“That’s not what this is all about,” Justin complained. “Why do you have to be so sensitive? All I’m saying is that maybe my mother would want to know that her own flesh and blood nearly died in some godforsaken cave in Cedar Hollow.”
Nathan glanced at Noelle. He could read the sorrow in her face as plainly as if she’d spoken.
Fresh grief caught Noelle like a vise around her heart. Whether or not a family member was involved, someone had endangered Carissa, had terrified her. A child never completely overcame such a dreadful feeling.
Carissa’s own mother had rejected her, and now this.
Noelle shot Cecil a surreptitious glance, then her gaze traveled to Melva, who sat glowering at the floor, her face devoid of makeup, the fair skin puffy around her pretty eyes and nose, and red from crying. Justin stared at the floor as well.
Noelle was aware of a slither of unease trailing down her spine. She could not overcome a sense of foreboding, as if the threat had become a living, breathing presence, radiating around them all. Why did the Coopers suddenly seem to be the targets of some sinister force? Noelle wanted to wrap her arms around them all, protect them, tell them everything would be okay, but she couldn’t be sure. It seemed the Coopers had inherited more than their fair share of suffering. Maybe Melva was right. Maybe there was a curse of some kind on them. But a curse from where?
She was sensing guilt and high levels of anxiety among her family, emotions she picked up easily by reading body language, emotions understandably created by the stress over the things happening in the Coopers’ lives. Noelle had always been able to read the emotions of her loved ones with a simple glance or by an inflection of voice.
Justin yawned and stretched, then stood and dug into the pocket of his jeans.
“Where are you going?” Cecil asked.
“To get a soda. I’ve gotta have something to keep me awake. Want one?”
“Not yet.” Cecil put a hand on his son’s arm, holding his gaze. “Wait a while. We’ll both go as soon as the doctor tells us how Carissa’s doing.”
Justin scowled and sat back down, his long face set in lines of brooding. His heavy dark brows, so like his father’s, drew low over his eyes.
Noelle watched father and son. Cecil acted as if he didn’t trust Justin as far as the foyer, which was in plain sight. Or maybe Cecil just needed to be in control right now, with so much of his life seeming out of control since last night.
She glanced at the others. No one else seemed to think the exchange was unusual. Of course Cecil was worried, after what had happened to Carissa.
She gestured to Nathan. “I feel like stretching. Want to come?”
He nodded. “Anyone besides Justin want a drink?”
“All I want’s out of here,” Pearl said. “How long are they gonna take with Carissa?”
“We’ll have to wait and see.” Noelle reached into her jacket pocket to make sure she had change, then stood and preceded Nathan from the room into the cooler, fresher atmosphere of the foyer.
Instead of stopping at the vending machines, however, they stepped out onto the sidewalk. Noelle gazed across the street toward the manicured lawn where a gazebo was encircled by a bed of red, yellow and bronze mums edged by blue, purple and white clumps of pansies. The colors were vivid in the dim light of the rainy afternoon.
The broad sweep of lawn ended at the community boat dock on Table Rock Lake. The lake reflected the dullness of the sky, but across the water, in the rocky bluffs, more colors were threaded through the trees. Red-orange maples blazed like torches, while purple asters and goldenrod bloomed in random patches against the gray of the limestone cliffs. Nathan stepped up behind Noelle. “You miss this town when you’re gone, don’t you?”
She nodded and turned to stroll along the sidewalk. In spite of the weather, the street was lined with cars as tourists visited the shops in this town square—she had always loved the way the handsome brick storefronts faced out to the streets that encircled them, rather than facing in around a courthouse or village green.
Several sightseers had taken shelter from the rain beneath the dark green awnings that protected the sidewalk around the square. Hideaway boasted a strip of some of the most lively antique trading stores in the Ozarks.
“When did they put up the awnings?” Noelle asked.
