Cast into Doubt (11 page)

‘I don’t think so. I mean, he may have been upset about the drinking. Rob’s such a straight arrow. But if he said she’d stopped . . .’

‘Well, he said she went to AA. You have to be sober to go to those meetings,’ said Shelby, ruminating aloud. ‘But I got the feeling that he didn’t really trust her. Chloe must have known that.’

‘You know how Chloe is. She isn’t the most . . . self-confident . . .’

‘I know. She gets down on herself . . .’

They both realized at once that they were talking about Chloe in the present tense.

‘I just can’t believe this,’ said Franny miserably. ‘Any of it.’

The back door of the house slammed and Shelby heard Rob call out, ‘We’re back.’ She heard the sound of Jeremy’s feet thundering up the stairs as he yelled out ‘Shep!’ Jeremy ran into the room, his eyes alight for the first time, it seemed, since they had arrived back. He held up a grimy softball and offered it to her. ‘I caught it, Shep,’ he cried.

Shelby took the proffered ball. ‘That’s great,’ she said to the beaming child. ‘Franny, Jeremy just got back from the park, and he’s here with me so I’m going to have to go.’

‘OK. You’ll let me know if there’s any news? How long are you going to be there with Rob and Jeremy?’

‘I’m not sure yet.’

‘You’ll let me know if you decide about a service?’

‘Of course. I will,’ said Shelby. ‘And thanks.’

Rob came into the room, looking grimy but cheerful. ‘Jeremy show you the ball he caught?’

Shelby hung up the phone carefully. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And I want to hear all about it.’

‘Who was that?’ Rob asked.

‘A friend,’ she said.

‘It was Aunt Franny,’ Jeremy piped up.

Shelby’s face reddened and Rob raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh really?’ he said coolly. ‘That’s nice. How is Franny?’

‘She’s grieving. Of course,’ Shelby snapped, before she could stop herself.

Jeremy looked warily from his grandmother to his father and back.

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘That was a difficult call.’ Before Rob could reply, Shelby sat down on the sofa and pulled Jeremy up on to the cushion beside her. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Now, let’s get to the important stuff. I want to hear all about this catch of yours.’

Later in the afternoon, as Shelby was staring into the refrigerator, trying to figure out what to make for supper, Rob came into the kitchen and announced that he was taking Jeremy, Molly, and Molly’s friend, Sara, to Pizza Hut and the new Disney movie.

Shelby looked at him in surprise. ‘Really? I wouldn’t think thirteen-year-old girls would be interested in that.’

‘Actually,’ said Rob, ‘they wanted to see the new teen vampire movie, but I wanted to include Jeremy. When I called Molly to explain the problem, she was the one who suggested the Disney movie. She still loves her animation.’

‘That was thoughtful of her,’ Shelby said.

‘She’s a good kid,’ said Rob. ‘And she adores her brother. Chloe never understood that.’

‘What does that mean?’ Shelby asked.

‘Nothing,’ said Rob defensively. ‘She just couldn’t seem to grasp that they were brother and sister. I mean Jeremy was hers, and Molly . . . just didn’t belong in the picture.’

Shelby felt stung by his complaint. How can you speak ill of Chloe, she wanted to say? Is that really all you can remember about her? ‘It’s not easy to become a stepparent.’

‘I don’t mean it as a criticism,’ Rob said stubbornly. ‘That’s just the way it was. I just kept hoping she would adjust.’

Shelby was not placated, but she kept her thoughts to herself as she helped Jeremy to get ready. Rob asked her politely if she wanted to come along, but Shelby insisted that she would enjoy an evening to herself. She waved goodbye at the door, trying to smile as they pulled away. But once they were gone, she turned back to the house with a feeling of despair. Alone in the house with Chloe’s quilts and her magnetized photos on the refrigerator, and her careful arrangements of her cupboards, Shelby suddenly felt overwhelmed by her loss. She did not belong here and she knew it. So far, Rob had been tolerant of her presence. He had even thanked her for helping him with Jeremy.

But Shelby had no illusions about her role here. Jeremy was her grandson, but he had his father and his sister as well. And she had no one. It seemed to her now, without Chloe, that she had nothing. Rob and Jeremy would go on with their lives and, without Chloe to remind them, would forget to call her, to keep in touch. For a few more years Jeremy would welcome her attentions and then, he would have less and less time for his grandmother. Shelby felt her spirits sinking and recognized the imminent onset of another crying jag.

