No Way Home

by MacDonald, Patricia

  “Up these stairs,” said the colonel.

  Their steps echoed in the iron stairwell as they climbed to the third floor. Jordan noticed that the wiry colonel took the stairs easily, despite his smoking habit. The linoleum floors of the dorm were uncarpeted and their presence seemed to fill up the hall with racket. The colonel knocked on the door of one of the rooms and then said, “Cadet Fredericks, this is Colonel Preavette. Open up.”

  The door was opened immediately by a burr-headed boy with an anxious look in his eyes. “Yessir.”

  “Cadet Fredericks, this is Mr. Jordan Hill.” The colonel pronounced his name Jerdan, in the old Southern way. “Mr. Hill, Cadet Fredericks.”

  Jordan shook the boy’s damp hand.

  “Mr. Hill has a few questions for you about Cadet Ansley, and I want you to cooperate with him and tell him whatever you can that he needs to know.”

  “Yessir.”

  Jordan stepped into the chilly cell of a room and made way for the colonel. The colonel shook his head. “I will be making an impromptu inspection of quarters up here.” He looked significantly at Jordan. “I’ll return for you in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you, Colonel.” Jordan turned his attention to the cadet, who was standing stiffly in the doorway. “It’s all right. At ease,” he said. “Why don’t you sit?”

  The boy sat down gratefully on the edge of his bed and stared at him. Fredericks’s side of the room was neat and orderly. Tyler’s side was a mess. There were papers piled on his desk and clothes sticking out of the closet door. Jordan went over to Tyler’s desk chair and sat down, facing the young man. “The colonel tells me that Tyler never came back last night,” he said.

  “No, that’s right.”

  “Weren’t you surprised that he didn’t show up?”

  The boy shrugged. “I thought he must have had a pass.”

  “I heard something about a phone call?” said Jordan.

  “Are you a cop?” the boy asked.

  “No,” said Jordan. “I’m a…friend of the family. Was he worried about the cops?”

  “I think his dad’s a sheriff.”

  “He is. What about this phone call?”

  “He got an urgent message to call someone. I don’t know who it was. After we got back from the drill field. I just figured it was some family emergency and he had to go home or something.”

  “He didn’t tell you who called him?”

  “He didn’t really tell me anything,” said Fredericks. “We didn’t talk very much. That was okay with me.”

  “You don’t like him,” Jordan said.

  The boy shrugged and looked closely at Jordan, as if trying to figure out whether this guy was likely to spring to Tyler’s defense. “He’s kind of weird.”

  “What do you mean, weird?” Jordan asked.

  “I don’t know. Just weird,” said the boy, avoiding his eyes.

  He knew, all right, Jordan thought. He just wasn’t saying. “So, he never told you who called him. Or why? Or where he was going?”

  The boy shook his head. “Not to me.”

  “Anyone else you know that he might have confided in?” Jordan asked. “Did he have a girlfriend in town maybe? Did he ever stay out all night before?”

  Fredericks snickered briefly at that.

  “What’s so funny?” Jordan asked.

  “Nothing,” said the boy. “He kept to himself. Most of the other guys stayed away from him. Look on his desk,” Fredericks offered. “Maybe the message is still there. About who called him.”

  “A written message?” Jordan asked hopefully, swiveling around and lifting up the papers on the desk.

  “Yeah,” said Fredericks. “They give them to you at the desk downstairs when you come in.”

  Jordan rummaged quickly through the papers, which consisted of messy class notes, a stained take-out menu from a local barbecue place, and assorted doodlings. Jordan had the urge to settle down and read through every page, trying to find some clue about Tyler and Michele, but he knew his time was short. The colonel would be back before long. The desktop held no telephone messages. He shook the books piled haphazardly there, but no messages floated down.

  Opening the desk drawer, he turned back to Fredericks. “Did he ever mention someone named Michele to you?” he asked.

  “A girl?” the cadet asked. He smirked and shook his head.

  Jordan peered into the desk drawer and began to rifle through it.