“Two weeks ago. The mayor insisted that they be in place for the fall rains. He didn’t want anything to interfere with commerce during the biggest tourist season.”
Noelle and Nathan strolled past the bakery to the general store. As they turned, in silent agreement, to enter through the old-fashioned glass doors of the store, Noelle paused and glanced at the big black tractor-trailer rig across the street in the paved parking area east of the square. The CT unit.
Nathan casually placed an arm around her shoulders. “Carissa will be okay. Taylor won’t let anyone past her. And don’t let Melva’s tirade about Gladys get to you.”
“I agree with her completely. Melva’s been there for the Coopers all these years—not just for Justin and Carissa, but for Cecil, for the sawmill. It isn’t fair that Gladys can just come barging back and expect a warm welcome. You know Melva, and this will hurt her deeply.”
As Noelle followed him inside and listened to the echo of their footsteps on the refinished hardwood floor, she thought about Melva. Even as a child, Melva Hawkins had struggled with a weight problem, and although she was two grades ahead of Noelle and Nathan in school, she’d spent more time with Noelle than with girls her own age.
Noelle had never made fun of Melva’s weight. Neither had Cecil. He had, in fact, gone out of his way to be kind to Melva and defend her against tormentors—and Cecil Cooper had the brawn to do the job. It had been only natural that Melva would develop a crush on him. At the time, the feelings had not been mutual. It wasn’t until Gladys abandoned her family, breaking the hearts of her husband and children, that Cecil’s priorities changed. He took another look at his former classmate—who now worked in the office of the sawmill and was obviously crazy about him and his children. Not only was Melva pretty, she had adored him since high school. And at last, he was smitten, too.
Melva had struggled hard and waited a long time for the family she had now. She wouldn’t give up without a fight. Noelle didn’t want her to.
Chapter Fourteen
Nathan made a cursory check of his small pharmacy at the back of the general store. Though business was brisk, his colleague assured him that he could do without him this afternoon. When he returned to the front, he found Noelle waiting, holding a small grocery bag.
She held it up as he approached. “Hungry?”
“Starved.”
She handed Nathan a candy bar and soda as they stepped back onto the sidewalk.
“I thought health-food enthusiasts didn’t do junk food,” he said as he accepted her offerings.
“This isn’t junk food. Today, it’s comfort food.” She sank down onto a carved wooden bench in front of the bakery, and he joined her, understanding her need to avoid the clinic waiting room for a few moments.
Nathan unwrapped his candy. “Dark chocolate. You remembered.”
She held up her bar. “My favorite, too. I think we were together so much growing up, it’s almost like we developed the same tastes by osmosis.”
He took a bite of the creamy, rich dark chocolate and relished the exquisite taste for a long moment. Comfort food, indeed.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with Justin?”
He paused with the candy bar halfway back to his mouth. “You sure know how to ruin a guy’s appetite.”
“He’s the one you’re counseling.”
“I told you I can’t divulge—”
“It is Justin, isn’t it?” she said.
He didn’t reply, but she was watching him closely. She knew.
She put her hand on his arm. “I understand about the need for professional confidentiality, both as a former pastor and in your p
resent—”
“If you understand, why do you keep bugging me about it?”
“Because there’s a terrified child who is convinced someone close to our family—maybe even in our family—tried to kill her…and tried to kill us. As a professional, you are required to report any suspicions to the police.”
“I told Taylor everything we know.”
“But you didn’t tell him about this.”
The lack of sleep was getting to him at last, because he had to bite back an irritable retort. “There’s nothing to tell,” he said quietly. “I’ve attempted to explain to you that there is no connection.” He rewrapped the remainder of his candy bar and slipped it into his pocket. His appetite, even for dark chocolate, had disappeared.
“It is Justin,” she said. “The conversation between you two earlier today, the concern I see in Melva’s eyes when she looks at him and the tight rein Cecil puts on him. For a while I thought maybe Cecil was the one with the problem, he’s acting so paranoid. But it’s Justin.”
