Since You've Been Gone (4 page)

“What's wrong?” Clay asked.

“You know what I did to Alvin's mother.”

“I know what Alvin Tanner's mother did to his father. She wasn't fending off an attack—she was waiting for him. It was cold, premeditated murder. You saved an innocent man from going to jail for Slim Tanner's crime.” Rebecca remained silent, lost in her memories. “There's a vacant lot beside Dormaine's,” Clay said. “Sean might have gone there if he doesn't like people.”

Clay pulled to the curb, ordered her to stay inside, and tramped around the damp lot with a flashlight. In a couple of minutes he returned to the car, his blond hair hanging damply over his forehead. “I see a dog behind a pile of wet boxes. I'm not going near him because he doesn't know me and I don't want to scare him away. One of Gypsy's leashes is in the backseat. Grab it and approach him. Be careful, though. It might not be Sean.”

But it was. At the sight of her Sean bounded from behind the soggy mass of boxes, jumped up, and wrapped his front legs around her waist the way he'd done since the second day she'd officially adopted him. “I've been so worried
about you!” Rebecca cried. “But you look okay. Wet but well.”

She attached the leash and led him back to the car, then hesitated. “He has long hair that's sopping wet, Clay. I can't put him in your car.”

“The seats are vinyl,” Clay said. “Any mess he leaves can easily be cleaned. There's an old blanket in the back. Wrap that around him. He's shivering.”

Within minutes Sean was warmly ensconced on the backseat. Rebecca was glad Clay had not pursued the dog in the vacant lot. Sean reacted with bared teeth and snarls at any sign of aggression, particularly from men.

“I don't think he's hurt,” Rebecca said as they pulled away from the curb. “I could take him to the vet tomorrow, but those trips usually don't go well. When I get home, I'll look him over.”

Clay nodded absently and Rebecca suddenly felt as if she'd become a burden, first by being unable to reach any of her family to fetch her from the hospital, then by having Clay haul her around until they found her wet dog, who was now dripping in his backseat. “I so appreciate all you've done for me tonight,” she said hastily. “You've certainly gone above the call of duty. I'm sorry I've been such a pain.”

“You haven't been a pain.”

“I'll pay for having your car washed and cleaned inside. In spite of the blanket, I think Sean's long hair is making quite a mess—”

“Rebecca, there's something I haven't told you,” Clay said abruptly. She looked at his face. It was taut, the jaw almost rigid. “You were so shaken up by the wreck, then so worried about the dog … I wanted to do as much as I could to calm you down before I gave you bad news.”

“Bad news?” Rebecca echoed faintly, her stomach clenching. “I sensed in the hospital something was wrong. Not with me, though. It's my family, isn't it? That's why no one came to the hospital.”

“Yes, I'm afraid so.” He took a deep breath. “It's your cousin Molly. Or rather, Molly's son.”

“Todd? What's wrong with Todd? Is he sick?”

“No, Rebecca.” Clay slowed the car and looked at her, his voice growing soft. “Todd was kidnapped tonight.”

“Kidnapped?” Rebecca felt as if her voice were coming from someone else. “What are you talking about?”

“Apparently Molly was out. A baby-sitter was looking after Todd. Someone got into the house, knocked the babysitter unconscious—”

“And took Todd out the window. He didn't make a sound because he'd been drugged. But he had his stuffed toy with him. A dog named Tramp.” Clay nearly stopped the car in the middle of the street, staring at her in shock. “And now he's bound and gagged in a place that's hot and reeks of something rotten. And he's terrified and half sick, probably from chloroform.”

After a few beats of silence, Clay asked warily, “Rebecca, what are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about Todd. I'm talking about a vision I had. That's what made me wreck, not lightning. I saw it all so clearly. Or rather, I
felt
it. I couldn't see because I was' in Todd's mind, and Todd was blindfolded.
He
couldn't see, so I couldn't either.” Her voice had taken on a dreamy quality born of horror and the sickening inevitability of her ESP's return. “He doesn't know who took him. But he's not hurt. Not yet, anyway.”

The blast of a car horn behind them jolted Clay back into action. He pressed down on the accelerator and they sped along the rain-slicked street for nearly a mile before he said, “Rebecca, are you trying to tell me you knew all along what had happened to Todd?”

