Last Seen Alive (13 page)

“Zoey said my
gift,
my
power
—whatever you call it— would be our secret,” Chyna went on. “Everyone else, including Ned, thought I was just going through a phase of wanting to get attention by making up stuff. That didn’t explain how what I said about the past had actually happened

or what I said about the future came true, but sometimes people don’t want to accept what frightens them. When I stopped mentioning my visions, people thought I’d outgrown my need for attention or my vivid imagination. The visions didn’t stop coming, but they became rare. The voice, however, never stopped. I just tried to ignore it.”

“But you said the voice was different now.”

“Well, yes.” Chyna was still reluctant to discuss the issue, although Scott seemed to be taking her seriously, and she began slowly. “As I said, in the past, the voice didn’t belong to anyone, certainly not Zoey or Anita. It was always flat, anonymous.”

Scott curled and uncurled his fingers, his gaze turned inward. I’ve lost him, Chyna thought. He thinks I’m a lunatic and he’s trying to come up with a graceful way of escaping me. As she sat there, feeling ludicrous for caring so much about having lost his good opinion of her, he said, “Chyna, I’m going to keep an open mind about all of this because you’ve always struck me as being an extremely smart and rational woman.”

“Oh,” Chyna said simply, dumbfounded. Was he sincere? Or was he merely flirting with the girl who’d had a crush on him since she was twelve? “Well, if you do believe me—”

“I said I’ll keep an open mind, not that I’m convinced.”

“Pardon me,” she snapped, suddenly angry. He was making fun of her. She was sure of it. “I do so appreciate your open mind.”

“Now you’re mad again.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Okay, I am. I never claimed to have ESP, and I don’t like to be laughed at.”

“Who’s laughing?”

“Certainly not me.”

“Not me, either,” Scott said. “Give a guy a chance to wrap his mind around an idea he’s rejected for thirty-five years.”

“All right,” she said. “I’ll settle for an open mind, if not enthusiastic belief.”

Scott smiled broadly. “Thank you. And will you do something for me?”

“That depends.”

He suddenly looked serious. “You gave me the impression that you don’t confide these visions, voices, all of it, to Ned or Beverly or anyone.”

“I don’t.”

“Then keep it that way. From now on, tell these experiences only to me. I promise not to dismiss them as silly imaginings. I also promise not to confide in other people. What you tell me will be strictly confidential, just between us. I think it’s important that you only tell me.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I just do.” He forced a grin. “You don’t want people saying the things they did about you when you were a teenager, do you?” She shook her head. “Then promise me.”

Was his request merely a kindness? Was he just trying to get her to shut up so that everyone in town wouldn’t think she was crazy? Maybe. But even if it were, he was showing her great consideration. He was willing to listen, just as Zoey had done so long ago. Finally, Chyna said softly, “All right. I promise.”

Scott nodded, his face solemn. “Don’t worry, Chyna. I take promises seriously.”

Five minutes later, it was time for Scott to leave for his rehab. “A week more of this and I’m done, thank God,” he said, reaching for his cane. “I’m sure it’s good for me, but I’ve had enough. It’s just another reminder of the crash.”

Chyna was trying to think of something profound to say when Deirdre Mayhew appeared beside them. She was so pretty with her auburn hair and amber eyes. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Dr. Greer,” she said shyly.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Chyna said. “I’ll see you later this week and we can talk about college, even medicine.

Don’t doubt yourself, Deirdre. I’m sure you’re smart enough to be anything you want to be.”

Deirdre blushed and smiled in delight. Later, Chyna was thankful she’d made the girl happy, even for a moment.

Although the house was stocked with food for people, all that remained for Michelle was Gravy Train. Chyna stopped at the grocery store on the way home and chose a variety of moist food and Michelle’s favorite treats. On a whim, Chyna also bought the dog a small rubber baseball that squeaked— one of Michelle’s favorite toys at home that Chyna had forgotten to pack—and a small, fuzzy teddy bear for the times when Michelle seemed to want to be a mother. At least, that’s what Chyna thought.

