Darkling I Listen (51 page)

Ruth rambled on a few minutes, but Alyson wasn't listening. The hysteria that had threatened to overwhelm her moments before remained, little by little expanding in her chest, fast becoming fire that was oozing up her throat like lava through a vent. She was
quite
certain it would erupt from her mouth at any moment in a scream that would send
Clyde
's customers thundering from the restaurant in a wild panic.

The door closed. Locked. She lay in the windowless room, listening to the steady thrum of rain on the roof. Closing her eyes would be impossible, of course. Even with them wide open, staring, the image rose up before her mind's eye: a faceless body tangled in fishhooks and storm debris.

"Please, God," she prayed aloud, "don't let it be
Brandon
."

But in that moment
she imagined
the heartbroken parents of a once vibrant young football player, heads bowed as they prayed, "Please, God, don't let it be our son."

«
^
»

"
A
lyson? Sugar, wake up. You gotta wake up now."

Alyson forced open her burning eyes. Where was she?

"Wake up now." Ruth gently shook her.

Sudden awareness slammed her. Alyson bolted upright. She stared hard through the dim yellow lamplight into Ruth's face hovering above her. Ruth was smiling, and her eyes were brimming with tears.

"He's alive." Alyson grabbed Ruth's shoulders. "They found him and he's alive—"

"Good news, but not that good." Ruth shook her head. "The body was that kid from White Sands."

Closing her eyes, Alyson sank back on the cot. "What time is it?"

"Real late. We're closin' up. Just wanted you to know. You might as well stay here, cuz you ain't gonna find a motel with a vacancy from here to
Shreveport
. I think every reporter from every newspaper, tabloid rag, network and cable news show in both hemispheres is in town. You'll never guess who I fed tonight. Tom Brokaw, Charlie Gibson, Barbara Walters, and Senator Whitehorse. All at one table. I was so damn nervous I 'bout dumped the whole damn tray in the senator's lap."

Alyson sat up and tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. God, how long had she been out? She glanced at a clock on the wall.
Two o'clock
in the morning?

"Once
Clyde
is gone, you come on down to the kitchen. We'll fix you up with somethin' to eat and we'll talk about things. Give me twenty minutes to get
Clyde
on the road. Oh, and I brung you some readin' material. Thought you might want to catch up on the latest breakin' news…
"
She gave Alyson a sympathetic smile before leaving the room.

Sitting on the edge of the cot, Alyson rubbed her eyes and massaged her temples. Only once in her life had she ever boozed so hard she'd lost consciousness. That had been ten years ago in
New Orleans
. Even then, the morning after had not left her head feeling so much like a gourd full of wet sand.

She stumbled to the refrigerator and fished out a cola. Her throat felt like sawdust, and burned as she drank. Her gaze fell on the newspapers Ruth had tossed on the table. Her own face stared back at her from the front page of the
Galaxy
Gazette.

HUNK'S MYSTERY LOVER IDENTIFIED AS OUR OWN A.J. FARRINGTON!

She nudged aside the
Gazette.
The
Enquirer
pictured her with camera, superimposed into a photograph of
Brandon
shooting her the finger.

REPORTER GIVES NEW MEANING TO UNDERCOVER WORK

The
STAR:

DID GIRLFRIEND’S BETRAYAL DRIVE TINSEL TOWN TERROR TO SUICIDE?

The
GLOBE:

FATAL ATTRACTION!

CONVINCED REPORTER IS STALKER ANTICIPATING

The irony of it all made her laugh so hard that she bent at the waist, a silent convulsion that squeezed her ribs and chest like steel bands and made her stomach contract in a knot. She couldn't breathe. Tears ran from her eyes and spotted the tips of her Ropers. She had invaded Carlyle's life in the hopes of claiming the story of a lifetime that would win her esteem—now esteem would be the last thing she'd glean from this affair. She was going to be the Monica Lewinsky of publishing—if there was anything left of her once the Ticky Creek residents, not to mention
Brandon
's rabid fans, got hold of her.

