Back in Kansas Page 5

  Matt started to roll his eyes, but flinched and put his hand to his head. “Just as soon as my head goes back to its normal size.” He rubbed the crease between his brows. “Now I remember why I don’t drink.”

  Bo gave him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder. “Hangovers suck. I haven’t missed them at all.” He carried his cup to the window and looked outside. The weather actually seemed halfway decent. “Anyway, as soon as you’re up to it, I’d like to get cracking on this. Did you get my fax?”

  “I just found it,” Matt said, stretching his neck as if he were the one who’d slept on the sofa. In a baggy, NYPD T-shirt and faded gray sweatpants and bare feet he looked like a grown-up version of the kid Bo used to tease on those rare occasions when Ruth had taken him to visit her brother’s family.

  Estranged from her family for most of Bo’s childhood, Ruth had reestablished contact with her brother after their father’s death when Bo was eleven. Relations between the siblings remained tentative at best, but the two sisters-in-law became friends.

  “So tell me what’s going on with you and the force,” Bo said.

  Matt rose and walked to the window. He was silent a minute. “They’ve tried to be diplomatic and make a place for me the best they can, but what do you do with an eleven-year veteran with a gimpy knee? They loved the FBI gig because then they didn’t have to see me every day, but that’s just temporary.” He looked over his shoulder. “I doubt if they’re looking forward to my return any more than I am.”

  Bo yanked on his canvas slacks and tucked in his undershirt. He’d shower and change as soon as he had an itinerary in place. “Listen, I know our circumstances weren’t the same, but I went through my own kind of burnout in the force, and, believe me, I’ve never regretted going out on my own.”

  Matt looked interested, but Bo could almost hear the cautionary words of advice barking in the back of his cousin’s head. “I know I don’t have child support payments and I’m sure the cost of living hasn’t gone down since the last time I lived in this burg, but you do have options, Matt. You asked me last night if I was looking for employees, and the answer is no. But I would consider taking on a partner. You could handle everything east of the Mississippi, and I’ll keep my side of the continent.”

  “No problem,” Matt guffawed. “Half a country is more than enough for me.”

  Bo withdrew a map from the inside pocket of his ancient winter topcoat. “Consider this a test case. You help me find Claudie, and we talk business.”

  Matt turned away, but not before Bo caught the spark of interest in his eyes. “I’m a desk jockey now, Bo.” He pointed to his knee. “I’m not too hot in the hundred-yard dash any more.”

  Bo spread the finely detailed map on the table. “Trust me, Cuz, neither am I. This job is ten percent physical, ninety percent mental. I’ll hustle jobs, you handle the computer and we’ll hire some young jock to take care of the rest.”

  Matt laughed outright. “You’re just as whacked out as ever.”

  “Yeah, and you’re just as uptight. You remind me of Ren. Thank God Sara came along and loosened him up.”

  Matt shook his head. “I still can’t get over the fact he was engaged to Eve Masterson, and called it off to marry someone else.” He walked across the room to join Bo at the dinette. “Who in their right mind gives up a chance to sleep with the hottest woman on network news?”

  Stifling a sigh, Bo picked up his briefcase. He focused on the tumbler locks. “Listen. For your information, Eve’s a decent enough person, but she was all wrong for Ren. If they’d gotten married, they wouldn’t have lasted a year. Sara’s like a Broadway musical where Ren’s concerned. Eve was intermission. But, now that you mention it, Ren wanted me to check up on Eve while I’m in town. Sara’s worried about her.”

  Matt’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Sara, the wife, is worried about Eve, the ex-girlfriend?”

  Bo nodded. “You’d understand if you knew Sara.”

  Matt took a sip of coffee. “Eve hasn’t been on the air for a couple of weeks, you know. I heard a rumor she jumped networks. Word has it there’s a guy involved.”

  Bo shrugged. “Personally, I can’t picture her putting anyone above her career, but who knows? Remind me to call her later, will ya? But, first, let’s get cracking on finding Claudie. Time is of the essence, as my father would say.”