Afterward she thought of stopping by Beverly’s to let her know all the arrangements had been made for Vivian’s cremation, but Chyna decided the fear she’d experienced in the mortuary still showed on her face. Beverly would immediately spot it and ask questions Chyna was determined not to answer, partly because she didn’t want to think about the terrifying incident anymore and partly because she’d promised Scott she would only talk with him about anything strange that happened. She’d promised immediately, without thought, and now she wondered both why he’d wanted her to promise and why she’d done so almost without the slightest hesitation.

“I’m losing it,” she said aloud. “Thinking I hear voices, making promises I haven’t given any consideration.” At a

red light, she closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m done for the day,” she said. “No more analyzing, no more confiding, not even small talk with Beverly.”

Chyna opened her eyes just as the light turned green and she headed right, toward the Greer house, away from Ned’s. She needed to be alone, she thought. She needed to spend the rest of the afternoon in the house she’d grown up in and loved, and she needed her dog for company. Only her dog. After all, Michelle never asked many questions.

When she pulled into the driveway, Chyna saw that the big white truck with “Ridgeway Construction” written in red on the side was gone. Gage had finished his work, or he’d been so freaked out by her behavior this morning, he’d simply abandoned the job for the day. In either case, she was glad she wouldn’t have to think of anything normal to say to him after she’d just remembered the way he’d flirted with Zoey the last week of her life. Chyna could just unload her shopping bags and not be troubled by his very presence.

Vivian Greer had never liked a quiet house. Chyna remembered her younger years when the house was always filled with the sound of television newscasts coming from one of three televisions, music coming from their state-of-the-art stereo system, or Vivian herself playing the grand piano in the living room, Walking into her dead-silent former home now gave Chyna the creeps, as if she could hear the empty house breathing death and sorrow all around her. She nearly ran for the television and turned on an afternoon rerun of
Law & Order.
At least it’s one of my favorite shows, she thought, turning up the sound as Detective Lennie Briscoe interrogated a “perp.”

Michelle, who’d obviously been napping, thundered down the stairs to Chyna’s side. She gave her dog a powerful hug. “I absolutely could not stay in this house if you weren’t here to keep me company,” she told the dog, who fervently licked Chyna’s cheek. “It’s been another one of those days, you know, when you have dead people talking to you?”

Michelle tilted her head and looked as if she were frowning,

making Chyna laugh. “I guess you never have dead dogs talking to you, but you wouldn’t tell me if you did.”

Chyna unpacked everything she’d bought downtown, muttering a curse when she realized she’d forgotten to get candy. After all, tonight was trick or treat. Although they were never inundated with trick-or-treaters willing to climb the hill for a piece of candy, there were always a few hardy souls who made it. She’d seen at least half a bag of candy when she searched the cabinets last night. Maybe that would be enough. Otherwise, she’d have to turn off all the lights and pretend not to be home. That move should earn her at least a few nasty messages written in soap on the windows.

Pushing the candy crisis out of her mind, Chyna placed the canine paraphernalia she’d bought for Michelle on the floor. The dog sniffed all of it intently, making Chyna think of dogs trained to sniff for drugs, returned with special interest three times to the stuffed bear, then gently picked it up and carried it into another room. Chyna knew Michelle would bring the bear to bed tonight and try to snuggle both her and the toy. If I get her more stuffed animals, I’ll have to buy a bigger bed, Chyna thought in amusement.

But it wouldn’t be her bed upstairs. Within two weeks, she would be heading back to New Mexico. Although Chyna had always loved this house, she had to admit that this time she was anxious to leave and didn’t know if she could ever make herself return to a place where she’d lost her father, her mother, and, of course, Zoey.

Gage Ridgeway turned off the highway and drove his truck over the dirt and gravel road, past the old barn, beyond the aluminum equipment shack where he stored a ride mower, a tractor, and a Harley-Davidson Electra Glide motorcycle he’d had since he was eighteen. He finally stopped in front of the white farmhouse he’d lived in for the past ten years. His parents said he was crazy to buy the place. He didn’t

farm the surrounding twelve acres of land, he kept no animals and therefore had no use for the old barn, and after a brief, tumultuous marriage that ended six years ago with his declaration that he would never marry again, he certainly didn’t need a rambling five-bedroom house constantly in need of repairs. Or so his parents told him repeatedly. Gage, however, loved the privacy the house afforded him, no matter how old and impractical it was. He’d bought it with money left to him by his grandfather, money Gage knew his father thought he should have largely invested in Ridgeway Construction.