Nathan closed his eyes and gave a slight nod.
Noelle expelled a quick breath of air. “Why is Cecil keeping such a close watch over him? Has he gotten into trouble at school?”
“No, nothing like that. He’s a good kid, Noelle, you know that. How can you suspect him?”
She sank back on the bench. “I’m just trying to make sense out of everything that’s happened. I can’t help wondering about all the veiled remarks about him.”
“What Cecil thinks doesn’t matter here. He’s one of those people who believe a psychological or emotional disorder qualifies a person for a mental institution. He couldn’t be more wrong, especially with this particular problem.”
“What problem is that? Depression? Justin sure acts depressed.” At Nathan’s interested glance, she continued. “I’ve had some experience with that.”
“Depression is only a symptom in this case.”
“A symptom of what? Is he psychotic?”
“No, he isn’t psychotic. Noelle, you’re going off on a tangent here.”
“Okay, if he isn’t psychotic, then it’s some kind of neurosis.” She held up a finger. “Not depression, so maybe it’s bipolar disorder.”
He gave up. She was going to find out one way or another, and the sooner he could convince her that Justin was not a threat to his sister’s safety, the sooner they could get on with other matters. “Okay. Have you ever had a song get stuck in your head that you couldn’t stop singing under your breath? Or have you ever become so focused on some stressful event that you couldn’t stop obsessing about it?”
She looked up at him, and her expression cleared. “Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. OCD.”
A lifetime of uncomfortable memories replayed themselves in Noelle’s mind as too many pieces of a long-ago puzzle fell into place. Why hadn’t she seen it? “That’s a disorder that runs in families.”
“Yes, but you know OCD isn’t some dangerous mental illness. It isn’t anything that could threaten Carissa’s life.”
“It can manifest itself in a lot of different ways.”
“It’s limited,” he said. “Most sufferers lead normal lives. In fact, they don’t even realize they have the disorder, because it’s all they’ve ever known.”
“Or they cover it up out of self-preservation,” she said.
“But they aren’t crazy.”
“Define crazy,” she said. “I do know that they wonder if they’re losing control.”
“How do you know that?”
A gang of senior citizens armed with photography equipment trooped past. When they were out of earshot, Nathan said, “I’ve thought about the possibilities ever since Carissa disappeared last night. The OCD sufferer is always totally aware of what is going on around him. His thinking is clear, but he doesn’t think it’s clear. Big difference there, you know. He can’t stop his particular compulsion or obsession.”
“What if that compulsion is abducting children?”
“Absolutely not in the realm of possibility. If it were, you’d be getting into psychosis.”
“Okay,” she said, “the compulsive sufferer gets a compulsion to clean or to check and recheck everything he does, as if he’s afraid to trust his own short-term memory. Or he’s compulsive and he has to take a certain number of steps through his yard to his house, and if he doesn’t take the right number, he has to go back and do it over again, or he has to make sure his house is in perfect order, or he can’t bring himself to throw away a book or a newspaper or old mail.”
“Exactly. Frustrating, painful compulsion. But not dangerous.”
Obsessive thoughts. Obsessive fears. It ran in families. “But I’ve never seen Justin behaving that way,” she said.
“He’s apparently always had the tendencies, but ever since the collapse of that resort condominium this summer, he’s been having increasing problems. He was spending the night in town with a friend when it happened, and they had to evacuate the house. Since then Carissa’s noticed how often he goes through the house, checking the windows, turning out lights, circling the yard to make sure the gates are fastened.”
Oh, poor Justin. “Carissa told Cecil and Melva about it?”
“Yes, she was getting worried about him. Of course, when they confronted Justin about it, the difficulties just got worse. Melva took him to the clinic, and Cheyenne put him on medication and recommended counseling. She asked me if I would have some sessions with him, because she knew Cecil wouldn’t stand for his son seeing a ‘shrink.’”
