Wally tried to bond with the guy. “So sort of a cop, like me.”
Tin shrugged and said, “Sorry about this.”
Before Wally could figure out what the guy meant, Tin reached over and backhanded him with such force that his head snapped back.
When Wally didn’t make a sound, Tin advised, “You need to scream,” and hit him again.
Ignoring his throbbing jaw, Wally forced his voice to sound undisturbed and asked, “Why?”
Tin looked upward toward the closed door to the kitchen and said softly, “For them,” and he hit Wally again.
Unsure of why he thought he should do as Tin said, Wally bellowed. This time instead of smacking Wally, Tin punched a leather-covered bag hanging from the ceiling. Catching on, Wally cried out each time the guy pummeled the bag.
When Tin stopped, Wally mouthed, “What’s going on?”
“Keep quiet and I won’t have to gag you.” Tin fished Wally’s keys and cell phone from his pants pocket, then roared, “That’ll teach you to spy on us, you lying sack of shit!”
“Hey,” Wally said as the guy started up the steps. “Why do they call you Tin?”
“It’s short for Tin Man,” the biker answered, “’cause I got no heart.”
As Wally heard the door to the kitchen close and lock, his mind worked furiously. His cheekbone throbbed, blood dripped down his jaw, and his right eye was almost swollen shut. Tin may not have hit him as hard or as much as he could have, but he’d still done a number on Wally’s face.
Was that the point? Did Tin want Wally to look as bad as possible? Why had the guy held back? The whole situation didn’t add up. Didn’t these men know that as soon as someone realized he was missing, they’d check out his last location?
Son of a freaking bitch! He’d made a rookie mistake and never called in his 10–20. He’d been so preoccupied about Skye, he’d forgotten.
Wally blew out a breath. At least Dante knew where he was. He’d just have to survive until the cavalry showed up or he could escape. There was no way in hell he was going to die in this shithole and leave Skye and his baby all alone.
Chapter 9
“You people with hearts,” he said, “have something to guide you, and need never do wrong; but I have no heart, and so I must be very careful. When Oz gives me a heart of course I needn’t mind so much.”
—Tin Woodsman
After leaving the doctor’s office, Skye and May hit Target and Walmart for the basic necessities—household goods, toiletries, underwear, and socks. Several hours later, they stopped at Olive Garden, her mother’s favorite restaurant, for lunch.
As Skye slid into the booth, she groaned. It felt so good to sit down. Although she’d changed into her newly purchased tennis shoes, her ankles were still swollen and her feet were killing her.
Sighing in relief, she contemplated slipping off her sneakers but knew she’d never get them back on her feet. Instead, she dug through her purse and retrieved her phone. Wally had left her both a voicemail and a text, demanding that she call him ASAP.
Skye bit her lip, looked at her mom, and said, “Wally wants me to call him.”
“Not a good idea.” May shook her head firmly as she used an antibacterial hand wipe to clean off the already immaculate tabletop. “You’ll spill the beans if you talk to him. You’re not good at lying.”
“Yeah. I guess.” Skye shrugged. “I have a hard enough time remembering the truth.” She paused. “But I could probably keep the twins a secret by just not mentioning them.”
“Secrets aren’t your strong point either.” May didn’t raise her eyes from the menu. Skye snickered softly. May was studying the selections as if she’d never been to the restaurant before and wasn’t going to order her usual soup, salad, and breadsticks. Or maybe her mother was looking at the drinks. She rarely ate out without having a cocktail.
“I can, too, keep secrets,” Skye protested, then added, “Just not my own.”
“Just send him a text saying you’ll talk to him when you get home.” May straightened the salt and pepper shakers. “And then turn off your phone.”
Before Skye could answer, the waiter approached. “Hi. My name’s Auggie and I’ll be serving you today. Are you ready to order?”
Once they made their selections and the server left, Skye texted Wally and took a sip of ice water. “We probably should head back to Scumble River soon. Wally’s dad is sending us a motor coach to live in and he said it would be delivered sometime between two and four.”
“What?” May yelped. “Carson is giving you a camper? Why am I only hearing about this now?”
The waiter returned with their drinks, salad, and breadsticks. He assured them their soup would be out soon and hurried away. The restaurant was crowded and the poor man was nearly running between tables.
“I forgot you didn’t know.” Skye nabbed a breadstick and took a big bite of the warm, garlicky goodness. Once her mouth was no longer full, she said, “He’s just loaning us the RV and his boss is the one picking up the tab.”
Because she and Wally had agreed not to tell anyone about his father’s wealth, including May, Skye stuck to the story they’d told Charlie.
“Must be nice to work for a company like that.” May sipped her Bloody Mary. “The city doesn’t even give me a present at Christmas.”
“Hmm.” Luckily, Skye’s mouth was filled with salad because she wasn’t sure how to respond. If she agreed, her mom would defend her employer; if she didn’t, her mom would claim Skye never took her side.
Changing the subject, Skye swallowed and asked, “Have you heard anything more about Zeke Lyons? Wally wasn’t at all happy that rumors of his murder are already floating around Scumble River.”
