A Cold Tomorrow

by Mae Clair

  Head-shrink double talk. “And that’s important, because?”

  Dark eyes flashed to Ryan’s face. “Because in the past, he and Ms. Lynch were a couple. You have intruded upon that memory.”

  Ryan grunted and looked down the street. More psychological bullshit. “So why are you sitting here instead of trying to round him up?”

  Two cars drove past, their headlights bright yellow in the murky gray of twilight. Three doors to the right, the owner of the drycleaner removed his Open sign and closed up shop. Point Pleasant was winding down for the night.

  “I’m observing.” Evening looked back to the road. “The more time that passes, the more likely Mr. Mason will surface. It’s been several days since he left Pennsylvania.”

  Several days and still nothing. Lyle’s memory might be short-circuited, but he’d grown adept at keeping a low profile. It was even possible he’d stocked his car with supplies and was living out of the vehicle. If that were the case, he could be holed up in the TNT. With all the patrols and circus of Mothman hunters scouring the area, it was odd someone hadn’t spotted him, but he’d grown up here and knew the region well. The guy was proving every bit as elusive as the damn cryptid.

  “You appear frustrated, Sergeant.” Evening’s tone was wry.

  Smart ass. “I wish you knew why the hell Mason came back here in the first place. Saying he’s ticked about something doesn’t cut it.”

  “Perhaps you need to figure it out. Mr. Mason grew up in Point Pleasant, not Austin. He has history here.”

  That damn accent. It made Evening come across as superior. It was also maddeningly hard to place, as if the inflection was the offshoot of more than one dialect. He had a point about Mason, but the guy had been a loner with only a smattering of friends, and a handful of girls after Katie, none of whom Ryan knew. He could ask around and try to pinpoint connections to Lyle’s past, but the whole thing felt like a crapshoot. It didn’t make sense Katie was the catalyst of Lyle’s rage, given their relationship ended before Sam was born.

  “The people of this town are more likely to remember something unsettling in Mr. Mason’s past than I am,” Evening continued as if Ryan was too dense to make the connection.

  “Point taken.” The admission came grudgingly, Ryan’s voice nearly as biting as the air. Evening might not be bothered by the cold, but Ryan had reached the end of his tolerance for standing outside. Time to wrap the conversation. “You’re not from Pennsylvania.”

  “That much should be obvious.” Evening stood, unwinding with the smooth agility of a cat. Before Ryan could press the issue, Evening tipped his hat in an antiquated parting gesture. “I believe I’m through observing. Good day, Sergeant.”

  Rather than head indoors, he preceded down the street—a tall man in a long black coat, as out of sync with the decade as he was with Point Pleasant. Ryan scowled after him, feeling something had slipped through his grasp. Something important he’d overlooked in their conversation.

  Jamming his hands into his pockets, he headed in the opposite direction.

  * * * *

  It was nearing eleven-thirty at night when Doreen Sue walked into her living room to find Katie sitting on the couch, absorbed in a paperback. Nestled into the corner of the sofa, her daughter was dressed in comfortable-looking blue sweat pants, a dark blue pullover, and heavy pink robe. Legs curled to the side, she sat with one elbow propped on the armrest as she pored over the book.

  “I thought you’d be in bed by now.”

  “What?” Katie flinched at her abrupt presence, placing a hand over her heart. She’d clearly been engrossed in reading to the point of tuning out her surroundings.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Doreen Sue switched on a lamp by the front window. “How can you see with just one light?”

  “I’m fine.” Katie wedged a finger between the pages to mark her place. “Did you have a nice time with Martin?”

  “Wonderful.” Doreen Sue plopped her purse onto a chair, then peeled off her jacket. It was nice of her daughter to ask. Katie hadn’t liked most of the men she’d dated, but she appeared genuinely fond of Martin. “We went for dinner, then headed back to his place so I could visit with Rex. I took him a nice new chew toy. He seems like his old self.”

  “That’s what Sam said too.”

