The three young women looked at one another, thought about that morning, the morning Ginney was raped, paused only a second, then finished getting ready.
“Let’s go.”
“Oh no!” Ginney said. “I forgot my purse!”
Dawn told them she’d wait for them at the barn, that she wanted to tell Ben something, and entered the tack room with trepidation.
“Ben?”
He looked up from his condition book and peered at her over his glasses.
“Um...”
“I thought you left.”
“We’re going right now. I wanted to talk to you a minute.”
“All right.” Ben took off his glasses and laid them on his desk, then turned his wheelchair to face her. “What’s on your mind?”
“I’m thinking about going away for a while. Fred’s here to help Tom and...”
“I see.” Ben nodded. “You aren’t running away, are you?”
Dawn shook her head, forcing a smile. “No. I just thought that since things were slowing down, that maybe...” She trailed off. Ben could see right through her. “I thought maybe I’d go to the family’s cabin in Pennsylvania and work on my novel.”
Ginney and Julie came around the corner, said they were ready, and Dawn turned to leave. “I’ll talk to you later,” she told Ben.
Ben nodded. He looked at Ginney, told her good luck, and Ginney crossed her fingers in response.
“I’m proud of you,” Ben said. “What you’re doing.”
Ginney swallowed hard and rushed over and hugged him. All choked up, she managed a thank you, and they left in a hurry.
“Call me and let me know,” Ben yelled to them, and Dawn said she would.
On the way to the stable gate, they came across Randy, getting something out of the back of his truck. “The verdict’s in,” Ginney told him. “It’s at ten-thirty.”
Randy glanced at his watch. “I’ll see you there,” he said, and reached for Dawn’s hand when they turned to leave. He looked at her, just looked at her, and she smiled.
“Hurry,” she said.
He nodded.
The courtroom was standing room only, friends, family, reporters, photographers, onlookers. “A circus,” Randy heard someone say as he edged his way through.
“All rise!”
Randy stepped in next to Dawn, slipped his hand in hers, and nodded to Bud, who was standing on the other side of Julie.
“The Honorable Judge John McMurphy presiding.”
Everyone sat back down amidst an echo of shuffled feet, collective murmuring. Someone sneezed in the back, a cough over on the side. Someone laughed. Someone cleared their throat. Then silence.
The bailiff recorded the date and exact time the defendant was asked to stand and face the jury for the foreman to read the verdict.
Ginney held her breath.
“We find the defendant guilty as charged.”
Ginney gasped, covered her mouth, turned to look at her dad, Julie, Dawn...Randy, and way in the back of the room, having just arrived, James, as cheers and cries of shock drowned out the judge’s gavel.
“Order! I’ll have order!” The judge pounded again and again, demanding the courtroom settle down, whereupon he informed the defendant, who was still standing next to his attorney, stunned, that his sentence would be delayed pending a pre-sentence investigation. And court was adjourned.
Bud Meyers cried, unable to utter a word as Ginney hugged him. Ginney was in tears as well as she hugged Julie and Dawn, then Randy, and finally James, who had to work his way through the crowd.
“I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it,” Dawn said.
“What’s a pre-sentence investigation?” Ginney asked, and everyone turned to her attorney.
“Just a technicality,” he said, and smiled as he guided her toward the swarm of reporters awaiting them.
“I’ll see you later,” Dawn whispered, and she and Randy left. “I have to call Ben,” she told him, and phoned him when they stopped to eat. “Yes, yes,” she repeated. “Guilty. Tell Tom when he comes in, okay?”
Ben said he would, and for the moment, to Randy at least, Dawn seemed to have come out of her depression. He talked her into riding with him on farm calls, and they dropped her car off at her apartment and spent the whole afternoon together.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, glancing at her as they rode down the highway.
Dawn smiled, thought about the first time she went on calls with him, and saddened. So much had happened since then.
Randy got paged as they were driving home and pulled into a service station to phone his answering service. Dawn watched him as he walked back to the truck and climbed in behind the wheel.