  “He wasn’t all that interested in girls,” Fredericks said slyly.

  Almost at the same moment Jordan picked up an open envelope. A photograph dropped out of it and fell to the bottom of the drawer. The photo was creased and dogeared, as if it had been held and examined many times. It was a picture of a boy, his blond head thrown back, his eyes bright and knowing, his lips curved in a satisfied smile.

  Jordan took out the picture and stared at it. Grayson. He looked over at Fredericks, who rolled his eyes and shrugged again. ‘There’s another one of those taped inside his footlocker,” he said.

  Jordan continued to stare at the photo. What the boy was saying was clear enough, but it didn’t make any sense.

  Fredericks saw the confusion on Jordan’s face and offered, “He’d put that inside his books and pretend to be reading, but then I’d look up and see him running his finger over it, just gazing away at it. It gave me the creeps to live in the same room with him. Knowing he was like that. I was afraid he’d start getting ideas about me.”

  Jordan felt dazed. Tyler and Grayson. It was possible, of course. But Michele didn’t fit into it. It didn’t make any sense. Still, he knew this boy had no reason to lie about it. No reason at all. Jordan studied the photo another moment and then slipped it into his pocket. He stood up on wobbly legs.

  “Is he in trouble?” said Fredericks.

  Jordan ignored the question. “You have no idea where he might have gone.”

  “I guess if he found out he was in trouble, he wanted to get as far away from here as he could.”

  “Yes, probably,” Jordan said distractedly.

  “I didn’t mean to shock you,” Fredericks said in a friendly way. “You’d never suspect it. He looks so macho and mean.”

  Jordan peered at the boy. “Do they keep a record of the messages downstairs? A log, do you think?”

  Fredericks shook his head. “I don’t know. You could ask.”

  Jordan nodded. “If the colonel comes back, please tell him that I’ve gone down to the lounge.”

  “I will,” said Fredericks.

  Jordan turned back to him. “Thanks for your help.”

  “You’re welcome. I hope you find him. Just don’t bring him back here.”

  Jordan looked up and down the hall but the colonel was nowhere to be seen. He clattered down the stairwell to the first-floor lounge and walked up to the cadet on duty.

  The boy, recognizing him as the colonel’s guest, turned a welcoming smile on him.

  With difficulty, Jordan smiled back. “I was wondering if you could help me,” he asked.

  “If I can,” the cadet said brightly.

  “Do you keep a written log of the phone messages that come in here for the cadets who live here?”

  The boy looked at him warily but was still eager to help the colonel’s guest. “Yes. Why?”

  “I need to know who called one of your cadets yesterday. The colonel suggested that I ask you.” He hated to use the colonel’s name after the man had tried to help him, but this was not a time for such scruples.

  The boy looked at him expectantly.

  “Yesterday. There was a message left for one of your residents—Tyler Ansley—to call someone. Can you tell me who that was?”

  The boy took out the log book and began to pore over it. Jordan checked behind him to make sure the colonel had not yet entered the lounge. Then he turned his head to try to read the log as the boy examined it.

  “I’m not finding it,” said the boy.

  “It was probabl
y late afternoon, early evening,” said Jordan anxiously. He could hear a brisk footfall on the stairwell. “Do you see it yet?” Sweat was popping out on his forehead.

  “Here it is,” exulted the cadet. ” ‘Call Mr. Burdette.’ It says to call Mr. Burdette at his office. Not at home. And this is the number.” The boy looked up at Jordan. “Do you want to write the number down?” he asked.

  “Mr. Hill, what do you think you are doing with that log?” The colonel had entered the lounge and was striding across the room to the desk.

  The cadet looked in confusion from the colonel to Jordan. “Did you need the number?” he asked worriedly, closing the book.

  “No,” Jordan replied, turning away from the desk. ‘That won’t be necessary.”

  Chapter 24

  HAVING STRETCHED AND STRAINED through fifty minutes of an exercise video, Brenda was rewarding herself with a cup of yogurt while she listened to a Crystal Gayle tape on her Walkman. She was sitting at her kitchen table, humming loudly along to the tape, when she looked up and saw a man pressed against the sliding glass doors at the end of the room, peering in. Yogurt splattered on her leotard as she jumped up with a shriek, and then her face relaxed into a scowl as she recognized her visitor.