You need to get out of this house, she thought. These walls are closing in.

Do something. Get in your car and drive to Center City, she thought. Call Jen for dinner. Relax in your own space. But even as she toyed with the idea and went up to Molly’s room to put on some makeup, she felt a paralyzing inertia, and knew she wouldn’t do it.

She was staring at herself in the mirror uncertain of how or where to escape the misery of her own heart when the doorbell rang. Shelby went to the top of the stairs and waited, hoping that whoever it was would go away. The doorbell rang again. With a sigh, Shelby descended the stairs and opened the door. She saw a complete stranger standing there. It was a woman about her own age, although this woman had a wan, deeply lined face and seemed careless of her appearance. She had graying, frizzy hair, and wore a shapeless canvas coat.

‘Mrs Sloan?’ the woman asked.

Shelby stared at her suspiciously. ‘Yes.’

‘My name is Janice Pryor. I’m not from around here. I live in New York.’

Shelby frowned at her, and did not reply.

‘I’m here about your daughter,’ Janice said.

Shelby’s heart skidded. ‘What about her?’

‘Well, I wanted to talk to you about what happened to her.’

Shelby’s heart began to hammer. ‘Were you on the same cruise with her?’ she asked.

‘No. But I know a lot about these cruise ship accidents and I think you may have been misled. Could I come in so we could talk about this?’

Every warning bell went off in Shelby’s head. This woman was some kind of crackpot. She began to close the door. ‘Look, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m busy.’

‘Please,’ said Janice Pryor. ‘Hear me out. Just hear me out. I drove all the way down here tonight to talk to you. Believe me, it’s important.’

Shelby recoiled from the woman’s earnest, anxious gaze. ‘Well, that’s too bad. I’m sorry you wasted your time.’ Before Shelby could shut the door in her face the woman blurted out, ‘My daughter disappeared on a Sunset Cruise ship too.’

Shelby gripped the doorknob and stared at the woman standing on the step.

Janice Pryor gazed into Shelby’s wide eyes, and took in her stunned expression with a satisfied nod. ‘May I come in?’ she asked.

TEN

‘
T
hese quilts are beautiful,’ Janice Pryor said, as she settled herself into a chair in the living room, and gazed at the colorful array of patterned needlework that hung from horizontal poles, decorating the walls.

Shelby was still standing by the door. ‘My daughter made them.’

Janice looked sympathetically at Shelby. ‘She had a wonderful eye for color.’

Shelby gazed at the quilts. The pain of her loss was a crushing weight on her heart.

‘Do you think I could have something to drink?’ Janice asked. ‘A soft drink maybe?’

‘There’s herbal iced tea,’ said Shelby.

‘That would be fine,’ said Janice.

Shelby went out into the kitchen and prepared a glass of tea while her mind raced. Now that she had let Janice Pryor into the house, she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake. This was a complete stranger who must have found Shelby through news reports. It could be that she was a little bit unbalanced. But the thought that Janice’s daughter had died in the same way as Chloe made Shelby painfully curious, in spite of her misgivings. She carried the glass out to the living room, the ice cubes clinking, and handed it to her visitor.

Janice took a sip and then set the glass down. Shelby remained standing.

‘Please. Sit down,’ said Janice. ‘I know how tired you must be.’

Suddenly, Shelby was keenly aware of her exhaustion, which normally hovered somewhere at the edge of her consciousness. ‘I am tired,’ she said. ‘I’ve been helping out with my grandson.’

‘Taking care of kids. It’s the hardest work there is,’ said Janice amiably.

‘His father took him out to the movies tonight.’

‘Yes, I know. I saw them go,’ said Janice, taking a sip of her tea.

Shelby was taken aback. ‘What do you mean you saw them go?’ she cried. ‘Were you spying on us?’

‘No. Nothing like that,’ Janice protested.

‘Well, what then?’ Shelby demanded.

‘Please, Shelby . . . can I call you Shelby? It’s nothing sinister. I promise you. I’ve followed the details of your daughter’s story. I know about your son-in-law and your grandson. I just wanted to wait and speak to you alone,’ said Janice calmly. ‘Mother to mother.’