  “Particularly now,” Matt said with a snicker. “Keeping a twenty-something girlfriend happy can’t be easy for a man in his sixties.”

  Bo grimaced. He slammed his pen flat and leaned over the map. “Here’s where my crew thinks she was born. Maybe you’ll have better luck pulling up the hard facts. I’ll give you what we know, or think we know, and you tell me where we go from that.”

  Matt joined him at the table, his shoulder a few inches from Bo’s. “Okay. I’ll do it—on one condition. I get to call Eve. Who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky.”

  Bo looked him straight in the eye. “No problem, but might I remind you, you have limited bargaining power here? You’re working off an old debt, remember?”

  Bo bit down on his inner cheek as the color rose in his cousin’s face. “Bite me, Lester.”

  “After you, Ross.”

  The two men looked at each other a minute then chuckled simultaneously. Matt’s quick temper was a trait Bo remembered well as were Matt’s grit and determination—characteristics Bo hoped would serve them well on the task ahead.

  MATT STUDIED the highlighted notations on the map, his brain vaguely listening to the sound of the water running in the shower. Thanks to his hangover, it had taken him all of Thursday and part of this morning to construct a viable profile of the woman called Claudine St. James, from her birth in 1973 at the St. James School for Unwed Mothers, where her birth certificate read Claudine Yvonne Smith—to the present.

  The fundamentals of Matt’s computer program were neither new nor revolutionary, but the interactive format was user friendly and fast. Normally, a project this complex might take two or three days to finish, but Matt had worked nonstop to complete the analysis. This way Bo could get going, and Matt wouldn’t have to miss Ashley’s school play tonight.

  Bo, whose antsy energy just about drove Matt up the wall, spent his time on a weak attempt at locating Eve Masterson but came up empty-handed. “You can run this program on Eve after I leave,” Bo had told him. “If it’s as good as you say, you should be able to tell me where she lives and what she had for dinner last night, right?”

  Matt had laughed. “You make me sound like Big Brother.” Sadly, the program did have invasive connotations if used improperly, which is why he couldn’t market it for “big bucks,” as his ex-wife had suggested.

  As he highlighted certain events in Claudie’s life—a shot record admitting her to kindergarten, the 1981 record of death for Timothy John Anders, age one day—Matt’s mind flashed back to his cousin’s earlier comment. Payback, Matt thought. This little job would eradicate a twenty-year debt of gratitude.

  He tried to picture himself at sixteen—junior varsity jock, pimples, shiny new driver’s license. His only goal at the time was to get laid, and in his mind the way to accomplish that was by taking Sharon Jensen to the prom. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the money to rent a tux and buy the tickets, let alone purchase a corsage.

  A moment of foolishness—plus one unguarded cash box filled with the weekend’s basketball game receipts—might have screwed up his life for good if not for Bo. Matt silently groaned picturing the hubbub over Bo’s arrest for vandalism after he broke a window to get inside the building to return the money. The charge was reduced to malicious mischief once Bo’s dad had been called, but it still meant five months of community service.

  “So,” Bo said, walking into the room, a towel tucked about his waist, “are we set, then? You’re sure her ultimate destination is eastern Kansas, but you see stops in Wyoming, South Dakota and Minnesota to connect with her siblings.”

  “Hey, I’m not a soothsayer and I d
on’t want a midnight phone call from you if I’m wrong. You saw how this was done—facts and percentages, not smoke and mirrors. At the moment, with all things considered, this is where your best odds are.”

  Bo yanked on jockey shorts and a pair of socks, then slipped on a hideous shirt of greens and gold. “Good Lord,” Matt sputtered, “where do you shop? Dumpsters?”

  Bo grinned. “No, but I’ve heard you find some good stuff there. This is a disguise.”

  “As what? A wino? Hell, I know street people who wouldn’t be caught dead in that shirt.”

  Bo laughed, obviously not put out by his cousin’s criticism. “You sound just like Claudie. Maybe I’ll let her start picking out my clothes once I convince her to marry me.”

  Matt rocked back, surprised. “Marriage? She’s an ex-hooker, Bo. God, to think about all the—”

  Bo reached out and grabbed Matt’s shirt right below the neckline. “Don’t say it.”