  Doreen Sue plopped into a chair across from her daughter. “I guess Sam’s in bed. Is he sleeping okay?” She was glad to have Katie and her grandson as houseguests for a few days, but the reason for their stay troubled her. If Katie hadn’t agreed to come of her own free will, Doreen Sue would have put her foot down and insisted they get out of the house. The sooner Ryan Flynn and the sheriff’s department rounded up Lyle Mason the better. “I worry about him having nightmares.”

  Katie hugged the paperback to her chest. “That’s part of it, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “Nightmares. It says so in here.” Katie tapped the book.

  Doreen Sue had seen her with the pulp piece before, a study of UFO sightings that had belonged to Jerome. She’d also noted all the handwritten notes in the margins. More than a casual observer of the unexplained, Jerome appeared obsessed with anything mysterious.

  Shifting her feet to the floor, Katie leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Did I have bad dreams too? After that night coming home from Ravenswood?”

  “Oh, dear.” Doreen Sue tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Back to that again. “Yes, you had nightmares. But they went beyond dreams. You would see things in your room. Imagine a presence looming over you.”

  Katie’s knuckles turned white as she tightened her grip on the book. “Sam thought the same thing…that there was a man in his room.”

  “It’s just the confusion of his mind.” Doreen Sue wasn’t an expert, but she’d read up on the subject. She’d even sought out mediums and psychics after Ravenswood, hoping they could make sense of her encounter. “He saw something he can’t explain, and his mind is processing it the only way he knows how. Turning all that mess into nightmares. They’ll pass.”

  Katie’s expression softened with relief. “They seem to be already.” Hesitating, she wet her lips. “At the hospital, you said Wendy and I had pinkeye as kids. You made it sound like I should remember. Because of that night?”

  Doreen Sue nodded. “Wendy’s was just the routine stuff all kids get, but yours started that night and lasted for three days. I had it, too, but not as bad.” She chuckled softly. “It was awful having to go without makeup.”

  Katie laughed. “That must have been traumatic for you.”

  “And bad for business. I wouldn’t go near the salon. Wanda had to take all my customers.” The sliver of humor faded as an ugly thought robbed its place. “A few people didn’t think I was sick…told Wanda I was sleeping off a hangover.”

  Katie recoiled, glancing away. “Those weren’t the best times.”

  “No.” Maybe she’d flubbed talking about the past, but Katie’s unsettled childhood had always been the elephant in the room. “You used to call me ‘Mama’ when you were little.” What she wouldn’t give to hear that name again. Just once. To know that beneath Katie’s cool, unemotional exterior lingered a daughter who still needed her.

  “That was a long time ago.” Katie’s words were crisp, her demeanor every bit as bristling. She stood, gathering her robe close. “I think I’ll go to bed now.”

  Of course. Running, shutting down any avenue that might pry awake a measure of vulnerability. When had she become so self-sufficient, walled in a corner others couldn’t reach?

  Unwilling to cave so easily, Doreen Sue ignored the comment. “You and Wendy used to talk a blue streak.”

  “That was Wendy. She understood me.” Katie’s gaze was flat.

  “And I don’t?” Doreen Sue rose to her feet. The elephant grew bigger, pushing between them. “I know I wasn’t the best mama, but I tried for both you girls. I could have done better. I know th
at, but are you going to resent me forever?”

  Katie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Resent you? How could you—where would you get such a horrid idea?”

  Had she been wrong? “You disapprove of me. Always have.”

  “No.” Closing her eyes, Katie pressed three fingertips to her forehead. Drawing a deep breath, she exhaled slowly as if curbing an impulsive reaction. “I disapproved of your lifestyle when you were running around with Amos or guys like him. What daughter wants to see her mother with a black eye?”

  Doreen Sue blanched, shamed by the ugly memory. She wasn’t sure what she’d ever seen in Amos Carter or why she’d stayed with him after he slapped her and cheated on her. Even when he’d died, she bawled like a woman who’d lost a spouse of twenty years. They’d been together less than two. She had no one to blame but herself. Her taste in men had never been good. Even the girls’ father had left when Katie was two. Thank Heaven for Martin Ward, who treated her like gold and asked nothing in return.

