Tribe (20 page)

Huffing, her voice finally came on the line. “Zeb? Zeb, is that you?”

“Hi.”

Hearing her voice, he didn't know what he felt. Or maybe he did. Maybe the lack of feeling was all that he needed to know about their relationship.

“How's my baby?” she demanded. “Is she all right?”

“She's fine now. I got her some medicine and she's all better.”

“How's her crying?”

“She's not crying anymore, Suzanne. I mean, she cries sometimes, but she's not crying because she's sick anymore. She's all better.”

“You gotta bring her back, Zeb. I miss her. I miss you. You gotta come home to us.”

“I'm sorry, I just can't.”

“But, Zeb—”

“Suzanne, no. She'd have died unless she got medication.”

“You've been blinded! You've been swallowed up! You've been associating with non-Christians!” She started sobbing. “Zeb, it's not too late. Come home! You can become a believer again!”

But it was too late, far too late, for Ribka's pained crying had long ago caused him to lose faith, at least their faith anyway. He started shaking his head too, for he realized that she'd never be able to understand and that he'd been right in not telling Suzanne of his plan to escape The Congregation. He couldn't imagine her coping anywhere else but under the confines of The Congregation and the heavy command of her father.

“Don't worry, Ribka's okay. She'll be fine,” said Zeb. “I'd give my life for her.”

With that he dropped the phone in the cradle and gave a great big sigh of relief. Sure, he realized, he'd been meaning to call home to let Suzanne know the baby was all right, but he'd called specifically tonight in a moment of despair and self-doubt. A moment that was gone. Thank God he'd left. Praise Jesus and all that stuff that he'd had the brains to escape.

Leaning over the edge of the portable crib, Zeb whispered, “Don't worry, Ribka, everything's going to be okay. We'll see what tomorrow brings.”

Wave
after wave of sobs shook Suzanne. Seated on the couch, she pulled her legs up, pressing her knees against her chest, then wrapping her arms around her shins so that she was this little ball of misery. Oh, God, she thought silently as the tears spilled out of her. She wanted Ribka. She wanted Zeb. She wanted to be anywhere but here.

“Hush, little girl,” said her father, sitting down next to her and putting one of his big arms around her. “Everything's going to be okay.”

“But…but .. .”

She stared at that old fat face of his, saw that syrupy smile, felt him pulling her into his embrace. Gross. Of all the fathers on the earth, why was she stuck with him? Why? And why out here on the compound, the most boring place in the entire universe? She wanted to be with Zeb and her baby in some nice little suburb with a TV and movies and restaurants, restaurants with table service. They could still go to church. They could work for Christians, visit with Christians. They could lead godly lives. Oh, she wanted a car that she could just hop into and go anywhere. A car with a radio, no less!

“Don't you see, pumpkin?” continued her father with a huge, sly grin on his face. “We've got Zeb now. We're going to get your baby back and we're going to make that husband of yours pay for the sins he has committed.”

A huge sob billowed up but then stopped, and Suzanne wiped her eyes. What was her daddy talking about now?

“Satan may be wily, but I'm more clever, I must say.” He held up a piece of paper with a name and number scribbled on it and proclaimed, “Zeb's right here at this man's house.”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

“Don't you see? Zeb's at this guy's house, this Mark…Mark Olson, and this is the phone number. You see, Zeb called here and that little contraption over there,” he said, pointing to small box by the phone, “identified the name and number of the phone he was calling from. That means we've found him. Tomorrow morning we'll have Paul and Rick head right over there and then you'll have your baby back!”

Almost two hours after
they'd left, Todd and Rawlins pulled up again in front of Janice's snow-covered house. Parking his four-wheel-drive Cherokee behind both Jeff's and Rawlins's buried cars, Todd shut off the engine and let out a deep sigh.

“I can't believe he got away like that. If only we'd been a few minutes earlier.”

“Don't worry,” said Rawlins, giving Todd a reassuring pat on the thigh. “This'll all get worked out.”

Shaking his head in frustration, Todd pulled up his collar, and then they climbed out, dashing through the snow and clambering up the front steps of Janice's walk. When they reached the front door Todd twisted the doorknob, pushed, and was surprised to find the front door open.

Stepping into the entry, Todd hesitated, looked around, and then called, “Janice?”

Both Todd and Rawlins stomped their feet and took off their jackets, which they tossed on a hall chair. When there was no response Todd glanced at Rawlins and then looked around anxiously.

“Janice, where are you?”

A moment later she softly replied, “Out here.”

Followed by Rawlins, Todd ducked into the living room and found Janice staring out the front windows, her shoulders covered by a small lap blanket.

“Any luck?” she asked without turning away from the window.

“Kind of. He does in fact work at the Edina Hospital.”

“Oh?”

“He took a job as a janitor just a couple of days ago.”

“I see.”

“And he was there tonight.”

“Really?”

Todd hesitated, then asked, “Janice, are you all right?”

She bent her head, shook it, and looked at them. “No, I'm a wreck actually.”

“Of course.”

Todd crossed the large room and dropped himself on the couch. Rubbing his face, he wished he could offer some bit of hope. But there was none, was there?

“We saw him from a distance,” said Todd, his frustration all too evident. “But it was like he was afraid or something. Or he was doing something wrong. We couldn't catch up with him, and then he got in his car and took off.”

“Oh, God.”

“Janice,” stated Rawlins, “he had a baby with him.”

“What?” she demanded, seeming interested for the first time. “It wasn't Ribka, was it?”

“I don't know. We couldn't tell.”

“Well, it couldn't have been, it just couldn't have been.”

Todd said, “Janice, if Zeb's mixed up in something we need to know.”