  Matt swallowed. “Baggage,” he managed to choke out. “I started to say I hate to think about all the emotional baggage a person’s got to carry around after a job like that.” Bo’s fingers opened. “Probably right up with cops, don’t you imagine?”

  Bo looked him straight in the eyes and nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  CLAUDIE SHOPPED for her motel with care born of frugality. She found a clean-looking place not far from the mausoleumlike prison perched on a bluff above the Sioux River. The motel manager was a friendly woman with three very loud miniature poodles. The dogs—Mitzy, Fritzy and Poo—cried when Claudie took her room key and started to leave.

  “Now, just you hush,” the manager told them as Claudie closed the door. “She’ll be back here in the morning for her Danish so you can talk to her then.”

  Claudie shook her head. She’d never owned a dog or cat and she couldn’t remember her family ever having pets. Maybe that was something she’d ask Zach when she saw him, she told herself, unlocking the door of her room. If I see him.

  Claudie hated to think what she’d do if they didn’t let her see her brother. Her finances weren’t limitless and, although she had a credit card, she hated to use it.

  After unpacking a fresh sweater and clean pair of jeans to wear the next day, she decided to go for a walk.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” Claudie said, poking her head inside the door of the office. “Is there a grocery store nearby?”

  A cacophony of barking almost drowned out the woman’s reply. “Sure is. Right down the street about four blocks. Can’t miss it,” the manager called out brightly, then added more gruffly, “No, Mitzy you can’t go along. I promised you a walk later, but only if you’re patient.”

  Claudie closed the door softly. The autumn twilight felt soothing, even with a bite of winter in the air. The long drive eastward from Wall had gone surprisingly fast thanks to a book on tape that she’d found on sale. The story—a romance—had touched her.

  Whistling softly under her breath, Claudie thought about Bo. There was no denying it—she missed her Cookbook Man, which is what she and Keneesha had first named him when they saw him skulking in the cookbook section of Sara’s bookstore. She wondered where he was at that moment. Is he thinking about me?

  As she entered the small, well-lit grocery store, she spotted a pay phone just inside the door. Maybe they call this homesickness, she thought, veering toward the phone. She tried Bo’s number but received a busy single. Too impatient to wait and try again, she dialed Sara’s number.

  Ren answered.

  “Hi, Ren. It’s me. Is Sara home?”

  “No, darn it, and is she going to be mad that she missed you,” Ren said, his voice as cheerful and positive as usual.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching?” Claudie asked.

  “My class was canceled. They’re painting our building. I’m sitting here grading papers. So, how’s everything going with you? We’ve been worried about you.”

  “I’m fine. The car’s running great. I saw one of my brothers. The other one’s in jail…I might get to see him tomorrow.” Claudie almost clapped her hand over her mouth, surprised by the amount of personal information she’d just shared.

  “Really? Anything I can do to help?”

  Claudie had actually considered calling Ren when it sounded like she might have to wait to get visiting privileges but nixed the idea since that would mean broadcasting her location to Bo. “I don’t think so. The staff sounded pretty cool on the phone. I’ll call you if they give me any grief tomorrow.”

  Ren was silent a second. “Monday’s the Veteran’s Day holiday, you know. Sara wanted to use the long weekend to take Brady to Disneyland for his birthday, but I talked her into going to Half Moon Bay instead. We’re leaving in the morning.” He sounded almost apologetic.

  He was a good man, and Claudie knew Sara had never been happier. She envied them their closeness.

  “That ought to be fun. Brady will love the ocean.”

  “Yeah, we’ll probably spend the whole day poking around in tidal pools. I wish you were going with us, but I guess you’re doing what you need to do.” He hesitated as if he were going to give her some advice, but said instead, “We’ll have the cell phone with us if you need anything.”

  Claudie appreciated the concession because everyone knew how much Ren hated cellular phones. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. Have you heard how things are going at One Wish House?”

  Ren’s soft chortle seemed positive. “Pretty good, I think. Sara was there this morning with Babe. One of the residents…let me see…Maya? Is she Korean?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Maya talked them into planning a fund-raiser.”

