The Passions of Chelsea Kane

by Barbara Delinsky

  In a defeated way, he met her gaze. “Maybe I should quit anyway. I haven’t been able to do anything to help you. Got no leads about who was calling you on the phone, no leads about who tried to run you off the road, no leads about who burned your barn or cut your phone line or broke into your house. What in the hell good am I?”

  Putting down the coffee scoop, Chelsea took a firm grasp of his arm. “You’re a godsend. Without you, Donna wouldn’t have a hope in the world of being happy. And as far as what’s happened to me goes, I don’t honestly think whoever’s behind it all wants me hurt, just scared. There isn’t any ongoing threat. Nothing’s happened since the key was stolen, so maybe that’s what the person wanted all along.”

  Nolan picked up on that. “Okay, and we ask ourselves why that is, and the only answer we come up with is that whoever stole the key knows exactly who you are, which means that if I could find the robber, I could probably find the answers to all your questions, which means that I’m letting you down.”

  She gave his arm a small shake. “I had the key in my possession for months without making any headway. Some people are great at covering tracks. My father did it where my birth was concerned. Whoever stole my key did it. Whoever cut the phone lines did it. When you have dozens of suspects—dozens of men who wear the same size boot, or know how to drive company trucks, or work with their hands and are perfectly capable of cutting telephone lines or setting a fire or gaining entry into a house without breaking windows or doors—it can be impossible to narrow things down. I don’t hold you at fault. We’re dealing with someone who’s very clever.”

  He shot her a facetious look. “That should narrow it down right there. The Notch doesn’t have dozens of very clever people.”

  She tsked. “Shame on you.”

  “Yeah. On many counts.”

  The phone rang. Knowing Judd would take it in the other room, she sighed and rubbed Nolan’s arm before taking up with the coffee again. “Cheer up. All things eventually come clear.”

  “In the meantime Donna is being abused and you’re being terrorized.”

  “Not terrorized. I won’t allow that. I have an alarm system in the house now”—Judd had insisted on it—“and Buck is with me. Yes, I worry about Donna, but there isn’t much we can do except keep in close touch. We can’t force her to leave Matthew. She has to make that decision herself. She’ll reach a point where leaving him becomes the only thing she can do.”

  Nolan didn’t look convinced. “Battered women don’t always leave. They stick around for what they feel are valid reasons.”

  “Right, but they don’t have alternative places to go. Donna does. If she doesn’t feel she can go to her family, she can go to you or to me. One of these days, Matthew will make a misstep. Then everything he’s done will come back to haunt him.”

  Incredibly, Judd chose that moment to materialize at the kitchen door with word to that effect.

  “Problem here, Nolan. That was Monti Farr’s oldest girl on the phone. Seems Monti caught Matthew touching Joanie, grabbed a knife, and stabbed him. Matthew’ll live, but Monti’s run off. In this weather, that’s bad. They’re organizing a search. They need you to lead it.”

  JUDD DIDN’T LIVE FAR FROM THE TOWN GREEN, BUT THE DRIVE to the Farrs was nerve-racking nonetheless. The roads were treacherously slick, visibility next to nil. Snow gathered on the windshield of the Blazer as quickly as the wipers could sweep it away, reducing the flashing lights of Nolan’s cruiser, directly ahead, to a psychedelic blur. Beyond the scope of those flashers and his own headlights was darkness.

  Given the weather and the uproar, Judd would have preferred that Chelsea stay at the house. A snowstorm was no place for a pregnant woman, any more so than a house where there’d been a stabbing. But she had insisted on coming, and with Millie right there to watch Leo, he had lost the one argument he might have stood a chance of winning.

  Judd hoped she was warm enough. Although she was bundled in an absurdly large parka, still she had a way of getting chilled. She was forever wrapping herself in quilts while she worked—and he was forever wanting to warm her. Stupid. Impractical. Agonizing. But true.

  “It’s eerie,” she said now. “Nolan and I were saying that Matthew would slip up. I didn’t think it would happen so soon.”

