Evidence of Life. Barbara Sissel Taylor

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СКАЧАТЬ said you can’t count on Lindsey getting a scholarship. They’re not even out of preseason this year and she’s already sprained her ankle.”

      “Slightly. It’s not a bad injury.”

      “This time. But the rest of those girls are gorillas compared to her. Look at Samantha.” Nick had brought up Lindsey’s best friend. “Twenty pounds overweight, at least. She’s a hog.”

      “Nicholas! That’s a terrible thing to say.”

      He’d brushed his teeth, wiped his face with a towel.

      “What is it with you?” she’d asked, and when he’d answered, “Nothing,” when he’d said, “Work,” or whatever excuse he’d offered, Abby had accepted it and his apology. Because he had apologized, she remembered that now, too. He’d embraced her and balanced his chin on the crown of her head. She was just the right height for it. She used to tease him that she wasn’t a chin rest. But not that night. That night he’d been in a mood.

      “It’s my job to take care of this family,” he had said and stopped. Even his heart beneath Abby’s ear had seemed to stop, and when she’d looked up at him, when she’d asked, “What is it?” he’d said he didn’t know how to explain it. He’d said, “I’ve made mistakes.”

      “Everyone has,” she’d said.

      “Yeah, but— Look, there’s this woman, a sort of client, former client, I should say. She thinks I mishandled her interests in some real-estate dealings. She’s made some threats.”

      “Threats?”

      He’d shaken his head, looking chagrined. “Never mind. I don’t know why I brought it up. She’s just some nutcase. It’s nothing.”

      “Are you sure? You sound worried.”

      “Nah.” He’d bent to kiss her, then pulling her close, he’d rested his chin atop her head again. “I mean, yeah, I do worry sometimes. What if I’m not around when you or Lindsey or Jake needs something?”

      Abby had been unnerved by that. There’d been an underscore of disquiet in his tone. Or was she remembering it that way because she was desperate for an explanation? Her mind seemed full of tricks. What had she said in response? Something like, “Of course you’ll be around,” or, “You’re just exhausted.” Or maybe she’d said, “You’ll work it out.” It would have been something stupid like that. What was wrong with her? Why hadn’t she pushed him, demanded he give her the details, the woman’s name at least? But worse: Why hadn’t Nick confided in her? Why had he put her off?

      Abby pressed her fingertips to her eyes, swept with the hard longing to have that time back. It seemed somehow vital that she understand it. She had the sense that Nick had been trying to tell her something. Warn her? Was she making too much of it now? Should she mention the incident to Sheriff Henderson after all? But suppose she was the nutcase?

      There were so many questions, too many questions.

      Wheeling abruptly, she went downstairs to the kitchen, found Samantha’s telephone number, and before she could think better of it, she dialed. It was something she could do, a concrete step she could take, but when Samantha answered and fell into an immediate silence, Abby realized Sam was steeling herself to hear something awful, and she rushed to reassure her.

      “You didn’t find them?” Sam asked, and the bump of tears in her voice wrenched Abby’s heart.

      “No, honey. No. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

      Sam sighed. “I wish I could go there, look for them, do something.”

      “It’s all right, Sam. Maybe you can help me another way.”

      “Sure,” Sam said, but she was wary.

      And Abby was sorrier still that she’d called, but she pressed on explaining her quandary about painting Lindsey’s bedroom. “You two looked at colors, didn’t you? I was hoping you knew the shade of yellow she settled on.”

      “Oh, gosh. We looked at a bunch.” Sam thought about it.

      “It’s all right, honey,” Abby said.

      “I just can’t remember exactly, but my mom was there. I bet she knows. I’ll get her.”

      “No, don’t disturb her,” Abby said quickly, but Sam was already shouting for her mother.

      Abby waited, feeling awkward and horrible. No one knew how to talk to her anymore. She’d somehow managed to lose touch with everyone who mattered to her. Except for her mother and Kate. And Jake, who blamed her. He hadn’t said as much, but still it was there. She was the mother, the adult, after all. She should have prevented what happened to their family. It was what everyone probably thought, that she should have kept them home, kept them safe.

      “Abby? How are you?” Samantha’s mother Paula’s voice came on the line, holding measured notes of sympathy and caution.

      “Paula, hi, I’m all right. I’m sorry, I think I scared Sam. There isn’t any news. I’m just back from—from my friend Kate’s and I’m thinking of painting Lindsey’s room.” Abby stumbled through the rest of her speech, then, realizing she was babbling, she pressed her lips together.

      There was a considering silence. Paula was obviously taking a moment to pick the sense from the rush of Abby’s words or more likely wondering how to tactfully suggest Abby obtain psychiatric help.

      “I’m afraid I don’t remember anything useful,” Paula said. “Do you know when this was?”

      Abby could hear in Paula’s voice that, like Sam, she did truly want to be helpful. Abby could also hear the oh-you-poor-dear-sad-thing lamentation and beneath that were notes of glee, notes that echoed exultation. Not me, the notes sang. Thank God Almighty, it didn’t happen to me! Abby couldn’t blame her; it was only human and she did the only thing that made sense; she let Paula go.

      * * *

      Something woke her deep in the night. She didn’t know what time it was. The only clock in the den, where she was camped out because she couldn’t face the bed she’d shared with Nick, was on the mantel, and she couldn’t see it in the dark. She pulled the thin coverlet to her chin rigid with fear. When the sound came again, she realized the telephone was ringing, and she came instantly to her feet, heart pounding. Bad news, bad news. The words hammered through her brain, keeping time with her bare feet hammering the floor. In the kitchen, Abby yanked up the receiver, not checking the ID. “What? Yes? Hello!”

      Nothing. Breath. A bit of static, then there was the smallest sigh, soft, liquid sounding. Female. Abby was certain of it.

      She went still. “Lindsey? Honey, is it you?” The receiver trembled. “Where are you? Just tell me where you are and Mommy will come. Lindsey? Please, honey. Say something....”

      Abby waited. Nothing. Dead air. “Nick?” She slid down the wall beside the desk onto the floor. “Please…?” The connection was held open a fraction longer, and then it broke with a soft click. Abby went up on her knees and switched on the desk lamp. The ID told her nothing. Out of area, it read. She dialed the operator who couldn’t help her either. She lowered herself back to the floor, keeping her grip on the СКАЧАТЬ