Evidence of Life - By Barbara Taylor Sissel Page 0,21
the only thing that made sense; she let Paula go.
* * *
Something woke her deep in the night. She didn’t know what time it was. The only clock in the den, where she was camped out because she couldn’t face the bed she’d shared with Nick, was on the mantel, and she couldn’t see it in the dark. She pulled the thin coverlet to her chin rigid with fear. When the sound came again, she realized the telephone was ringing, and she came instantly to her feet, heart pounding. Bad news, bad news. The words hammered through her brain, keeping time with her bare feet hammering the floor. In the kitchen, Abby yanked up the receiver, not checking the ID. “What? Yes? Hello!”
Nothing. Breath. A bit of static, then there was the smallest sigh, soft, liquid sounding. Female. Abby was certain of it.
She went still. “Lindsey? Honey, is it you?” The receiver trembled. “Where are you? Just tell me where you are and Mommy will come. Lindsey? Please, honey. Say something....”
Abby waited. Nothing. Dead air. “Nick?” She slid down the wall beside the desk onto the floor. “Please…?” The connection was held open a fraction longer, and then it broke with a soft click. Abby went up on her knees and switched on the desk lamp. The ID told her nothing. Out of area, it read. She dialed the operator who couldn’t help her either. She lowered herself back to the floor, keeping her grip on the phone, willing it to ring again. Finally it was morning, a decent hour, and she called Kate and told her what she’d heard.
She said, “I know it was Lindsey.”
“But how, Abby? If she didn’t say anything?”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I just can’t stand for you to hurt anymore.”
“Is there a way not to? Is there a cure for this other than finding them? One of them called me, Katie. They’re alive. Can’t you even say it’s possible?”
Kate didn’t answer.
“I think someone was here.”
“In the night?” Now Kate sounded even more alarmed, and Abby filled with even more regret.
But she went on. “I mean while I was gone. Things aren’t—”
“Aren’t what?”
Abby said she didn’t know. She said, “You think I’m insane.”
“Honey, I think you’re exhausted. I think I should come.”
“No.” Abby didn’t want her. She didn’t need traitors, naysayers. “I’m fine,” she said. “I’m sure you’re right,” she added for effect. “Jake’s coming home this weekend. I’m making him a meatloaf.”
* * *
Abby grocery shopped and managed to make a meatloaf—Jake’s favorite—before his arrival. To go with it, she made mashed potatoes and carrots she’d harvested from last fall’s vegetable garden. She did not plan to tell him about her middle-of-the night mystery caller. But he already knew. He said Kate had called him because she was concerned.
“She shouldn’t have bothered you,” Abby said. They were repairing the back porch rail. Abby was holding it while Jake filled the sockets with glue.
“She’s afraid you aren’t telling her the truth about how you are,” he said.
“So, what do you think?”
“About how you are?”
“No, the call. Do you think it’s possible?”
“I think stuff like that, thinking Lindsey and Dad are calling, thinking someone’s in the house—it’ll make you crazy.”
“According to Kate, it already has.”
“Come on, Mom. Let’s say it’s true, that it was Lindsey or Dad on the phone. Where does that leave us? I mean, do you think they’re out there somewhere? Like what? Kidnapped or something?”
“No,” she said, but her brain wanted to argue. Sheriff Henderson had questioned her in this regard. He had asked her if there might be someone who was a threat to Nick. Nadine Betts and the San Antonio D.A. had both insinuated they thought it was Nick with Adam Sandoval on the surveillance tape. Suppose it was? Suppose Adam was holding a gun on Nick, forcing Nick to help him? But no one could see that because the quality of the film was too poor. Stranger things had happened. Abby could have said all of this, but she didn’t. Jake was right; she would drive herself crazy. Worse, she would drive him crazy. “I’m sure it was nothing,” she said, handing him the railing. “A wrong number is all.”
He gave her a look.
“What?” she said. “I’m fine. Fine,” she reiterated.
* * *
The next day, working like demons, they got the yard work caught up and thoroughly mucked out the horse stalls. They labored mostly in silence as if they had no idea what to say or how to be around