“Well?”
He shook his head, put the truck in gear, and didn’t reply until he’d pulled out onto the highway. “Oh, it’s just another emergency out at the Durans’. That little black shit. It’s probably nothing.”
Dawn looked at him.
“I’ll drop you off; you don’t need to go.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. At her apartment, he kissed her good-bye, motioned when she started in, to come back, and kissed her again. “We’ll do Chinese tonight, okay? We don’t need to go anywhere.”
“All right. When do you want me to order it?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure how long this is going to take. You’d better wait till I get back.”
Dawn didn’t wait. She didn’t hurry, but didn’t waste any time either. She made a phone call, gathered her things, grabbed a set of keys out of the bottom of her desk, wrote Randy a note, and when the garage attendant buzzed, she left.
When Randy returned a little after eight, the attendant was covering the Jaguar with a tarp. He’d tried to phone her several times to give her an idea of when he’d be home, but hadn’t gotten an answer and assumed she’d gone to the club. He parked, got out, and walked around to talk to the attendant. “What? Is it going to snow?”
The attendant smiled. “I hope not.”
Randy waved and went upstairs, to find an empty apartment. “Dawn?” He checked her bedroom and bathroom, library, the kitchen, Linda’s bedroom and bath, and then the library again, getting more and more apprehensive with each passing second. “Dawn?”
He stared at her desk. The typewriter was gone. The manuscript was gone. He turned, and with his heart pounding hard, checked her bedroom closet, then the bathroom again. Her toothbrush was gone. Her shampoo. Her robe. He walked back and sat down on the bed, and that’s when he saw the note under the phone.
Randy,
I’m sorry, but I have to get away.
Dawn
He stared at it, picked it up, read it again, crumpled it in his fist and threw it on the floor, and hurried back down to the garage. “When did she leave?” he asked the attendant.
The man hesitated. “I don’t know. A couple of hours ago.”
“How?”
Again the man hesitated. Randy looked mad enough to hit him. “In a jeep.”
“What?”
“A jeep. I think it was a rental. Someone delivered it.”
Randy turned, stared at the covered Jaguar, and raked his fingers through his hair.
“I’m sorry,” the man said, for whatever reason. Randy nodded, glanced at him, and got in his truck and left. Ben, he thought. Ben would know where she was. She might leave without telling him, but not Ben. He drove to the hospital, forgot Ben had been transferred that afternoon, and had to drive back across town, even more frantic now. “What the hell? Where is she?”
Ben didn’t know, and became concerned as well, but not as much as Randy, at least not that it showed. “She did say something about taking some time off. I didn’t think it was this soon though.”
Randy sat down next to his bed, stared at the floor, and heaved a frustrated sigh. “Ben, did we do the right thing? Tell me we did the right thing.”
“We did,” Ben said. “Come on
, you know that. There were too many ifs.”
Randy looked at him and shook his head.
“Give her some time. She’s got a good head on her shoulders; she’ll be back. She just needs some time.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Twenty-one days after Dawn had left, Ben shipped his last horse from the racetrack. He stood at the side of the barn, his right leg supported by a brace and a cane, his hand trembling from the strain. He watched as Son of Royalty was led up the van ramp and backed into a stall. Randy pulled up next to him and rolled down his window.
As usual, his first question was, “Have you heard from her?”
To which Ben always replied, “No, but we’ll hear something soon. Any day now, I suspect.”
One more week and the racing season would be ending, but already a lot of the trainers had shipped elsewhere. A different track, a brighter day. Tom was preparing to go to Florida for the winter, and had already turned Red out at Ben’s farm. Fred had gotten a job at a breeding farm in northern Kentucky. And there was a chill in the air blowing out of the north.
Randy glanced at his hands, sore and callused from all the construction he and Raffin had been doing, and checked his clipboard to see where he was headed next.
