by Erin Healy
“I doubt it. Said the warden tried to kill Romeo. ‘Juliet’s dead,’ he mimicked, squinty again. ‘Romeo was mine. If Romeo dies, the warden dies too.’ I nearly flunked English, but I’m pretty sure they both died. And I don’t remember a warden. Maybe that’s your jailer guy, you think?”
She had nothing else to go on.
“The guy was a nut, in any case. Obsessed with death. The more he drank, the louder he got. I threw him out when he started chanting about some mortician.”
A mortician?
Mort, at death’s door last weekend. The dead cat Juliet. Romeo.
It was the only thin thread Lexi had to hold on to.
Molly had been gone from the school for two hours. From the Blue Devil, Lexi raced to the hospital, to the one connection she could see between her and Warden Pavo.
{ chapter 33 }
The presence of his mother-in-law was a great comfort to Grant during the time when he waited for Sheriff Dawson to cut the red tape.
He walked the three steps from one wall of the holding cell where he was cooped up, turned, and took another three steps, repeating this for long minutes while running his hand along the bars. Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk. Alice sat on a bench outside the cell and listened without asking him to stop or seeming annoyed at his tigerlike restlessness.
When the clock on the wall clicked over to 2:17, Grant slammed the bars with the heel of his hand. What good was he doing in here when his daughter and wife were out there? This was the story of his sorry life.
At least Molly had one parent out there beating down doors for her.
Grant hit his cage again. He had to get out.
Alice muttered, “Small-town law!” under her breath. She left the area briefly, then returned with two cups of burned black coffee.
They sipped the bitter brew while another minute went by.
“Do you pray?” Grant asked her.
“I used to. Why?”
“I’ve been trying, lately. I don’t really know how to do it. But I think we ought to. I think Molly needs us to.”
“I’d do it if I thought my prayers mattered,” Alice confided.
“Are you sure they don’t?”
She shrugged. “If the evidence is any indication.”
That was the first time Grant noticed that Alice had aged in the last seven years. The lines around her mouth were deeper. The roots of her hair were white. She didn’t talk much about Tara, or her husband Barrett, or even what she’d been doing since his breakdown.
Grant said, “Richard keeps telling me it matters, even if we don’t get the answers we want. I’m undecided, but it’s probably time I make up my mind. I’d do anything for Molly and Lexi. I mean, what if?”
“What if? Now there’s a question I ask a hundred times a day.”
He lifted his coffee to his lips. Alice stared into the blackness of her open cup.
“What if we’d gotten out of Crag’s Nest when the girls were little?”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Barrett. He had a corner on the insurance market here.”
The bitterness in her voice prevented Grant from saying anything.
“He ran a bucket shop on the side. Sold credit default swaps. That’s where the real money was.”
“I guess I don’t know much about that.”
“Well, most of what he did wasn’t illegal at the time, but it should have been.”
“Most?”
Alice looked at Grant. “You’re not the only man in this world to have wanted more than he could have.”
Grant nodded.
“Well, it’s the sweat off good people’s backs that’s paying for his mental health now,” she said. “What if he’d been caught?”
“He wasn’t, though.”
“And I’m not so sure that was the best thing.” Alice returned to the bench and sat. “Lexi doesn’t know that about her dad.”
“I don’t think she’d hold it against him.”
“It’s hard to say anymore.”
Grant cleared his throat. “Lexi said she forgives me.”
Alice grunted. “Well, at least you deserve it, Grant. You’ve done your time, paid the cost. You’ve tried to make amends.”
“Do you think she meant it?”
“What? Meant it as in you two have a chance? I don’t know.”
“I thought this was something you wanted for her. For us.”
“It was.”
“Was?”
“If anything happens to Molly, I might wish my daughter had hurled herself off the edges of the earth.”
“What’s happened isn’t Lexi’s fault.”
Alice’s laugh was laced with misery. “We’re all to blame for something.”
“If anyone’s to blame for bringing Ward into this family, it’s me.”
“Is it?” Her tone challenged Grant.
“Yes. All the more reason to cut each other some slack, don’t you think?”
“No. I don’t. I think some wrongs are worse than others.”
“What has Lexi done that is so wrong? She’s held down two jobs and kept a roof over her head. She’s raised a beautiful little girl.” A knot formed in the muscles of Grant’s throat.
“Maybe she failed you first, Grant.” She tipped her head back to rest against the cinderblock wall.
“How?”
“She had an affair.” She opened her eyes to watch how he took this news. “With Norman Von Ruden.”
“That’s what Ward said. Did he tell you that? It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I wouldn’t trust him with the morning newspaper.”
“Lexi told me. She was seeing him when Tara was killed. Tara was trying to stop them. For Molly. For you.” Grant held onto the bars with both hands and bowed his head. This had been going on right under his nose? Of course, he was so wasted then he barely knew which house was his, let alone which woman.
But that didn’t cool the burn.
How long had it gone on? Was it still going on? In secret? Had her feelings for Norman ever died?
Alice shook her head and sipped her coffee again. “What if? What if? Here’s a thought: what if you’d married Tara instead of Lexi?”
Grant shot her a warning glance.