Gage glanced at his watch. It was only midafternoon. He could have stayed two more hours and finished his work on the Greer house, but the more he thought about the way Chyna had looked at him before slamming down the window, the more agitated he felt. Finally, he decided he could not be there when she returned. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to think.

He unlocked the front door, slammed it behind him, went straight to the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. Not much food in it—he usually brought home unhealthy meals from fast-food restaurants—but at least he’d had the good sense to buy a twelve-pack of Michelob beer. Had he experienced a premonition yesterday that urged him to buy more beer when he already had a few cans left? No, premonitions used to be Chyna Greer’s specialty, he thought sourly, or so she’d claimed. He’d merely bought the beer because it was on sale. He wondered for a moment if it had been on sale to encourage him to buy it. Then he decided the day had shaken him into harebrained thinking. He’d also been shaken into unwanted memories of certain people.

Particularly, Zoey Simms, Heather Phelps, and Edie Larson.

When Zoey Simms disappeared, no one bothered him beyond asking the usual questions about the last time he’d seen her, because someone had reported his speaking to her downtown one day when she was with Chyna Greer. He had a girl to thank for making the cops back off immediately, a

girl he’d been with the night Zoey disappeared, who told the police her date with Gage had lasted until nearly 1:00
A.M.,
hours after Chyna said Zoey had met her mystery man. The girl had added, “Who’d think Gage would even
look
at Zoey Simms when he’s dating
me!”

Over a year later, Heather Phelps had vanished, and once again, the police questioned him, because he’d done work at the Phelps house for Ridgeway Construction. The questions were cursory, though, especially when Mr. and Mrs. Phelps said they’d never seen Heather even speak to Gage.

But two years later, Edie Larson became a different matter. Edie had been his girlfriend. His mother had dragged him to a community production of
Our Town
and he’d spotted a sixteen-year-old Edie who’d mesmerized him, not just because of her beauty but also because of her talent, a talent that had earned her rave reviews in every newspaper within a hundred-mile radius. He’d immediately asked her out and she’d accepted.

But other people didn’t understand their relationship because Edie was three years younger than he was. Townspeople immediately thought it was suspicious that he’d date a girl—a minor—when he
should
have been with a girl his own age. Edie was quiet and kept to herself, so those people didn’t know how mature she was for her age, a consequence of growing up in a home where just getting through each day was a physical and mental challenge. They didn’t know she was smart and funny and upbeat. Edie never let her miserable life destroy her optimism or her dreams of becoming a movie star. In most of the locals’ opinions, Edie was just a pretty girl from a bad family, who’d happened to make a splash in a small-town play, but who was definitely too young for a man two months shy of twenty.

And then she went missing just like Zoey Simms and Heather Phelps had.

The continual police questioning, the sudden linking of Edie with Zoey and Heather, the growing suspicion of and antipathy toward Gage, had almost driven him out of town. He supposed that’s why when his grandfather Henry died,

he’d left him so much money and a percentage of the business, a fact Gage’s father still resented after all these years. Henry Ridgeway didn’t think his son, Peter, had what it took to run Ridgeway Construction. Henry thought Gage did. He’d known that if he passed over his son, Peter, and left everything to Gage, townspeople would be appalled that the mild-mannered, ever-pleasant, malleable Peter had been cheated and would take out their indignation on Gage and the business. So, Henry had left the bulk of the construction company to Peter. Henry had left Gage enough of the business he loved, though, to make sure he wouldn’t abandon Ridgeway Construction.

So Gage had stayed, every day enduring his father’s ill-concealed seething resentment, and bought a place where he could be close enough to his job to make commuting easy but still have plenty of privacy, which was what he craved.