Back in Kansas Page 6

  He let out a low epithet.

  Claudie shrugged. “But that’s all behind me, now. I finally passed the GED, and I’ve got a great job—two actually. I help run a bookstore and I manage a halfway house for prostitutes.”

  The gladness that filled his eyes made her heart soar. “You can’t know how good that makes me feel, Claudie girl. It’s like seeing a light at the end of a long, black tunnel. Maybe some of that glow will come my way after I get out of this place.”

  They talked until Claudie’s voice sounded as parched and scratchy as Zach’s. She told him about Ren and Sara and Brady, the girls at One Wish House, her interest in old books, her trip so far.

  “What about a guy? No boyfriend?” he asked, zeroing in on the part she’d purposely left out.

  “There’s a guy. A friend. I think he’d like to be more than a friend, but that won’t happen.” She sighed softly. “I guess I’m not made for that kind of thing.”

  Zach’s wiry brows bunched together. “We sure ended up with some big holes in our souls, didn’t we?”

  Claudie nodded, understanding him completely.

  “Know what I don’t get?” he asked. She shook her head. “I attend a bunch of self-help groups in here—AA, NA, a Christian ministry. I see guys who really had it tough growing up—I mean bad. We had it really good compared to them.”

  Claudie’s heart twisted peculiarly. “Garret…”

  He didn’t let her finish. “I don’t mean after Mom died. I mean when Dad was working regular and on the road most of the time. Mom was good to us. She’d read us books, and we’d take picnics to the park. Hell, even when the old man was around we had some fun sometimes. Remember our trip to Pipestone? We saw that play about Hiawatha.”

  Claudie frowned, trying to remember. “Sorta.”

  Zach closed his eyes and sighed. “Things weren’t all bad—at least not while Mom was alive.” He turned his face away. “I think things started going downhill after Timmy was born, and then Wesley…”

  She squeezed his fingers. “It was an accident, Zach. Whoever heard of a kid choking on a balloon? Cripes, we all used to chew them like gum.”

  Claudie always figured Wesley’s death hit Zach the hardest because it had happened on his ninth birthday. A party with four or five little boys raising Cain. Everyone too busy to notice Wesley’s distress until he dropped flat, blue in the face. By the time the fire truck got there, he was gone.

  To distract him, she asked, “Zach, did we ever have a pet?”

  He looked upward as if searching his memories. “We had bunnies once. Remember? I found a nest of rabbits and Mom helped us feed them with a doll bottle.” His smile held a look of nostalgia. “It was your doll bottle, so you said that meant you got to name them.”

  She shook her head, dubiously. “Bunnies?”

  He nodded. “How could you forget Elizabeth?”

  Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail and Elizabeth. She closed her eyes and pictured herself holding a tiny gray bunny in the palm of her hand. Its heart beat so fast she worried it might explode. “I do remember,” she said. “Garret came home that night and told me Elizabeth was the stupidest name for a rabbit he’d ever heard.”

  Zach’s smile faded. “He was always hardest on you.”

  Claudie took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “I’m going back to Kansas, Zach. I’m not going to let Garret ruin Sherry’s life, too. I’d have gone sooner, but I wasn’t ready to face him. I only hope I’m not too late.”

  Zach didn’t try to talk her out of it. Before she left he gave her Valery’s address and telephone number, which he had memorized. “She’s the manager of a video store. Her stepfolks own two or three in the area. She sent me a flier a few months ago announcing their latest grand opening.” His expression turned humorous. “She sent along a picture of herself with her new fancy car. Quite the success story.”

  Claudie thought she detected a facetious note but let it go. With any luck Val would have enough clout to take off a few days so they could go to Kansas together. As she prepared to leave, Claudie asked, “How much longer do you have?”

  “Hard to say. I’ve got a parole hearing in February.” He didn’t sound overly optimistic.

  “Would it help if I wrote a letter on your behalf? My best friend’s husband used to be a judge. Maybe Ren would write something, too.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I’m doing okay, Claudie. Really. I’m sober. I work with a Christian outreach group in here, and I feel as if I’m making a difference. Like I said, there are a lot of guys who are a whole lot worse off than me.”