“Or what if Lexi had done what was right? My girl would still be here, wouldn’t she?”
“Norman Von Ruden is a sick man. He might have done anything.”
“She should have known. She should have seen how foolish—”
“She was young. We all were.”
“Stop making excuses for her!” Alice was on her feet, waving her empty cup. “Aren’t you mad about any of this? There is nothing happening right now that Lexi couldn’t have prevented.”
There was no way of knowing this, of course. Besides, the pain Grant felt for everything he thought he could have prevented smothered his mouth. The tangled mess of his sins and Lexi’s had separated them from their daughter. Did it matter who was to blame, really? He was starting to think it didn’t.
“I need you to call a friend of mine, please,” he told Alice. “His name is Richard. He’ll come. He’ll pray for Molly.”
Grant would ask him to pray for them too.
{ chapter 34 }
Alice called as Lexi entered the hospital parking lot.
“Are you with Grant?” Lexi asked.
“Yes. Still waiting. Sheriff Dawson says the car sighting was a dead end.”
“So was the Blue Devil.”
“The what?”
“Tell Grant it’s just a nightclub. Nothing more. They don’t know Ward.”
Alice’s voice moved away from her receiver. Judging by Grant’s tone, his response was unbelieving.
“He wants to go there himself when we’re done here,” she said.
“How much longer’til he ’s released?”
“Hard to say. The sheriff says not to lose heart.”
“That would be easier if he’d let Grant go!”
“He meant a lo
t of tips are coming in from the Amber Alert. More than average.”
“Well, what do you make of that?”
“What do you mean?”
“More than average? How many sightings can a small place like Crag’s Nest and Riverbend have?”
“A certain amount are bogus, sure, but—”
“Mom, how much of what’s going on seems to be like a magic show to you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Magicians, they mess with your perceptions. They trick your eyes into seeing things that aren’t . . . real. Like that letter from Grant to Molly. I read it twice. It was different both times.”
“My granddaughter’s vanishing act seems real enough to me!”
Of course it was. As real as Ward’s phone call. As real as Lexi’s racing heart and her skyrocketing blood pressure.
“I didn’t mean that.”
“Then what did you mean? What does this have to do with tips?”
Lexi thought of Angelo, rescuing her miraculously as she was attacked. She thought of the uglyassailant, disappearing on a breath of wind, leaving behind his empty clothes. How could she explain any of what had happened?
“Maybe nothing. I just feel like someone’s messing with us—me, that’s all.”
“Well, figure that out later, okay? All we have time for now is what’s absolutely true: we have to find Molly. Where are you headed now?”
“St. Luke’s. There’s a chance Mort Weatherby might know where Ward is. Or a friend of Ward’s.”
“Who’s Mort?”
“A neighbor. He was driving Molly the night of the accident. It doesn’t matter. Call me when Grant’s out.”
At the hospital reception desk, Lexi stopped and breathlessly asked for both Gina’s and Mort’s room numbers. Mort might know Ward’s friend. Gina, the religious-studies student, might be able to tell Lexi what Ward meant when he wrote “unpardonable sin” in the school’s checkout log.
Either—hopefully both—might point the way to Molly. Lexi was grasping at everything she could think of.
A pixie volunteer consulted her computer. “They’re not in this building,” she said.
“What? Where are they?”
“Division of Infectious Diseases.” The girl grabbed a piece of scratch paper from her desk and started to draw a map. “We’re here.” She pointed to a box in the lower right corner of the paper. “DID is over here.” In a box that appeared to be as far away from “here” as possible. “You’ll want to drive past these three buildings, turn right, and look for the parking lot on your left. Then take the footpath through this archway . . .”
It took Lexi ten precious minutes to arrive.
The building was more lab than hospital at first glance. It occupied one floor of a larger facility and didn’t seem to have many beds. Mort and Gina were in some kind of isolation room, separated from the rest of the world by glass and plastic and an intercom system. Gina’s mother had set up camp in a cushioned vinyl chair outside and was knitting when Lexi showed up. A fishing magazine lay on the chair next to her. Maybe Mr. Harper’s. Behind the window, Mort slept, and Gina was reading a book.
“This is unexpected,” Lexi observed of the two neighbors brought together in this strange circumstance.
“It’s a bacterial infection, I’m told,” Mrs. Harper explained, setting her knitting aside and standing to look with Lexi through the glass into their room. “The same thing showed up in their blood work, some new strain that no one recognized. They worried about a superbug, of course, and had a big debate over whether to bother with the usual antibiotics or go straight to the last resort.”
“What’s that?”
“Some kind of heavy-duty antibiotic. Not one they like to use very often. Can’t remember what it’s called. Anyway, they went the more traditional route, and Gina turned the corner yesterday, which means Mort might follow soon after, if he doesn’t face complications from the accident.”
“Is he talking?”
“Well sure. When he’s awake. A sweetie, that one. It’s no wonder Gina likes him.”
“I need to wake him up.”
“He just fell asl—”
“It’s an emergency.” Lexi fiddled with the intercom buttons. “Can we go in, since they’re improving?”
Mrs. Harper shook her head. “Precautions.”
