An image of Tony’s worried face flashed before her. He’d been so concerned she might let him down. And now she had.
No, you didn’t. You saved a friend. Exactly what he would have done.
She had no idea what might have happened, but she couldn’t take that chance. Tony would understand about missing dinner, although he might scold her for putting herself at risk. But then she and Tony would probably have a good laugh about it. After all, she’d beaten the pants off Jay and Wayne. It was really pretty funny when you thought about it.
Wasn’t it?
Chapter Thirteen
April sat on the step of the front porch and watched Claire get out of the sheriff’s car. She had to stop herself from racing across the yard to make sure Claire was okay. But since she wasn’t sure what Claire had told the deputy, she decided to play it cool.
At least Deputy Crouse had got the call. He’d only been in Millville for a couple of years, and the word around town was he took his job seriously. April hoped that meant he’d keep his mouth shut.
She narrowed her gaze. Claire looked fine, but then April had learned looks could be deceiving. Take Wayne and Jay, for example.
A rush of unease coursed through April. She’d started to worry ever since she’d called the sheriff. Had she overreacted? The more she thought, the more she realized that neither guy had actually threatened her.
“You want to go inside?” Claire said.
For the past hour April had done nothing but think of what she was going to say to Claire, what questions she would ask her. Now that the time had arrived, her tongue seemed tied in knots and a nervous burning filled the pit of her stomach. “Sure. I can make us some lemonade if you want.”
Claire wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think beer and lemonade really make such a good combination.”
“You drank with them?” April said, unable to hide her surprise.
“I am over twenty-one,” Claire laughed.
A surge of relief hit April. Obviously whatever had happened couldn’t have been too traumatic if Claire could still laugh.
“Actually I only drank half a bottle,” Claire continued, “just enough to convince them I was one of the boys. Unfortunately it was more than enough to leave a bad taste in my mouth.”
“I could get you a glass of ice water,” April said eagerly. “Or maybe you’d like some tea better?”
Claire’s expression softened, and she stopped to give the girl’s shoulder a squeeze. “You didn’t do anything wrong, April. You were right to call me.”
April didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She followed Claire inside and let the front screen door fall shut with a bang. “I’m not so sure.”
“April.” Claire stopped suddenly and spun around, her dark eyes flashing. “You didn’t know what they were going to do. They were older. They were much bigger. And there were two of them.”
“But—”
“No buts. You did the right thing.” Claire’s tone broached no argument. “The only thing I can’t figure out is what you were doing there in the first place.”
She said it as a statement, not a question, but April knew Claire expected an answer. The soft hum of the dishwasher filled the silence. April glanced around the spotless kitchen, stalling for time. “Looks like somebody got dinner all cleaned up.”
“April.” Claire shot her a warning glance.
“Okay.” April sighed and gestured to a chair at the table and took the seat opposite Claire. “I went to the lake, and my blind date never showed. Then everyone split into couples, and I was the oddball. Even Matt had someone.”
April heaved a disgusted sigh. Seeing Matt with that sleazy Dana had been the last straw.
“Matt?” Claire raised a brow.
“Coukle. My old boyfriend.”
Confusion still shown on Claire’s face, and April couldn’t believe she didn’t remember Matt. He was one of the coolest guys in town. “You met him the first night you were here. You called him Matt Cuckoo.”
Claire’s lips curved upward. “Now I remember.”
“Anyway,” April said, wishing she could just forget it all but knowing Claire deserved an explanation, “I didn’t want to look like this big loser, so when Wayne stopped by he and I sorta hooked up. Then he mentioned his brother, Mr. Famous Model, was in town and asked if I wanted to meet him. I said sure, but I swear I didn’t know his parents were out of town.”
April knew she sounded defensive, but she couldn’t help it. Her mother would kill her if she found out she’d been alone with the Nordstrom boys.
“What happened then?” Claire said.
“It wasn’t until I got in Wayne’s truck and we were halfway to his house that I realized he’d been drinking.”
Claire’s look was clearly skeptical. April understood. It was hard for her to believe she’d been so stupid. But she’d been anxious to get away from Matt.
“After we got there it only got worse. Wayne was chugging one beer after another. Jay was drinking beer and doing shots.” April pressed her eyes shut to stop the tears welling up. She took a deep breath. “I got scared and told them I wanted to go home, but they got mad. That’s when I called you.”
She met Claire’s gaze. “I am so sorry I dragged you into this.”
Claire opened her mouth but April didn’t give her the chance. “I mean, you were all dressed up to go out….”
The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She’d thought she couldn’t feel any worse. Now she knew she’d been wrong about that, too. “You had that fancy dinner in Des Moines tonight.”
“It wasn’t that fancy.” Claire’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It couldn’t be. It was in Des Moines, after all.”
Claire emphasized the silent S, and April had to smile. But then she remembered how pumped Claire had been for this dinner, and her smile disappeared. “Tony was expecting you.”
“Yes, he was.” The last of the light faded from Claire’s eyes. “But I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“You’re going to tell him what happened?” April’s heart sank. She’d thought…she’d hoped this would stay between the two of them.