  Judd was annoyed at wanting Chelsea and therefore baldly cynical. “This won’t change much. Matthew won’t be kept away from Joanie, any more than Monti will be charged with assault.”

  “But the whole town will know the truth now.”

  “The whole town already knows, except Donna. So now she’ll know, too. And afterward, it’s Farr business, not ours. All they want is our help finding Monti. He must be scared shitless about what he did, to run off in a storm like this.” He dared take his eyes from the road for a split second, but it was long enough to see Chelsea’s frustrated expression. “You want good things to come of this for Donna, and so do I, but don’t get your hopes up. If the Notch was the type of town that took it upon itself to right wrongs, Matthew would have been done in years ago. Donna isn’t the first woman he’s abused. He’s wanted Joanie since high school, and he’s taken it out on lots of others. Once he got married, he concentrated on Donna, that’s all.”

  The Blazer slid sideways before its tires caught. “Lie low, Buck,” Judd said into the rearview mirror. “You may be the key player here.” Monti had taken off on foot, which meant that there would be a trail to follow, unless the wind picked up and erased it or unless Monti ran in tire tracks on the street. In any case, Buck would help. He was no bloodhound, but he had keen instincts.

  All three houses at the base of the town green were ablaze with lights. Four-by-fours were parked every which way, left there by people who had set aside their own dinners to join in the search.

  One look at the scene inside the Farr house and Judd was grateful Chelsea had come after all. Donna was in a back corner of the living room, alone in the hubbub except for her mother, her sister Janet, and Joshie.

  Lucy was at the hospital with Matthew. Emery was issuing orders to Nolan. Joanie was weeping into a tissue, surrounded by a large collection of the Notch’s upper crust.

  Once he saw Chelsea safely into Donna’s circle, Judd joined Nolan, Emery, and the other men who had gathered to search. Oliver was among them, as were George and assorted relatives and friends.

  Nolan divided the men up and assigned each group an area with the understanding that they would follow footsteps until the footsteps were lost, then radiate outward from that point. The deputy would be manning the police station, where news could be received and relayed. Three blasts from the large horn atop the fire station recalled everyone to the green.

  Monti’s tracks led them from the rear of the Farr house, through snow-snarled brush, through Calvin Ball’s backyard, to the street, where, thanks to the work of a snowplow, they were lost. So the searchers set out like the spokes of a wheel.

  Armed with large flashlights and a portable phone unit tuned to the police station, Judd, Nolan, and three others followed Buck into a wooded area a half mile from the center of town. There was no trail, but the location made sense for a man on the run. There were abandoned shacks and children’s playhouses, perfect spots in which to stop running and come to one’s senses. Monti wasn’t a stupid man—in a world of his own, perhaps, but not stupid and not suicidal, according to all who knew him. Neither was he particularly brave, or he would have confronted his wife years before, confronted his brother years before. Now he had panicked and run. But he wasn’t the type to go far.

  They trudged on, calling his name, exploring every possible hideout. Snow continued to fall, so beautiful in the woods that in other circumstances Judd would have come by choice. Here, the night was silent, peaceful, pure. Unfortunately the circumstances also made it cold, dark, and threatening.

  Hours passed. After combing the woods with no luck, they crossed through the south end of town. Word had spread to the widely scattered homes there.
Lights burned on porches. Those not involved in the search were at their doors to ask of its progress and offer hot food and drink.

  The snow tapered off at three in the morning, leaving twelve inches on the ground. The deputy reported that Matthew had been stitched up and was fine, to which Nolan shook his head in disgust.

  The search went on.

  Judd felt the cold in his shoulder, more so even than in his hands and feet, though it was getting there fast. The temperature was falling, which was bad for the searchers but probably good in the long run. Frigid air would force Monti home sooner.

  Dawn had broken, turning the world a glistening blue, when the deputy’s voice came with a wave of static over Nolan’s phone. “Judd with you, boss?”

  “He’s here.”

  “Gotta talk with him.”