Gina flinched at a high-pitched electronic screech, which Lexi took to mean she’d hit the right switch.
“Hey, blondie,” Lexi said, trying to smile.
Gina lowered her book and beamed. “Hey yourself! You’ve come to bust me out?”
Lexi cast a knowing glance at Mort. “It doesn’t look like you’re suffering for good company.”
“He doesn’t talk much, but otherwise I can’t complain. All those good looks in one room. If he needs a kidney, I’m here for him.”
“I’m really glad you’re okay.”
“Not as glad as I am. You do not want this germ. Remember that the next time you’re in a public restroom. Where’s the munchkin? Mom says your mom’s staying with you to help out—that must be interesting.”
“Gina, I need to talk to Mort.”
Her roommate’s smile sagged into a concerned expression.
“What’s happening?”
“Molly’s been kidnapped. I think Mort might be able to help me.”
Gina sat straight up in bed. “Oh my gosh. And I didn’t believe you when you tried to tell me about all the weirdness that was going on.” “It’s okay. You were sick.”
“What does Mort know about—”
“Maybe nothing. I don’t know.”
“Mort!” Gina picked up a Dixie cup on her bed table and crumpled it, then lobbed it at him. It landed on his chest. “Mort, wake up!” She heaved a small box of tissues next. The corner caught him on the nose, and Gina was rewarded with a groan. The box slid onto his pillow.
“What the—”
“Mort, someone’s got Molly, and Lexi needs to—”
“Who?”
Lexi hoped Mort wasn’t on any medications besides antibiotics.
She pressed the intercom button and said, “Mort, I need to ask you about the cat.”
“Why is nobody making any sense?” He touched the bridge of his nose and examined his fingers as if they might be bloody.
“Mrs. Johnson’s cat. Juliet. How did it die?”
He seized the box of tissues and hurled it back at Gina. She caught it midair.
“I have no idea, and I don’t really care.”
“Is it possible someone killed it?”
“Mrs. Johnson seems to think so.”
“Who do you know who would want her to think you did it?”
Mort shook his head and closed his eyes. “And this is important because?”
“Because I think whoever killed that cat knows the man who took Molly. I’ve got to find her and I don’t have much time.”
“I wish I could help you Lexi, but I don’t have a clue. And the last time you asked me for help, things didn’t go so well for me.”
Gina said, “Enough with the martyr complex, Mort. There’s a little girl missing who needs your help.”
But what he’d said was true. Lexi’s request that Mort look out for Gina and Molly was what put him in the car that was wrecked. Molly’s description of Norman’s driver as the evil dognapper of A Hundred and One Dalmatians, and Lexi’s encounter with the mental patient at the residence merged as one in her mind.
“What about the accident? Can you tell me about that?”
“Don’t remember much.”
“The driver of the other car—did you see him?” Maybe the police had taken a report. Lexi pulled Alice’s phone out of the apron pocket— she realized she was still wearing her grocery-store uniform—and called up her mother’s prepaid phone. Alice could ask Sheriff Dawson to look into it.
“I didn’t see anything,” Mort said.
Gina asked, “What if he was aiming for
Molly and not Mort?”
The possibility hit Lexi under her ribs. “Aiming? Like it wasn’t an accident?”
Gina didn’t say anything.
If Ward and this other psycho were in cahoots, what was Norman’s role in all this? She’d nearly forgotten that he was in that vehicle that struck Mort’s car.
Alice wasn’t answering her phone. Lexi disconnected the call and hoped she’d call back.
“Who took Molly?” Gina asked.
“Warden Pavo.”
“The guy who wanted you to testify?”
Lexi nodded.
“Unbelievable. And Grand doesn’t know where-”
“If he did, I wouldn’t be here, Gina.”
Lexi started to pace. Mrs. Harper, who’d been listening to all this with wide eyes and her hand at her throat, took up her knitting again.
“What’s he asking for?” Gina wanted to know.
Lexi put both hands on top of her head. “Why does everyone think he wants something?” No one answered.
“Lexi, I can’t hear you without the intercom.”
She stomped back to the box and slammed her palm down on the red button. “He doesn’t want anything. There is no ransom, only riddles. He’s punishing Molly for my sins, he says. He’s making me pay for some debt I didn’t even know I had.”
“That’s what he said?”
“Of course that’s what he said, Gina.” She sighed. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“No problem. But what exactly did he say? I’m good at riddles.”
Lexi rubbed her eyes. Could she remember exactly? Did it matter? “Uh, he said, ‘I punish the children for the sins of their mothers.’ And something about a deadline for collecting the debt? He meant Molly. A year of jubilee? Something like that. What’s jubilee?”
“It’s an old Jewish tradition. Every fifty years everyone got a year off—a big sabbatical.”
“I thought it was every seven years,” Mort said.
“Seven cycles of seven years,” Gina said.
“So that’s forty-nine years,” Mort said.
“Forty-nine, fifty, I don’t know how they counted it. The point is, it was a year of fresh starts. Clean slates. Setting things back to the way they were. Land leases were canceled and property was returned to its original owner. No one planted anything, to give the fields a break. Slaves were set free to go back to their families.”