Back in Kansas Page 3

  Startled by his vehement response, Claudie glanced at Renee. Her scowl said this was another sore subject.

  “Renee wanted to try again for a girl, but like my pal Andy says the first rule about holes is, if you’re in one, stop digging.”

  Renee snorted then looked at Claudie. “Like Andy knows shit from shinola—he’s single. You got kids?”

  Claudie pictured Sara’s adopted son, Brady. At times he felt like her child. At times she wished he were her child. She shook her head. “No.”

  Yancy made an understanding sound. “Not surprised. With Mom sick so much toward the end, you were practically raising the rest of us.” To Renee, he said, “Claudie had to drop out of school after Mom passed away to stay home and take care of our little sister, Sherry.”

  Claudie looked down at the floor. Sweet darling Sherry hadn’t been the problem. If Garret hadn’t started drinking…

  She put the thought aside when Yancy asked, “So, Sis, what brings you to Cheyenne?”

  Claudie swallowed. “I ran across your name on the Internet. I couldn’t find anything on Zach or Val, so I thought I’d get a hold of you and see what you know.”

  He nodded. “Searching for your roots, huh? A guy I work with’s big on that genealogy crap.” He shrugged. “Not me. Past’s behind us—right where I like it.”

  A year ago Claudie would have agreed with him wholeheartedly.

  “So you’re online, huh?” Renee asked. “We’re talking about getting a computer. I have one at work, but our boss is like Mr. Scrooge—if he thought you were using his toys for anything but work he’d fire you.”

  “We have several computers at the bookstore where I work,” Claudie said, picturing the new office space Sara and Ren had created at the rear of the bookstore—one cubicle for Daniel, one for her.

  “You work in a bookstore?” Yancy asked, obviously surprised.

  “Part-time. I manage a halfway house, too.” She’d told a watered-down version of her story so many times, it almost sounded like someone else’s life. Here, she thought, uneasily, is someone who knew the truth.

  “You mean like for ex-cons?” Yancy exclaimed. “How weird! You know Zach’s gonna be getting out of jail in another year or so. Maybe he could go to your place.”

  It was Claudie’s turn to sputter. “Zach’s in jail?”

  “South Dakota State Penitentiary. Vehicular manslaughter. Drove his rig into a car one night when he was drunk. Killed two people.”

  Claudie grimaced. A part of her wasn’t surprised to learn that her brother’s life had turned into a nightmare. As the eldest son he’d borne the brunt of his father’s demands. He’d also been the most devastated by their younger brother Wesley’s death.

  “I didn’t know that. How long ago?” she asked.

  Yancy looked at Renee. “Four, maybe five years ago. We write each other once ’n a while.”

  Renee snorted. “Like once a year if you’re lucky.”

  He gave her a black look, and she stood up. “Listen,” she said to Claudie, “I’d like to stay and chat, but I gotta finish up before Mom brings Laramie home. And, don’t forget, Yance, you promised to take Pika to the video store if he cleaned up the dog shit,” she told her husband.

  “Did he do it?” Yancy asked.

  “He said he did. Go look for yourself.” With that she turned away, but stopped and said, “It was nice meeting you, Claudie. I’m sorry we can’t offer you a place to stay tonight, but, believe me, you don’t want to catch what we just got over, and Laramie might still be contagious.”

  Claudie hadn’t thought about her plans for the night, but she definitely didn’t want to catch the flu. “Thanks, but I need to push on anyway. I’ve got a lot of stops to make.”

  After his wife was gone, Yancy heaved a sigh. “Families are such fun.”

  He’d meant it as a joke, but Claudie shook her head. “Not ours.”

  He flinched. “Are you gonna bring all that stuff back up? ’Cause I don’t want to hear it, Claudie. What’s done is done, you can’t take it back.”

  She cocked her head. “What do you mean I can’t take it back? Do you think I lied about what happened?”

  He shrugged. “The old man said you did. He claimed you just wanted to get out of staying home with Sherry. He tol’ the police you were mad ’cause he made you miss the prom or something.”

  A fury so deep and massive it nearly choked her made Claudie leap to her feet. “That bastard. That lying scumbag. He raped me, Yancy. He was supposed to go to jail. Miss Murray promised he’d go to jail if I told the police what happened.”