  She padded down to the doors and pulled them open angrily.

  “Jordan Hill, didn’t you ever hear of the doorbell? You about scared me to death.”

  “I tried it,” he said. “You didn’t answer, but I saw your car.”

  “Well, you’re here now. Come on in,” she said irritably. “What are you doing here anyway?”

  “I’m looking for Lillie,” he said. “No one was home over there so I figured I’d try your place. Have you seen her?”

  “Oh, I see,” Brenda said knowingly. “Well, she’s been in and out. Don’t ask me where she went. What is going on with you two anyway? Are you two getting back together? She won’t tell me anything.”

  “Look, Brenda, I have to talk to her right away,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know where she is right now. She got up early this morning and went out—”

  “She spent the night here?” Jordan asked.

  “Oh, don’t act so innocent,” said Brenda. “Of course she did. She and Pink had a huge fight. I’m guessing it must have been about you.” She pressed a long, orchid-colored fingernail into his sternum.

  “No, I’m sure it wasn’t,” he mumbled. So, he thought to himself, Lillie must have found out that Pink called Tyler. She must have. Why else would they have had such a fight? What the hell is going on? he asked himself for the hundredth time since he’d left the Sentinel.

  “When did you get back to town anyway?” Brenda asked querulously.

  “Brenda, I can’t talk,” he said. “Do you have any idea—”

  “Nobody will tell me anything,” Brenda complained. “And no, I don’t. She came back in a while ago and she was pacing around like a wildcat in a cage and then she said she had to go off somewhere and be by herself, to think. That’s all I know.”

  “She didn’t say where?”

  “Nope. But she’s in a state. I can tell you that.”

  Jordan frowned as if he were concentrating. “Well, thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. Hey, listen, Jordan. Don’t go butting into this if you’re just going to cause her grief. She doesn’t need any more grief.”

  “Thanks, Brenda,” he said wryly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Ever since she had arrived at Crystal Lake and walked out to the end of her jetty, Lillie had been aware of the family that was camping in a clearing about a quarter of a mile away from her around the shoreline. She had gone there, as she had so often in the past, to try to sort out her situation; but from the moment she sat down, it was as if nothing else in the world existed for her except those campers in the clearing. Her mind refused to focus on anything at all but the group huddled by the lakeside around their campfire.

  It was late in the season to be camping. Most people had given it up months ago. This family seemed oblivious to the rawness of the day. They had their fire, and the father and son had spent a good part of their afternoon fishing while the mother, wearing a vest and a bulky sweater, did needlework in a folding lawn chair and kept her eye on her young twins, who were playing some imaginary scene out in the clearing. Now they were all gathered around the fire, cooking the fish, and their voices were like bells in the air. The smell of the food made Lillie’s empty stomach yearn, and she had the idea that the woodsmoke from their campfire was causing her eyes to burn, even though it was too far off to reach her. But tears were forming in her eyes as she watched them. There was no doubt of that. Watching them was like watching people in a dream. Their words were indistinct and their actions made her feel heartsick, although nothing that they did was in any way strange or sad. She felt the exhaustion of the past day cornering her, seeping into her, and her eyelids began to droop.

  No, she thought, shaking her head. You have to think. You have decisions to make. But it was no use. She felt herself getting limp, and she lay on her back on the jetty, the weak, waning sun still warm on her face. The drowsiness consumed her, and in a moment she was asleep. She slept lightly, the discomfort of the boards beneath her and the gradually cooling air around her contributing to her fretful, repetitive dreams. She dreamed that the campers were leaving, gathering up their things and going. The fire was doused and only a few wisps of smoke rose from the sodden ashes. They were scrambling into the RV, and the engine was running, although one of the twins was not in evidence, and Lillie wanted to cry out a warning to the mother, who seemed oblivious to this fact. In her dream Lillie could not understand why they were suddenly leaving, when they had seemed so comfortable there. She made her way over to their campsite and saw, to her anxious alarm, that they had left many of their belongings behind, although there was no rhyme or reason to the assortment of personal and household objects she found among the rubble of their brief settlement.