“Of course, but what? I don't know anything more than I've already told you.” Putting her hand to her forehead, she wandered across the room. “I just wish he'd call.”

Rawlins said, “First thing tomorrow we'll go out and get his address from the personnel department. After that we'll try to find him and hopefully have a little chat. Then maybe we'll be able to get some answers.”

“Sure…”

As perplexed as he was concerned, Todd watched Janice as her eyes darted down to the floor. He understood her being upset. Who wouldn't be? But what else was going through her head?

“Janice,” asked Todd, “is there anything else?”

“No.”

“Did anyone call while we were gone? You didn't speak to anyone, did you?”

“No,” she replied faintly, her head bowed.

“The phone didn't ring at all?”

“What is this, an inquisition? I said no,” she snapped as she turned and started to leave the room. “I'm sorry. I…I just can't handle this. It's too much.” She rubbed her forehead. “Listen, I checked things out in the basement and that guy broke in through a window. I got out a board and some nails and plastic, but I couldn't quite reach the hole. Would you mind covering it up?”

“Sure,” replied Todd.

“Thanks. I don't know if I'll sleep, but I've got to go to bed.”

“Yeah, okay.”

But it wasn't okay.

So, thought Todd, glancing at the side table with the leg he'd busted, on top of everything else was Janice simply still mad at him? Had his bad temper caused her to lose trust in him, or could there be something else eating at her?

“Janice, Rawlins and I want to stay here tonight,” called Todd after her. “You know, in case anything comes up.”

“Sure…sure.” Her back to them, Janice paused at the edge of the room. “I think there are already sheets on the bed in the guest room. If the phone rings, though, let me answer it. Oh, brother, I'm not supposed to contact the police, and here I'm having a sleep-over with a cop.”

“Don't worry,” said Rawlins.

Janice said nothing, only shook her head.

Todd called, “Good night.”

She didn't reply, and Todd sat there, listening as she slowly made her way into the entry and then up the stairs. He didn't get it, her withdrawing like this. It wasn't like her. He'd known her for almost twenty-five years, and the only times she'd pulled away from him and their friendship were when there was something she was withholding. Or avoiding. When she was angry at him—and she'd been royally pissed at him three or four times—she didn't hold back. He thought back on that school year following her supposed trip to Europe. Janice had been so cold toward him that she'd been outright rude, often not even responding to his greeting when they'd pass in the hallways. For years after that Todd had assumed her behavior was due to her coming out gay, that Todd, as her last boyfriend, represented some sort of threat; he'd always wondered how her actions toward him might have been different back then if she'd known the truth of Todd's own sexuality. But now all was perfectly clear, he understood. She'd turned away from Todd their senior year, not because she was a lesbian, but because she hadn't known how or what to tell him about the child she'd so recently given birth to, the boy who might be his.

Unable to stem a growing sense of paranoia, Todd quickly went over to the phone, which sat on a low wooden table at the far end of Janice's living room sofa. It was a slim phone, the buttons mounted right in the handset, but instead of dialing a number, Todd searched for one particular button, which, he found at the very bottom.

“What are you doing?” asked Rawlins, following him.

“Being weird.”

It did seem a strange thing to do, thought Todd, yet this method of checking on someone's story wasn't his idea. A year ago when he and his crew at Channel 7 had been taping the anatomy of a murder investigation, he'd seen a detective do the very same thing. And it had worked, had proven to be a key piece of evidence, for it had proven that the suspect at least had tried to contact the victim. So Todd now hit the redial button on Janice's phone and listened as the memory beeped through seven digits. A number started to ring.

When, he wondered, had Janice last called anyone on this particular phone—days ago, or perhaps while Rawlins and he were out?

Someone picked up on the other end and a voice said, “Uptown Pizza.”

Todd hung up without saying anything. In the last day or two Janice had apparently been here at the house with the baby and hadn't had the energy to cook. Or something like that, so she'd had a pizza delivered instead. Not yet satisfied, though, Todd hurried out of the living room, passing through the entry and back toward the bright kitchen.

“What the hell's with you?” asked Rawlins, tagging after him.

Over his shoulder, Todd whispered, “I just want to see if she called anyone tonight.”

He went directly for the wall phone, a large model with a speaker. Picking up the receiver, he hit the redial button on this phone. Again seven numbers were automatically dialed, and then a sleepy voice answered.

“This…this better be good, girlfriend.”

Todd recognized Jeff's voice, but didn't say anything, instead hanging up at once. Okay, he thought, turning around and leaning against the counter, so maybe she called Jeff prior to his coming over to baby-sit. That would make sense.

“So?” demanded Rawlins, standing next to the large white refrigerator.

“The first number was a pizza parlor, the second was Jeff's.” Todd shrugged, recognizing that there was no way he could now check it out. “But she's a lawyer, which means there's at least another phone or two upstairs. If she did in fact call anyone while we were gone, maybe she used one of them up there.”

Rawlins calmly looked across the kitchen, and nodding with his head, said, “Well, Perry Mason, what about that one?”

Todd turned around and looked at the small marble breakfast table. There was a basket of fruit, this morning's paper, and a cordless phone, a black one with a stubby rubber antenna. Hurrying across the room, he snatched up the telephone and quickly studied the handset. He hit the on button, heard a dial tone, and then pressed redial. Watching as one after the other of the tiny LED lights flashed beneath a number, he realized the first number dialed was “one.”

“The last number Janice called on this phone was long distance.”

“Doesn't this constitute spying—and on a friend no less?”

“Never mind, just grab a pencil!” he ordered Rawlins. “Over there, there's one on the counter. Write this down!”