  Yancy drew back. “Well, I don’t know about any of that. Once the police came and took us all away, me ’n’ Zach never got to go home. We saw Dad a couple’a more times at the courthouse, but the judge said it was apparent Dad couldn’t handle us. The judge said me’n Zach needed more discipline and structure than we were getting at home, so he sent us to a group home in Emporia.”

  Claudie saw a hooded look descend over his face. “It sucked big time. The food was bad, the beds stunk. Only good part was we were together most of the time. Zach learned to work on engines and they helped him find a job with a trucking company when he turned eighteen. I was supposed to stick around another year, but I split when Zach did. We went to Omaha.”

  “What’d you do there?”

  “Zach drove truck. I was a dishwasher mostly, but then I met Becca. Her dad owned the company Zach was working for.”

  “How’d you wind up here?”

  He shrugged. “Long story. Could we save it for later? You kinda caught us at a bad time—what with the family being sick and all.”

  She got the hint. “Look, Yancy, I came here for a reason. I think Garret—” she couldn’t bring herself to use the word Dad “—might do to Sherry what he did to me. I want to go back there and make sure it doesn’t happen.”

  Yancy looked stunned. “You came all this way ’cause…” he slowly inhaled. “He really did it, huh?”

  A fist clenched in her stomach. “Did you think I’d lie about something like that?”

  He shrugged. “Zach said maybe you got knocked up by Darren Blains and just stirred things up so you could get away without anybody noticing.”

  Claudie frowned. “Darren and I did it a few times, but I wasn’t pregnant—no way was I going to wind up like Mom. But I didn’t lie about Garret. It happened the day he lost his job. He came home drunk and…” She squeezed her eyes closed, blocking images that skittered about on the edge of her consciousness.

  When she looked at Yancy he was doubled over, hands folded between his knees. “Shit.” He was quiet a minute then asked, “Was it just the once?”

  Claudie fought to keep her expression even. “Yes. Does that make it all right?”

  He flinched visibly. After a long pause, he let out a sigh. “What do you want from me?”

  “I’m going back and I want you to come along.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, right. Just drop everything and head back to Kansas because you’re afraid the old man might be playing hide the salami with Sherry, huh? How do you even know he’s still alive? I ain’t heard from him since we left. Maybe he’s dead.”

  Claudie open the purse at her feet and withdrew three sheets of paper folded in half. “He’s not that old, Yancy. Fifty-one or two. I found his Web page on the Internet. That’s what made me come looking for you.”

  She handed Yancy the papers. Even seeing her step-father’s image produced a sick feeling.

  Yancy read for a minute. “He’s a preacher? I thought he was Catholic. Remember all that church stuff we had to do up ’til Mom got sick?”

  Claudie remembered—it was one of the reasons she hadn’t stepped inside a church in ten years. “I don’t know how he got to be a preacher but it’s him.”

  Yancy flipped to the second page. “He’s on radio?”

  Claudie nodded. “Makes sense if you think about it. He always was a salesman. Mom used to say he could
sell sand to Arabs. Now he’s peddling God.”

  She rose and walked to her brother’s side. When he turned to the third page she pointed out a paragraph she’d highlighted in yellow. “See. It mentions his teenage daughter named Sherry.”

  Yancy grunted.

  “So? Will you go with me?”

  He paused as if considering her request, but in the end his answer was the one Claudie expected. “I can’t, Claudie. I got a wife ’n’ two kids, an ex-wife and child support, a mortgage and two car payments. I leave ’n’ the whole damn thing goes to hell. Just being home sick the last two days means I gotta pull weekend overtime to break even.”

  Claudie swallowed her disappointment. When he handed her the papers, she carefully folded them and picked up her purse. “Could you at least put me in touch with Zach and Valery? Maybe they can help me. I don’t like the idea of going in there cold.” A lesson she’d learned from watching Bo at work.

  He scratched his head. “Zach ain’t hard to find. The prison’s in Sioux Falls, and he won’t be going anywhere for a while.” He rose. “You gotta call ahead to make sure your name is on his visitor list. Yours probably ain’t, but they might make an exception since you come so far. I got the number of the prison around here somewhere.”

