If You Ever Tell

by Carlene Thompson

  As Teri stood watching him for a moment, he mumbled, “Mommy,” then, “it’s not a real dog,” before kicking spasmodically and rolling onto his side. Even in his sleep, he was still worried about what Mommy would say, Teresa thought sympathetically. Well, maybe Kent had been so overwhelmed with managing a company thrust on him when he was young and inexperienced, he’d comforted himself with the idea that Sharon’s problems would “just work out by themselves.” After tonight, though, he couldn’t abrogate his responsibility to his child any longer. Kent would know that in her current state of mind, Sharon was a damaging influence on the boy and do something about the problem—something sensible yet kind. Sharon would not be treated as Marielle had been because Kent, thank goodness, was no Hugh Farr.

  Teri bent down and kissed Daniel lightly on the forehead, an informality Daniel granted no one except his daddy, mommy, and grandfather when he was awake. “Gotcha!” Teresa whispered, smiling. She then blew a kiss at Sierra, whose amber gaze ricocheted between Daniel and Teri, her two charges. Teri walked quietly out of the room, leaving the door open a couple of inches.

  Descending the stairway, she still heard the pops and booms of fireworks in the distance. Normally she took her binoculars to the front porch and tried to spot the fireworks of those few lonely stragglers still trying to put on a show. But tonight she wanted only to huddle in a chair and lose herself in a book. She went in the kitchen, glanced at the mess she and Daniel had made, finished cleaning up the broken glass, even running a miniature sweeper over the spot so Daniel wouldn’t cut his foot if he came downstairs barefoot, and finally she turned off the police scanner. She’d heard just about all the bad news she could tolerate for one night.

  Teri went back to the living room, feeling as if she should call and check on Carmen’s state of mind, but she didn’t need a phone call to let her know Carmen’s emotions had gone through the wringer tonight. Also, she might have taken a pill and Teri would awaken her from the merciful oblivion of sleep.

  Teresa paced around her living room, amused by how perfect it looked. She liked a neat house, but she certainly never kept every ashtray in place, every tabletop looking as if it dared a dust mote to land on its surface. She’d been expecting guests tonight. If things had gone well, china plates and champagne flutes would be sitting around the room and Teri would be dreading the cleanup job she’d have tomorrow morning. Now she felt as if cleaning would have been a joy if only Carmen and Gabe’s announcement hadn’t caused the storm of the century.

  Teri passed over The Grapes of Wrath in favor of People magazine and leaned back in the big recliner that always felt soft and welcoming, as if caressing her tenderly. Except for tonight. The chair back felt too stiff and she thought she felt a lump in the seat cushion. She stood up to investigate, then heard a knock at the door.

  She could have cried in pure relief. Mac, at last. Well, she’d just give him a piece of her mind! She’d ask why he hadn’t called her. She’d ask why he hadn’t answered his cell phone. She’d ask where the hell he’d been!

  Angry and tired as she was, Teri nevertheless pulled a wide-toothed comb from the small drawer of the table near the entrance and ran it through her hair, then tossed it back in the drawer. She didn’t want him to catch her primping. He deserved to see her at her worst. He should never have just left her hanging for so long. But he was here now, she thought with a lightning change of mood. Daniel had Sierra for protection and Teri had Mac. Dear, handsome, funny, loving, sometimes absent-minded Mac.

  But when she swung open the front door, she found Carmen standing on her porch. She wore old, ragged jeans, a gray T-shirt that looked wrinkled and sweaty, as if she’d worn it while doing heavy labor, and a loose navy blue windbreaker. Her brown hair hung tangled around a face white as parchment except for messy smears of black where tears had dragged mascara and eyeliner down to her high cheekbones.

  Madeleine, Teri thought briefly. Carmen looks as otherworldly as Madeline in Poe’s “The Fall of the House of Usher.”

  “Carmen?” she asked faintly. “What happened? Have they found Sharon?”

  Carmen shook her head no.

  “Where’s Gabe?”

  Carmen began to tremble, then flung herself into Teresa’s arms. “Gabe has left me,” she grated out. “Marriage to him was the last, best dream of my life, and he simply smashed it with one brief, devastating phone call.”

