Stripped Bare (29 page)

I needed to pull Carly to me and assure her that everything would be all right. As if I could guarantee anything but my love for her.

I pounded on Susan's door, hoping Carly could hear me above the wailing alternative rock music slithering under the frame. Footsteps that sounded like a kangaroo approached, and the door was flung open with such force that I felt sucked inside. Saskatchewan loomed in front of me, all six-foot-five-inches of hair, including a dark beard that ran halfway down his chest.

“Hi, Sask.” I stepped inside.

“Hey.” He was unruffled to find his roommate's sister at his door before eight o'clock. “Didn't know you were in our fair city.” Sask's mother had named him Rodney. His family ranched in Choker County and Susan had met him at a track meet their junior year of high school. They were best friends, each other's backup dates for proms, and now roommates.

He lumbered to his phone, tapped a few times, and the music slunk to a less ear-damaging decibel. I eased into the cramped living room strewn with piles of coats, clothes, books, dirty dishes, blankets, fast-food containers, and things better left unidentified.

“Susan's not up yet.” He glanced at his phone. “She doesn't have class on Wednesdays until noon.”

I kept my arms to my side, afraid to touch anything for fear of disease. “That's okay. I'm really here to get Carly.”

He looked confused. “Carly Edwards?”

The bedroom door swung open and Susan stumbled out, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She wore plaid pajama pants and a red wife-beater. A younger version of me, her wild hair tumbled around her head and shoulders. Her sleepy eyes flew open to match her O of a mouth when she saw me. The door gaped open, and she looked like Lot's wife after she'd caught her last glimpse of Sodom.

Sask's music drifted to the ceiling.

The first flash of fear flicked in my belly. “Where is she?”

My voice released Susan and she shoved a pile of clothes on the floor with her bare foot. “I can explain.”

A hard edge colored my words. “Explain what?”

She passed a glance to Sask. “She was really upset. She needed some time, so she asked me to stall for her.”

Blood pushed into my brain faster than it could drain. “When did she leave? Where did she go?”

Susan swayed from foot to foot, like she used to do when she was three and got caught playing with Diane's makeup. “Well. I talked to her, like, really late Monday night.”

Dread clenched my stomach. “What about Tuesday? Was she even here at all?”

The rocking stopped and she bit her lip. “No.”

I pushed my hand through my hair, maybe trying to get my brain to settle down and think. “She called you? She didn't have her phone.”

“I didn't recognize the number, and I almost didn't answer. But it was a western Nebraska area code, so I did. She sounded really upset.”

“Of course she's upset.”

“She said her granddad had died and she couldn't deal with the funeral and all the family. She said Roxy was making her nuts.”

All that was true enough. “Did she say where she was or where she was going?”

Susan shrugged. “You know Carly. She has these meltdowns, but she always comes around. I tried to get her to book it here. Told her she could crash on the couch.”

We both glanced at the couch, which was covered with so much debris the brown fabric hardly showed.

“When did you see her last?” Susan asked.

“Monday morning, the day after Eldon was shot.” I leaned on the door.

Sask tapped the music off.

Susan hadn't moved. “She sounded freaked out. I didn't want to lie to you but, you know, I wanted to help her out. She had to deal with Glenda and then her dad. I didn't think she'd go, like, AWOL or anything.”

“Maybe she's hanging out with a friend or something.” But why would she call Susan to stall? Why not just tell me she needed space?

“God, Kate. I'm so sorry.”

“She didn't give you any clue where she was?”

Susan shook her head. “I think you know her the best of all of us. I mean, she told me how much she liked living with you and Ted.”

I shoved a pile of junk aside and plopped onto the couch. I rose and pulled a thick geography textbook from under me, then sat back. “Where would she go?”

“Don't worry. She's strong.” Susan swept a jumble of debris to the floor and crouched on the arm of the couch, slipping her feet under my thigh. “Remember the night Glenda died?”

I wished I could forget it. “Bad night.” I'd left Glenda's crowded room. Drowning in grief, I'd needed to be alone.

