Point Blank Read online

  I shook my head and disconnected. Cheri had said he was having “fits,” but he sounded fine. The whole deal about Tuesday was still a mystery, but the fact he would drive hundreds of miles to join me was sweet. Like something from a romantic movie. In fact, since he was coming, I could forget about the slowpoke bus. We could drive together over the scenic mountain passes instead. I could point out favorite spots along the way, and we could hold hands and have each other all to ourselves. No football. No talk about talent scouts and going pro.

  Just us. All the way … home.

  Suddenly, I visualized Brock standing beside me at Dad’s front door and felt a twinge in my gut. My hand was at the doorbell, but I hesitated. Was it too soon to introduce my boyfriend? Or did this awkward feeling come from avoiding Dad for so long?

  Shaking off the vision, I picked up my pace and crossed the highway to Dalton’s residential streets. Maybe I should call and let Dad know I was on my way. Lifting my phone, I found his number on the contact list. My pace slowed again as I pondered what to say.

  Hi, Dad. I’m on my way for a visit. My boyfriend is with me. Wait, he would think it was serious. No, Dad I’m not getting married. He’s just… Just what? Handsome and popular? Easy to be with—unlike you?

  I cringed and exited the screen. Talking to Dad had never been easy, but it seemed so much harder after Mom was gone. And now that I’d been away so long, it had become even more difficult. Brock’s presence would add yet another complication.

  Not that Brock was difficult. At least, not most of the time.

  My roommate, Cheri, would disagree. She thought Brock was too moody. He had plenty of moments when he wasn’t easy to be around, but he was also under a lot of pressure, especially since he was being eyed for the upcoming NFL draft. Cheri didn’t know him as well as I did. She hadn’t seen his quirky humor, or heard how passionate he was about team loyalty and commitment, both of which were qualities to admire.

  Would Dad be able to see what I saw in him?

  Cheri also criticized the pressure Brock put on our relationship. She didn’t see how he challenged us to be a better couple. He took life seriously and had high expectations. Perhaps Cheri’s opinion would improve when she saw how much Brock missed me and how he made this long drive to be with me.

  I tucked the phone in my pocket and tried a brisker walking pace. This would be the first time Brock and I spent together outside the context of school and his game schedule. It could turn out to be positive for both of us.

  Once again I tried to visualize Brock standing with me at Dad’s door, but when it opened, Dad’s expression was an indiscernible muddle.

  I sighed. My thoughts about Dad had become a lot like my thoughts about Mom. For different reasons, both of them made my heart ache. If I hadn’t gotten off the bus last night, I would be there already. I’d be standing at the front door, mustering the courage to face the gulf between us. I hoped that, with Brock coming, he could help me figure things out. Help smooth the awkward transition back home.

  With any luck, this detour in Nowhereville would turn out to be a blessing in disguise.

  After wandering on a loop that took me on every dusty street in town, I returned to the main road and decided to stop in at the café. I stepped up onto the boardwalk porch and caught sight of a carved, hand-painted sign over the door, as weathered and faded as the rest of the building. It read Café Du Louvre in embellished script. A suitably humorous name, given that I’d noticed the walls were covered in artwork for sale when I picked up my cocoa last night.

  The bell jangled as I entered, and some old farmer-types in a corner booth glanced my way. An older couple stood at the cash register. The waitress looked up while handing them change. “Have a seat. I’ll be right with you.”

  I found a small table by the front window and scanned the menu card decorated with hand-flourished script similar to the sign outside. “You’ll ‘louvre’ our pie!” it cheerfully proclaimed under clear laminate.

  The waitress brought a glass of water to my table. She seemed about my age, with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her name badge read Cassie. “I see you’ve noticed my parents’ lame sense of humor,” she said.

  “And their artistic flair,” I added, with a pointed glance around the room.

  “You mean the paintings? That’s my mom’s department, but we also consign stuff for others sometimes. There are folks with some genuine talent around here.”

