If You Ever Tell

by Carlene Thompson

  But Gabe would not say any of this to Carmen. It was one thing to admit it to himself. It was quite another to admit it to an outsider. Outsider? The word drew him up short. He was supposed to marry Carmen in two months. Just this morning he’d told himself how very much he loved her, what a wonderful woman she was, how he couldn’t wait until he could call her “wife.” And now he was thinking of her as an outsider?

  “Carmen, I have to ask you a question. What Sharon said about you and Hugh Farr—”

  “Is a damned lie! She’s crazy!” Carmen snarled. Gabe could hear her sharp intake of breath. “I mean, it isn’t true and the idea is crazy, not Sharon.”

  After a moment of silence, Gabe said, “Of course.”

  “I didn’t mean to snap about what Sharon said. Clearly she believes it. Helen must have seen Hugh with someone else and mistaken her for me. But now we know why Sharon has always disliked me.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  Silence spun out before Carmen asked, “Will you consider resting for at least another hour and let Kent take over the search now?”

  “No. I’m going back out as soon as we get off the phone. It’s my duty to find her, not Kent’s.”

  “But he’s her husband—her next of kin.”

  “Legally he’s her next of kin, but she’s much closer to me than him!”

  “And that’s what you want, isn’t it?” Carmen burst out. “When she and Kent have had problems, you haven’t encouraged her to work them out with him. You’ve encouraged her to come to you, and then you’ve always taken her side, always told her she’s right, let her turn you against Kent. You told me you didn’t like him anymore.”

  “You said you didn’t, either!” Gabe flared.

  “I said he’d changed. No wonder. First his father was murdered and suspicion fell not only on his sister but also on him, then he had a shotgun wedding to your daughter—” Gabe stiffened, his face suffusing with red. “And finally, you’ve never turned loose of her. You fanned the fires in their marriage—the fire of anger, not of passion. I think you did that so she’d eventually leave him, and she and Daniel would come home to you!”

  By now, Gabe’s annoyance had turned to fury. “That is the vilest lie I’ve ever heard! If I hadn’t heard you say it, I wouldn’t believe you could say it! Is this what you’ve always thought of my daughter?”

  Carmen paused. He could hear her breathing heavily. He pictured her fighting for control over her emotions, for her usual self-possession—the self-possession he’d admired and loved. “Gabe, I went completely overboard a minute ago. Please forgive me. I’m concerned about Sharon, too. I’m worried—”

  “You’re worried that her behavior is going to change my mind about marrying you.” Gabe felt as if he saw the whole situation clearly now. Sharon had known more than she said about Carmen, even if she’d been wrong about an affair between Carmen and Hugh. Sharon had acted so wildly tonight because she was afraid of the harm a marriage to Carmen would do to him, the father she loved so much. “I believe you said exactly how you felt, Carmen, even if you are completely wrong.”

  “Gabe, please listen to reason,” Carmen begged desperately. “I’m just afraid her reaction will make you think twice about marrying me. I don’t mean this as an insult, but she can be manipulative.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Norris. I thought I was the manipulative one, trying to break up her marriage so she’d come home to Daddy,” Gabe returned icily.

  “Oh, Gabe, I’m sorry. I’m so upset I hardly know what I’m saying tonight. I didn’t mean to criticize either one of you—”

  “But that’s what you did. And you didn’t just speak out of anger—you said what you really feel. After all this time, I finally know what you think. Well, listen closely, Carmen. You can say what you want about me, but I won’t have you criticizing my daughter!” Gabe looked at the small oil portrait of his dead wife, Helen, hanging on the wall—Helen, with her kind eyes and gentle smile—and he made a quick, definite decision. “Carmen, I think we should forget about this wedding for now.”

  “Gabe, no!” Carmen cried in anguish.

  “Yes,” Gabe returned coolly. “I’m afraid that’s the way things have to be until I take care of my daughter.”

  But as he hung up, Gabriel O’Brien knew his wedding to Carmen wasn’t merely on hold.

  It was canceled.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  1

  TERESA HAD BEEN SO preoccupied with reviewing the events of the evening, she hadn’t noticed when Daniel stopped talking. She looked over at him to see his eyelids drooping as he began to sag in his chair. She glanced at the kitchen clock.