Ben had resolved himself to one more month of rehab, and was looking forward to going home after that. He’d never felt the cold like he did this year, and chalked it up to the nursing home being too damned hot. He liked it warm, but certainly didn’t need to be sweating in his sheets.
“So, is that it?” Randy asked, motioning to the van.
Ben nodded.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you out at the home then. I’m out that way most every day.”
Ben smiled. “Now listen, I don’t want you fussing and coming up there all the time. Don’t feel obligated to do that.”
“It’s not an obligation, Ben,” Randy said, smiling but with a serious look in his eyes. “Besides, like I said, I’m out that way most every day. That and all the trips to your farm.”
Ben nodded, and leaned to the side to adjust his weight and relieve the pressure on his hip.
“I’ll see you later.” Randy stopped next at Ginney’s barn, also routine by now, but Ginney hadn’t heard a word from Dawn either.
Somewhere in the mountains of western Pennsylvania, Dawn stood on the back porch of her cabin, overlooking the river, her jacket pulled tight as she watched a chipmunk skip over the rocks and climb a tree.
“Dawnetta.”
She turned and smiled at her Aunt Maeve.
“Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider and come with me? I hate leaving you alone.”
“Why? I love it here,” Dawn said, sounding almost cheerful. “I can write. I can go for walks. I need the time, Aunt Maeve.”
“All right,” she said. “If you’re sure?” She took hold of Dawn’s hands.
“I am.”
Aunt Maeve searched her eyes. “And what about Randy?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’ll find someone else. Who knows, maybe he already has.”
“Dawnetta, you don’t believe that for a minute,” Maeve said, and paused. “Well,” she sighed, resigned. “I’ve said it all before.”
“Bye, Aunt Maeve. Write to me, okay?”
Aunt Maeve hugged her tight. “You know I will. You take care of yourself, and watch out for the bears.”
Dawn laughed. “I will.”
Aunt Maeve got choked up then, touched the side of Dawn’s face, and turned and walked to her car. She waved from the end of the drive and honked from the highway. She always honked from the highway, and was gone.
Dawn went back into the cabin, put two more logs on the fire, poked at them for a moment, and then sat down in front of her typewriter.
Randy received a message from Ben later that day, and phoned him on the road between calls. Good news. He’d heard from Dawn. “I got a card. She says she’s fine, not to worry about her. And that she’s working on her book.”
“That’s it? That’s all she said?”
“No, she asked about Beau, and told me to give him a big hug.”
Randy stared at the traffic whizzing past him. “Where is she? Did she tell you?”
“No.”
“What’s it say on the card?”
Ben looked, tried to read it, but couldn’t. “It’s smeared. One of the nurse’s aides spilled coffee on it when she brought in my tray.”
“Wonderful.” Randy shook his head in disbelief. “Can you make out anything?”
“Yeah. PA. Somewhere in PA.”
Randy sighed. That, they already knew. A thought occurred to him then. “Maybe she sent me one too. I’ll see you later.” He drove across town, checked his mail, and walked inside his apartment, hurt and angry. “Fuck her!”
No letter. No card. Nothing.
He sat down on the couch, leaned his head back, and stared at the ceiling. He’d had enough. She obviously didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore. They were through. Finished. Done. History.
He thought of what Ben said about her working on her book, that stinking book. And figured he’d have to wait until it got published to find out what went wrong between them. Or for that matter, if they ever had anything to begin with.
He glanced at his watch. No more waiting. No more wondering. Get on with your life, he told himself. Go find somebody else. At least for the night. He washed up and left, stopped at the first bar he came to, and ordered a beer. The place was hopping. “Ducks on a pond,” he could hear his voice of old saying, as he looked around at all the pretty faces.
And why not?
Because he didn’t want to, and realizing that, he paid for his beer, downed the rest, and headed for more familiar territory, The Rib.
It was quiet tonight, an indication of all the horsemen having shipped south already, though there were a few trainers there he knew, clients of his. He had a drink with them, then excused himself to make a phone call.