  3

  Jason Warner slowly opened his eyes. For ten seconds he stared at the dark sky in complete confusion until pain like a red-hot poker stabbed somewhere in the region of his stomach. He put his hand to the pain, pressed—the act making him cry out in agony—and jerked away his hand, raising it to eye level. Even in the darkness, he could see the dark liquid floating down to his wrist, working its way between his fingers. Blood. Lots and lots of blood.

  He tried to sit up, to see the extent of the damage to his body, but the slightest movement made him feel as if huge, hideous hands were digging out his insides. The image brought on the urge to throw up, but he used every ounce of his waning strength to control the urge. Instinctively, he felt the urge could kill him. It was possible to die of pain. He knew that wasn’t just an expression.

  Jason turned his head slightly to the right and saw the tire of his car—the car that would have offered protection and escape if they’d just gotten inside and away from this place five minutes sooner. He knew a suitcase, a tote bag, a duffel lay scattered around him, flung by his own startled hands when something, someone, wearing a long dark coat and a hood had flown at him, knife raised, long silver blade caught in the glow of the porch light, flashing wickedly before it plunged into him, driven by a strong hand and guided by someone emitting a low, animal-like cry of triumph as the knife pushed through skin and muscle, and sent blood gushing across his shirt.

  The knife had twisted and Jason had uttered a stunned sound of shock and pain, before dropping to the ground. His attacker had turned him over, withdrawn the knife, causing Jason another nearly unbearable wave of agony, then dashed for the house and the open kitchen door.

  Jason looked straight ahead again, took as deep a breath as possible, and lifted his chin, craning back his head. The kitchen door still stood open, bright light spilling from the small room his mother kept immaculate. Except she would keep it immaculate no longer. Jason moaned when he saw Fay, sprawled close to the door, her hand clutched to her neck, the left side of her face and her left hand, arm, and side bathed in a garish wash of fresh crimson blood. He could even see her blue eyes, open, staring at nothing.

  And Celeste? He drew enough breath to utter her name, but unless she’d been close to the door, she couldn’t have heard him. Had she escaped? Or was she lying inside the house, dead? Or maybe, like years ago, close to death?

  The doorway began to shift, then to whirl. Jason closed his eyes, knowing he was on the verge of passing out. He couldn’t look at the spinning world any longer, but he could still hear—not the boom of fireworks but a sound like sirens. He tried to open his eyes, but the effort was too great. He took as deep a breath as he could manage, waiting for death to enfold him, when suddenly a white light shone through the veil of his eyelids. Jason wondered if this was the light everyone talked about seeing when you were dying.

  His question was answered when he heard someone yell, “He’s over here and he’s alive.” Then someone gently touched his shoulder and a deep male voice said, “Just be calm, fella. I’m a cop, and emergency services will be here any minute. You’re going to be all right, now.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-ONE

  1

  CELESTE HAD RUN ALONG the chain-link fence surrounding Defense Logistics Agency until she’d come to a slope. Halfway down, her tennis shoe slipped on dew-laden weeds and she’d rolled all the way down into a field. At first terrified that she’d either broken her leg or sprained her ankle, she’d sat still, looking around, trying to catch her breath. Then she stood, feeling only minor pain in her ankle. S
lowly, carefully, she crept across the back of the field where the undergrowth was high, crossed a narrow dirt road, drew a ragged breath, and almost burst into tears when she read the dark green writing on a large white sign:

  FARR FIELDS

  She was not Catholic, but she made the sign of the cross and mouthed a silent prayer to the dark sky. She’d made it. She was hot, she was dirty, she was exhausted, but she’d made it to safety.

  Celeste darted to the trees lining the edge of the road and skittered across the open fields where the beautiful horses whiled away their days eating grass, soaking up the sun, occasionally being taken for a walk or even a run. Crouching behind one of the ring posts, Celeste looked with longing at the big, luxurious barn. She ran for the corner and felt an almost overwhelming desire to enter, pet the horses she knew had not received enough attention since the murder of Gus Gibbs everyone kept trying to keep her from hearing about, then crawl onto a mound of hay and sleep peacefully the rest of the night. In the morning, there would be time to think about Daddy and Grandma. She would have the rest of her life to think about Daddy and Grandma.

