Night of Shadows (11 page)

Debbie was immodestly draped in a
clinging, silk robe. Melinda noticed by the bottle of red polish on the coffee
table that Debbie's suffering had not prevented her from finding time to do her
long, slender nails. Her hair was piled thickly in curls around her face, and
her blue eyes were heavily accented with mascara.

Connie was dressed casually in
jeans and a tight fitting T-shirt. Her long, dark hair hung in a
glistening sheen around her shoulders. Connie straddled the footstool by
Melinda's chair and grew silent, apparently waiting for an opening to the
discussion. Finally, she broke an awkward silence.

"This whole thing about Joan
is awful. Just awful."

Melinda fought back an unexpected
rush of tears, and struggled to keep a professional tone. "I think it
would be helpful if you could tell me about anything significant that might
have happened from the time you three left Georgia up to now."

Debbie opened her eyes and reached
over to a nearby table to retrieve an icepack. She gave Melinda an open look of
disgust as she placed it on her head.

Connie looked embarrassed at her roommate's
sour behavior, and awkwardly tried to explain. "We've been through this so
many times already with Preston. And with the police, too. You wouldn't believe
how many times. But — well — okay. We'll try this again."

Connie was amiable as she started
talking, beginning with the story of their cross-country trip. Melinda
hung onto every word — interrupting at times to ask questions about Joannie. Connie
mentioned some of Joan's boyfriends along the way, none of whom ever lasted
more than a few weeks. The girls had made a pact not to get seriously involved
in any romantic encounters. They didn't want to be tied down. They had
traveling to do, things to see, adventures to be shared.

Connie then described their arrival
in Ruidoso. The girls instantly loved the mountain resort. They found life here
to be less pressured than in a big city, yet offering the glamour and
excitement that accompanied peak tourist seasons.

"Joan was making plans to work
her way through college — starting with the branch here — just before she met
Preston," Connie said.

Melinda sat up straighter. That was
something she hadn't known.

Connie smiled slightly. "She
wanted to please you, you know. More than you can imagine. She knew how
disappointed you were in her. Besides that, though, I think she'd had enough. You
can only live like this so long."

Connie sounded distinctly unhappy
as she glanced over at Debbie. "That's all we do now. Party all the time. Get
drunk. Feel crappy the next day. It gets old after a while."

At Melinda's prompting, Connie was
steered back into reminiscing about the adventures shared by the three friends.
Melinda laughed as Connie recounted Joan's disastrous experiment with a first —
and last — skiing lesson. When the conversation finally lapsed, Melinda brought
up the question she knew that Preston and the girls could not have discussed
together.

"Could you tell me more about Joan's
life with Preston? Did they really get along? Was she happy?"

Connie hesitated, then nodded
towards Debbie. "You should ask her that question. Debbie is a lot more
familiar with the McClures than I am — through Mac."

Unexplainably, Melinda felt a pang
of jealousy as a knowing smile crept across Debbie's face. Her icy eyes fixated
on Melinda, who was shocked at the hostility in her voice.

"I haven't seen Mac since you
got there."

"Debbie, that's stupid,"
Connie broke in. "Mac broke it off with you long before Melinda ever
showed up."

"Please," Melinda said
soothingly. "Let's all be civil here. My concern isn't with Mac or either
one of you. I'm trying to find out what happened to my sister. Joannie could be
in danger. You realize that, don't you?"

Looking almost ashamed of herself,
Debbie reached back and carefully placed the icepack on the sofa table behind
her. Then, she swung her body up to a sitting position, wincing as she did so.

"You're worse than Mac,"
she said. "Questions, questions, questions — always with the questions
about Joan. And Preston."

"Oh? I didn't know Mac was that
involved in looking for Joan."

"These questions started long
before Joannie ever disappeared."

Debbie put both hands up to her
temples and began to massage them. Her loud sigh announced that she felt
greatly inconvenienced.