  I nodded toward a wildlife scene nearby. “Your mom’s very talented, and I appreciate her lame humor too.”

  “Fortunately, the pie here is really good,” She pulled a notepad from her apron and swept her bangs aside with the clicker end of her pen. “It’s just the jokes that are lame.”

  I looked at the menu while twisting my mouth. “It’s tempting but … pie in the morning?”

  “I can get you some breakfast instead. What do you like?”

  “Well, I ate breakfast a couple hours ago…”

  She crouched next to me and looked around conspiratorially. “If you really want the pie, I say, go for it. Like my dad says, ‘Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first.’”

  I played along. “A wise man, your father. Got some coconut cream?”

  “Comin’ right up!”

  My phone rang soon after she bounded away.

  Brock.

  “Hi!” I set the menu aside. “I was just about to call you. I didn’t get your messages until late last night.”

  “I’ve been worried about you.” His voice sounded controlled, as if hiding an underlying annoyance.

  “Sorry. The phone battery was dead yesterday, and I was tired when I finally got a room for the night.”

  “So, out of the blue, you decided to go visit your dad and you didn’t think about talking to me? Did you forget we had plans for the Wreckless concert on Friday?”

  Oops. He and Tyler had discussed it before the New Year’s party. “Sorry. You’re right. I forgot.”

  “Sorry? That’s all? It’s a good thing I hadn’t bought the tickets yet.”

  “Sorry.” I bit my lip, realizing I’d said it again.

  “I just wish you hadn’t left like you did. You had me worried.”

  “But there’s nothing to worry about.” A chill made me grasp my shoulder with my free hand, raising the ache of my bruise. “I’ve been missing my dad, that’s all.”

  “I thought you were glad to be away from him. Is something bothering you?”

  “No.” Just my faulty memory.

  “Well, that’s good to hear. I left Phoenix about three hours ago and stopped to get something to eat.”

  “Why such a late start?”

  “I had to take care of some things with Tyler after I got off work. It took a lot longer than I hoped. So where are you, anyway?”

  I bit my thumbnail. “I’m not at my dad’s yet. I messed up and got stuck in some little town thirty miles from my connection. It’s called Dalton.”

  “How far is it from your dad’s?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe hundred miles over a couple mountain passes. I was supposed to catch a bus out of Barrett. It would have gotten me home at twelve-thirty or one a.m.” I took a sip of water, wishing my stomach would relax.

  “One o’clock? What were you going to do? Ring his doorbell in the middle of the night? Does he even know you’re coming?”

  Brock made it sound like a dumb idea. Like I hadn’t thought things through. “I haven’t talked to him yet. I figured I would get a room somewhere and then let him know I was in town.”

  “Well, the good news is I should be able to get to you late tonight and then we can drive the rest of the way tomorrow and see him together.”

  Again, I imagined Brock standing with me at Dad’s front door. Awkward and uncomfortable were two words that sprang to mind. Could I ask him to wait in the car? Conflicting thoughts jumbled in my head. He was waiting for an answer, so I finally conceded. “Sure. I guess maybe we could do that.”
/>   “Maybe? Gee, Penny, I’m trying to help, since you haven’t seen him in a long time. You sound like you’re scared of him or something.”

  Was that the reason my gut was churning?

  Brock’s voice softened again. “I want to be there to support you, babe.”

  There was no point arguing. “Sure. Okay. And sorry again about the concert.”

  Brock sighed. “This is important too. There’ll be other concerts. See you tonight.”

  I ended the call and stared at my water glass.

  A moment later, Cassie brought the pie. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.” I offered a smile, though I no longer felt like eating. “Actually, could you bring me a box for it?”

  “Everything okay?” She tilted her head, her eyebrows raised.

  “Yeah. My boyfriend is driving up today to see me.”

  “And … you’re not happy about that?”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but it seemed she might be right. “Maybe. I don’t know yet.”