  She leaned over and kissed him goodbye. “I’ll write.”

  “I’ll be here.” He smiled, and for the first time looked like himself.

  BO REPEATED the address of the prison to Matt. “1600 North Drive.” The fact that its street address was the same as that of the White House amused him.

  “I heard you the first time,” Matt grumbled, steering the rental car along one of Sioux Falls’s quiet, tree-lined streets.

  It hadn’t been easy convincing Matt to accompany him to South Dakota. The lure of a partnership seemed to be the only incentive that worked. Fortunately, Bo wasn’t above resorting to bribery. Especially after talking to his mother Friday evening.

  “Our mothers seem to think you’re suffering from depression,” Bo said, hoping his mother and his aunt were exaggerating.

  “Yeah, I know,” Matt snorted. “Poor sad Matt. First the divorce. Then the awful accident.” He shook his head. “My mother calls me daily and Aunt Ruth weekly. They’re a sort of intervention tag team.”

  Bo liked his Aunt Irene, who was a charge nurse at St. Mary’s. A no-nonsense woman with a wry view of the world. If she was worried about her son, things had to be worse than Matt let on. And, Bo thought sheepishly, I’ve been too wrapped up in my problems to give Matt’s much thought.

  When he’d mentioned the possible partnership idea to his mother, she’d suggested he start by taking Matt with him. His cousin hadn’t been overly excited, but Bo was glad for the company.

  “Left or right, Mr. Navigator?” Matt asked grouchily. Spending the night on the floor of the airport after a blizzard left them—and a couple of thousand other travelers—stranded hadn’t helped either man’s temperament.

  “Left,” Bo gambled noticing the map on his lap was upside down.

  A minute later, Matt put on the blinker and turned into the drive leading to the prison.

  “Jeez,” Bo exclaimed, craning his neck for a better look at the two-story gray stone fortress. “This place looks old.”

  Matt nosed the car into a parking place. “The information I got off the Internet said it was constructed as a territorial prison in 1881—eight years before South Dakota became a state.”

  “Wow.”

  The two men got out of the car and walked toward the imposing stone structure. Even though he told himself it was foolish to get his hopes up, Bo couldn’t help scanning the parking lot for a Toyota wagon with California plates. He’d hoped she might stick around to see her brother on Sunday, too.

  “Do you think he’ll talk to us?” Bo asked.

  “You,” Matt corrected. “I’ll wait in the lobby.”

  Bo’s admittance was expedited by a phone call from Ren. Even a former judge had connections. Matt’s FBI credentials didn’t hurt matters. As Bo waited for Zachary Anders to join him, he debated about how to handle the meeting. He couldn’t help wondering if Claudie had mentioned him when she spoke to her brother the day before.

  “They said you want to see me,” a husky voice said, making Bo look up sharply.

  A small, wiry man with a shaved head and stooped shoulders looked back at him. At first Bo thought he must have the wrong person because Zachary was two years younger than Claudie. Instead of twenty-five, this man looked fifty. But as he studied the haggard face Bo began to detect a hint of Claudie in the eyes. He put out his hand. “Bo Lester. I’m a private investigator, but this i
sn’t work. It’s personal. I’m trying to catch up with your sister.”

  “Claudie,” Zach said softly.

  Bo nodded. “I know you spoke with her yesterday. I’d have been here sooner, but I got caught in a blizzard in New York.”

  “I thought you were from California.”

  He knows who I am. “I went to New York to get my cousin’s help locating her. She left without telling anyone where she was going.”

  Zach’s face took on a shuttered look. “Musta had her reasons.”

  Bo sighed. “The reason is she’s stubborn, secretive and ornery as a moose.” Zach’s mouth twitched as if in agreement.

  “She’s been on her own a long time,” he said loyally.

  “I know that. She’s also strong, brave and resourceful. And, in all honesty, she probably doesn’t need my help, but I’m worried about her and I want to be there when…” He didn’t finish what he was going to say. What if Claudie hadn’t filled Zach in?

  “When she takes on our daddy,” Zach finished.

  Bo nodded.