“Nobody has said anything to me about him being murdered.” May moved her hands out of the way, allowing the server to put the bowl of hot chicken-and-gnocchi soup in front of her. “Minnie did mention that his death was a shame, since he was practically a newlywed.”
After serving Skye’s minestrone, the waiter asked, “Anything else I can get for you ladies?”
“More breadsticks,” Skye said just as her mother made a similar request.
As they ate, May filled in Skye on which of their friends and family had tornado damage and the severity of the destruction. Many of her first, second, and more distant cousins had trees down, roofs in need of repair, and windows broken. It was shocking to realize just how many Scumble Riverites were affected.
As she and her mother chatted, Skye thought about what her aunt Minnie had said to May about Zeke. When Skye had seen Billie Lyons at the dispatcher counter, she’d estimated her to be in her late forties or even early fifties. Billie might not be the first Mrs. Lyons. An acrimonious divorce could provide a motive for his murder.
Skye wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Was it a second marriage for Mr. Lyons?” Shoving her empty bowl away, she patted her stomach. She and the babies were nearly full and she wanted dessert.
“I have no idea.” May motioned the server over. “Zeke is new in town. I think he lived in Brooklyn before he got married. And Billie always kept to herself.”
When the waiter approached the table, May started to ask for their check, but Skye interrupted and said, “I’ll have a slice of the lemon cream cake.”
“I thought the doctor warned you about gaining more weight.” May scowled.
“Your point?” Skye raised a brow and shot a significant look at her mother’s empty Bloody Mary glass. “I’m pregnant; sugar is my booze.”
“Well, far be it for me to interfere,” May said, then she handed the server her credit card and told Skye that lunch was her treat.
After the waiter brought the cake, May didn’t comment as Skye finished every crumb. Finally, pushing the plate away, she scooted out of the booth and told her mom that she was going to the restroom. She definitel
y needed a potty break before they headed to the mall.
As May drove the short distance to the shopping center, Skye made a mental list of what she needed to buy. Although she didn’t want to forget anything vital, she really wanted to get just the bare essentials.
There were several reasons Skye didn’t plan on purchasing too many clothes for herself today. First, she didn’t have the time to look around. Second, she’d need maternity clothes only for another couple of months. And third, shopping for herself with her mother was always a challenge. Not because May didn’t want Skye to get anything, but because her attention span was so short and she tended to wander away.
When Skye and May entered JC Penney, Skye draped her purse strap across her body, glanced around until she spotted the men’s department, and said, “I’m going to get Wally’s stuff first.”
“Maybe I should buy Jed a new shirt?” May tapped her chin. “I bought myself those sandals at Target and I didn’t get him anything.”
“Didn’t you tell me you needed to get an outfit for Maggie’s son’s wedding?” Skye asked, trying to distract her mother.
The last thing Skye’s father needed was another “guilt” shirt. Every time May bought something for herself, she felt the need to even the score. Maybe if she got Jed a six-pack of beer or a new model tractor, he’d appreciate the thought. But he rarely wore anything other than work clothes and his closet was already stuffed with garments he didn’t need.
“Well, the wedding is only a few weeks away,” May said, clearly tempted. “No. A few months ago, when we had our little talk, one of the things you said that bothered you was that when we go shopping, it seemed that no matter what we start out looking for, we usually end up getting clothes for me. Today is going to be different.”
“Wow.” Skye hugged her mom. “You actually listened to me. Thank you.”
“I’m trying.” May grabbed Skye’s elbow and attempted to tug her in the direction of the maternity department. “Let’s get you some outfits.”
“How about while I shop for Wally, you look for yourself?” Skye freed her arm from her mother’s grasp. “Then, I’ll grab some maternity clothes and meet you at the dressing room near the petites.”
“Great.” May beamed. “We can try on what we’ve found together. I’ll buy you an outfit.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Skye waved and hurried away, feeling touched that her mother had not only understood her concerns, but was also trying to change for the better. “I’ll see you in about half an hour.”
It took less than fifteen minutes to buy Wally shorts, jeans, shirts, and a belt. She’d already gotten both of them sneakers at Target. Next, she made a quick trip through the maternity section, grabbing a pair of jeans, black slacks, knit capris, shorts, a dress, and several tops before heading toward the dressing room.
May was waiting with her own armload and they quickly chose adjoining cubicles. Skye had already tried on and approved most of her selections when she heard her mother calling for her.
May stood in front of a three-way mirror at the end of the row of dressing rooms. She wore a pair of flowy, cream slacks with a brown-and-beige silky top that poofed out over an elastic band that rested on her hips.
She twisted around, looking at herself, and asked, “What do you think?”
“It’s nice,” Skye said, not mentioning the fact that it looked like an outfit her mother already owned. “It fits you well.”
“I don’t think it’s right for the wedding.” May frowned. “It looks cheap.”
“Okay.” Skye felt her eye start to twitch and reminded herself she’d been the one to encourage her mother to shop. “I guess I don’t understand what you want.”
May screwed up her face in thought, then said, “It can’t be too fancy, but it shouldn’t be too casual either. Dressy, but not formal.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Skye’s head was spinning with the conflicting descriptions. “Do you have something else to try on?”