  “Daniel, it’s twelve o’clock! You have to go to bed!” The child jumped, then made an effort to open his eyes wide and sit up straight on his kitchen chair. Both attempts failed.

  “I’m gonna stay up all night,” Daniel said truculently. “You can’t make me go to bed.”

  “Oh yes, I can.”

  “Cannot, cannot.” Daniel’s eyelids were beginning to droop again. “No!”

  Teresa looked at the stubborn little boy planted firmly on his chair. She was not going to carry him upstairs and toss him onto a bed. Then inspiration struck.

  “Daniel, if you go to bed now like a good boy, I’ll let you ride Caesar tomorrow.” Teresa hated to stoop to bribery—she was quite certain all the child psychologists would frown on it—but at this point, all Teresa cared about was that the exhausted little boy get some sleep. “How about it, Daniel? You can stay up all night, or you can go to sleep and when you wake up tomorrow, take a ride on Caesar. Which will it be?”

  Daniel looked at her mutinously with his tired eyes, but his love for the horse outweighed his determination to show Teri who was boss. “Well, maybe I am a little bit sleepy.” Teresa smothered a smile. The little boy wasn’t going to wilt, but he was attempting to make going to bed his decision, not her command. “I’d prob’ly ride better tomorrow if I took a nap.”

  “I’m sure that’s true.”

  “So I guess I’ll go to sleep for a little while.”

  “I think you’ve made a wise decision,” Teresa said gravely. “Would you like to take your nap in the guest room or in my room?”

  Daniel pretended to think this over. Finally, he asked, “Does Sierra sleep with you?”

  “Yes, but there would be plenty of room for the three of us. I have a queen-sized bed.”

  “Well, if Sierra’s gonna be there, I guess I’ll sleep in your bed. But it’s not ’cause I’m scared to be alone. I’d just like to sleep with Sierra. Mommy won’t let me have a dog, even though I’ve asked and asked. You won’t tell her I slept in the same bed with Sierra, will you?”

  “I absolutely will not.” Teresa was sincere. She would do just about anything to make Daniel comfortable on this strange night. Besides, she didn’t think Sharon would care what sleeping arrangements she made as long as Daniel was safe.

  Ten minutes later, she had Daniel tucked into her bed. She’d motioned for Sierra to jump up, too, and the dog now lay beside Daniel, who flung his little arm lovingly across the dog. Daniel’s eyes were already shut and his breathing becoming deeper and regular and she made another motion for Sierra to hold her position while Teresa tiptoed out of the room. Normally, Sierra wanted to be with her mistress at all times, but the dog was so enamored of Daniel, who never tired of giving her the ear rubs she loved so much, Sierra acquiesced and stayed with her new charge for the evening.

  Teresa quietly closed the bedroom door so no noise would disturb the little boy who’d finally surrendered to sleep. She went downstairs and did what she had to do—

  Pace and worry.

  Mac had said he was just going to drop off his mother, then come to her house. “So where is he?” Teresa asked no one. Was Emma sick? Had it been necessary for him to stay with his mother? He would have called to tell me, Teresa thought.

  Unless he’d been in a car wreck. Unless he were in an ambulance or even the h
ospital, maybe unconscious, maybe dying. Teresa’s heart pounded as she rushed to the phone. Gory, tragic scenes flashed in her mind—Mac lying bloody and battered, perhaps mumbling her name, perhaps already drawing his last breath without her by his side, holding his hand, telling him again as she had last night that she loved him, that she’d never stopped loving him.

  He’d given her his cell phone number last night and she’d already memorized it. Teresa dialed frantically. The phone rang twice and then sent her directly to voice mail. She’d left a message—somewhat garbled, laced with irritation and a couple of expletives simply because she’d frightened herself so badly—then the allotted time for her message abruptly ended.

  Mac couldn’t be deliberately dodging her, she thought. Not after last night. Not after promising not to desert her during what he’d thought was going to be an edgy, potentially disastrous engagement announcement at her house. He’d left before the scene downtown, before Sharon had stormed away. He didn’t even know she was missing.

