Daddy's Little Girl (17 page)

Ruth Foster knocked on Minerva’s door, then went in without waiting to be asked.

She never did that.

The stern expression on her face said that these were different circumstances.

Minerva lay on her bed, the back of her hand flung over her face.

She started when Ruth came through the doorway.

“Is something wrong?”

“I’m afraid there is,” Ruth said.

Minerva was nervous. She couldn’t ever recall seeing Ruth Foster upset.

Especially so upset that her eyes fairly flared with rage.

“You were in the basement?” Ruth demanded.

“Yes.”

“Against my wishes.”

“Well—”

“Against my wishes, isn’t that correct?”

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, it is, but—”

“Minerva, I thought we were friends.”

“We are, Ruth. Truth to tell, we’re the only friends we’ve got.”

“Then you should respect my wishes, if we’re such good friends.”

“But—”

“There is absolutely no reason for you to be in the basement. None whatsoever. It’s a part of the house that may as well not exist.”

“The noises—”

Ruth clucked. “Oh, the noises! I’m so darned tired of hearing about those noises! They’re wind or small animals who get in through the windows and get trapped down there. Nothing more mysterious or sinister than that!”

“All right, Ruth. I promise.”

Ruth’s handsome, sculptured face assessed her old friend. Her manner softened perceptibly. “I say these things for your sake.”

Minerva’s eyes narrowed.

Ruth was serious—

For her sake, she said.

Ruth’s words had an almost ominous tone to them.

“Please do as I say, Minerva. Please. For your sake.”

“All right, Ruth.”

Ruth turned to go. “You left the basement door open, that’s how I happened to know you were down there.”

But Minerva shook her head. “No, Ruth, I didn’t leave the door open. was very cautious about closing it so you wouldn’t find out I’d been down there. I’m positive I closed that door.”

Ruth was even paler.

The implication of Minerva’s words rocked her.

“Maybe,” Minerva said, “somebody came up from the basement after me.”

Ruth left Minerva’s bedroom abruptly, before her friend even had a chance to say that she’d only been joking.

In the dream Deirdre was a small girl, maybe six or seven, and they were sitting in a movie house in the loop and everybody around them was saying how beautiful little Deirdre was.

The dream had actually taken place years ago when Carnes had taken Deirdre to a Saturday afternoon matinee, secretly alarmed by the kind of thing that got “G” ratings. Why, back in his time, there’d only been Roy Rogers-type fare. But today, what with nudity and foul language ...

They had almost had a courtship, Carnes and his daughter. They had gone everywhere together.

And it was that togetherness that he was reliving in his dream—

Then he woke up.

In Beth’s apartment.

In Beth’s bed.

And his daughter was not with him, the beautiful daughter with whom he’d had such a special relationship.

She was not with him.

Carnes was soaked.

He leaned back against the headboard, wiping sweat from his brow, looking over at Beth next to him.

They had not, of course, made any kind of love, merely fallen into exhausted sleep as soon as their heads had touched the pillows.

According to the General Electric clock a few feet away, that had been three and a half hours ago.

Now, he appreciated the wisdom of her bringing him here.

Despite his anxiety and depression, he did feel rested, better able to confront whatever lay ahead of him.

Stronger.

In sleep, Beth was even prettier, a curious innocence infusing her lovely features.

Instantly he felt guilty.

He had no right to be enjoying himself, even a little, when Deirdre could be ...

In the bathroom he got into the shower, shaved under the streaming water, then emerged to climb into some clean clothes.

For the first time since the disappearance last night, he felt a real anger, not one directed at himself, but at all the circumstances.

In the kitchen, reviewing the events that had transpired in the last eighteen hours or so, he remembered the old clerk at the motel and the odd way he’d carried on.

As he poured coffee and put bread into the toaster oven an idea came to him.

From where the clerk had been standing last night, he should have been able to see what was happening out there on the macadam.

Yet he’d been no help at all when the sheriff had asked him questions....

Carnes was getting worked up when Beth Daye walked into the kitchen in man’s pajamas, her dark hair tousled, and stretched like somebody in a mattress commercial.

“Boy, even a few hours sleep made me feel better,” she said sleepily.

“Me, too.”

Just then the toaster oven door opened.

He poured her coffee, gave her a piece of toast.

From the refrigerator she got strawberry jam.

“It’ll taste a little better with this on it,” she said, plopping a spoonful of the stuff on his toast.

He nodded a thank-you.

After a sip of coffee, she said, “You like being in advertising?”

He wanted to talk about the clerk at the motel, but he knew they needed some respite from all his suspicions and plans.

They needed to have some plain human talk.

“It’s all right,” he said.

She chuckled. “You don’t mind tricking people into buying things they don’t want?”

“Advertising is vastly overrated. If it worked half as well as its critics claim, our economy would be in much better shape.”

“I suppose somewhere in you there’s a real creative writer.”

He smiled. “If there is, I haven’t been able to find him.”