“Two more outfits,” May said and disappeared into her cubicle.
Shopping for clothing for May was always mindboggling. She wanted an outfit to make her look ten years younger, ten pounds slimmer, and she wanted it for less than twenty bucks. Too bad Skye didn’t have a magic wand.
While Skye waited for her mother to reappear, she checked the time. It was one forty-five. There was no way they were going to make it back to town by two. Sighing, she dialed Wally. She had to make sure he would be at their place when the motor coach arrived. Surely, she could keep her mouth shut about the twins for a two-minute conversation.
Wally’s cell went directly to voicemail and Skye left a message. Before she could try his landline at the PD, May walked out of her dressing room wearing navy-blue slacks and a frilly, red, white, and blue top.
“That’s pretty,” Skye said.
“No. The shirt is too fitted. It shows all my rolls of fat.” May twirled on her heels and disappeared again.
Skye bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. Her mother wore a size six, occasionally an eight, and the only bulges were in her imagination.
May liked the third outfit, but before she could stop herself, Skye said, “The blouse is too big.” The top hung loosely on May’s small frame, the shoulder seams drooping halfway down her upper arms. “Let me get you a size smaller.”
“Then it would be too tight.” May’s expression was stubborn. “I’m getting this one.”
“Fine.” They needed to get going, and although Skye knew May would end up returning the shirt, instead of indulging in a futile argument, she followed her mom to the register.
After Skye and May paid for their purchases, they walked out to the parking lot. Skye was loading the bags in the Oldsmobile’s trunk when she noticed Billie Lyons get out of a car the next row over. She stood near the open door, looking as if she couldn’t remember where she was or how she got there.
As May drove away from the mall, Skye saw Billie’s mother take her daughter by the arm and lead her toward the entrance. Skye’s heart broke for the shattered woman. Shopping may have been a chore for Skye and May, but at least they hadn’t been dealing with the tragedy of their husbands’ deaths.
After a long, contemplative moment of sadness, Skye reached for her purse. Digging out her phone, she dialed Wally’s cell. But once again it went straight to his voicemail. She got the same result when she tried his private line at the police station.
Frowning, she sent him a text, then looked at her mom, and said, “Wally isn’t answering his cell or landline. I need him to be at our house in case the motor coach from his father arrives before we get home.”
“Call Thea,” May suggested. “If he’s out of the station, she can get him on the radio.”
“I hate making her do that for our personal business,” Skye said.
“Don’t worry.” May waved away Skye’s concern. “It’s not as if you’re asking her to contact him to pick up a gallon of milk. These are unusual circumstances and everyone needs to cut everyone else a little slack.”
“True.” Skye dialed the police station’s nonemergency number, and when Thea answered, she relayed her request to the dispatcher.
A few minutes later, Thea came back on the line and said, “The chief’s not responding on the radio. I just checked in the garage. His squad car is gone, but he never gave us a location update.”
“Oh.” Skye felt lightheaded. “When you reach him, please tell him to call me immediately.”
May glanced at her daughter and wrinkled her brow. “What’s wrong?”
Skye repeated what Thea had told her, then said, “Where could he be?”
“He’s probably helping with the search and rescue efforts and the batteries in his handheld radio are dead.” May patted Skye’s knee. “It isn’t very often that those radios get this much use.”
“
I guess.” Skye chewed her thumbnail. “But I have a really bad feeling.”
“He’s fine,” May assured her, but pressed her foot down on the gas and honked at a slow-moving Chevy pickup.
“I hope you’re right.” Skye gave her mother a forced smile. “This is one time that I’d be happy to hear you say ‘I told you so.’”
“And I’ll be happy to say it,” May muttered, riding the truck’s bumper.
“Maybe you should slow down a little, Mom.” Skye clutched the dashboard.
“How about this?” May ignored Skye’s suggestion. “I’ll drop you at the PD so you can check Wally’s office and then go wait for the motor coach at your house. My shift starts at four, so I can stay until then.”
“That would be great.” Skye inhaled. “Maybe he left me a note or something on his desk.” She hit her forehead with her palm. “Shoot! I should have arranged to rent a car when we were in Kankakee.”
“Oh.” May made the turn that would take them into Scumble River. “I forgot to tell you that your dad is borrowing a car for you from his brother. He might already have it waiting at your house.”
“When does Uncle Wiley get back from California?” Skye asked.
“Sunday. So that gives you a few days to figure something else out.” May pulled up in front of the police station. “I’ll call you when the motor coach gets to your place or if Wally shows up at the house.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Skye leaned over to kiss her mother’s cheek. “Can you put all the stuff I bought today in the RV when it gets there?”
“No problem. I’ll pick up some groceries for you, too.” May gave Skye a one-armed hug. “Try not to worry.”
Skye watched her mother drive away, then hurried inside the station. She used her key to let herself into the back, then went looking for Thea. She found the dispatcher talking on the phone at her desk and shot her a questioning glance.
When Thea shook her head, Skye’s chest tightened. It was extremely unusual for Wally not to check in with the dispatcher when he was out of his office. Even more uncommon for him not to immediately return Skye’s calls and texts.
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