Shelby was not placated. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I’m really sorry that you lost your daughter the same way I did, but that really doesn’t mean we’re linked together somehow. I mean, I appreciate your . . . interest, but perhaps it would be better if you just . . .’

‘I know you’re probably thinking that I’m some kind of a nut, but I promise you, I’m anything but. Please.’ Janice indicated the sofa.

Shelby hesitated and then perched stiffly down on the edge of the couch cushion, tensed to flee.

Janice looked at Shelby almost tenderly. ‘I read that your daughter, Chloe, was twenty-four years old.’

‘That’s . . . that’s right,’ said Shelby.

Janice reached into her pocketbook and pulled out a framed photo. Janice gazed at it fondly, and then offered it to Shelby. It was a picture of a young girl, blonde-headed and bright-eyed. ‘My Elise was seventeen. She went on the cruise with her senior class. It was a small class. A Catholic girl’s school. She disappeared overboard on the third night of the cruise. That was ten years ago.’

Shelby hung her head, imagining a pain that never lessened. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

‘Do you know what they told me happened to her?’ Janice asked indignantly. She did not wait for Shelby to respond. ‘They told me that she got drunk and accidentally fell overboard.’

Shelby looked up at her in surprise.

‘That’s what they told you about Chloe, wasn’t it?’ Janice demanded.

Shelby frowned. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact.’

Janice nodded. ‘That’s what they always say.’

Shelby, initially stunned by this similarity, didn’t know how to respond. ‘It’s probably just a coincidence,’ Shelby protested faintly. ‘I’m, afraid . . . well, I didn’t know it but apparently my daughter had a drinking problem.’

‘Who told you that?’

Shelby deflected the question. ‘It seems that she’d had this problem for some time.’

Janice folded her arms over her chest. ‘The cruise line wanted me to think that my daughter had a drinking problem. But Elise never touched alcohol.’

‘Kids do try things sometimes when they’re away from their parents,’ said Shelby. ‘You know, they experiment.’

Janice shook her head. ‘Not Elise. She hated the taste of alcohol. She always said that it made her sick to her stomach.’

‘Well, tropical places . . .’ Shelby demurred. ‘They make those fruit drinks that are so sweet. You can’t even taste the alcohol in it.’

‘NO.’ Janice slammed her open palm down on the arm of the chair. ‘That is not what happened. That is just the excuse they came up with to try to avoid responsibility. My daughter was murdered by one of their employees.’

Once again Shelby felt a mushrooming alarm that she had let a crazy person into the house. ‘Really?’ she said skeptically.

‘I’m not just guessing about this, Shelby. This really happened. They hired a convicted sexual predator without looking into his background.’

Shelby frowned. She wished, fleetingly, that she had not agreed to let this woman call her by her first name. It made her uneasy. ‘How do you know that?’

Janice shook her head. ‘Not because the cruise line admitted it. Oh no. My husband spent all his time looking into it. Night and day. He ended up losing his job. Then he had a stroke. Now he’s in a nursing home. Possibly for the rest of his life. But he found out the truth. That he did do.’

‘A sexual predator.’

‘Three arrests. One conviction,’ said Janice flatly. ‘All with young adolescents.’

‘So . . . they got this guy for killing your daughter?’ Shelby asked.

Janice held up her hands, as if in surrender. ‘Not exactly. Look. I’m not here to talk about Elise.’ She rummaged in her large pocketbook and pulled out a sheaf of pages. ‘Here. I printed these up for you. They’re not about Elise. Not entirely, anyway.’ She thrust the papers at Shelby, who reluctantly accepted them.

‘Just glance through that stuff,’ said Janice.

Shelby frowned at the pile of papers. She began to leaf through them. Each stapled set had a heading that read ‘Overboard.’ Each set of papers concerned a different person, and the story of how they were lost at sea.

‘What is this?’ Shelby asked.

‘Overboard is the name of our organization. These are some of the cases you can read about when you visit the website. We are the survivors of people who disappeared or died on a cruise ship,’ said Janice.

‘There are a lot of them,’ said Shelby wonderingly.

‘Those are just a few,’ said Janice grimly. ‘There are many others.’

Shelby scanned a few of the cases, making a special note of the outcome. She shook her head. ‘Suicides. Accidents.’

‘The cruise ships don’t want bad publicity. They’ll do almost anything to avoid it. They don’t want people to know the truth.’