  After taking care of the check, I stepped outside into the sunshine. A loud rattle of power tools drew me to the end of the café’s front porch. Across the alley, in the open garage of the gas station, someone lay on the concrete his head and torso under a dark-colored sedan with its hood raised. I couldn’t see if he was last night’s lecherous tobacco-chewer or not.

  My attention was drawn to the mechanic’s boots sticking out from under the vehicle. I set the pie box on the porch railing and my hand brushed against the weathered wood. A sudden dizziness overcame me. Shifting shadows blurred my vision, and I grasped the top rail. As if through a tunnel, I had a vision of someone else lying on concrete—someone without boots or shoes.

  My heart pounded in my ears.

  Bare feet—concrete.

  The darkness shifted again and pain shot through my hip as the scene swirled and tumbled.

  “Oh!” I clenched the railing and leaned over it for support. Then the morning sun pushed the swirling shadows from my mind. Noises from the garage resumed, and I found myself blinking at the flower bed below the porch.

  What just happened? I grasped for the fading mental image of those feet on the concrete slab and took a deep breath. I turned my back to the railing as the dizziness faded.

  Birds chirped. A car drove by on the highway. The second story of Mrs. Wilton’s inn was visible across the street. Like the sensations of déjà vu that seemed to strike at random, this too was a mystery.

  With a shake of my head, I picked up the Styrofoam container and stepped off the porch. Time to head back.

  My phone rang as I crossed the highway and my roommate’s photo appeared on the screen.

  “Finally! You answered!” Cheri’s voice oozed with exaggerated desperation.

  “Sorry. I didn’t know you were trying to get ahold of me.” Seems like apologizing is all I do.

  “That’s okay. I suppose service is sketchy up there in the mountains. Have you heard about Abbi Maxwell yet?”

  “No.” The name sounded familiar. “Who is she?”

  “You know, Tyler’s girlfriend. I’m sure you saw her at the New Year’s Eve party.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember her.” The one I tried to ignore.

  “The party is the last time anyone has seen her.”

  I stopped midstride. “What? She’s missing?”

  “They’ve been hunting for her since yesterday, or maybe the day before. Anyway, with you being one of the last people who saw her, the cops want to talk with you.”

  “Me? I don’t know anything.”

  “I told them that’s what you’d say.”

  “You talked to the police?”

  “They came here looking for you. Then Brock came by and interrogated me about it. They spoke with him too. I suppose they interviewed everyone who was there that night.”

  “Well, I don’t know anything about it.” Fact was, I barely remembered the party.

  “I figured.” She paused a moment. “It’s weird, huh? You hear about people disappearing sometimes, but you never expect to know someone who does.”

  I stepped onto the sidewalk and a car passed behind me. “I bet that’s why Brock was having fits.” I might too, if I’d been questioned by the police.

  “Yeah, he was pretty riled up about it—and about you leaving town.”

  “Don’t worry. I talked to him and everything’s fine now.” Maybe not entirely, but it would be soon. “He’s coming here so we can go the rest of the way to my dad’s house together. We’ll be back by the time classes resume.”

  “Well, I don’t know if this stuff about Abbi’s disappearance should change your plans or not, but you should probably call the investigator and tell them anything you know.”

  “Which is nothing.”

  “Maybe. They left a card here. I’ll text you the number.”

  Cheri couldn’t see my eye-roll, but I did it anyway. “Okay.”

  I ended the call and continued back to the inn. It was weird that Brock didn’t mention anything to me about Tyler’s missing girlfriend. Not one word. Especially since it was probably the biggest news on campus right now. Maybe he planned to outline all the sordid details of his police interrogation in person.

  I took a deep breath and continued up the hill to Mrs. Wilton’s cobbled driveway while massaging my aching shoulder. The bruise may have started with some unbeknown injury, but at the moment it felt like the extension of a much larger uneasy sensation trying to take hold of every other part of me.

