by Theresa Weir
Cleo’s mouth moved, but no words came out. Daniel followed the direction of her gaze.
“Stop!” Cleo shouted.
Campbell smiled.
“Stop!” she repeated. “The well!”
You could see it on his face. The exact moment she said the word well was the exact moment Campbell realized his mistake. Comprehension was followed by dismay. Then he just disappeared.
Cleo dropped the gun while Daniel fell to his knees and shouted Campbell ’s name.
At Daniel’s side, Cleo grabbed his arm and tried to urge him away from the edge. “There’s nothing we can do.” If the stones came lose, he would follow Campbell into that dark grave.
Once more, Daniel tried to get a response from the well, then he rolled to a sitting position, an elbow on his bent knee, his hand covering his face.
“We have to go,” Cleo said. “Before it gets dark.”
He lifted his head and stared wearily at her. “It’s true, what he said about those people. Those kids and their mother.”
“Do you think you’re God? Do you think you can control everything around you? Bad things happen. That’s the way it is.” A harsh truth perhaps, but the truth all the same. “We have to go.”
He sat there a moment longer, just looking at her.
“Come on.” She helped him to his feet then picked up the gun.
Daniel extended his bloodstained hand and she gave him the weapon. With familiarity, he removed the cartridge, pocketed it, then shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans.
He might not have wanted her help, but she helped him anyway. She looped one arm around his waist, and together they headed up the hillside, back the way they’d come.
Her legs no longer shook, and she moved with purpose. They walked, the pressure against her shoulder increasing. She heard his labored breathing.
“Not much farther,” she said, hitching her shoulder against him, tightening her grip around his waist, hoping he wouldn’t slide to the ground.
“You go,” he said, his voice a breathless rasp. “Bring somebody back.”
“I might not be able to find you.”
“I’ll yell.”
“Not if you’re unconscious. Come on. We’re almost there.”
They finally made it to level ground. The orange glow had long left the sky. Now, in the twilight, the lane lay before them, the tire ruts cutting through the weeds-twin paths to the truck.
Somehow, he managed to get inside. “Can you drive a stick?” he asked as she slid behind the wheel, slamming the door behind her.
“You’re always underestimating me.”
With his eyes closed, he said, “Like hell.”
She drove as fast as the truck could go, which wasn’t all that fast, slowing down at the edge of town where the yards were littered with blue-and-white campaign signs, and a smiling, handsome face. Re-elect Mayor Burton Campbell.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It took the police and fire department three days to get Campbell ’s body out of the well. And when they did, he was pretty much unrecognizable.
Damn him, Jo thought. Damn the prostitute-murdering bastard. Because of Campbell, Egypt, Missouri, would never again make the list of the top ten small towns in America.
Because of him, mothers would no longer let their children roam freely about town. Because of him, people would lock their doors at night, and lie in that darkness, wondering…
The weather had turned, bringing with it cooler temperatures. Jo rummaged through the jackets that hung on pegs near her kitchen door, finally finding a blue wool sweater she’d knitted a few years back. It had a collar, and deep pockets that she liked to sink her hands into.
She slipped it on, thinking it was just the right weight for her trip to the hospital to visit Daniel. She’d been to see him the previous day, and the day before that. Both times he’d told her he was no longer working for the Egypt Police Department. She figured one or two more trips and she’d change his mind.
She buttoned the sweater, then reached into the pockets, her fingers coming into contact with several balls of tissue. Always had to have tissues with you. In one pocket she felt the solid weight of something heavy. She pulled it out and stared at the object in her hand.
“Crap.”
The master key.
Daniel’s shoulder hurt like a son of a bitch, but he wasn’t taking any more painkillers.
“They finally got him out,” Jo told him, pulling her chair close to the bed.
“Yeah, I heard.”
“The body in the barn belonged to a prostitute, just like you figured. And we’re pretty certain the prostitute who was killed at The Palms was another one of his victims. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to try to talk you into staying in the department.”
“Did you really tell that asshole you hired me because you felt sorry for me?”
Her silence was answer enough.
“For chrissake, Jo. Am I that pathetic?”
“I felt sorry for you, yes, but I was also looking for a good police officer. You fit the bill.”
He shook his head, his thoughts returning to an earlier preoccupation. “Have you seen Cleo?”
“A few hours ago. I paid her the other five thousand dollars. I know she didn’t find the key, but she was instrumental in exposing Dr. Campbell.”
“You gave her money?” He swung his legs to the side of the bed, his bare feet hitting the floor.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“She’ll leave, that’s what’s wrong!”
He ripped out several snaps and dropped the hospital gown to the floor, leaving him in a pair of pajama bottoms. His shoulder and arm were wrapped in gauze, his arm anchored to his side.
“Of course she’ll leave,” Jo said. “She’s done here.”
“What do you mean, done here? What about the key? She still has to find the damn key.”