"Okay, okay," she said finally.
"I can tell you that Joan and Preston got along okay most of the
time."

"That takes care of most of
the time." Melinda gave Debbie a stern look. "What about other
times?"

Debbie peered at Melinda through
bleary red eyes that seemed to have trouble focusing. "Well, there was
Sammy. That bugged Preston. A lot."

"Sammy came before
Preston," Connie hastily explained. "Actually, Joan met Sammy at a
country-Western bar. And then she met Preston when Sammy invited her out to
tour the McClure ranch one day."

Melinda felt her stomach knot. And
now Sammy was dead. That seemed a little too much of a coincidence.

"So did Sammy view Preston as
the boss who stole his girl?" she asked.

Debbie and Connie looked at each
other, their expressions blank.

"I guess it was kind of like
that at first," Debbie admitted. "I know Preston didn't like having
Joan's old boyfriend around. He didn't like seeing them together. But what
Preston and Joan argued about most of the time was money. Preston was always
broke. Can you believe that? Here's this guy that's supposed to be super rich,
and he never seemed to have anything to show for it. Joannie did get awfully
upset about that."

Melinda sat back in her chair, and
looked over at Connie. Connie, sensing Melinda's need for confirmation, nodded
in agreement. This was certainly a different twist to what Melinda had been
told about Joan so far. It was tempting to leave it at that. But she had to
learn the truth — the whole truth.

"Did Joan do a lot of betting
on the horses?" Melinda asked.

Connie and Debbie exchanged knowing
glances.

Debbie shrugged. "Yeah, she
did. Someone must have told you about that. Joan went kind of crazy at the
track. I never could figure it out."

"I know why," Connie
piped up. "I mean, I think I do. It's like this, see. When we first got
here — before Joan met Preston, I mean — life was pretty good at first. She had
lots of dates and things to do. But like I said before, she was starting to get
bored with it all. That's why she decided to go back to school. Then she met
Preston and all those plans changed. Don't get me wrong. I think she really
loved him — loves him."

Seeing that Connie was eyeing her
uncertainly, Melinda kept her expression carefully neutral. "Go on. It's
okay."

Connie took a deep breath. "Mac
made it pretty clear from the beginning he thought Joan was after Preston for
the money. It happened so fast, you see. Mac didn't exactly hide what he
thought of her, so that put a strain on the marriage from the very start. And
then Joannie ended up out there in the middle of nowhere. Trapped, kind of. It
was impossible for her to go to school, because it was too far away to drive
every day to classes."

"So Joannie was bored."
Melinda knew her sister well enough to understand that kind of situation would
never be a good fit for Joan's restless spirit.

"Yeah. That's it. No place to
go. Nothing to do. Not even an Internet connection way out there. She couldn't
stay in touch with her friends. Or with you. It was driving her nuts. So Joannie
started inviting friends out for the weekend for a little partying, just to
keep things interesting. Even that wasn't enough. So pretty soon, it got to the
point that the highlight of her whole life was getting away from the ranch for
weekends at the race track. Or to 'Vegas. You know how Joan is. She loves
excitement. Gambling was sort of like — an escape for her."

"Yeah, but Preston was in on
it, too," Debbie added. "He was just as bad — if not worse."

Even though Melinda was getting no
clues about Joan's whereabouts, she was still glad she had come here. At least
she had a different perspective now about what was going on between Joan and
Preston.

They chatted a while longer. And
then seeing that an hour had almost passed, Melinda reached for her purse in preparation
to go.

"So anyhow," Debbie
suddenly spoke up in a sulky, hungover voice. "I think you need to know
that Roy was part of all this, too."

Melinda carefully put the purse
back down on the floor beside her. "Roy Finch?"

Did Melinda imagine that she saw a
warning look flash from Connie to Debbie? Debbie stared at Connie a few
seconds.

"Uh — yeah," she said,
not volunteering anything else.