  “I made mistakes.” It wasn’t simply an admission, but a nasty reality that cut deep. “You think I don’t know why Wendy wanted to run away? Why she got involved with a creep like Roger Layton?” She blinked hard, fighting the sting of tears. “Every time I think of her dead at the hands of that horrible man, I’ve got no one to blame but me. If I’d been a better mother, she wouldn’t have run wild.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. She had always been at fault. Her baby, strangled and tossed into an unmarked grave after that bastard had used her for pleasure. Unable to bear the shame, she covered her face with her hands and crumpled into the chair. “She’d still be alive if it weren’t for me.”

  “No, Mom. Wendy had a wildness in her, but it didn’t come from you.”

  A hesitant touch settled on Doreen Sue’s shoulder as Katie crouched next to her. “Her recklessness came from Daddy, not you.”

  Doreen Sue raised her head searching for hope through a watery gaze. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because Wendy told me. I don’t remember Daddy, but she did. She said she was exactly like him. I didn’t understand it then, but she had a self-destructive streak. As much as I loved her, Wendy created her own grief. She knew better than to get involved with Roger. He was married and twice her age. That’s probably what attracted her to him in the first place. The element of danger and something forbidden.”

  Doreen Sue sniffled. She’d never talked to her daughter like this before, her insecurities and emotions bare. Maybe that’s what had kept Katie’s walls in place all these years. Not an unwillingness to share, but a craving to be needed in return. “How did you ever get so smart?”

  Katie smiled tenderly. “Don’t you remember? I always had my nose in a book. At least that’s what you used to say. ‘Kathryn Eloise, what book do you have your nose buried in now?’”

  It was her turn to smile. Wendy had loved makeup and clothes, Katie books. “You were the serious one.”

  “I used to think you disapproved. As much as you and Wendy fought, I used to think you wanted me to be like her. You doted on her.”

  “Oh, honey, you don’t understand.” An imaginary fist pummeled Doreen Sue’s stomach. Half sick, she rooted through her purse for a tissue. “I never wanted to give that impression.” She’d loved both her girls, but there’d never been a question Wendy was headed for trouble from a young age. “If I fussed over Wendy more, it was because she needed someone to keep her in line. You were so self-sufficient and focused. I always knew you’d turn into a woman I could be proud of, but I worried Wendy would end up like—” She bit off the word, unable to admit the truth.

  “Who?” Katie pressed.

  Bowing her head, Doreen Sue worked the tissue between her hands. “Like me.”

  “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.” Katie touched her cheek, drawing her head up. “You have so much to be proud of. You kept us going after Daddy walked out. You run your own business and have kept it solvent all these years. You helped me when Sam was born and made it possible for me to keep my son when I barely had two dimes to rub together. You still help me. Every day. You are the most unselfish person I know.”

  Fresh tears flooded Doreen Sue’s eyes. “You never said anything like that before.”

  Katie squeezed her shoulder. “I should have. It’s long overdue.”

  Doreen Sue smiled a watery smile, her heart wedged in her throat. For all its emotional upheaval, the night had been good to her. First a wonderful evening with Martin, now a heart-to-heart with her daughter. There was only one thing that would make it better. “Sometimes at night, I pray Wendy’s forgiven me. Do you think she hates me?”

  “No, Mama.” Katie dropped to her knees and hugged her close. “I think she loves you. Just like I do.”

  Chapter 13

  Ryan was at home the following morning when he got a call from Pete Weston. He’d just finished polishing off a ham and cheese omelet with a side of bacon when the sheriff phoned.

  “Thought I’d save you a trip in…another out.” The line crackled with static. “…called.”

  “I missed that.” Ryan stretched the phone cord toward the kitchen sink, setting his empty plate on the bottom. Behind him at the table, his mother listened to the morning news on a local AM radio station. “We’ve got a bad connection.”

  “Yeah. Happening…over town.” Another burst of white noise. “Darrell Mason called…go see…”

  “Mason?”