“No. I had a vision but I didn't know who the child was. And I'd forgotten Todd had a stuffed dog named Tramp. How could I have forgotten that? When Molly brought him to visit me in New Orleans last summer, he had it with him. He was such a joy, so bright and inquisitive. And he
had a wonderful time. We went to the French Quarter and the aquarium and horseback riding in Audubon Park and—”

“Rebecca!” Clay's voice was sharp. “Stop rambling. What are you saying? That you had a psychic vision?”

“Yes.” She turned to him. “You don't believe in it, do you?”

Clay raised his shoulders and shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “I don't know. I don't understand it. I guess the scientist in me wants to see proof, statistics, test results …”

“There are statistics and test results, Clay. Lots of them collated by respected psychologists, not a bunch of New Age quacks. Besides, Doug must have told you about some of the things I did when I was younger. You saw some of it for yourself. What about the lost children I knew were in that abandoned well? What about Slim Tanner, for God's sake? I didn't even know the woman, had never heard of her. How could I have known she killed her husband?” Clay remained silent and anger surged in Rebecca, then ebbed just as quickly. “I don't care if you believe I have extrasensory perception or not. What we both know is that Todd is missing. He's only seven years old. Molly must be out of her mind with worry. Please take me to her house. Then you can go your own way and I won't bother you anymore.”

“Rebecca—”

“I don't want to talk. My head hurts. Just please take me to Molly's.”

Clay honored her request and said nothing else, but she stole a couple of glances at his face. She couldn't quite read the expression but it looked like a mixture of worry and regret. At the moment, though, Clay Bellamy's emotions were the least of her concern.

She thought of Todd as she'd last seen him, a slight boy with brown hair like his mother's, cinnamon-colored eyes, and a quick and slightly crooked smile. No one knew who Todd's father was. Molly had become pregnant when she was 19 and refused to tell even Rebecca the identity of the
father. She'd spent her pregnancy in New Orleans with Rebecca, then surprised everyone by keeping the baby and returning to Sinclair. After his birth she had finished her college degree in West Virginia and went to work at the headquarters of Rebecca's family's business, Grace Healthcare, a national chain of nursing homes. During the next few years she'd devoted herself to Todd. As far as Rebecca knew, she rarely even dated.

And now that sweet boy, the center of Molly's world, was gone. He'd been taken just like Jonnie. History was repeating itself. Or was it? When Jonnie had vanished at age 14 on a Boy Scout camping trip, Rebecca had “seen”, nothing. During the week when everyone had been scouring the area for him, when the local and state police and even the FBI had searched for him in vain, she had seen nothing. Finally his battered body had been discovered in a vacant lot downtown, dumped like a load of trash. No one ever knew who took him. No one ever knew where he'd been kept for a week. And most of the people who'd had faith in Rebecca's powers began to doubt her. She doubted herself. She had failed her own brother. Would she fail Todd, too?

No, this time would be different, she vowed. It was already different. She'd experienced Todd's thoughts after his abduction. And if she'd done it once, surely she could do it again.

Molly's house was about three miles from Rebecca's family's home, situated in an attractive yet definitely less prosperous neighborhood. Although Rebecca had never visited the house, Molly had sent her photos and even by streetlight Rebecca immediately recognized the tan ranch-style home with dark brown trim and shutters.

As they drew near the house, a policeman flagged them down. “No unauthorized visitors,” he said. “Please move along.”

“I'm Dr. Clayton Bellamy and this is Rebecca Ryan, Molly Ryan's cousin. Chief Garrett is Rebecca's uncle. If they're here, they will want to see Rebecca.”

The deputy looked at them suspiciously, then spoke into a walkie-talkie. A voice crackled back and his manner relaxed. “Chief Garrett says for you to park in the driveway, Dr. Bellamy. He's inside with the other Miss Ryan.”

Clay dutifully pulled into the driveway. “Thank you,” Rebecca said formally. “May I keep Gypsy's leash for the evening? I'll have to tie Sean to the porch.”

“I'm going in, too,” Clay said. “This is going to be hard on you after the trauma you've just suffered. Also, Molly might need some sedation. I brought my bag.”

