ll wait for Joe, and you can tell us both.”
“Oh, very well,” she said, annoyed. “But it’s practically obscene that you’re so close. You’d think that two people would want to live their own lives.”
“Jackie Mestrad,” Eve prompted.
“It’s just a favor. Jackie’s concerned about a cousin, a young woman in a mental hospital in California who seems to have disappeared, and I told her I’d have Joe check it out.”
“California?”
“Santa Barbara. Well, it’s not as if he’d have to fly out there. I wouldn’t ask him to do that.”
“I wouldn’t think that you would,” Eve said dryly. “Since California is a little out of his jurisdiction. Has your friend contacted the police out there? What does the hospital say?”
“Nothing. They say there’s nothing to worry about. The woman wandered away from the hospital, but she’s no threat to herself or anyone else. They’ve asked the police to conduct a discreet investigation so that it won’t embarrass the patient’s family.”
“And they agreed? I’d say a mental patient wandering around the city offers a multitude of problems, and embarrassment to the family is the least of them.”
“They agreed,” Sandra said flatly. “The family is a huge donor to the hospital and also has a lot of influence in the city. The police were happy to cooperate.”
“And when did this woman wander away?”
“Two nights ago.”
“At night? A strange time to wander. Does she sleepwalk?”
“How do I know?” She moist
ened her lips. “Jackie didn’t tell me. It’s not something I’d ask.”
No, Sandra was seldom interested in other people’s problems. “And why didn’t one of the nurses or doctors stop her? And there had to be security if it’s a mental hosp—”
“I don’t know. Stop asking me questions. Have Joe find out what happened. That’s why I came here. He has to find her.”
“I’m sure he’ll be glad to communicate with the Santa Barbara Police Department. But that’s really all he can do.”
“No, he mustn’t do that.” Sandra’s tone was suddenly panicked. “That will stir things up, and I don’t want to cause trouble. All I want is for him to find her. I mean, that’s all that Jackie would want.”
“Then do what I do with my reconstructions. Go to the media and publish a picture. Let the public search for her.”
“Don’t be stupid. I can’t do that. I told you that any search has to be discreet.”
“To protect her precious family? Screw that, Sandra. It’s the patient who is important. Why would it matter if she was in the newspapers or not?”
“Because she was in a mental hospital. She’s crazy, dammit.”
“And there’s a stigma surrounding mental illness? Well, it’s time that stigma was put away. You can’t cure something if you don’t accept and understand it.”
“Well, I don’t understand it. It scares me, and it probably scares other people, too. I don’t blame the Averys for not wanting anyone to know about her.”
“Avery?”
She was silent, then said, reluctantly, “Beth Avery. She’s some distant relation to the South Carolina Averys. Maybe you’ve heard of them.”
“Who hasn’t heard of them? There hasn’t been a more powerful political family since the Kennedys.” George and Nelda Avery were the head of an immensely wealthy dynasty who owned factories, mines, and a good portion of the lumber in the state of South Carolina. It was also rumored that they owned a good many of the Democratic senators in Congress and were aiming to catapult their son into the Oval Office. “They’re reputed to be kingmakers. No wonder the police are proving so cooperative if the Averys own a big part of California, too.” She frowned, trying to remember anything else she’d heard about the family. “But I don’t recall hearing anything about this Beth Avery. The spotlight is on everything the Averys say or do. Why don’t I know anything about her?”
“A distant relative. No one important,” Sandra said quickly. “And she’s been in that hospital for a long time. If the media were interested, they’ve probably forgotten about her by now.”
“And the Averys don’t want her to be remembered,” Eve said. “Maybe they regard mental illness as a stigma, too.” She grimaced. “Though I don’t think even a crazy woman would scare George and Nelda Avery. It’s more likely that they regard her as an inconvenience.”
“Why do you say that?” Sandra asked indignantly. “They took care of her, didn’t they? It’s a nice hospital. Seahaven Behavioral Health Center, they call it. And it looks like a luxury hotel. They did everything they could for her.”
“Then why did she wander away?”
“You can’t blame—” She stopped. “I told you that I didn’t know anything about that.”
The entire business was very strange and completely unlike Sandra. “Perhaps I’d better ask Jackie. What’s her phone number?”
“No, don’t call—” Sandra’s eyes were suddenly glittering with anger. “Stop interfering. All I wanted was for Joe to check and make sure that she was safe. That’s not much to ask.” She whirled and headed for the door. “I’ll wait for him outside. I’m going to take a walk.”
“In those high heels? You’ll break your ankles.”
But the door had slammed behind her.
Eve followed her and stood on the porch, looking at her as she stomped down the porch steps, then wobbled in her high heels down the uneven dirt path toward the trees. Should she follow her? Sandra had been angry but also upset. Perhaps Eve should have been more diplomatic instead of acting like Joe giving a third degree.
But, dammit, she didn’t know how or why to be diplomatic in this situation. Sandra’s behavior was completely different from that of the woman she knew.