  Weston said something Ryan couldn’t understand. Just his luck the phone lines would act up when Mason was involved. “Pete, I’m going drive out to Darrell’s place before I head in.”

  More static. “Thought you…like a plan.”

  Whatever Weston said was lost in a jumble of mechanical interference. Assuming he’d been given the green light, Ryan hung up and swallowed the last of his coffee.

  “I’m heading out, Mom.”

  “I thought you would.” His mother glanced up from her plate of scrambled eggs with grits. The morning update had ended, the radio spitting out an old Glenn Miller tune. “I heard on the news there’s a problem with the phones.” She slathered butter on a piece of rye toast.

  “Yeah. That was Pete.” Ryan rinsed his cup at the sink. “We had a bad connection.”

  “The report said lines were down most of the night.” Strawberry jam followed the butter. “People are blaming it on interference from UFOs. Apparently, there were a lot of lights spotted near the TNT last night.”

  “Probably low-flying planes.” He was too focused on Darrell Mason to worry about green men in silver saucers. Bending, he kissed her cheek, catching the familiar scent of lavender bath soap and rose water. “Gotta run.”

  “Be careful, dear. And tell Caden and Eve we’re due for a family dinner soon.”

  “Will do.”

  Outside, he dropped behind the wheel of his Camaro and cranked the ignition. The drive to Mason’s trailer off Route 2 took no more than ten minutes. Darrell owned a double-wide with a flat roof, brown siding, and white skirting. An ornamental lamppost surrounded by red mums stood sentry in the yard, and a few brick steps led to a forest green door.

  Ryan parked in a pull-off area, then sprinted up the steps and rang the bell. The ding set off a round of exuberant barking from a large dog.

  “Quiet, Bailey.” Darrell shushed the animal. Seconds later, he answered the door, his hand hooked through the animal’s collar.

  “Morning, Darrell.” Ryan had been to the trailer before and knew Bailey, a boxer/lab mix, was friendly but vocal. He offered his hand for the dog to sniff. “I heard you called the sheriff’s office.”

  “Yeah. Come on in.” Darrell held the door with one hand as Ryan stepped inside. “You said to get in touch if I heard from Lyle.”

  “That’s right.” He tempered his restlessness as Bailey trotted over to greet him. Bending, he scratched the dog around the collar, then gave it a pat on the side. It snuffled around his feet, tail th
umping against his leg in a welcoming back-and-forth wag. “Have you seen him?”

  “Last night.” Darrell had the same brown hair as his cousin, but his eyes were blue instead of hazel, his nose prominently hooked. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Lyle or as broad-shouldered. Absently, he clicked his thumbnail against his teeth. It was a habit Ryan remembered well, having gone through twelve years of school with him.

  “Want some coffee or something?” Darrell motioned to the kitchen. The front of the trailer was one big room with a living area and kitchen divided by a breakfast bar. Except for a rawhide chew bone on the floor by the TV, and an open newspaper on the couch, the place was whistle-clean. Darrell had always been a neat freak.

  “No thanks.” All Ryan cared about were the details concerning Lyle. “Just tell me about your cousin.”

  Darrell pulled out a stool from the breakfast bar and sat down. Behind him, a Mr. Coffee dripped dark brown liquid into a clear pot. The place smelled of Columbian beans and Pine-Sol. “He was here last night. Didn’t stay long.”

  How many hours had they lost before Darrell got around to reporting the incident? “You should have called.”

  “I tried. A bunch of times.” Darrell spread his hands and shrugged. “Phones haven’t worked all night. Just got passable this morning. I heard most of the town was on the fritz.”

  “Yeah, all right.” He’d forgotten about the stupid phones. “What did Lyle say and where did he go?”

  “I don’t know where he went.” Darrell turned his head, watching as Bailey flopped down by his chew toy. The dog wedged the bone between his front paws and set to work, gnawing on the end. “Lyle was wired, acting bizarre. He stayed long enough to wolf down a meal and bum some cash. I told him I was short on funds, but could tell he didn’t buy it. I was worried he might go ape on me, so I gave him a few tens. He kept talking about getting even.”