Last Seen Alive (30 page)

“Well, I see Rex is out of favor tonight,” Scott said drily. “Are you sure he’s all right? No bad vibes?”

“No, I’m not sure he’s all right. He should know I’d be worried, the jackass. But I don’t have a bad feeling about his physical well-being.”

“I wouldn’t give a dime for his physical well-being if he came home right now,” Scott grinned. “What about your brother?”

“Ned is getting sick and in my opinion also needs to spend some time with his family.” Chyna paused. “Look, Scott, if I’m imposing on you—”

“You’re not. I’m extremely glad you don’t think of me as an invalid, that you felt you could call on me for help.”

“Good, because I could
not
sit here for the rest of the night talking to ghosts.”

“Talking to ghosts?” Scott asked cautiously.

“On the phone. Anita Simms, Zoey’s mother.” Scott stood still, staring at her. She shot him a sardonic look. “Yeah, I know she’s dead. It’s been that kind of evening.”

“Wow, that’s some kind of evening, Chyna.”

“You’re telling me.” She tried to smile. “You look like you could use a glass of wine. Or maybe something stronger.”

“Something stronger, please. Bourbon maybe? Or Scotch. Then you can tell me about your phone conversation with Anita.”

“Don’t look at me like that, Scott,” Chyna warned. “You wanted to know what was going on in this mess of a head of mine. I’m just telling you what you wanted to hear.”

“And I’m taking you seriously. Honestly. But I’m new to all of this, Chyna. Don’t get mad at me if it throws me sometimes.”

“It throws you all of the time. But I accept that.” She shrugged. “Do you want your bourbon mixed with anything?”

“I’ll take it straight. And I’d like a double, please.”

Chyna laughed as she headed toward the kitchen. “I’ve thrown you that much, have I? Even after what you’ve been through in the plane crash?” She stopped cold and turned, her expression appalled. “My God, I’m so sorry, Scott. All I’ve been thinking about is what’s been happening to me and I just blurted out a dreadfully callous thing about the most horrible event in your life. Please forgive me; I’m—”

“You’re forgiven,” Scott said evenly. “It’s all right. I’m still on my feet, not crushed to the floor by a phrase that popped out of your mouth when
you
have obviously been through one of the most awful events of your life, too.”

“Yes, I’m shaken to the core, but still…” She closed her eyes and hung her head. “Do you think either one of us will live to see Christmas?”

“Yes. We’ll be a little rough around the edges, but we’ll make it, unfortunately for me. I hate Christmas.”

“So do I!” Chyna burst out. “I thought I was the only person in the country, maybe in the Christian community of the whole world, who couldn’t stand decorating the Christmas tree, eating fruitcake, wrapping gifts, singing Christmas carols. Oh, what a relief! I’m not a weirdo, after all!”

“Oh, don’t be too sure,” Scott said solemnly. “You might be a weirdo. You just aren’t the
only
weirdo who doesn’t like Christmas.”

They both broke into laughter, bending slightly at the waist, their eyes filling with tears. “It wasn’t even that funny,” Scott gasped out at last.

“I know. But it feels so good to let go. Oh, I let go sometimes, but not
with
someone.” Chyna glanced over at Michelle.

“Except for her. She saw me really let go about half an hour ago after I got the phone call.”

Scott wiped a tear off his cheek, sniffed, then looked at Chyna closely, his laughter turning into a smile that seemed to signal the return of restraint. ’The phone call. You mentioned it when you called me.” He stepped closer to her and gently put his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s forget about those drinks and get away from here for a while. Then you can tell me all about the call.”

“Where will we go?”

“Nowhere. We’ll just take a ride in my shiny new car.”

Chyna hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Sounds good—on one condition. Michelle goes with us.”

“Will she shed?” Scott asked.

“Who cares?” Chyna smiled. “The car still belongs to Ned.”

“The car has a great sound system,” Chyna said fifteen minutes later as they traveled north on the highway. “I love this song.”

“So I guessed when you insisted on bringing this CD and turning it up so loud.”

“Too loud?”

“No. Fine.”

“I always listen to music when I drive. Especially at night.”

“Well, you’re not driving tonight, but I do the same thing. Great minds and all that,” Scott said absently as U2’s “With or Without You” washed over them in the warm duskiness of the car.