  But they’re dead, Celeste told herself. As much as it hurts, I know they’re dead. But Teri is still alive—I know it; I can feel it! And she’ll stay alive if I can help her like she once helped me.

  2

  Teri led a weeping Carmen to the couch and sat down beside her. Suddenly Teri realized she’d never seen Carmen cry. Oh, a few controlled tears had stood in her eyes sometimes when she’d talked about Marielle after her disappearance, but generally Carmen always had been upbeat, optimistic. She’d always told Teri not to lose hope about anything, but Carmen’s flowing tears let Teri know that Carmen now had completely lost hope for herself.

  A lot of people in town thought Carmen’s outer self-control indicated a lack of feeling anything for anyone. How wrong they’d been, Teresa thought. Carmen had cared about Marielle. And no one who saw Carmen now could say she wasn’t crushed by Gabe’s—Gabe’s what? Teri realized she didn’t know exactly what had happened between Carmen and Gabe, and now bluntly asked her, just as Carmen had bluntly asked Teri what had happened when she broke off her engagement to Mac.

  “Are you asking if he ‘jilted’ me?” Carmen managed a tiny, sarcastic smile. “Not exactly. He said we had to put off the wedding until after he’s taken care of his daughter.”

  Teri leaned back and looked at her friend with a smile. “Good heavens, Carmen, he hasn’t dropped you. He just wants to postpone the wedding—”

  “You don’t know him as well as I do and you didn’t hear him on the phone.” Carmen made the pathetic sound of a dying animal. “He is not going to marry me, Teri. Gabe O’Brien simply doesn’t want me anymore.”

  “That can’t be true, Carmen. Now pull yourself together and think about this logically. A few hours ago, he loved you so deeply he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. Do you think because his daughter had a temper fit about it, he’s going to throw you away?”

  “Honestly, yes. He doesn’t think his daughter is just having a temper fit. He thinks she’s having a nervous breakdown. He even compared her to your mother, Teri.” Teresa winced. “Oh, God, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. I said about five other things to Gabe on the phone I’m sorry for, but I said them, and he’ll never forgive me.”

  “You don’t know that, Carmen. Gabe was speaking in the heat of the moment just as you were. As soon as they find Sharon—and they will, very soon, I’m sure—he’s going to think this through and realize what happened. He doesn’t want to lose you, Carmen.”

  After a moment of silence, Carmen said harshly, “Sharon told him I had an affair with your father.”

  Teresa felt herself blushing like a child. She didn’t know why she found Sharon’s accusation of a sexual involvement between her father and Carmen so unsettling. It was ridiculous, Teri told herself. Preposterous! Absurd! At least four more synonyms popped into her mind with flashing speed. Yet she had the sensation of grasping at straws, at grabbing for easy, dismissive words that required no thought. Teri wondered why she felt so awkward.

  Because something about the very suggestion of Carmen and Dad having sex, not once but many times, feels sickeningly possible, she thought in surprise. Because Carmen’s betrayal of Mom, supposedly Carmen’s best friend, suddenly doesn’t seem at all unthinkable, Teri realized in surprise, remembering little glances, brief touches, small, intimate smiles between Hugh and Carmen, turned off like a light switch when they caught someone gazing at them.

  Carmen looked at her piercingly. Unnerved, Teri said quickly, “Gabe doesn’t believe you were involved with my father. If over the phone he sounded as if he did, it’s just because he’s flustered. When he calms down, Carmen, he’ll realize you couldn’t even stand to be around my father, much less to be his mistress. You just need patience. This rift between the two of you can be fixed.”