"How do you know about Roy
Finch?" Connie asked, sounding vaguely alarmed.

"I know he owns the property
next to the McClure ranch. That's about it."

Connie paused, considering the
statement. "Preston helped him buy it. They're old army buddies, you know."

"Then they must be very good
friends." Melinda tried to sound casual, to lure one of them into giving her
more information.

"Not any more, they
aren't," Debbie mumbled.

"Why?" Melinda asked. "What
happened?"

"Joannie didn't much like
having Roy Finch hanging around," Debbie said, oblivious to the open glare
now being beamed her way from Connie. "She thought he was a — bad
influence. Imagine that. Coming from Joannie."

For some reason, Debbie thought her
own comment was hilarious. She threw back her head and laughed. No one else
joined her.

"Shut up, Debbie," Connie
said. "Don't pay any attention, Melinda. Preston and Roy aren't friends
any more, but no one really knows what happened between them. And before you
ask, I'll tell you right now — it has nothing to do with Joannie."

"How can you be sure?"
Melinda asked.

"I just am, okay? Leave it
alone."

"So how well do you know Roy
Finch?" Melinda directed the question to Connie.

"Well enough."

"So you must be aware he has a
criminal record."

Connie looked stunned. Debbie
simply seemed amused.

"Look," Connie said at
last. "Roy's no angel. Everyone knows that. Just drop it, okay? Stop
asking questions or you're going to end up hurting some innocent people."

"But no one is really that
innocent, eh, Connie?" Debbie asked. She began her grating laughter again,
leaving Melinda and Connie to stare at each other.

"It's time for you to go,"
Connie said coldly.

The session was over.

***

Preston seemed distracted and thankfully
asked no questions when he picked up Melinda and dropped her off at the cabin. Explaining
he needed to return to the track to rejoin Mac, he drove away.

That evening as Melinda awaited the
return of the McClure brothers, she tired of watching television in the den. So
she decided to take a walk to clear her head. Once outdoors, she savored the fragrant
scent of pine and the sparkling night stars as she tried to plan what her next
move would be.

In truth, she now felt more stymied
than ever. She knew only that Roy Finch provided a shadowy link between
Preston, Joan, Connie, and Debbie. He had even touched Mac's life, too, in some
sinister way. That was obvious by the scene of rage Melinda had witnessed
between the two of them when the van had invaded the ranch.

Melinda wondered if she should go to
the police. But what would she say? That Roy Finch had a record? So what? He
wasn't a fugitive. He had served his time. She knew she didn’t have enough information
to motivate the authorities to take any kind of action. And if she started
spreading rumors about a possible connection between Joan's disappearance and
Sammy's death, she would be thrown off the ranch and never invited back.

No, it was best to stay with the
McClures as long as she could and keep her eyes and ears open.

When Melinda absently stepped off a
curb to cross a street, she was only vaguely aware of the bright lights beaming
at her from a vehicle parked on a side street. Then she heard the roar of an
engine and the screeching of tires. A vehicle obscured behind the brightest
beam of the headlights screamed directly toward her. As the car swerved toward
her and grazed her leg, she barely managed to jump backwards in time to take refuge
behind a tree.

Melinda expected the driver to stop
and offer apologies. Instead, the car sped away so quickly that she never got a
good look at who was inside. She stood for a moment, feeling shaken and angry. Then,
outrage turned to terror.

Had this action been deliberate? If
so, did someone want her dead or merely scared out of her wits?

Though her leg was now throbbing, it
didn't slow Melinda down when she sprinted in the direction of the cabin. Every
headlight she saw spurred her to move even faster. She hadn't realized she had
wandered so far. So it was at least fifteen minutes before she finally burst
inside. Both Preston and Mac were already there, seated in front of the
fireplace. Each nurtured a cup of hot coffee. Mac immediately put down his cup
at the sight of her face, stood, and walked to Melinda's side.