  He disappeared into the room across the hall but returned a few seconds later. “Here,” he said, passing her a scrap of paper. “I don’t have a clue about Val. She changed her name when she got adopted, but I can’t remember what that teacher’s name was.” He sighed. “Ask Zach. I think he said he got a Christmas card from her last year.”

  Claudie left without telling her sister-in-law goodbye or meeting her youngest nephew. She gave her brother a hug—the first in ten years, but somehow it didn’t produce that warm, fuzzy feeling greeting cards always talk about. As she walked to her car, she sighed, surprised by the deflated feeling that engulfed her.

  What the hell did you expect? she asked herself severely once she was sitting behind the wheel.

  Suddenly, out of the blue, she felt the need to talk to Bo. He’d understand, she thought starting the car. Impulsively, she pulled into the first gas station she found. Its lighted telephone booth stood on the side of the building.

  After three rings a familiar voice requested the caller to leave a message or try Bo’s cellular number. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Hi. It’s me. I’m sure as hell glad you’re not there to get this call—you’d just yell at me and I’d end up hanging up on you.” She smiled, knowing it was the truth. “I’m just calling to let you know I’m doing fine. You know me—the Energizer Bunny—I keep going and going.”

  She shook her head at the inanity of her dialogue. “Listen, I’ll make this quick. I don’t expect you to understand, but I’m doing something I need to do and I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d freak. Sara probably told you by now I’m tracking down my long-lost family.” She tried to keep her tone light. “I just saw brother number two and now I’m on my way to see number one. Apparently there’s no big rush—he won’t be going anywhere for the next three to five,” she said dryly.

  She could picture the look on Bo’s face when he heard this message. He’d be mad…and hurt. “Well,” she said, trying to keep her tone from betraying how much she missed him, “I’ll call you later. Bye.”

  BO PLAYED the recording a third time. According to the machine’s log, he’d only missed her call by ten minutes. He glanced at his watch. Less than an hour until his flight.

  Karen Kriegen walked in—a sheaf of papers in her outstretched hand. “Here’s the latest on those names,” she said. “Looks promising.”

  Bo took the inch-thick stack and shoved it in his briefcase without looking at it. “I’ll go through it on the plane. Anything from Matt, yet?”

  “Not yet. I’ll give him your flight information if he calls before I leave for the night. If he doesn’t call, I’ll make sure the switchboard has the details.”

  “Great. Thanks. The less time I have to spend in New York the better,” Bo said, suppressing a shudder. He wouldn’t have made the trip at all if he wasn’t banking on his cousin’s help. Matt, who was four years younger than Bo, was a cop. But he’d been injured on the job and relegated to a desk job. He was also apparently doing some kind of computer tracking for the FBI. If anyone had access to the information Bo needed, it would be Matt.

  Bo flipped open his answering machine and pocketed the recording of Claudie’s voice. He told himself Matt might be able to use it to help track her whereabouts, but in all honesty Bo had decided their best bet would be to figure out where she was going, not try to guess where she was at the moment. “Do we have any more tapes for this thing?” he asked, nodding at the empty machine.

  Karen nodded tolerantly. “Go. I’ll take care of it.”

  He gave her a grateful smile then turned to leave.

  Bo was halfway across the parking lot when he bumped into Ren and Sara. Sara’s face, already a little puffy with pregnancy, was flushed from hurrying.

  “Hey, Sara, if you don’t slow down you’re going to have those kids in three months instead of six.”

  “My doctor said walking is good for me,” she told him breathlessly.

  “Walking. Not wind sprints.” He looped his arm around Sara’s shoulders. “What are you guys doing here? I’m on my way to the airport.”

  Sara squeezed him briefly. “I know. Ren said you were going to New York. That’s why we came by. I wanted to give you this.” Bo had to trot to keep up with her. He took the folded piece of paper she passed him.

  “More drawings?” Bo asked, stopping to look it over.

  “No,” Sara said. “I just remembered something I thought might be important. When I was helping Claudie study for the GED, we got in an argument over the capital of Kansas. I didn’t believe it was Topeka. She was right. She said she’d lived on a farm about twenty miles north of there. I thought she was kidding. I mean, can you picture Claudie as a Kansas farm girl?”