  “Oh, how I wish that were true.” All of the life suddenly seemed to drain from Carmen. She slumped on the couch, clasping her hands, her gaze far away. She looked dead, and abruptly Teresa felt afraid for her. And of her, she admitted to herself. The Carmen Teresa had known and loved for years had suddenly become someone she felt she barely knew. But at least the woman was no longer giving her that probing, piercing look that seemed to reach her very soul, Teresa thought in relief. She’d never seen that look in Carmen’s eyes before tonight.

  “Carmen, I think you need a drink to calm you down,” Teri said abruptly. “I’d offer a tranquilizer, but I don’t have any.”

  “I’d rather have a drink,” Carmen said in a toneless voice. “But not champagne. God, not champagne.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of champagne. I have beer. I also have some tequila and margarita mix. How about a margarita? You’ve always loved margaritas.”

  “I have?” Carmen said vaguely. “It’s so silly, but at the moment I can’t seem to remember what I did and did not love.” She glanced at Teri. “Yes, I would like a margarita.”

  “Good. So would I.” Teresa stood. “You just relax on the couch and I’ll bring out the drinks in a few minutes.”

  Carmen leaned forward slowly and shifted several times, as if she were trying to coordinate the parts of different bodies. “I’ll go in the kitchen with you, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to sit out here by myself.” She looked around. “Where’s Sierra, by the way? You two are nearly inseparable.”

  “On a usual night, yes, but tonight’s special,” Teri said lightly as she dashed into the kitchen, Carmen shambling along behind her. “Daniel is staying with me and he wanted to sleep with Sierra.”

  “Sharon won’t like that.”

  “Sharon won’t know if I can help it. Anyway, my only fear was that Sierra wouldn’t sleep with anyone except for me, but she snuggled right up to Daniel,” Teri chattered, knowing she spoke louder and faster than usual, wondering if Carmen even noticed. “I never get snuggled, but I think she realized Daniel needed all the comfort he could get in spite of the Coke and cupcakes he’d had earlier. The poor little guy was completely thrown by his mother’s scene downtown.”

  “No wonder. Sharon will be the talk of the town tomorrow. That should make her happy. She always wants to be the center of attention.”

  Carmen’s words were bitter, but her voice sounded flat. She could have been talking about someone she didn’t know.

  “I don’t think she wants the kind of attention she got tonight.” Teresa stretched to reach a bottle of tequila on the top shelf of a kitchen cabinet. It sat beside a bottle of scotch and a bottle of bourbon. “I guarantee she’ll regret it tomorrow.”

  “She probably loves that everyone is so worried and out looking for her,” Carmen went on in a distant voice as if she hadn’t heard Teri. “Do you think she’ll come here?”

  “Oh, I doubt it. The only reason she would is if she thinks I have Daniel, and if she comes here to get him, I won’t let her have him. Not if she’s alone. If Kent is with he
r… well, Kent wouldn’t want Daniel disturbed. I don’t think you and I will be seeing Sharon tonight.”

  Teresa pulled a bottle of margarita mix from the refrigerator. She poured tequila and the well-chilled mix in the blender and turned it on, hoping the noise wouldn’t awaken Daniel. She was pouring the drinks into big glasses when Carmen asked, “Where’s Mac? Has he joined the search, too?”

  “I can’t find him, either. He said Emma wasn’t feeling well and he was going to drop her off at her apartment, then come here, but he’s never turned up. I’ve tried his cell phone, his home phone, and even Emma’s phone, but I can’t get an answer anywhere.”

  “So you and Daniel are all alone.”

  “Yes.” Teri hesitated, suddenly hit by the strong scent of sandalwood. “Carmen, did you just put on cologne?” she asked, turning around.

  “It’s my favorite scent,” Carmen returned calmly, steadily pointing a .22 revolver at Teresa’s forehead.

  3

  Celeste was girding herself for a run across the field and up the knoll to Teri’s front door when she saw someone climbing Teri’s front porch steps. She instinctively hit the ground, flattening herself as much as possible in the well-trimmed grass. Celeste squinted furiously, but the person in long ragged jeans walked with head lowered and hands tucked inside a voluminous windbreaker. Teri’s visitor didn’t dress or walk like anyone with whom Celeste was familiar, and she couldn’t get a good enough look at the face to be sure of the identity.