“I have to,” Claire said. “I don’t want there to be any secrets between Tony and me.”
“But you won’t tell anyone else, will you?” April drew a deep shuddering breath. Her skin felt hot and clammy at the same time. “Promise me, Claire. Promise me you won’t tell anyone else.”
Claire finished the glass of tea April had forced on her and headed up the stairs, wishing Tony were home so she could explain and have this over with.
She undressed, carefully hanging her dress on the padded hanger so it wouldn’t wrinkle. She put her necklace and earrings in the jewelry case.
Too restless to nap or read, Claire decided to go for a walk. Normally she wasn’t much for physical exertion, but she’d gone running a couple of times with Tony and despite her reluctance had ended up enjoying herself. She pulled on a pair of black running shorts and a T-shirt. Not until she had laced her shoes, clasped her hair back with a barrette and headed out the front door did Claire allow herself to think about all that had happened this evening.
Would Tony understand that she’d done what she did with the best of intentions? Or would he think her incredibly stupid? Or, worse yet, believe it was just a ploy to get out of the dinner?
She shoved the thought aside and picked up the pace. Her feet slapped against the asphalt surface of the trail, the rhythmic beat of her footfalls oddly reassuring. Funny—she’d never liked to exercise before she got involved with Tony.
By the time she reached the downtown district and turned back, her breath came in short, fast puffs. But the tension that had gripped her neck in a stranglehold had eased, and once again she felt at peace.
She lifted her gaze to the darkening sky. Dear God, I know I shouldn’t worry, that I should just turn my fears over to You. So I’m ready now to give them away. If You want them, please take them. Amen.
>
If her gaze had been focused earthward, Claire might have seen the tiny dog dart across the path. And if she had seen it, she might not have fallen.
Where was she?
Tony glanced at his watch in annoyance. He’d been home for half an hour, and there’d been no sign of Claire. Or of anyone else, for that matter.
It looked as if April had gone to bed early, and Mrs. Sandy must still be out with Harold. But where was Claire? And why hadn’t she shown up tonight?
Unless I get a better offer…
The words kept running through his head, even though he kept reminding himself she’d only been kidding.
A car engine sounded in the driveway. Tony jumped up and hurried to the door.
He jerked it open. “About time you…”
The words died in his throat. It wasn’t Claire who stood in the porch light’s soft glow, but Mrs. Sandy and Harold Clarke.
Harold cleared his throat and took a step back. Only then did Tony realize he’d interrupted a good-night kiss.
“I’m sorry.” Tony raked his fingers through his hair. Would nothing go right this evening? “I thought you were Claire.”
“Claire?” Mrs. Sandy’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t she with you?”
“She was supposed to be….”
They followed Tony into the living room, and he quickly filled them in on what had transpired.
“So when I got home and the Jeep was parked out front, I assumed she was here.” His gaze shifted between the two, and he could see his own fears reflected on their faces.
“Maybe you should call the sheriff,” Harold said.
“And say what?” As tempting as the idea was, Tony wasn’t sure the sheriff would take a missing persons report on someone gone less than six hours. “That she stood me up for dinner and wasn’t here when I got home?”
Mrs. Sandy gently touched his arm. “But she promised to meet you.”
“I know.” Tony didn’t know whether to be worried or angry. For the moment he was a little of both. “She said I could count on her.”
Unless something better came along.
Once again he shoved the thought aside. How could he seriously consider that? After all this time he knew what she was like, didn’t he?
“Tony.”
His head jerked up and he flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. I was thinking about Claire.”
Harold’s expression softened. “I really think you need to give the sheriff a call.”
Tony opened his mouth to protest, but Harold raised a hand. “I know you don’t want to bother them, but this isn’t D.C. Around here we look after our own.”
“Mrs. Perkins down the street even calls them when her cat runs off,” Mrs. Sandy added.
Tony had to smile. Mrs. Perkins’s cat weighed over twenty-five pounds, and Tony doubted it could run anywhere. Still, what they were saying made sense. After all, what did it hurt to call? The worst that could happen was they’d ask him to check back tomorrow.
“Okay. I’ll give it a shot.”
Mrs. Sandy nodded approvingly and glanced pointedly at Harold. “We’ll go into the kitchen and make some coffee. The number’s in the front of the phone book.”
Tony flipped open the book, found the listing immediately and dialed the number. He quickly explained the situation to the dispatcher. To his surprise, she didn’t put him off, but promised to send someone right over.
He hung up the phone and rested his head in his hands. If anything happened to Claire, he didn’t know what he’d do.
Dear God, please keep her safe.
“Tony?” Mrs. Sandy lightly touched his shoulder. “What did they say?”
Tony blinked rapidly before glancing up. “They’re sending a deputy right over.”
As if on cue the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it.” Mrs. Sandy bustled out of the room.
Tony pushed back his chair and Harold came out of the kitchen, a cup of coffee in each hand. He shoved one of the mugs at Tony.
“I’m not—”
“Drink it,” Harold said in a no-nonsense tone. “We may have a long night ahead of us.”
