Evidence of Life - By Barbara Taylor Sissel Page 0,58
glass with water, sipping it.
“He could have killed you.”
“You don’t know how close he came,” Kate said.
Instead it was Baylor who had died. Five years ago in prison where he’d been incarcerated for his final assault on Kate that had resulted in the loss of their unborn daughter. He’d had a massive stroke in his cell one week before he was due to be released on parole. Kate had called Abby to tell her. She’d been confused that at his passing she could feel both elation and sadness.
Abby picked up her mug and set it back down. Kate dampened a dishcloth and pressed it to her face.
“Abby?”
She looked up at George framed in the kitchen doorway. His face was a mirror of consternation, and then she saw the paper in his hand, and her heart sank.
“Abby’s gotten a fax,” he said.
“What? How would anyone know to fax her here?” Kate came to the table.
Abby took the fax from George. If he noticed Kate’s disheveled appearance, her red face, her scoured-looking eyes, he gave no sign that Abby saw. He, like Kate, was looking at Abby.
She looked at the fax. It was handwritten, but she had no trouble deciphering it. My wife Sondra, has been missing for nearly a year, it read. I don’t recognize the name Nick Bennett. May we talk in person? At the end of the note there was a signature and underneath that, a phone number.
“Who’s Hank Kilmer?” Kate was reading over Abby’s shoulder.
“I don’t know,” Abby said.
“Well, if you don’t know him, how did he know to contact you here?” Kate asked.
“Why is he contacting you?” George crossed his arms over his chest.
Abby explained with as little drama as possible about the matchbook and what she’d been led to do about it. She wanted that to be the end of it and said, briskly, “I need to get going. I want to be home by dark.”
“You should have breakfast first,” Kate said.
“You aren’t thinking of meeting this guy?” George came to the point.
Abby said, “You don’t think it’s strange that Nick wrote down the name of a woman who went missing too?”
“Abby!” Kate knelt and grabbed Abby’s hands; she locked Abby’s gaze. “They drowned. They are gone. You have got to accept it.”
Abby looked at George. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, darlin’. Kate’s right. It’s time to move on. I know—”
“No!” Abby stood up, raising her finger at him. “Don’t say it. You don’t know how it feels.” She spun on her heel, left the kitchen and retrieved her tote. She was gone from the ranch within minutes. She did not look back, not once.
* * *
Dennis caught up with her on the highway west of Pipe Creek. She didn’t realize it was Dennis who was behind her, not at first. She saw the flashing lights in her rearview mirror, glanced at the speedometer that registered eighty-five and said, “Shit,” under her breath, easing off the gas pedal. “Shit shit shit.”
She pulled off the road, turned off the ignition and lowered the window. Cold air pushed in around her, blanketed her thighs, pooled around her ankles. She jammed her hands into her jacket pockets, and her fingers closed over the folded edge of Hank Kilmer’s fax.
“Abby?”
She whipped off her sunglasses. “Dennis?”
“What are you doing?”
She tossed her glasses into the passenger seat. “Why is everyone always asking me that?”
He leaned down, folding his arms on the window ledge.
She looked at him. Their faces were so close she could smell the mint flavor of his chewing gum. “I could ask you the same thing. Aren’t you out of your jurisdiction?”
“Kate called. She said something about a fax?”
Abby felt a stab of irritation. What right did Kate have talking about Abby to Dennis? How much had she said? Had she filled him in on every detail of Abby’s private life and her private thoughts and her private pain? Damn her, Abby thought. God damn them all to hell.
“Abby? If you think there’s some connection, I ought to check it out.”
“No. It’s nothing, a mistake.”
“Kate’s worried.”
“She shouldn’t be. I’m fine. I’m going home. I’m going to go back to work, start looking after myself.” Abby straightened up. “It’s what everyone wants, isn’t it? For me to accept what’s happened? Move on?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, that’s what I’m doing. I’m moving on.”
“Too fast.” Dennis shifted, stiffening his elbows, putting an arm’s length between them.