Black Willow was small and they’d left the lights of the town behind in minutes after they’d driven away from the Greer house. Now fields surrounded them—fields where stalks stood in the cool autumn night, the corn at least six feet high but dry and withered and brown, the knee-high soybean plants tan and leafless. Chyna shivered. “Do you think Deirdre is out here somewhere, still alive?”

“I’m not the psychic,” Scott answered without sarcasm. “I thought you’d be able to sense whether she was still alive and where she is.”

“That’s the trouble with this fabulous ESP stuff,” Chyna returned drearily. “It just turns itself on in your head when you least expect it, and usually never when you really
need
it.” She rubbed a hand across her forehead. “It would be so wonderful if I could control the visions and the voices. Like Zoey’s.”

Chyna had already told Scott about the call she’d received earlier during which Zoey had once again told her she must help and then lapsed into that maddening rhyme in an ephemeral, singsong voice. “You and Zoey knew each other nearly from birth,” Scott went on. “Are you sure you never chanted that rhyme to each other? Or maybe your mothers each said the rhyme to you when you were tiny.”

“You think Anita Simms said the rhyme to Zoey and my mother said the rhyme to me when we were babies or toddlers?” Scott nodded. “That’s possible, but what’s the significance? Zoey is saying it to me for a reason, Scott, but for the life of me, I don’t know what that reason could be.”

“Were either of you particularly interested in the stars?”

“I wasn’t. I think Zoey developed a passion for stargazing one year, but as soon as her parents bought her a telescope, she lost interest. She didn’t think it was fun anymore when people expected her to actually study astronomy.” Chyna smiled ruefully. “Zoey was smart, but she wasn’t a good student. She was too restless to sit still reading books and doing research, and she hated discipline. I suppose she would have gone to college because her mother expected her to, but she never expressed an interest in any particular subject.”

“Not like you with your enthusiasm for chemistry and physiology.” He paused. “Deirdre had the same interests. She was mature for her age and a ’deep thinker,’ Ben used to say, an intellectual. And she was especially pretty. The two of you are quite a bit alike.”

“So it seems as if I’d be better at getting a bead on where she is.” The fear that had gripped Chyna after the phone call

was now giving way to the despondency that had haunted her all day. “God, I feel useless.”

“You certainly aren’t useless, Chyna. And don’t give up on your power yet. After all, you’re almost certain you experienced Deirdre’s abduction.”

“ ’Almost’ is the key word. And even if I did, maybe that’s all I’m going to experience where Deirdre is concerned. It wasn’t helpful. I couldn’t even see who took her.”

“Okay, now you’re sliding into a funk,” Scott said. “I may not know much about ESP, but I have a feeling funks aren’t conducive to inspiring visions.”

“Funks aren’t conducive to much of anything except making you feel like a failure.”

“No more talk about failure.” The fields of dead cornstalks gave way to pieces of flat, empty land. Up ahead, Chyna saw something large and square seeming to loom over the landscape as it shone in the moonlight. “What is that?” she asked, pointing.

Scott laughed. “Chyna Greer, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that we used to have a drive-in theater here!”

“Yes, I did forget,” she said vaguely as they drew nearer. “I never went to it.”

“You were probably about seven or eight when it closed. I doubt if you had too many dates who took you to the drive-in under the guise of wanting to see a movie when what they really wanted to do was …”

She raised her eyes at him. “Yes?”

“Pursue romance.”

“Oh, we’re into euphemisms,” she said drolly. “And why do I have the distinct feeling you brought quite a few girls here?”

“Because you’re psychic?”

“Because you were quite the Lothario in your teenage years.” Scott looked at her. “Your mother told my mother.”

“And Vivian told you?”

“Well, I was sort of eavesdropping.”

“Shame on you!” Scott laughed as they passed directly by the drive-in. The old marquee still stood, surrounded by

dead grass and weeds. Moonlight shone on dozens of poles that had held the rusty, tinny-sounding speakers people hung on their windows so they could hear the dialogue as they stared up at the giant screen. Even the old concession stand remained, almost swallowed by heavy foliage and a tangle of ivy that looked as if it were trying to pull the building down beneath the surface of the earth.