“That’s my dear cousin. He believes in willpower and doesn’t trust therapy.”
“Cecil discovered what Melva had done and put a stop to it.”
Noelle took a sip of her diet soda and stared toward the lake, at the boat dock, which looked deserted in the rain. “So Justin is no longer taking medication or getting any counseling?”
“That’s right.”
“After this is all over, I’ll have a talk with Cecil. Sometimes he’ll listen to me. Justin needs help.”
“I’ve already tried talking to Cecil.”
She grinned up at him. “You don’t have any feminine charm.”
He returned the grin. “Thank you. Are you staying at Jill’s tonight?”
“I’ll probably stay with Carissa at the clinic, if Cheyenne decides to keep her there, which I hope she does. Carissa was sounding bad and running a fever before we left the cave. She could easily develop pneumonia. And I want to get this thing figured out while Carissa’s someplace safe,” she said. “It’s as though our family is under some kind of evil…I don’t know…curse or something.”
Nathan frowned at her. “What makes you say that?”
“Isn’t that how it seems to you? All the deaths and disasters and now Carissa?”
“I remember my grandmother mentioning a Cooper curse,” Nathan murmured.
“What about it? What did your grandmother say?”
He sighed. “She was talking about your mother’s death. She told me the Cooper curse had done it.”
“How?”
“She wouldn’t say. Grandma loved old wives’ tales, scary stories. She was the most superstitious person I ever knew. That stuck in my mind, though, about the Cooper curse, especially after the accident at the sawmill.”
“I’m not superstitious.”
“Neither am I.”
“But I do believe some superstitions might be based on fact somewhere along the line.”
“I know,” Nathan said. “But everyone thought the death of your father and grandparents was an accident at the time.”
“What do you mean ‘at the time’? What about now? Do you have doubts now?”
He hesitated. “I’ve always had doubts. It was such a stupid accident, one that was so unlikely for your dad because he had checks and double-checks on all his equipment. I even suggested my doubts to the sheriff then, but he just laughed at me. He didn’t know Frank Cooper the way I did.”
Noelle gla
nced up at Nathan. Spending time with him, talking with him, was making her feel better, much better. That surprised her. She studied his face, the strong jaw, the high cheekbones, the warmth and compassion in his green eyes. She truly liked this man—a lot.
He seemed to grow aware of her interest and returned the scrutiny. “What’s on your mind?”
She felt a quickening of her heartbeat. What kind of friendship did they have now?
As if reading her thoughts, he reached out and touched her arm. His fingers gently caressed her skin, while his gaze caressed her face. His smile slowly changed, growing more thoughtful, more serious. “I missed you these past years,” he said. “More than I would have thought possible.”
Another group of camera-laden senior citizens blazed by them on the sidewalk.
“I missed you, too,” she said. But she didn’t feel comfortable going further. Not yet. Not with all the unanswered questions hanging over their heads. “Let’s get Justin’s soda to him before it loses its cool.”
Chapter Fifteen
Carissa Cooper jerked and cried out. Her eyes flew open. A steel bed railing met her gaze, and past that, a window overlooking a familiar garden, bursting with autumn colors. It was okay. She lay safe in a bed in a new addition at the clinic. She’d been so tired, she’d fallen asleep as soon as Taylor had brought her back from the CT truck.
Someone touched the side of her face from behind her, and she flinched. The hand felt cool and dry, and Carissa recognized Melva’s chubby fingers, with peach nail polish.
Melva stepped around the side of the bed. “Awake, sweetheart?”
“Yeah.” Although she was still groggy, she noticed the green-and-black plaid workshirt her stepmom wore. It was Dad’s. And her hair was out of place. And she wasn’t wearing any makeup. Wow. “You okay, Melva?”
Melva chuckled gently. “I’m supposed to be asking you that.” She leaned in close, as if she wanted to take Carissa in her arms. “How about it? Head still hurt?”
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