  Claudie almost dropped the phone. She’d been praying the place wouldn’t fall apart without her; she certainly hadn’t expected it to thrive. “What kind of fund-raiser?”

  “A dim sum cook-off or something. Sara could tell you more about it. I think it’s a ploy to keep the girls from missing you.” His voice went a shade deeper. “We all do, you know. Brady’s been so lonely. First, you disappear then Bo.”

  Claudie had to swallow a funny lump in her throat. “Bo? Where’s he? He was due back from Vegas on Monday.”

  There was a pause. “Umm…he was here, but then he left again. He’s…ah…in New York, actually.”

  “What’s he doing in New York?”

  Ren cleared his throat. “I…uh, that is we, Sara and me, asked him to find out what’s happened to Eve. She kinda fell off the face of the earth.”

  Claudie remembered Sara mentioning something about not being able to reach Eve, but some quality in Ren’s tone made her skeptical. She let it go. “Well, I’d better run. Tell Sara I called and give Brady a big kiss for me. I bought him a dinosaur from the Badlands and two T-shirts—one has a picture of a jack-alope on it.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s what you get when you cross a jackrabbit with an antelope.”

  Ren’s laugh made her even more homesick. “I hate to tell you this, Claudie, but you sound like a real tourist.”

  “Yep, that’s me,” she said, fighting to keep from embarrassing herself. “Hey, Ren, it’s been good talking to you. If you hear from Bo, tell him I said hi. I hope everything’s okay with Eve. Gotta go. Bye.”

  Claudie hung up, swallowing against the lump in her throat. She grabbed a cart and mindlessly pushed it up and down the rows of the store. “Where are you Bo?” she whispered under her breath.

  Looking for me?

  She knew the answer. The real question was, what would she do if he found her? Or rather, when he found her.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE PENITENTIARY frightened her, and despite the overheated air within the building, she felt chilled to her bones. Waiting for Zach to be admitted to the visitation room, Claudie kept her chin down and concentrated on keeping her lunch in her stomach. Furtively she wiped a bead of sweat from her upper lip then tucked her hands under her butt, tuning out the disharmonious
chatter of other inmates and their visitors.

  “Claudie?” a voice croaked.

  Her chin shot up to see a bald stranger staring at her.

  “My God,” he softly cried. “It is you. I couldn’t believe it when they told me you were coming. Claudie.”

  Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back. She wasn’t some weepy little girl. She was tough. Strong. “Zach,” she whispered, choking on emotions she hadn’t expected to feel. Her arms lifted automatically, but she let them fall to her sides, recalling the warning about appropriate behavior between residents and visitors.

  Zach walked to her, a crooked little catch in his step. Yancy’s parting words to her had been about Zach’s injury. “He messed up his hip pretty bad in the accident,” he’d called to her as she walked to her car. “Still has a lot of pain.”

  Her gaze was as jumpy as her heart—skittering over the deep creases in his face and the somberness in his eyes that made him look old beyond his years. He eased into an empty chair and after an awkward hesitation took both of her hands in his. Hand-holding was allowed. As was a kiss hello and goodbye. She leaned forward shyly and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  “What are you doing here, Claudie? God, you look terrific. I’d have known you anywhere,” Zach said with conviction. His voice—deep and kind of scratchy-sounding—was as unfamiliar as his face.

  “Really?” She searched his eyes for a trace of the boy she’d known and loved. “Yancy nearly keeled over when I showed up at his door. He said you thought I was dead.”

  One side of his mouth twitched. Claudie remembered his smile, slow and deliberate when it came—which wasn’t often. “Nah. You’re tough. And smart—the smartest of us all. I knew you’d land on your feet.”

  Claudie let out a harsh laugh that made the others in the room turn her way. Softly she said, “On my back, you mean.” At his puzzled look she added, “I was a hooker, Zach. Off and on for years. I’d try other jobs—waitressing, I was a clerk in a convenience store for a while, an usher at a wrestling arena and I even parked cars, but somehow I’d always end up working some corner.”