  Lance poured milk on his mid-afternoon breakfast while details of the bus crash headlined the NetNews video report on his tablet. “One fatality has been reported so far in the late night rollover on Highway 16 south of Wakeville…” The report droned in the background while he checked his phone for messages. Nothing. Surely, family members of the injured had begun to arrive by now, but he hadn’t gotten any phone calls since he got home. Shenan must have told the staff to let him sleep.

  The report shifted to video clips captured at the scene. Lance paused chewing to lean toward the small screen. Much of the camera view was dark, with glimpses of flashing emergency lights and recovery crews hauling stretchers up a steep embankment. A shot showing the condition of the bus made him wince and appreciate the miracle that so many had escaped serious injury.

  He finished eating while making calls. First to his office, which confirmed his afternoon appointments had been covered. Then he checked in with the hospital. His call went straight to the charge nurse at the ICU.

  “The family of your spleen patient got here a couple hours ago,” Jill said. “I think Dr. Farthing is available to review the boy’s chart with them, if you like.”

  “No need. I’m almost ready to head back in now. You can let the family know I’ll be there soon.” He hung up, finished dressing, and grabbed his shaver as he went out the door.

  When he arrived at the ICU, he found Dr. Farthing standing in front of the nurse’s station, studying a computer tablet.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” Farthing passed him the screen. “I was looking over your young man’s chart to see what encouragement I could offer his family.”

  “Jill let me know his folks arrived. That’s why I’m here. I appreciate your willingness to help.”

  “Of course.” Farthing pulled out a handkerchief and cleaned his glasses. “It appears the boy’s remained stable, so I’d say the splenectomy went fine. In time, he should recover fully. I’m afraid things are a bit more touch-and-go with the Patterson girl though. You might want to get another round of renal function tests.”

  Lance nodded. Some might find Farthing’s fatherly oversight a bit intrusive, but Lance appreciated his attention to detail. His reviews were always offered in the spirit of helpfulness. “Thank you, John. I’ll check on her condition after I talk to the spleen patient’s family. Do you know where I can find them?”

  “At the Family Resource Center.” Farthing put on his glasses. “I’m headed that
direction. I’ll walk with you.” They strode briskly down the hall. “Things haven’t gone so smoothly for the patients up at Sierra Memorial.”

  “I haven’t heard. What’s up?”

  “An elderly gentleman with internal bleeding died earlier this morning.”

  “So, now it’s two fatalities.” Lance shook his head. “All things considered, it could have been worse.”

  “And still might. The other two patients there aren’t much better off. Did you hear about the Jane Doe?” He worked to match pace with Lance’s longer-legged gait.

  “No.” Lance scrolled through the patient chart while half-attending to the conversation.

  “A young woman with no identification and apparently, no luggage. Not even a phone. Who doesn’t carry a phone these days?”

  “There are days I’d like to leave mine behind.”

  “I guess they’re combing the crash site in hopes of finding something, but in the meantime … I can’t even remember the last time we had a Jane Doe.”

  Lance looked up from the chart. “Technically, we don’t. Sierra Memorial does.”

  They reached the elevator, and Farthing stopped to press the call button while Lance continued down the corridor. “She may become ours, if they get her stabilized enough to transfer.”

  Lance turned back with a surrendering shrug. “And when she wakes up, we can ask her what her name is.” For the time being, it was out of their hands.

  When he reached the Family Resource Center near the hospital’s main hub, Lance found Pastor Mark Lindmeyer talking with the boy’s parents and stepped up to join them. Lance liked Mark and attended his church whenever his Sunday schedule allowed. Over the next twenty minutes, the foursome reviewed lab tests and CT results. Lance was grateful he could assure the parents of their son’s steady improvement and long-term prognosis.

  When Lance excused himself, the pastor accompanied him down the polished corridor back toward ICU.