Susan's voice got that ragged edge. “When Doc Kennedy told us Glenda wouldn't last through the night, I didn't know what to do, so I went to the chapel with the rest of the sibs, but you weren't there.”

It all came back. The faded Southwest-print couch and garish blue carpet of the hospital lounge. The smell of artificial air, perfumed with cleaning supplies, the faint soggy vegetable smell from the cafeteria, and fear. I had traced the zigzag of the couch pattern, fighting a rage so basic it seemed ingrained in my blood.

“When the nurse came to tell us it was all over, we couldn't find Carly.” Susan paused. “That was the first time we all went looking for her.”

The shadows bathed the waiting room off the main lobby. Silence muffled the chilly space, because the receptionists, accountants, and visitors had vanished hours ago.

Without any sound to alert me, I had turned my head, knowing what I'd see. Carly stood at the edge of the carpet, a ghost of sorrow. No tears dribbled from her eyes, which seemed like puddles of pain. Even in the dimness of the security lights, she appeared bloodless, as if I could see through her.

I had held my arms up and she drifted into them. Twelve years old, and now without a mother.

Susan leaned into me. “We found you on that couch in the lobby. You were a crying mess. But Carly, man, that kid was like iron. She didn't shed a tear.”

Carly had trembled in my arms. Still smelling like a kid: sweat and clean at the same time.

Susan hadn't learned to distrust happiness as I had. “She's going to be fine, and she'll find you when she needs you, like she always has.”

This was Susan's version of Dad's motto: If it's not okay, it's not the end. Did they forget that things don't always turn out for the best?

Instead of yelling at Susan for being so foolish, or throttling her as I itched to do, I pushed myself from the couch.

Susan jumped up and met me at the door. “I'm really sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

I hugged her because she needed forgiveness—and I needed to forgive her—and patted her cheek because I knew she hated it. “I love you, Suzy-Q. Call Mom. She finished up a piece and is back in the real world. Let me know if you hear from Carly.”

 

26

When you live in the Nebraska Sandhills, you spend a lot of time behind the wheel. The region covers a quarter of the state, and the scenery doesn't vary a whole lot—just mile after mile of rolling, grass-covered sand dunes. Every ten or twenty miles, you might meet another vehicle. You only know it's settled country because of the endless barbed wire fences strung to the horizon. That was fine with me. I'm not always a big fan of people.

I bought a sleeve of crackers and some string cheese when I fueled up, and washed it down with a slug of apple juice. I set the cruise control and barely moved the steering wheel over the miles of straight road.

Carly could flake out, that was true. But disappearing for days, with her granddad's funeral coming up, didn't seem like something she'd do. Ted couldn't be right; Carly didn't kill Eldon. But she was in some trouble. As the miles ran under the wheels of the pickup, my anxiety climbed. I reached for my phone and scrolled until I found the number.

Mary Ellen Butterbaugh answered on the first ring and, after I identified myself, said, “Carly's teachers brought her homework to the office. You can pick it up whenever you're in.”

I couldn't care less about homework. “Could you call Danny Hayward out of class, please?”

“Oh dear.” She must have jumped to the conclusion that Danny and Carly were together. When I'd seen him in town yesterday, I thought Carly was at Susan's. He'd said Carly wanted him to meet her. Was there any truth in that? “He hasn't been back to school since Eldon's death.”

“Okay, thanks.” I exited at North Platte and gunned the pickup through the green-tinged hills. With one eye on the road and other on my phone, I searched for Rope and Nat's phone number. Maybe Danny was at home.

Bright sunshine made reading the display difficult. April was giving us big doses of precipitation and sun, perfect to grow grass to feed the pregnant cows all summer. I ought to be pleased with that but I couldn't generate enthusiasm.

I lost the signal, gained a few bars at the top of the hill, and tried again. Frustration mounted as I got voice mail giving me a cell number to try. I sailed down another valley and I had to wait. The pickup struggled to the top of the hill and I dialed.

Nat answered on the first ring. She sounded alarmed to hear from me. “Is something wrong?”

The speedometer quivered just under ninety. “I need to talk to Danny. Is he at the ranch?”