  Zach was silent a moment, studying Bo. When he spoke, he said, “Tell me why you care what happens to her.”

  A lump the size of Manhattan formed in Bo’s throat. He had to swallow twice before he could say, “Because I love her.”

  MATT STARED OUT a window at the prison grounds. Autumn had passed, but winter hadn’t quite settled in, he decided, noting the crusty patches of grimy snow beneath a knee-high hedge. The grass was a mottled blend of browns and greens. He’d never been to the Midwest and doubted if November was the optimum month to visit, but somehow he’d let Bo talk him into making this trip.

  “You don’t need me,” he’d argued while his cousin stubbornly made the travel arrangements.

  “Yes, I do. I know I’m superhuman in certain departments but I haven’t figured out how to clone myself so I can be in two places at one time. The weather looks like crap out there. If our plane gets canceled and we miss Claudie in Sioux Falls, then we have a fifty-fifty chance she’ll try to find her sister or go straight to Kansas.”

  Matt tried logic—after all, they knew her ultimate destination so all Bo had to do was go to Kansas and wait, but logic didn’t work on people who were in love—and it was crystal clear to Matt that was Bo’s problem.

  Sighing, he walked to the door and exited the building. The bite of the wind felt good on his face and he turned into it, closing his eyes against the sting. Love. He and Sonya had been in love once but that died the instant he realized she was having an affair.

  “Let’s move it and groove it, Cuz.”

  Matt spun around to find Bo standing less than two feet away. Damn that man could move softly!

  Bo started toward the car.

  “Where to?” Matt asked, following.

  “The airport.”

  Matt had to hustle to catch up with his cousin. “You’re giving up?”

  “Of course not. We’re splitting up. I’m going east. You’re going south.” He flashed Matt a smug look. “Told you so.”

  If Matt weren’t thirty-six, he would have stuck out his tongue; instead, he flipped him off. Bo laughed outright. “Come on. Let’s hustle. I sure as hell don’t want to miss her at Valery’s.”

  BO SETTLED BACK in the seat of the chartered airplane—a six-passenger Cessna that his pilot had planned to “take out for a little spin this morning, anyway.” Bo was the only passenger. The pilot’s wife, who was sitting in the copilot’s seat, had told him with a definite gleam in her eye that Shokapee—his destination—was just a stone’s throw from some really serious shopping.

  The twenty-minute flight would put him less than a stone’s throw from Claudie’s sister’s house.

  Bo was glad to have a few minutes to collect his thoughts. Matt was not the most cheerful of traveling companions. Bo guessed he had a right to be sour—life had been pretty perverse lately. Bo’s thoughts turned to Claudie’s brother. Life hadn’t been easy for him either but he’d seemed philosophical about it.

  “I figure I’m in here for a reason…and it don’t necessarily have to do with paying for my crime,” Zach had told him. “Nothing I do will ever bring those people back. I was on a downward slide and, unfortunately, I took two other souls with me.”

  Zach’s unexpected candor had taken Bo by surprise. “I gotta admit, I didn’t think you’d give me the time of day,” he’d told him.

  “I wouldn’t if Claudie hadn’t given me the okay.”

  Bo’s mouth had dropped open. “She what?”

  Zach had smiled. “Not in so many words, you understand. But I know my sister, and I know how she feels about you—even if she won’t admit it.” His eyes had narrowed and he’d added sternly, “But she’s been hurt a lot. Our father just had it in for her. Nothing she did was ever good enough for him. One time she brought home a report card with all A’s and B’s on it and he called her a kiss-ass teacher’s pet. She just couldn’t win. And there was other shit….” His voice had softened to almost a whisper. “So you’d better not hurt her or I will personally beat the crap out of you when I get out of here.”

  Sighing, Bo arched his neck against the high-backed seat and took a deep breath. He glanced at the muted squares of color below him punctuated with rivers and gray-looking lakes, but his mind was on Claudie. He had every intention of taking it slow and easy once he made sure she was okay. But first, he had to catch up with her. He’d expressed his fear about missing her at Valery’s, but Zach had laughed.