  “What is it, Donny?” Judd asked, but even before he heard the deputy’s words, his chill deepened. He barely had time to think about sixth senses before the message came through.

  “Millie Malone just called all hysterical. She was yellin’ about the food and the wine, says they put her to sleep. She woke up a little while ago and found Leo gone.”

  CHELSEA WAS STILL AT THE FARRS’, WAITING WITH DONNA FOR word on Monti, when she heard the news. She was on her way down the walk the instant she caught sight of Judd running down the street and climbed into the Blazer seconds behind Buck.

  Snow was heavily crusted on Judd’s hat, jacket, gloves, and boots. His face was ashen, his lips blue. He tossed the hat and gloves onto the seat of the car as he slid in, turned the key in the ignition, then worked one set of cold fingers with the other. She handed him a cup of hot coffee. He curled his fingers around it, took a healthy swallow, handed it back, and shifted into gear.

  “What do you know?” she asked.

  He wheeled around, skidded, straightened, headed out. “Not much. She doesn’t know when he left. Could have been eight last night, ten, twelve, or two this morning. She was sleeping the whole time.”

  “How’s he dressed?”

  “Far as she knows, what he was wearing when we left.”

  “Any coat?”

  “His baseball jacket.”

  Chelsea cringed. The Red Sox jacket was fine for a cool summer night, but not much else. The implication of Leo’s wearing the jacket now was as obvious as the fear on Judd’s face.

  She passed him the coffee again, took it back after he’d taken another drink. “Where does he usually go when he walks?”

  “The woods.” Judd swore. “It’d be his fucking luck to have been taken as one of the searchers—or to have missed them completely. Forget finding his footsteps. Never be able to tell them apart from all the others.” He swore again.

  “We’ll find him, Judd,” she said.

  “Not you,” his voice boomed. “You’ll stay at the house. I have enough to worry about without that.”

  She didn’t argue. All she wanted to do was help, and she wouldn’t do that by upsetting him. He was exhausted and cold, not the ideal conditions under which to be starting a second search in snowy woods. He needed sleep, then dry clothes and food. She didn’t know whether he’d take the time for any.

  Besides, she wasn’t in any shape to go into the woods. Far better, she knew, to stay at the house with a ready pot of hot coffee, a skillet on the stove, and a warm fire waiting for whoever checked in.

  Judd was out of the Blazer within seconds of pulling up at the house. He took time to put on dry clothes, but that was all. He immediately set off into the woods—along with Nolan, Hunter, and most of the Plum Granite roster, from the looks of the crowd that had gathered. Chelsea couldn’t help but feel it was poetic justice that brought twice as many people out looking for Leo Streeter than had joined in the hunt for Monti Farr. Those men had come because they liked and respected Judd. It was gratifying.

  The morning hours crept by. Chelsea, who hadn’t slept during the night, dozed off on the living room chair. Before noon she was joined by Donna, who refused to discuss Matthew. Shortly thereafter Nolan’s deputy called to say that Monti had been found in a garage on the edge of town, sick at heart but otherwise fine. Chelsea prayed Leo would fare as well.

  As the afternoon progressed, women began dropping by. Most were from the Corner, though there were some, like Ginny Biden and Sandra Morgan, from the center of town. All brought food, which was a good thing because searchers had begun straggling in, half-frozen, hungry, and pessimistic. The general fear was that Leo had become lost, lain down, and frozen to death, in which case it might be days, even weeks, before his body was found under the snow.

  As the hours passed, Chelsea came to share that fear. The mercury in the porch thermometer fell lower. The beauty of the snow-sculpted landscape became a cruel hoax.

  She stood endlessly at the window watching for Judd, though she knew that he wouldn’t be back until either Leo was found or he dropped in his tracks himself. She wished she could do more, but there was nothing to do, nothing but wait and agonize over what might have been if she’d stayed at the house rather than going to the Farrs’, or if Buck had stayed, or if Millie hadn’t had so much to drink, or if there’d been time for coffee, or if Leo had been in a nursing home. She knew that Judd would be thinking all those things at some point and could only pray that Leo would be found alive.