She spoke so quietly I could barely make out her words. “No. No one is home. We're away. Broken Butte. Not home. So sorry.” She clicked off before I could ask more.

Still driving way too fast, and thrumming with fear for what might be a baby I was putting at risk with my reckless driving, I wrangled my phone again and punched Dial.

Milo answered. “Howdy, Kate. I hear you been traipsing all over with Roxy, trying to clear Ted's name.”

I don't know why it surprised me that he knew about that. “You can't really believe Ted killed Eldon.”

He sucked on his teeth. “I haven't charged him as yet.”

I felt like a traitor, but I felt desperate. “Carly is missing.” The words stuck in my throat. “Can you help me find her?”

Milo hesitated. “Why do you suppose she's gone?”

I wish I knew. “Overload of grief?” I should sound more sure.

A shriek of a spring rang out, indicating that Milo had leaned back in a desk chair. “This don't look particularly good for someone who was recently suspected of murder.”

“I can't tell you who killed Eldon, but I can tell you it wasn't Ted or Carly.”

He wheezed into the phone. “Maybe. But Ted confessed and Carly is missing.”

A jab to his belly with my spurs would feel good. “Can you file a missing persons report or issue an APB or a BOLO or something?”

He hesitated. “I can do that. I wouldn't mind finding that girl, myself.”

I still hadn't come up with a plan, twenty minutes later, when I forced myself to slow down through Hodgekiss. I was probably heading back to Broken Butte to talk to Ted, because I didn't know what else to do. Carly was gone. Someone was trying to stop me from finding the real killer. The clues had to be in Ted's head, and I wasn't above knocking them out, if that's what it took.

I swung my gaze up Main Street as I buzzed by on the highway, then slammed on the brakes. Good thing it was Hodgekiss and not Lincoln, because there wasn't any traffic behind me to smash into my tailgate.

I squealed tires as I pulled a left and gunned the pickup into a parking place. I'd seen Nat's thinning brown-gray waves entering Dutch's Grocery. She wasn't in Broken Butte. She was right here. And she'd lied to me.

I flew from the pickup and yanked open the glass door, searching the first aisle. Aileen Carson was at the checkout, visiting with the checker. She greeted me as I rushed past. Since there were only five aisles, I had no trouble spotting Nat at the end of the last one, studying Dutch's meat case.

“Nat,” I hollered, while I rushed toward her.

She swung her head around and started to run away.

I lunged toward her and grabbed her arm. “Why did you lie to me?”

“I…” She faltered, and her face turned the color of a ripe tomato. “It's. I.” She finally stopped.

“Where's Danny?”

She didn't look at me, and her voice shook. “He's got such a soft spot for Carly. There's nothing he wouldn't do for her.”

This wasn't what I wanted to hear. “They're together?”

She slid her focus to the meat in the counter, the canned green beans on the shelf behind me, the display of bread on my right. “I understand how it is when your kids get into trouble. It's like my Mick. He was a good boy. He didn't mean to hurt anybody.”

He might not have meant to, but he'd shot a convenience store clerk in Omaha for meth money.

Her voice was a whiny buzz. “Carly's like that, too. She loves that ol' ranch so much. Might have made her do bad things.”

“Nat.” Rope's voice sounded like a slap. His boots crashed like thunder as he strode toward us.

She lowered her hands and they started to pull and rub against each other. She whimpered and shrank into herself.

The fury of a spring blizzard was nothing compared to Rope's face. He closed a rough hand on my upper arm and jerked me down the aisle. “What are you doing to her? You leave her alone. Do you hear me?”

Aileen and the clerk gaped at us, but they didn't protest Rope dragging me past them. He shoved the door open, the bell struggling to stay attached. He didn't stop until he had me in the alley next to Dutch's and had bounced me against the side of the building. He stood in front of me, huffing like a freight engine.

Snow was trying to accumulate on the sidewalk, but the temperatures hovered too high.

He put a finger in my face and spoke with a voice as full of threat as it was quiet. “Natty gets upset easy. You got any questions about Danny or Eldon or any other fool thing, you talk to me. Leave her alone.”