And she had been lying to Eve. Nothing could have been more obvious.
Why?
Her phone rang. Joe.
“Is Sandra there?” he asked when she picked up. “I’ve just come out of the meeting, but we still have a few things to tie up. She left three messages, and the last one said that she was on her way to the cottage. She sounded … impatient. I thought I’d touch base with you to see if I need to hurry home.”
“She’d say you do.” Eve was silent a moment. “No, there’s no reason for you to rush home. Do what you have to do. I’ll take care of her.”
“That sounds familiar. It’s what you’ve done all your life. She’s never been a real mother to you.” He paused. “I suppose I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just surprised you’ve never resented it.”
“I did resent it when I was a kid. I got tired of blaming it on the drugs, and I wanted her to be the kind of mother that my friends had.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not that a lot of them weren’t just as neglectful. Dysfunctional families were pretty common in my housing development.”
“They weren’t unusual where I grew up either.”
“But you were a rich kid, and you only got sent to some fancy school instead of getting kicked out on your ass.” She added, “But Sandra never threw me out. Between her welfare payments and an occasional job, we made it until I was old enough to get a job myself to help out. Look, some people never grow up. I think Sandra may be one of them. But beneath all that vanity and self-absorption, she has a good heart. I was better off than a lot of kids.” She looked at Sandra, who was nearly out of sight. “And she was good to my Bonnie. She might not have been a good mother, but she was one hell of a good grandmother. That was more important.”
“To you. I’m afraid I feel differently. You’re the one who is important in my world.” He went on before she could speak, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to take responsibility for her. Does she need money?”
Joe was always ready to take responsibility, bear the burdens, fight her battles. Which was the reason she had to protect him from his own instincts. He had appeared in her life after Bonnie had been taken, and it would have been easy for her to go into a cocoon and lean on him, but she had been careful to maintain her own independence. And taking care of her mother was part of that independence. “No money. Not this time. And if she did, I’d manage. But if you could make a phone call or two before you start home, it might smooth the way to easing her off our doorstep.”
“Another traffic ticket?” he asked warily.
“I’d never ask you to do that. What the hell are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that you seem to be feeling softer and more lenient than usual toward Sandra. Who am I supposed to be calling?”
“Santa Barbara Police Department. Maybe the local mental hospital. According to Sandra, Jackie, one of her friends, has a cousin in a mental hospital out there. The woman wandered off two nights ago from Seahaven Behavioral Health Center, and she hasn’t been found. Sandra is worried and wants you to do something to get her back.”
“Sandra is worried?”
“I know, it’s not like Sandra to empathize. And I think the friend is phony. But I don’t know what the hell connection Sandra has to all of this.”
“What’s the name of the patient?”
“Beth Avery. And she’s a member of the South Carolina Avery family. Low on the totem pole, but enough clout to cause everyone to keep the media at bay until they can find her.”
“Mental patient. What’s her diagnosis?”
“I don’t know. Sandra is pretty vague about everything. You’ll have to find out.”
“I’ll do what I can.” He was silent. “Strange. None of this is making sense. I wonder what
’s going on with Sandra. You’re sure I shouldn’t come right home?”
“I’ll take care of her,” she repeated. “If you’ll make those calls. That’s all you could do if you were here. I’ll see you when you get home.” She hung up.
The sun was almost down, and trees were casting long, dark silhouettes on the lake.
Where the hell was Sandra? She was nowhere in sight.
Sandra was prone to melodramatic gestures, like stalking off into the sunset, but the moods never lasted long. Particularly if she was subject to discomfort like this chill that was sharpening the air.
And she had seemed genuinely upset when she had left the cottage.
Okay, go after her. She might still be irritated with Eve, but she could just deal with it. Eve wanted all the outbursts and the main problems brought out into the open before Joe got home. Joe might think he was responsible for everything in Eve’s life, but she wouldn’t let it include her mother. She and Sandra had gone through experiences and traumas that she would never confide to Joe. He would only become angry and protective and want to shut Sandra out of her life. Eve couldn’t do that. These days, Sandra was more difficult than pleasant, more selfish than giving, but you had to accept the cards you were given.
She started down the porch steps, her gaze searching the trail.
And the cards Eve was being given at that moment was the task of going after Sandra, bringing her back to the cottage, and getting her to tell the truth about this Avery business.
* * *
SHE FOUND HER MOTHER leaning against a pine tree a half mile down the lake path.
“I didn’t think you were going to come.” Sandra was limping toward her. “I fell down and hurt my foot.”
Eve hurried forward and put Sandra’s arm around her shoulders. “Those damn high heels.”
“Don’t you tell me that you told me so,” Sandra said. “You said I’d break my ankles. I only hurt my foot.”
“Big difference.”
“And it’s your fault. I wouldn’t have had to leave the cottage if you hadn’t been nagging at me.” She leaned heavily against Eve. “But you’re always like that. You never believe me.”
Sleep No More Page 3