  Teresa knew calling the club would be useless. She called his apartment and got his answering machine. Then, as a last resort, she’d looked up Emma’s phone number and called her apartment. Nothing. Not even an answering machine. And Emma had supposedly wanted to go home because she didn’t feel well. At least that’s what Mac had told Teresa.

  “And if it’s what he told me, it’s true,” Teresa told herself severely. The only reason he might possibly want to lie to her was that he didn’t want to attend the “party” at Teri’s house, but Mac would have simply refused to come. He would have been nice, he would have been apologetic, but he would have refused. He wouldn’t have just left her hanging, wondering where he could be after midnight when he was supposed to be with her.

  Returning to her original scenario of the car wreck, Teresa called the emergency room at the hospital. Someone answered, then immediately put her on hold. She held. And held. And held until she had an urge to toss the receiver through her picture window. She knew the emergency room was always busy on the night of the Fourth of July—too many untrained people tried to set off their own fireworks and ended up being burned or even losing a finger. Worse. She remembered a boy she’d gone to high school with setting off a firecracker incorrectly and suffering third-degree burns to most of his face. He’d been such a handsome guy. Now people told her he was a complete recluse.

  Teresa shook her head as if trying to shake free of the terrible image. She hadn’t thought about that poor guy for years. But of course she had to remember him tonight, she thought with irrational resentment—a night when she was worried sick that Mac and Emma might be lying in a car being eaten away by voracious flames and excruciating heat.

  Teresa decided she would try the hospital again in a few minutes. In the meantime, she’d see if Kent had found Sharon. She dialed his cell phone number and Kent nearly yelled, “Sharon! Where are you?”

  “It’s Teri, not Sharon, which you would have known if you’d looked at your Caller ID. But I can tell that you haven’t found her.”

  “No, dammit.”

  “And neither has Gabe?”

  “I just talked to him a few minutes ago. He’s gone home to wait for a couple of hours. She might go there.”

  “Good idea. She certainly won’t come here.”

  Kent began speaking in a guilty, defeated tone. “I’ve known for months things weren’t right with Sharon. She thought Gabe was seeing someone and that didn’t suit her. And I’ve been gone a lot—I’ve been working twelve hours a day including Saturdays, but I’m half-convinced Sharon believes I have a mistress. Also, we’ve found out she can’t have any more children. She wanted three because she was an only child and lonely. Anyway, knowing she can’t have more has made her cling even tighter to Daniel.”

  “Oh, Kent, I didn’t know you couldn’t have more children.”

  “Sharon didn’t want anyone to know. I think she could have stood it if the problem was with me, but it’s with her. It doesn’t matter to me. Thousands of children in the world need a good home. But Sharon won’t even talk about adoption. She considers it an announcement to the world that she’s a failure.” The energy left Kent’s voice and Teresa could almost see him slumping behind the wheel of his big SUV. “Going to the cops won’t do any good. She’s only been gone a couple of hours. But I’m not going to stop looking for her, Teri, because I’m afraid this night could be the breaking point for my wife.”

  “It won’t be,” Teresa said fervently. “Sharon is not like our mother, Kent. She’s much stronger than she seems.”

  “I hope so,” Kent said doubtfully. “How’s Daniel?”

  “Sleeping soundly with Sierra lying right beside him.”

  “Oh great, Sharon would love that. A dog in bed with our son.”

  “Sierra had a bath less than a week ago. And Daniel adores her. And Sharon doesn’t have to know.”

  “I guess she doesn’t. Teri, I should get off the phone now. Sharon might be trying to reach me.”

  “All right. Good luck and call me as soon as it’s convenient.” Teresa added somewhat self-consciously, “I love you, big brother.”

  She couldn’t see him, but she heard the slight smile in his voice. “Love you, Teri. And I’m sorry I set fire to your Barbie doll when I was eleven.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve bought a new one. Now go find your wife.”

  Teresa set down the phone and went into the kitchen for a glass of wine. A mixed drink or two glasses of wine a week were usually her limit, but she had to admit this had been an unusually stressful week. Alcohol didn’t solve any problems, but it did make her feel slightly more relaxed. She took a sip of the sharp, cold white wine and jumped when the police scanner crackled to life.