  Dusk came early, as it did in late November. Chelsea lit every light in the house, thinking that if Leo had somehow survived the storm and eluded the searchers, he might be drawn by something familiar. She heated the large pot of stew that had been brought by one woman and the soup that had been brought by another, warmed the bread, made a fresh pot of coffee, kept the fire stoked. Donna had gone home to be with Joshie, who was understandably upset about the debacle of his own Thanksgiving. Others had gone home to tend to their families. Men came and went as the search continued.

  Then, shortly after eight that evening, the activity picked up. She opened the door to find men pouring from the woods. She thought she saw Judd, thought she saw Nolan, thought she saw a large bundle somewhere between them, but the movement was too fast and the night too dark. Headlights went on, cars started. She was wondering whom to grab for information when Judd materialized before her. He looked worse than he had that morning.

  “Don’t know if he’ll make it,” he said in a shattered voice, while Buck shook snow from his coat and ran into the house. “We’re taking him to the hospital.”

  “I’m coming,” Chelsea said. She’d had enough of sitting helplessly in the house. True, there would be more of that at the hospital, but at least she would be with Judd.

  She had her coat on in seconds, left the house in the hands of those still warming up, and went with Hunter in the Blazer while Judd, Nolan, and two others took Leo in the cruiser.

  The wait resumed at the hospital. Judd moved back and forth between the small examining room and the waiting room. He didn’t say much; his grim expression told Chelsea all she needed to know. The nurses had given her access to the hospital kitchen, but he refused to eat. He did drink coffee. She was sure that the caffeine alone was what kept him upright.

  Somewhere around eleven, without intending to, she dozed off, curled in a ball, parka and all, on the waiting room chair. When she awoke, it was nearly two, Hunter and several others were standing nearby, and Judd was hunkered before her.

  “He’s gone,” he whispered hoarsely. “Let’s go.”

  Before he could rise, she wrapped an arm around his neck and held him tightly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Judd.”

  He didn’t say anything, just weakly touched her sides. When she released him, he stood. He touched the zipper of her parka in a reminder that she should close it, held the door for her to pass through, and waited until she had settled into the Blazer before going around to the driver’s side.

  He seemed dazed, which was perfectly normal, she told herself. He hadn’t slept through nearly two days of physical exertion and emotional strain. Grief
had as sure a hold on him as exhaustion.

  He drove to his house and walked her inside, and she wouldn’t have gone anywhere else. She had no intention of leaving him alone until he had slept, eaten, and shown her that he was all right. She cared deeply. Never in her life had she felt more strongly that she was in the right place, doing the right thing at the right time.

  Judd threw his coat on a chair, kicked off his boots, and, still without a word, went down the hall to the bathroom, where seconds later the shower went on. She turned back to the kitchen, sure that there would be a mess to clean up from the day, only to find that guardian angels parading as friends had done the work. The kitchen was spotless, as was the rest of the house.

  The fireplace was filled with glowing embers. She added a log to the grate. It caught within minutes. She added a second, then a third, and it struck her as symbolic that the fire should blaze high on the night when the man who had so painstaking put each stone in its place had died. This fireplace, the low stone wall surrounding the house, the scores of other stone walls he’d built, Judd himself—all were Leo, living on after him.

  Buck came from the back of the house and nuzzled her neck. He was subdued. She held him for a minute, then let him return to the old braided rug in Judd’s room.

  The sound of the shower continued. She could imagine Judd standing beneath the spray in utter desolation, letting the heat of the water hit his skin without penetrating the coldness inside. That was how it had been for her when Abby had died. The feeling had gone on for weeks.

  She wanted to tell Judd that, wanted to tell him things would get better, but she remembered resenting that. She had hurt with missing Abby, had wanted to hurt with missing her, as if in punishment that she was still alive herself. Words couldn’t bring Abby back. Words wouldn’t bring Leo back. And Judd still had the agony of his burial to see to.