Tony took the cup and took a sip. The extra-strong brew burned his throat. He almost relished the pain.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, and Mrs. Sandy escorted a uniformed officer into the room. Tony recognized him from his men’s Bible study class.
“Tony, I believe you know Deputy Crouse.”
Tony stepped forward and extended his hand. “Mark, thank you for coming.”
“That’s what we’re here for, Pastor.” The man took Tony’s hand in a firm grip. “I was in the neighborhood when dispatch called, so I came right over.”
“Harold, why don’t we go into the kitchen and leave these two to talk their business?” Mrs. Sandy turned to the deputy. “Mark, can I get you a cup of coffee? Maybe a piece of cheesecake?”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Tony had to smile. Trust Mrs. Sandy to be the perfect hostess.
“No, thanks.” The deputy took off his hat and sat down.
“Darlene,” Tony said, “I’d like it if you and Harold would stay.”
Her face softened. “Of course.”
Tony leaned back in his chair and gazed at the deputy. A look almost like sympathy flickered in the man’s eyes. A tightness gripped Tony’s chest.
“Mark, do you know what’s happened to Claire?”
“I’m not sure where she is now, Pastor.”
Tony’s heart sank. “What do you mean now?”
“Well, I knew where she was earlier this evening.”
Tony leaned forward, a mixture of dread and anticipation coursing through his veins. “Where was she?”
Officer Crouse looked up and met his gaze. “In my patrol car.”
Chapter Fourteen
If his heart hadn’t been beating so loudly Tony would have sworn it had stopped. It was hard enough to breathe, much less talk, but he had to know Claire was okay.
“Was she…?” His voice broke. He steadied himself and tried again. “Was she hurt?”
Deputy Crouse shook his head. “She’s fine.”
“Thank God.” Mrs. Sandy’s voice trembled, and Harold put his arm around her shoulders.
Tony exhaled a relieved breath and sent his own prayer of thanks heavenward.
“But if she wasn’t hurt, then why was she in your patrol car?” Harold voiced Tony’s question.
“And where is she now?” Mrs. Sandy added.
The deputy’s gaze shifted from Tony to Mrs. Sandy to Harold to Tony. He hesitated.
“Mark.” Tony leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m worried about her. Please tell me what’s going on.”
He cast a sideways glance at Harold and Mrs. Sandy. “I think it would be best if we spoke privately.”
“Of course,” Harold said, looking at Mrs. Sandy. “Darlene and I—”
Tony raised a hand and cut the church elder off mid-sentence. “You and Darlene are like family to me. I want you to stay.”
“Pastor, I don’t think…” The deputy shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels.
“Mark, it’s okay. Just tell us what happened.” Tony took a deep breath and steeled himself. It had to be serious to keep Claire from meeting him. “And don’t leave anything out.”
“Well.” Mark glanced at the clock. He cleared his throat. “A call came into dispatch late this afternoon reporting a possible intruder at the Nordstrom place.”
Tony kept his gaze fixed on the deputy.
“Anyway—” Mark ran his finger around the inside of his collar as if it had suddenly grown too tight “—there was a car I didn’t recognize out front, and the door was half open, so I went in.”
“But what does this have to do with Claire?” Mrs. Sandy said, her look clearly puzzled.
“I’m getting to that.”
“Darlene, let the deputy talk,” Harold said.
“You w
ere saying?” Tony didn’t bother to hide his impatience. Would Mark ever get to the point?
“The minute I stepped into the dining room, I saw them. The two guys and Ms. Waters.” Mark’s mouth tightened.
“Had she been kidnapped?” With a hiss of alarm, Tony leaned forward. Dear God, he’d been sitting in a restaurant eating while she’d been in danger.
“Not hardly.” There was a moment of strained silence until the deputy spoke again. “I knew right away there’d been no break-in. I recognized Wayne and Ms. Waters immediately. Jay took me a while longer.”
Part of Tony’s brain whispered a warning that maybe he should content himself with the knowledge that Claire was okay and not go poking into things he was better off not knowing. But he couldn’t stop himself. “What were they doing?”
“From the looks of it…having their own little party.”
“You’d better explain that statement, son,” Harold said, his expression grim. “In case you’ve forgotten, this is Tony’s intended that you’re talking about.”
“I know it is, sir.” The deputy’s eyes flashed, and Tony could see that man had taken Harold’s comment as a personal attack. “But tell me what you’d call it when you walk into a room littered with beer bottles and the three of them are sitting at the table playing strip poker? Wayne was half naked—didn’t have his shirt—and the only thing keeping Jay from being in his birthday suit were his Jockey shorts.”
“But how do you know Claire was involved?” Harold said.
The deputy shifted his gaze to the man. “Because she had cards in one hand, a beer bottle in the other and her nylons were draped around Jay’s neck.”
“I don’t believe it.” Mrs. Sandy clasped a hand to her throat. “Claire would never be a part of something like that. And I’ve never seen her drink beer.”
“She was drinking today,” the deputy said, throwing Tony a look of apology. “I smelled it on her.”
“I still don’t believe it,” Mrs. Sandy said, her chin set in a stubborn tilt. “There has to be a logical explanation. Claire would never—”
Redeeming Claire Page 14