  Teresa barely listened as the dispatcher spoke. “Any available city unit in vicinity of Mount Vernon Avenue.”

  Mount Vernon, Teri thought. So near. She was listening more closely when a policeman answered. “City Three. What do you have?”

  “Third-party call disturbance. Possibly a domestic at 4021 Mount Vernon. Caller heard screaming, saw what appeared to be a young woman running from front of the house. Caller also thinks they see a body lying near a car at the back of the house.”

  Teri dropped her glass of wine. Four-oh-two-one Mount Vernon was the address of Jason and Celeste Warner.

  2

  Hands trembling, Teri dug through a drawer until she found a phone directory. First she looked up the address of Jason Warner and her heart sank—4021 Mount Vernon. She’d correctly remembered the Warners’ address. Next she looked at the phone number and dialed frantically. She let the phone ring ten times, her fear growing with every unanswered ring, then replaced her receiver in the handset.

  There could be dozens of reasons that the Warners weren’t answering tonight, she told herself. They hadn’t gone directly home after the fireworks display. Fay had decided to make Celeste go to bed early and had turned the phones down low so no ringing would awaken the girl. The Warners just didn’t feel like answering—

  And their next-door neighbor had called the police about a disturbance, people screaming, and a body lying in the backyard. Maybe Celeste. She’d told Teri in the barn that someone still wanted her dead. Perhaps she’d been right.

  Except the dispatcher had said that what appeared to be a young woman had been running from the front of the house. Oh, God, please let that be Celeste, Teri prayed. Celeste, who must have been trying to call her earlier when she and Daniel had just arrived. Celeste whose last word to Teri had been “kill.”

  Teresa took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. The voice on the phone had been so gravelly, maybe the word hadn’t been “kill.” And maybe the voice hadn’t even belonged to Celeste, she thought. Maybe it all had just been another prank.

  Except that Caller ID showed the earlier calls had come from the Warner house. Except that police had been summoned to the house because a “third party” had heard screaming. Screaming! “Sure, t
here’s nothing to worry about,” Teri muttered sarcastically to herself. “Those are all simply a bunch of coincidences. The Warner family is just fine.”

  Teresa tried the Warner phone number again, and again no one answered. She put down the receiver, feeling nervous perspiration popping out on her forehead. She could only remember one night of her life that had been worse than this one, and she certainly didn’t want to think about what had happened that night.

  Hardly thinking about what she was doing, Teri stooped and began picking up pieces of the wineglass she’d dropped on the floor. She didn’t realize one had punctured two fingers until she saw a drop of blood hit the vinyl. She glanced at her finger, removed a splinter of glass, then mentally cursed as more blood dripped from a second minuscule hole. God, she’d been careless, she thought. She’d been careless and numb. She still felt no stinging pain—she just couldn’t stand the sight of blood. Not tonight.

  A roll of paper towels stood conveniently nearby and Teri tore off one, wrapping it tightly around the index and middle fingers of her right hand. She applied pressure for about a minute, then removed the towel, too impatient to coddle herself any more. She reached for the phone and dialed the Warner home again. No answer. She sighed in frustration. When she replaced the receiver, she saw her blood on the numbers. Blood on the floor, blood on the phone. Blood in the Warner house. She was certain of it.

  Teri felt a sudden need to make sure her nephew, at least, was safe. She grabbed another paper towel in case her fingers were still bleeding, then nearly ran through the house and up the stairs to her bedroom. Teri opened the door and tiptoed inside the room. Sierra raised her head, but Teri held two fingers up to her lips and the dog seemed to understand the message. Someone once made that gesture to me in a dark hall, Teresa thought with a shiver, and I, too, went completely silent.

  Daniel lay on his left side, his right hand touching Sierra’s shoulder. The dog always slept at the foot of the bed when Teri was in residence, but tonight Sierra had obviously been trying to comfort the frightened child. Dogs could sense so many things for which humans often didn’t give them credit. Sierra had known Daniel was scared and troubled. But now his face looked smooth and peaceful in sleep, his mouth open slightly, his strawberry blond hair skimmed back from his forehead and slightly damp although the room was comfortably cool.