  Lillie shifted uneasily in her slumber as the waters of Crystal Lake lapped beneath her, lulling her with a deceptive peacefulness. When the jetty began to vibrate beneath her, she did not awaken, but incorporated the movement, the heavy tread approaching her, into her dreams. Now she was alone, somehow capsized, and clinging to a spar in the turbulent lake. It was beginning to thunder. That’s why they left, she realized in her dream. They knew this storm was coming.

  A hand grabbed her shoulder and she jumped awake, letting out a cry. She sat up and looked into the somber eyes of Jordan Hill.

  “Jordan,” she cried. “My God, you scared me.”

  Jordan crouched down on the jetty beside her as Lillie fumbled to make sure she was properly buttoned and smoothed her unruly hair. She glanced automatically across the lake. The family of campers was still there, still seated around their fire.

  “When did you get back?” she asked, awkwardly rising to her feet. “How did you find me?” Her heart had begun to pound. She was not ready for him. She had not yet figured out what to say to him. In truth, she had almost forgotten about him and the danger he represented.

  Jordan stood up also. “I stopped by Brenda’s and she said you went off to think, be by yourself. I had a pretty good idea of where to look.”

  “Oh,” said Lillie. Despite her sense of danger and disorientation, something in her was oddly touched that he remembered where she liked to hide out. “What time is it?” she asked, looking at her watch. “I have to go.”

  Jordan wrapped his fingers around her wrist and detained her. There was no room around him on the narrow jetty. She looked down at the water, panic rising in her throat.

  “Never mind what time it is,” he said. “We have to talk.

  What is going on, Lillie?” He suddenly noticed the bruise on her face and he grimaced. “Pink did that,” he said. It was not a question.

  “Why does everyone assume that?” Lillie asked defensively.

  Jordan reached up and gently brushed the hair
away from the ugly bruise, as if a cloud of hair might irritate it, might cause her discomfort. Lillie flinched at his touch, which felt hot against her cheek, but she submitted without protest to his ministrations, allowing him to touch her as if she were fragile, even though inside she was steeling herself against him, against his questions.

  “Did you find Tyler?” she asked lightly.

  “No, Tyler was long gone by the time I arrived. I suspect he’s halfway to New York City or maybe Canada by now.”

  Lillie feigned surprise, as if this were news to her. In fact, she had still been at Royce’s house when the call about Tyler’s disappearance came in from the Sentinel. “So, you never saw him at all,” she said carefully.

  “No,” he said.

  She tried not to betray her relief. He still knew nothing. Now she could suggest that they might be wrong. That he should head back and she would keep him posted on any news. She remembered how grateful she had been when he showed up to help her. Now she only wished that he had never involved himself at all. “Well, that’s a strange coincidence.”

  “Not really,” he said. “Pink warned him in plenty of time.”

  “Pink!” she protested, but when their eyes met he was looking right through her. She looked away, feeling her face get hot again, this time from shame. And fear. He knew.

  “Lillie, don’t try to lie to me. You’re no good at it. You knew it already. That’s where this came from, isn’t it?” he asked, nodding at the bruise on her face. “Why is Pink protecting him?”

  Lillie stared stubbornly out at the lake. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I asked you a question. Why is Pink protecting our daughter’s killer?”

  “Our daughter?” Lillie bristled. “My, you’re awfully possessive all of a sudden. I don’t remember you being around when she needed you.”

  “Don’t bother,” said Jordan. “The guilt trip is not going to put me off. Let me tell you something. I’m convinced now that you were right about Tyler. Now, I don’t know how Pink is involved in all of this. You can tell me or not. But if you think this is an end to it, just because Tyler has bolted, you are dead wrong. I’m going over Royce Ansley’s head. That boy can’t run far enough.”