  Ren added, “When Sara told me that, it triggered something. Last week, Claudie asked me about the statute of limitations on rape. I told her it would depend on the state, and she said, ‘How ’bout Kansas?”’

  “You think she was raped?” Bo asked, his voice catching.

  Sara nodded. “It’s possible. She mentioned her stepfather the last time she called. Something about not letting him ruin another girl.”

  “What’s this?” Bo asked, fingering a yellow Post-it note adorned with a florid scrawl.

  “That’s Babe’s theory. She’s home with Brady.”

  Bo’s heartbeat quickened as he scanned the note. “Revenge? She thinks Claudie may be on her way to Kansas to kill the guy who molested her?”

  Ren grimaced. “I told Mother I thought that was a bit extreme, but you know Babe.”

  “Bo, you’ve got to find her.” Sara’s voice broke.

  “I will, Sara,” Bo said, touching her shoulder supportively. “But I don’t believe Babe’s theory.” He added the paper to his briefcase. “Listen, you guys, I gotta run. Don’t worry, Sara. I’ll make sure nothing bad happens. I promise.”

  With a wave, he left his friends behind. Impatient now to begin the search, Bo started his car and pulled into traffic. Ren and Sara’s news had brought additional worries he didn’t need. If his researchers had been more confident in their theory, he’d have skipped New York and gone straight to Kansas, but Bo believed in being prepared. He wanted to learn as much as he could about Claudie’s past before thrusting himself into the middle of something he didn’t understand.

  Accelerating, the Mazda joined the cars headed north on I-5. If all went as planned, he’d be in New York shortly after midnight. And, if his cousin was as proficient at the computer as his mother claimed, Bo might beat Claudie to Kansas.

  If that’s where she’s going, he reminded himself.

  MATTHEW ROSS kicked the door closed behind him. The dim glow from the night-light he’d left burning in the guest bath was jus
t enough for him to negotiate the narrow hallway with his arms wrapped around two full bags of groceries. Ashley was coming for the weekend, and he’d stocked up on all her favorites—Goldfish crackers, apples, toaster waffles with honey—not syrup—and praline fudge ripple ice cream. Ashley was easy to please; her mother, on the other hand, made the Middle East peace talks look like a negotiator’s dream job.

  He carefully lowered the bags to the counter in his kitchenette then dug past the four-pack of toilet paper to reach the freezer bag. The nightmare of New York City traffic never ceased to amaze him. Even though he’d grown up in New Jersey, and, as a cop with the NYPD he’d learned to deal with the decaying infrastructure and moronic drivers, the state of the roads seemed to be getting worse by the day.

  Or you’re just getting too damn old to take it, he told himself.

  Once the ice cream was safely stored in the freezer section of his small refrigerator he took his time putting things away. As he leaned down to stow the box of crackers he noticed the number two in red on his answering machine. He checked his pager first, but saw no new messages so figured the calls were personal, not work-related.

  He cracked open a Heineken before lowering himself to the stool where he kept a pen and paper handy.

  “Yo, Cuz, this is Bo,” the first message began.

  Matt almost choked on his swallow of beer. He hadn’t spoken with his cousin, Bo Lester, in ages. As he listened to the message his surprise intensified. A woman. Missing. A friend. Something told Matt the mystery woman was more than a friend.

  He scribbled down the time and flight number of his cousin’s plane. Sure, he’d meet the plane and provide a bed—or rather, a couch for a couple of nights. Matt’s guest room with its four-poster bed and down comforter was still at his ex-wife’s house—along with his daughter and the better part of his life.

  “Matthew,” the second message started, causing Matt’s beer to curdle in his stomach, “Ashley won’t be able to make it this weekend after all. I know this is your regular weekend but something wonderful came up that she couldn’t resist. She feels terrible about this and will call you later to explain.” There was a pause and Matt could picture the troubled look on his ex-wife’s face—she never could lie without frowning in a way that made a crease between her eyebrows. That giveaway point had been what alerted him to her affair. “Please try not to blow this out of proportion, Matt. You can have her next weekend, which technically is our weekend, but I’m prepared to be flexible if you are. This is about Ashley’s happiness, not her parents’ schedules.”