“Is Don around?”
“No, sir. He’s not home.”
“Do you have any idea where he’s at?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? I really need to talk to him.”
Why? Tug and his father didn’t even like each other anymore. His father said Tug thought he was too good for everyone now that he had money. He also said it wasn’t fair for Tug to have so much while they had so little. He would never explain why, but sometimes, when he was drunk and Jeremy was pulling off his shoes to put him to bed, he mumbled about Tug having “blood money.”
Jeremy had never heard of blood money, but he didn’t like the sound of it. “He said he’d skin me alive if I left, and then he took my car.”
Tug didn’t seem pleased. “I see he’s as kind to you as ever.”
Jeremy didn’t know how to respond to this. What Tug said was nice to him but not nice to his father.
“Okay, don’t worry about it.” Tug filled the silence.
“He might be at the Kicking Horse having a drink.” Jeremy thought that was pretty obvious, but he wanted to be helpful.
“I can’t go looking for him tonight. I’ve got too much going on.” He seemed distracted when he added, “I’ll be right there, honey.”
“Excuse me?” Jeremy said.
His voice grew stronger. “Honey” had been someone else. “If he comes back in the next hour or so, have him give me a call, will you? If not, I’ll track him down in the morning.”
After Jeremy hung up, he stared at the phone. Was his father at the bar? If so, maybe he’d be getting a call from the bartender. Sammy usually asked Jeremy to pick Don up when he spent this much time there.
Maybe Jeremy could call to check. If his father was at the Kicking Horse, he could probably stop worrying about Claire.
Feeling instantly better, he dragged out the phone book and found the number. But Sammy said he hadn’t seen Don at all tonight.
Where else could he have gone? His father didn’t have that many friends left…?.
“Please, not Claire’s. Just leave her alone,” Jeremy whispered, but he had no faith his father would actually do that. Not if he felt she was a threat to him. He’d kill her while it was dark, then he’d hide her body in the woods. Or maybe he’d bring it home for Jeremy to hide. He felt Jeremy should do anything he asked, no matter what it was.
Jeremy eyed the door. He had to walk to Claire’s, along the highway, past the cemetery. That was the only way he’d be sure.
But then he remembered Isaac. She’d been with Isaac so much the past week, just like she’d been with him after high school. She was probably with him now. Which meant she’d be okay. No one wanted to mess with Isaac. Even his truck looked mean.
Ignoring his hunger pangs, Jeremy plopped down in front of the TV to wait for his father. But when Don still wasn’t home four hours later, Jeremy grew so frantic he decided he had to leave. As frightening as it was to walk, he had to reach a pay phone. He needed to warn Isaac to look after Claire, and he couldn’t use the house phone or Isaac would know who it was. He’d learned that the hard way, when he’d gotten in trouble for calling Claire too many times.
“Go…go!” he told himself. He could do it. But then he glanced at the clock and felt even more worried. Maybe his father had already gotten to her. Maybe it was already too late.
Claire stared into the mirror hanging on her closet. She looked good. But that was about all she could say for her night.
With a discouraged sigh, she tossed her purse on her bed and kicked off her high heels. After Isaac had left the bar, she’d had to stay another two hours, which had felt more like two days, and now she was so tired she could hardly remain on her feet.
Bed. She needed to sleep. But her mind kept churning up snatches of conversation that made her emotions swing in all directions. With April: “You didn’t know he was infertile?” With Leanne: “I don’t kiss and tell.” With Owen: “I’d like to take you out again.”
She’d given Owen her number but felt no enthusiasm for a second date. He seemed like a great guy—he certainly appealed to her a lot more than Rusty did—but there wasn’t any spark. What little flicker she’d felt in the beginning had been doused the minute she walked into the Kicking Horse, spotted Isaac and realized she wasn’t ready to give him up, not after ten years of missing him despite her love for David.
The light blinked on her answering machine.
She eyed it warily. Did she dare listen? According to the display, she’d missed five calls. They could all be hair clients, hoping to get an appointment; if so, she could handle that tomorrow. Or maybe one of the calls was from Isaac, although she wasn’t sure why he’d bother. He hadn’t been too happy when he left the bar. After what they’d shared last night she could understand why. It felt disloyal of her to be with another man. But he’d said they were only friends, and friends didn’t expect—or require—exclusivity.
Unable to resist, she pushed the play button.
“Claire? Please tell me you’re not stupid enough to get involved with Isaac Morgan again.” Roni. Word had reached her. “What’s going on with you? You’ve changed. None of us knows what to do about it, but you’re going to get hurt if you’re not careful.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. Claire skipped the rest of her message.
Carrie came on next. “Isaac? Really? I could tell you were holding back but I never suspected an affair with Isaac Morgan. I don’t blame you. I’d like to have an affair with him myself,” she said with a laugh. “Be careful, though. He’s as wild as the animals he photographs—”
“And just as dangerous,” Claire added, and hit Skip.
Besides those two messages, there were three hang-up calls. One had come in as late as twelve-thirty. Could that have been Isaac? Should she call him back?
No. She should shut out everything that was confusing her and try to sleep.
“Why do I have to love you?” she muttered, and curled up on the bed without even taking off her clothes.
If David were here, none of this would be happening, she thought. But it wasn’t David she dreamed about when she drifted off to sleep.
18
When Claire opened her eyes, she could tell she hadn’t been sleeping long, and the clock confirmed it. 1:58 a.m. Why was she awake? She wanted to sink back into the nothingness she’d just left—and would have if not for the odd noise that nudged her toward consciousness.