She waited another ten minutes before venturing downstairs. Ruth met her, ushered her to a table near the jukebox,
then
hurried back to the kitchen for drinks and food.

The empty building felt vast and cold. Sounds from the kitchen echoed off the exposed beams high overhead. Alyson stood and walked to the jukebox that glowed like something ethereal in the dark room. Fishing into her jeans pocket, she withdrew a quarter, slid it into the slot, and punched K5. The machine hummed and clicked. Alyson turned and focused on the dance floor, the memory of her swaying in
Brandon
's arms lifting like vapor in her mind even before Trisha Yearwood's voice floated down from the speakers.

*

Alyson ate brisket, bootlegger beans, and potato salad as if
it were her last meal. By the time she pushed her plate back, she was forced to unsnap her jeans.

"Look," Ruth said, "if you're smart, you'll climb in your car and head back to
Dallas
as fast as you can. This town is on the verge of blowin' sky-high. Jack's ass is in a crack. Folks ain't happy cuz he didn't immediately bring in outside investigators and search crews. Fact is
,
it was Deputy Greene who rang up the
Tyler
and
Longview
law enforcement and asked for their help. Jack said he was tryin' to avoid a media circus unless it was absolutely necessary. Half the town residents are demandin' his resignation. He can kiss his sheriff job goodbye. He'd be lucky to get a job sellin' bait down at the Wonder Worm. And you can bet that if
Brandon
's dead, somebody somewhere is gonna crawl out of the woodwork and sue his butt for negligence."

As Alyson related the story of Billy aka Betty, Ruth smoked, her expression never once revealing her thoughts or emotions. Finally, she shook her head. "I always thought there
were
somethin' strange about that bird. She come in here occasionally, took a table out yonder on the deck, ate, and stared out at that damn water. Tipped
good
, though." She chuckled. "That must have been Billy, cuz women don't tip worth a damn."

For the first time in days, Alyson laughed—the good sort of laughter that bubbled up like clear, cool water from a spring. It soothed the ache in her chest. For a moment, however brief, her head cleared of its dull weight and pain, and she felt normal again.

Ruth gave a choked laugh that made her cough. Crushing out her cigarette, she waved at the cloud of smoke hanging around her head. "Between her and Mitsy Dillman, we could start our own funny farm. Hey, they'd probably become fast friends. If nothin' else, they could sit around and make Popsicle stick trivets and exchange fishin' stories."

"I wasn't aware that Betty fished," Alyson said as she reached for her beer.

"Well, I assume that's what she does when she goes up the creek at two in the mornin'. Mitsy, too. You see Betty go puttin' by, and then here comes Mitsy."

Alyson stared into Ruth's eyes. The smiles, little by little, slid from their faces.

"Two in the morning," Alyson repeated. "Why would she be out at that time of morning, especially when she was always at work by seven?"

"Guess that didn't give her too long to fish, did it?"

They drank their beers in silence.

The phone rang.

Jumping, they stared at the phone on the wall. "Who the heck on a stick would be callin' this place at three in the mornin'?" Ruth said, looking back at Alyson.

"
Clyde
—"

"Thinks I headed out right after him."

"Someone looking for her errant husband?"

"Everbody knows we close this place down at one-thirty."

The ringing stopped. The silence that filled the big room rang like echoing bells. Alyson relaxed into her chair. Ruth reached for her pack of Winstons.

The phone rang again.

Alyson gently placed her beer on the table. "Answer it," she said softly, the odd urgency in her voice bringing a rise of something cold up her back. "Quick, Ruth, answer it."

"Sure." Ruth ran to the phone, slowly raised the receiver to her ear. "
River Road
, this is Ruth. Hello? Hello? Is anyone—" She frowned and looked at Alyson.
Come here quick,
she mouthed, and waved her over. "Ma'am, you want to repeat that? You want Alyson James?"

Alyson stopped in her tracks.

Ruth fixed her gaze on Alyson's. "Nora who?"