Daniel opened a closet and pulled out the shirt Beau had brought. He realized he couldn’t put it on. He picked up a pair of jeans and realized he wouldn’t be able to get into them either. He tried to stuff his feet into a pair of stretchy blue terry-cloth slippers supplied by the hospital. “Screw it.”
“The key?” Jo repeated with hesitation.
“Drive me home.” He headed for the door.
“I’ve given up on the key,” Jo said, running to keep up. “I’ve decided to go ahead and get all new locks.”
“That will cost a fortune. Just get Cleo to stay and find it.” His heart was beating fast. How the hell had this happened? He’d planned on Cleo being around for at least a couple more weeks. That would give him time to make things right, to make things up to her. In the last few morphine-laden days he’d imagined them going out to eat, maybe taking in a movie or two. Going back to his place…
“We can’t let her go,” Daniel said. “Not until she finds the key.”
“Daniel…”
He kept walking. When he got to the exit, he paused to check on Jo. She wasn’t coming. He went back to get her.
“Daniel.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a closed fist. He watched as she opened it. There in her hand was a key.
“So?”
“It’s the key,” she whispered. “The master key. I found it in my sweater this morning.”
He broke out in a sweat. Black spots floated in front of his eyes. He blinked them away, and grabbed Jo by one arm. “Okay. We can fix this.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t tell her. Don’t tell her about the key.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t want her to go.”
“Oh. Won’t she know about the key, though?”
“She didn’t pick up on it before.”
“Maybe that’s because there was something bigger distracting her.”
“We have to try!”
“I don’t like the idea of lying to a psychic.”
He shoved her toward the door. “We’ve got to stop her.”
Cleo slipped two hundred dollars into the envelope and sealed it. She double-checked the address: Quick Fill, Shanghai City, Missouri, attention Chad and Jed. That should be enough. She deposited the envelope in the mailbox then walked over to the wooden bench to wait for the train.
It was the train station where Daniel and Beau had picked her up. It hadn’t been that long ago, but it felt like years. She’d arrived that day with a suitcase and her dog. Now she was leaving with nothing but the clothes on her back.
How could something so simple have turned into such a mess?
The night before, she and Beau had sat outside near the gazing ball, waiting for the stars. And when they came, they had been so brilliant, so breathtaking. It had seemed as good a time as any to tell Beau that she would be leaving in the morning.
“When you come back, maybe my mom will be here and you can meet her.”
Was that the best way to go through life? she wondered. Hanging onto your illusions? It seemed to work for Beau.
“Have you ever been anyplace other than Egypt?” she’d asked.
“Why would I want to do that?”
Why, indeed.
“They’re always there,” he said.
“What?”
“The stars. They’re always there. You just can’t see them.”
A shout drew her back to the present, to the train station and the cool breeze moving across her skin, a warm sun beating down.
She looked up to see a man striding toward her. He wore green hospital pajama bottoms and a white bandage across his shoulder.
She got slowly to her feet. What was he doing here? He should be in the hospital. She’d wanted to tell him goodbye but she’d felt awkward about it. Then she found that she really didn’t have time, and it had seemed easier to leave him a note.
Daniel stopped in front of her, slightly out of breath, his forehead creased with pain. A wind kicked up, lifting his hair, revealing the dark roots beneath the blond. “Your dog,” he said, breathlessly. “You forgot your dog.”
She shook her head. He was bleeding under the bandage. She could see a spot of red seeping through the gauze. “I want Beau to have him. I told you that.”
“The key,” he said, as if he’d only just remembered it.
“I have the feeling it’s never going to be found,” Cleo said. “You’d better just go ahead and change the locks.”
“The rest of your money. It’s at my house.”
“Put it toward getting the locks replaced.”
He got a funny look on his face. “I don’t think we’ll need it.” He seemed to search his mind for more words, finding them. “You know what people in town are saying about you? That you used your psychic powers to save us both.”
“I can’t take any credit for Campbell ’s carelessness.”
She didn’t want to talk about that. To herself, she could finally admit that she had a skill that went beyond normal. But it was still a subject she wanted absolutely nothing to do with. At least not now. Maybe someday, but not now. “About the hostage case you were involved in,” she began. Cleo wanted to leave him with something-reassurance-as well as a memory of her that wasn’t all bad.
“It’s not something I like to think about,” he said. “People died. It was my fault.”
“We can’t always be the ones to fix things. If I had died out there the other day, it wouldn’t have been your fault.”
Yet he’d been willing to die for her. And he would have died if something hadn’t distracted Campbell. “And if you’d died-” She swallowed. She reached out and took his hand. “If you’d died, it wouldn’t have been my fault. Bad things happen.” She turned his hand over. With one finger, she unconsciously traced the lines on his palm.
From far off came the sad, lonely cry of a train whistle.
“The ring,” Daniel said. “I still have your ring.”
Her mind spun back to another time, to a sweet, dark-haired boy who had loved her. A sweet, dark-haired boy who had died.
For the first time in years, the guilt she’d felt whenever she thought of Jordan was gone. She would never know if she’d really transcended time and space. But if she had, maybe she’d gone there to save him, maybe she’d gone there to try to stop the accident, not cause it. And maybe the only person she’d been able to save was herself.