  “You don’t know Val,” he’d said. “Mom always said Val was born late and at the rate she was going she’d be late for her own funeral. Don’t worry. Claudie will still be there.”

  THE SUNLIGHT streaming through the breakfast nook window was almost enough to calm Claudie’s nerves. It hadn’t taken long after reconnecting with Valery for Claudie to recall the long list of her sister’s annoying habits that had always driven her crazy. At the top of the page was her glacierlike start-and-stop pace.

  Val had insisted on fixing a fancy breakfast to prepare Claudie for her journey, but it was now almost noon and Claudie’s stomach had been growling for hours.

  “This is so much fun,” Val said, poking through a drawer for something. “I couldn’t believe it when I looked up from my desk last night and there you were. Wow. It was eerie. You look just like I remember Mom…except her hair was brown. Like mine.”

  Claudie studied her half sister as she puttered about the homey, cluttered kitchen. Val, who’d recently turned twenty-two, favored the Anders side of the family—short and dark with broad shoulders, narrow hips and delicate wrists and ankles. She carried an unhealthy spare tire around her middle but otherwise was quite attractive. Her curly auburn hair framed her face in a feminine style.

  “Maybe I should grab a bite on the road, Val. I’ve gotten a little gun-shy about storms since I got stuck in a blizzard in Wyoming,” Claudie said, trying to be diplomatic. Val had been a good hostess—taking Claudie out to dinner last night and providing a comfy bed, so Claudie hated to seem ungrateful, but she was anxious to leave.

  “I know. This is taking forever. My mom is such a talker, but she’s had a rough time of it since Dad passed away.” Valery’s adoptive mother had called and talked for almost an hour while Val drifted between chopping chives to making a Hollandaise sauce from scratch. Claudie would have exploded with frustration if an old photo album hadn’t sidetracked her.

  The ratty album—held together by peeling masking tape—was sprinkled with small, square black-and-white photos that slowly segued to murky color shots. To her surprise, the sentimental journey hadn’t been as excruciating as she’d expected. Zach was right—there had been good times, too.

  One picture grabbed her and took her straight to the scene—a skinny six-year-old holding her little brother’s hand as they walked along the shore of Lake Michigan. Her mother, carrying Yancy in her arms, and obviously pregnant with Wesley, held her other hand. What stopped Claudie’s heart was t
he smile on her mother’s face. She looked girlish and carefree.

  Years later someone—maybe Val—had pointed out that the reason Mother had been happy in Wisconsin was her close proximity to her estranged family. Maybe she thought they might welcome her back into the fold. But that had never happened because Garret got yet another new job and they’d moved to Davenport, Iowa the next spring and Claudie didn’t recall ever meeting anyone she could call Grandma.

  “Do you prefer ham or Canadian bacon?” Val asked, squatting in front of her refrigerator. “I have both.”

  Both? Aren’t they the same? “Umm, either is fine, thanks. I’m not much of a gourmet.”

  “I love to cook,” Val said with passion. “I plan to open a restaurant after Mom’s gone. I’d never sell the video stores as long as she’s alive—she likes to come in and throw her weight around once in a while, but commercial retail is not my thing. I’m good at it, but I’d rather be in a kitchen.”

  As far as Claudie could surmise, Val was very good at what she did. Not only was there a new Mercedes in the driveway of her charming older home, but when Claudie had walked into the video shop the previous evening, she’d had a chance to watch Val in action.

  “You will have my order here tomorrow,” Val had barked into the mouthpiece of the telephone headset. Her back was to the doorway where Claudie was standing. “I can’t sell excuses.”

  Her strident tone had been loud enough to make several shoppers turn around and look.

  “What kind of food would you cook in your restaurant?” Claudie asked, relieved to see Val pull out a frying pan.

  Val set it on a burner then refilled her coffee cup. She offered Claudie some, too, but Claudie declined—certain her eyeballs might begin to float if she didn’t get some food in her stomach soon. “I haven’t narrowed that down, yet,” Val said, taking a sip from her cup. “Maybe French. Maybe Scandinavian. There are a lot of folks around here who go for that good Norwegian food,” she said, faking an accent that made Claudie smile.