“I can’t believe that place has just been sitting there for at least twenty years,” Chyna said. “I know we’re not a Mecca for business around here, but surely some developer would have snatched up the land and found a use for it.”

“I think the owner, old Mr. Dickens, had a sentimental attachment to the place, even though he had to close it when drive-ins went out of style. His daughter told me he was always certain they’d become all the rage again.”

“Not with cineplexes everywhere offering six movies in the same building, comfortable seats, air-conditioning, not to mention surround sound.”

“Yeah,” Scott said absently as they passed the old drive-in, exceeding the speed limit by at least 15 miles an hour, but the state police rarely patrolled this part of the highway. Everyone in the area knew this and took advantage of it. “And speaking of Lotharios, Gage Ridgeway lives around here,” Scott added. “A lot of people think he’s crazy for living on all that land by himself, too, but Gage won’t budge.”

“He didn’t used to be such a loner, or so I’ve heard.”

“I think he changed after the whole Edie Larson business. Everyone was sure he’d done something to her.”

“Are you certain he didn’t?”

“I always got the idea he really cared about her—I think I teased him about it. But the cops had their minds made up he was their guy. They put him through hell. Couldn’t find a shred of evidence, though. That didn’t stop Edie’s father, good old Ron Larson, from hounding Gage for years, even though people knew Ron didn’t give a damn about Edie. I think he hoped Gage would be arrested and found guilty of murder so he could launch a civil suit against him.”

“Always thinking ahead, our Ron Larson. There’s nothing

like making a fortune off your daughter’s murder,” Chyna said distastefully.

“And I wouldn’t quite put it past Ron to try something of the sort if he were smart enough to pull it off.”

“You mean kill his own daughter?”

“I don’t know if he’d actually have the nerve to kill her, but he could make it look as if she had been killed.” Scott shook his head. “But like I said, he’d have to be smart and he’d need Edie’s cooperation. He’s not smart and Edie would never have helped her father hurt Gage.”

“If Edie had just run away, no one could have blamed her.” Chyna sighed. “But of course, she didn’t run away.”

“You’re sure she didn’t?”

“Yes, I’m sure she met with the same fate as Zoey and Heather. I haven’t had any visions about her, but I’m sure.” They remained quiet for a moment before Chyna caught sight of a side road flanked by white pillars. “Black Willow Cemetery,” she said softly.

“I always thought that was a depressing name for a cemetery,” Scott said.

“Are there cheerful ones?”

“Well, none that come to mind. But there are lots that don’t sound so ominous.”

“My father is buried there,” Chyna said. “I always thought Mom would be beside him, but in the last weeks of her life she decided she wanted to be cremated and for me to keep the urn.” Chyna shook her head. “I keep wondering if there was something wrong with her mind, as well as her heart, and that’s why she made the decision. It seemed so abrupt. And, well, kind of selfish.”

“Selfish?” Scott repeated.

“Daddy’s in that cemetery all alone. Mom won’t be beside him.” When Scott said nothing, Chyna added, “I guess that sounded like a ten-year-old talking. After all, they’re both dead.”

“It did sound on the sentimental side for you, Chyna, but I guess when members of your own family die, you feel different than you do about strangers. No one close to me in my

family has died.” He paused. “But after the crash, they weren’t able to find three bodies. A child and two teenagers. I always think about their parents. It’s bad enough that three young people were killed, but they can’t even be buried properly. That eats at me, Chyna, even though a proper burial wouldn’t make them any less dead.”

“I understand what you mean,” Chyna said softly. “And I’m not going to say a burial would have given the parents
closure.
I hate that word. It makes it sound like you can just close the book on them and not think about them anymore when of course their parents will never stop thinking about them.”

Scott looked at her. “So we agree about hating Christmas and the word ’closure.’ Who would have thought?”

“We’re two peas in a pod,” Chyna said lightly. ’The coincidences are simply amazing!” Scott nodded, although she could tell he was still thinking about those three young, missing passengers who had been on the horrible flight he’d piloted.

Chyna decided to change the tone of their conversation. “Are you driving any place in particular, Scott, or are we just cruising and letting Michelle get nose prints on every window in the back of this car?”

“The nose prints don’t matter, because I’ve decided I’m going to buy the car.
You
can clean them off with Windex.”