Hurt pride over his skepticism concerning her vision made Rebecca want to insist that he not come in. Good sense told her a doctor was definitely needed in this situation. Molly was probably near hysteria.

Silently they emerged from the car, Sean in tow. Before they had climbed the three steps to the porch, Molly flung open the front door. “Oh God, you're here at last!” She almost fell down the porch steps, then threw herself into Rebecca's arms.

Rebecca held Molly tightly. Molly looked remarkably like Rebecca's father, Patrick, who had died when Rebecca was nine, complete with reddish-brown hair, freckles, and the cinnamon-colored eyes that she'd passed on to her own son Todd. Molly's sturdy body was hot and trembling.

“I just heard about Todd,” Rebecca said softly.

Molly let out a choking sob. “He can't have been kidnapped, Becky. He just can't. He's run off or something. And on this horrible night. He's probably wet and cold and …” Another wrenching sob tore at her throat.

“Molly, calm down.” Rebecca looked up to see her mother's brother, Bill Garrett, standing tall and lean on the porch. “Hi, Becky. You and Clay and Molly come in now. Bring the dog, too.”

Bill's accent had always sounded southwestern to Rebecca. At 45 he was tall and lanky with rough sandy hair and light blue eyes, a dozen crow's-feet fanning onto weathered temples. Rarely was he without a cigarette in hand, although often he lit one and let it burn to the butt
without taking more than one or two drags. Rebecca hadn't seen her Uncle Bill for eight years, but he looked and sounded just the same—soft-spoken and uncannily composed, a sharp contrast to his elegant, nervous sister Suzanne.

Rebecca entered Molly's home and took a quick survey. The house was comfortably furnished, although it lacked some of the finer touches of Rebecca's. Rebecca had always been careful with the money that had been held in trust for her until she was 21, but now and then she indulged in a nice painting or an expensive crystal ornament. Molly made a good salary at Grace Healthcare, but with a child and no convenient trust fund like Rebecca's, she couldn't afford luxuries.

Sean, still shivering, lay down near the door. Clay set his medical bag close to the dog, then took a seat across the room, seeming as if he wanted to be as unobtrusive as possible. Bill looked at Rebecca closely. “That nurse who called said you'd been in a wreck.”

“You didn't tell me!” Molly gasped accusingly at Bill.

“I'm not seriously hurt,” Rebecca said quickly. “Just a couple of cuts. I was taken to the emergency room. Clay took care of me. When the nurse called Molly to come pick me up, she found out about Todd.”

“Are you sure you're all right?” Molly asked anxiously.

“As her doctor, I can assure you that in a couple of days she'll be good as new,” Clay said. “She was lucky.”

Another police officer walked through the room, nodding to Bill before he went out. Bill looked at Rebecca. “We're tapping the phone lines.”

Rebecca nodded, feeling cold inside. She remembered the same routine eight years ago, when a frantic Boy Scout leader had called to tell them Jonnie had been missing for hours from a campsite in the hills. Less than 24 hours after that call had come the ransom demand. Then the FBI entered the scene, the ransom drop had been bungled, and Jonnie had been killed. And now Todd, Rebecca thought with a shudder. This just couldn't be happening again.

She looked at Molly. She wore jeans and a red plaid cotton blouse. Her shoulder-length hair was skimmed back with a blue headband and her brown eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. She'd never been a beauty, but her sparkling eyes and brilliant smile usually made her radiant. Now she looked plain and older than her twenty-seven years. Her wire-rimmed glasses rode low on her button nose, pink from crying.

“Please tell me what's going on,” Rebecca said, determined not to say anything about her vision yet. “All I know is that Todd is missing.”

Clay shot her a narrow look, but Rebecca ignored him. Molly closed her eyes. “I had to work late tonight. Well, I didn't
have
to, but I knew the work needed to be done as soon as possible and I thought I could be home before you got here because of all your flight delays.”

“Was Todd angry with you for going out?” Rebecca interrupted.

Molly shook her head. “I keep trying to convince myself that he was mad because I deserted him on a Saturday night and he ran away. But he wasn't. Oh, he did seem disappointed until I told him Sonia could sit with him. Sonia Ellis. She's seventeen and beautiful and he adores her.”