“Mail the ring to me at my brother’s address.” She wanted to turn the conversation away from Jordan and her past. She wanted to look forward. “What will you do now?” she asked.
“Jo is trying to get me to come back.”
“Will you?”
“Maybe. For a while.”
“I hope you get a chance to return to Scotland.”
There were the people who put down roots so deep no one could tear them out. Then there were the ones like her and Daniel, the travelers, the wanderers, always seeking, never finding, always moving on.
“There’s Beau,” Daniel said.
“I’m afraid Campbell may have been right when he said Beau was your excuse. Beau’s more independent than you think, maybe more independent than you want him to be.”
The train pulled to a stop, wheels scraping and squeaking, steam billowing from underneath. She was the only person getting on. The conductor wouldn’t wait long.
Daniel looked as if he wanted to say something.
With a flash of insight, she recognized his hesitation. He isn’t ready for me to go, she thought, amazed at the revelation. But she had to leave. She needed some time to put herself back together. And in Egypt, Missouri, that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe after Seattle she’d go to San Francisco, she didn’t know. She couldn’t look that far ahead.
Fog. Daniel had given her fog. She’d never forget that. There was a lot of fog in San Francisco.
“All aboard!”
“Bye,” she said, taking a step toward the train.
“All aboard!”
His eyes. She couldn’t pull her gaze from his eyes. From the longing, and the pain, and something else-something she thought she had to be imagining, something she told herself was a trick of the light. Love. She thought she saw love.
“Bye.”
She turned and hurried up the steps. She’d barely stepped inside before the train began moving away. By the time she made it to a seat by the window, Daniel was just a silhouette standing in front of the station, already a part of her past.
Daniel stood and watched the train until it disappeared, hardly noticing the hot sidewalk under his bare feet, hardly noticing the pain in his shoulder.
What had he expected? Nothing in their so-called relationship had merited a handshake, let alone a heartfelt goodbye.
Maybe it wasn’t love. Maybe he was jealous because she was leaving, moving on to someplace new and unknown. Maybe he was attracted to her because of what she represented-the world, everything that wasn’t this, wasn’t here, someone rare, someone unique, someone exotic and strange and wonderful.
No, maybe it wasn’t love.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cleo was having the dream again. Not the pumpkin dream. She hadn’t had that since leaving Egypt. No, this was a different dream. A warm, lovely dream.
Daniel Sinclair was there. The sky was vast and blue, the grass beneath their feet as green and welcoming as tomorrow. Somewhere in the distance she heard the sound of the North Atlantic pounding against solid cliffs, and the cry of gulls overhead.
In the dream she had a secret, a wonderful secret she’d saved until this moment, this one perfect moment.
He knew she couldn’t have children, but his love for her was strong. “We’ll adopt,” he’d told her. But she’d seen the flicker of sadness in his eyes. It had lasted only a moment, but she’d seen it. You know these things about the people you love.
They walked, holding hands, fingers lightly brushing fingers. She swung around to face him. She wanted to see his happiness when she told him. “I’m going to have a baby.”
First there was a flash of j
oy, then confusion, then joy again. “How? Are you sure?”
She took his hand and pressed it gently to a stomach that had just the slightest swell. She nodded, smiling up at him. “They did an ultrasound to be certain.”
He pulled her into his strong, warm, comforting arms. He smelled like the sea, and he smelled like the sun, and he smelled like Daniel.
She took his face in both her hands, pulling him closer. And then his lips touched hers, all warm and soft. “I love you,” he said. “I love you so much.”
A shrill scream came out of nowhere, pulling Cleo partially out of the dream.
“Mom!”
From somewhere in the distance, somewhere far away from her dream, a child shrieked. “I was watching TV first and Carmen changed channels! Mom! Dad!”
Cleo awoke with a jolt, finding herself in her niece’s bed.
She closed her eyes and rolled to her stomach. She wanted to go back to sleep. Sometimes if she woke up in the middle of a dream, she could concentrate and get herself back there.
“Mom!”
Not this time.
Cleo rolled to her back, tossed off the Peter Rabbit covers, and sat on the edge of the bed. The digital clock read 6:30. She rubbed her face. How come kids liked to get up early, but adults never wanted to get out of bed? What happened there? Was it because kids thought of each new day as a wonderful adventure, while adults knew the truth?
Barefoot, wearing plaid flannel pajamas, she left the room, almost colliding with Adrian in the hallway. “Go back to bed,” she told him.
His eyes were barely open, his hair sticking out in all directions.
“You were up late. I’ll take care of the girls.”
“Thanks.” He turned and shuffled back to the bedroom he shared with Mavis.
In the living room, the girls were still fighting.
“What’s going on in here?” Cleo demanded.
Macy jumped to her feet and immediately started pointing at three-year-old Carmen. Carmen was sitting on her hands-or rather, sitting on the remote control she held in those hands.