“Is Ginney home?” he asked Bud.
“No.” He told him she and James were on their way to The Rib to eat.
“Thanks,” Randy said, and watched for them.
“Did you get a card from Dawn today?” he asked, practically as soon as they came through the door.
“Yes, why?” Ginney said.
“I need to know the postmark. Do you have it with you?”
Ginney laughed and made a face. “No. I take it you didn’t get one?”
Randy looked at her. Wasn’t that obvious? “What’d she say?” He motioned to the bartender as the three of them sat down at a table. “What do you want?”
“Vodka on the rocks,” Ginney said, and James nodded.
“Two vodkas on the rocks.” Randy grabbed his wallet, took out a ten-dollar bill, and asked again. “So, what’d she say?”
“Oh,” Ginney paused, thinking. “Well, she asked how I was doing, and then asked about James.” She smiled as she and James looked at one another. “And that’s about it.”
“Call your dad.”
“What?”
“Call him and ask him what the postmark is?”
“Randy...?”
“Please.”
Ginney shook her head, sighed, walked to the pay phone by the ladies room, and returned moments later.
“Cooksburg.”
Randy stared. “Cooksburg?”
“Probably Cook Forest,” James said.
Randy looked at him. “What?”
“I was there hunting once.”
“What, so it’s a lodge?”
“No, it’s a forest, literally. There’s cabins and lodges all over the place. Hundreds of them.”
Randy sat back.
“Sorry.”
Randy nodded, thought of something else, then dug into his jeans for a quarter, came up with a roofing nail and two screws, and checked his other pocket. Two dimes and a nickel. “I’ll be right back.” He phoned information, got the listing for Matthew Fioritto, and walk
ed back dejected, another dead end.
“Who’d you call?”
“Her Uncle Matt. They’re out of the country.” He propped his elbow on the table and stared into the wood grain. Another idea crossed his mind then. Harland. If he could just remember his last name? Harland what? He looked up. “The club. They’ll know. I’ll see you later. Thanks.”
He drove back across town, approached the desk, and pled his case. “Jeremy, please. I just want Harland’s last name. It that too much to ask?”
“Yes, Dr. Iredell, it is. The club has strict rules about this sort of thing. I could be fired,” he said, sounding genuinely sorry. “I wish I could help, but...”
Randy nodded, dejected yet again, and turned to leave, when who approached him but Dave. He shook his head, in no mood for the guy. And good ole Dave should have been able to see that.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Randy.”
Randy held up his hand and started past him, but Dave grabbed hold of his arm. “What’s your hurry?” he said. “Seems we have more in common now than ever.”
“Oh yeah?” Randy hauled off and flattened him, just like that. Jeremy screamed. Randy warned Dave, “Get up and you’re going to regret it.”
Dave wisely stayed down. Jeremy rushed over, urged Randy to, “Go. Please, Dr. Iredell, go...” And Randy walked out.
Furious, Randy started his truck and headed home. Halfway there, though, he turned around and drove to Dawn’s apartment instead. He still had the keys. There had to be a clue there to where she’d gone, an envelope, an address book.
“Oh my God...” As he pulled into the parking garage, his heart stopped. There was a jeep sitting next to the Jaguar. Was she home...? No. He should’ve known better. When he got out and looked, it was obvious that it wasn’t a new jeep, the kind one would lease. It was Aunt Maeve’s. He recognized it from the dent in the right fender. He pulled around to the front and parked on the street. As he entered the lobby, Aunt Maeve was walking toward the elevator, her hands full of Chinese food containers.
“Maeve.”
She turned, saw who it was, and smiled. “Oh, Randy. How nice. Have you eaten yet? I was just about to go up and try some of this concoction.” She handed over several of the containers. “I don’t plan to eat it all, I just didn’t know what I would like. If it weren’t for prowling alone, believe me, I would have gone out for some real food.”
Winning Odds Trilogy Page 46