Alyson sprang for the phone, tearing it out of Ruth's hand. "Nora?" she cried. "Nora, is that—"

"Listen to me, Alyson. They're screaming again. Just now, they're screaming—"

"Where is he, Nora? Is he alive?" She grabbed for a pencil on the bar.

"Alive. He's—you have to hurry. He's…
"

"Where is he?" Alyson screamed.

"I see
…
water. Flat, wide water and trees—they
…
it's not coming—"

"Please," she begged, clutching the receiver to her head.

Ruth pressed her ear as close to the receiver as she could,
trying
to overhear. Her arm encircled Alyson as if willing her strength.

"Please, Nora. Listen!"

"…
A church. I see a
…
crude building with—there's a road, only it's
…
not a road,
it's
water."

Ruth said in a shaking voice, "Two miles north up the creek, down that old stagecoach road, or what used to be the old stagecoach road. It ain't nothin' more than a swamp now. There was an old coach house, turned into a chapel a while back by some religious nuts…
"

"Hurry," Nora stressed. "He's
…
Billy isn't happy. He's raging. If you don't stop him now, it'll be too late."

The line went dead.

Ruth took the receiver from her and hung it up. "What the hell is that about?" she asked.

"I need a boat," Alyson said, looking into Ruth's panicked eyes.

"Who was that on the phone?"

"And a gun."

Ruth's mouth fell open.

"Now, Ruth. I need a boat and a gun now."

"Whoa, now. First of all, you're gonna tell me who that—"

"Her name is Nora—"

"And she says she knows where
Brandon
is." Ruth barked a sharp laugh. "What is she, a frickin' psychic?"

"Yes." Alyson nodded. "She is."

Ruth laughed again,
then
stopped as she saw the seriousness in Alyson's face. "You're jokin', right?"

"Please, we don't have time—"

"Sugar, you know how many of them fruitcakes have been bangin' on Jack Dillman's door the last few days?"

"I'll bet
Clyde
keeps a gun tucked away someplace. Where is it?"

"Look, hon, I know you're feelin' pretty desperate right now. We all are—"

"I'll tear this place apart if I have to, Ruth. Does he keep it near the cash register?" She shoved past Ruth and began pulling open drawers and doors.

"If she was so damn smart, how come she waited so long before contactin' you?" Ruth shouted. "For that matter, how come she didn't stop this thing before it ever started?"

"She's rusty."

"She's whaaat?"

Alyson started down the hall.

"Where you goin'
?"
Ruth shouted.

"To
Clyde
's office. Maybe he keeps a gun there."

"It's locked!"

"Then unlock it." Turning back to Ruth so suddenly that Ruth nearly stumbled, Alyson said, "Do you want
Brandon
's life on your conscience?"

"When the heck did I suddenly become the bad guy here?"

"Every minute you fight me, Ruth, is one less minute I have to reach
Brandon
in time."

"So we'll call Jack."

"Fine. You do that. You convince him why he should believe a psychic. And while you're at it, suggest that Alyson James would very much appreciate his cooperation."

"Even if I wanted to believe this Nora woman, I can't let you go sashayin' up this creek in a fishin' boat by yourself. What kind of friend would I be? Gawd Almighty, Alyson, you can't even swim. Have you
forgot
that?"

Alyson opened and closed her mouth. Yes. Apparently she had forgotten. Not just forgotten that she couldn't swim, but forgotten her fear of the water. "So I'll deal with it," she heard herself declare in a flat tone. She tried to take a deep breath. It wouldn't come. "Please, Ruth, listen to me. First, how did Nora know I was here? I've spoken with no one but you since I've been back. Nora has been right about every bit of information she's given me. She told me, 'Beware of Billy Boy,' only it wasn't Billy Boy, it was Billy Boyd. She knew
Brandon
called me Cupcake. No one else knew that, Ruth. It was his pet name for me because I
…
I love Twinkies.

"Please. If she's wrong, what's the harm of my going there? I'll simply turn around and come back."

"And if she's right?" Ruth gave a frightened laugh. "What happens if you get there and—"