“That’s what my husband always used to say about newspaper people and advertising people. That in every one of their desks was a half-finished novel.”

“Mine never even got started.”

It was obvious to her that his heart was not in this conversation.

“You’re a nice-looking guy,” she said, “after you’ve had a chance for a shower and a shave.”

“Thanks,” he said tensely.

“By the way, that was an objective appraisal. Not a pitch.”

“I realize that.”

“You seem really on edge.”

“Something’s starting to bother me. Something I was too tired or too frantic to realize before.”

He told her about the clerk at the motel. “What do you think?” he concluded.

“I think you should give me fifteen minutes, then we’ll go out there and look up the old duffer.”

While she was showering, he went over to the phone and dialed the sheriff’s office.

He was surprised, it being near six o’clock and dinnertime, that Sheriff Wayman was there.

“I’m just checking in,” Carnes said.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have anything to report,” the sheriff said.

“Nothing from any of the surrounding counties or the Highway Patrol?”

“Believe me, Mr. Carnes,” the sheriff said sympathetically, “if I heard anything, you’d be the first to know.”

Carnes shook his head.

He had the distinct impression that the man had not done a damn thing about his daughter.

Not a damn thing.

“Well, thank you, Sheriff,” Carnes said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“You bet,” the sheriff said.

They hung up.

By the time Beth came out of the bathroom, wearing a green sweater that flattered her eyes and designer jeans, Carnes was pacing.

He was ready to go.

Another straw to be grasped at, he told himself cynically.

Beth got a suede car coat from the front closet and they set out for the motel.

Within half a block, Carnes became aware that they were being followed by a maroon Chevrolet of recent vintage.

Deputy Shanks had been parked outside Beth Daye’s apartment for well over two hours.

Unlike big city policemen, cops in the town of Burton did not do a lot of staking out.

At first it had been kind of fun, not least because he had whiled away his time with sexual fantasies about Beth.

Ever since he’d laid eyes on her several years ago, he’d wanted her. She was one of those aloof women he felt decidedly inferior to—and as a result she really got to him.

On his nights off, he drove over to Capitol City and spent the nights watching chicks in the Triple XXX joints, their big tits flopping in the blue light most of them chose to dance in. He could get it up for these broads, to be sure. But they were just for screwing. A woman like the Daye woman, now, she engaged a man’s whole mind and whole soul.

He stayed half a block behind the Carnes car. Once, the Carnes car hauling a quick left, he was forced to speed up.

He almost tailgated them.

The sheriff would love that, all right.

Sheriff Wayman had instructed him to keep a sharp eye on Adam Carnes and to note all his movements.

Great news if he rear-ended the bastard.

With dusk gathering, the Carnes car had yet to turn on its lights.

As Carnes led them down narrow, dark streets, visibility began to falter.

Deputy Shanks was worried about running into the back of him again....

Ahead, Shanks saw Carnes’s brake lights go on.

Then, suddenly, and for no apparent reason, the crazy bastard flipped a U-turn.

And started right back in the direction of Deputy Shanks.

Shanks, who had no idea what to do, slammed on his own brakes and slumped down behind the wheel so neither Carnes nor Beth Daye could get a clear look at his face.

After the Carnes car was past him, Shanks had no choice but to pull his own U-turn and go after them.

It took him four desperate blocks to find them, all the while imagining what Sheriff Wayman would do to him if he managed to lose them.

He saw them just in time to note that Carnes had turned right into a small city park that paralleled the river and was a favorite spot for lovers on a spring evening.

Then the worst thing of all happened. He lost them entirely.

In the smoky dusk, he sat in his car, straining his eyes through the murk for any sign of them.

None.

Ahead was a pavilion, still closed because the spring weather had not settled in yet, and he wondered if they might have parked up there, on the other side of it so he could not see them from here.

He decided to risk it.

He drove up the hill, his engine straining from the steep climb.

At the top of the hill, he cut his lights and got out of the car.

He was maybe three steps away from the pavilion when it happened.

Like some crazy Indian jumping somebody off a big rock, Carnes came flying out from behind a tree and knocked Deputy Shanks right to the ground, jarring every sense the lawman could be said to possess.

“Now,” Carnes said, standing over him, “what the hell are you following me for?”

When Deputy Delbert Shanks did not speak right away, Carnes raised his foot and threatened to stomp the other man.

A day’s worth of rage and frustration were waiting to be taken out on the deputy.

Shanks rolled over, trying to move away from the path of Carnes’s foot should it come, but Carnes was too quick for him.

Carnes put his heel on Shanks’s wrist.

Shanks screamed.

Beth Daye, in the shadows of dusk, came running out from behind the tree.

She looked shocked that Carnes had Shanks down on the ground.

“You know him?” Carnes snapped.

“Yes. His name is Shanks. He’s one of Sheriff Wayman’s deputies.”

“Deputy?” Carnes said. He sounded disbelieving.

What would a deputy, a man sworn to uphold the law, being doing breaking that law by following Carnes around town?

Carnes lifted his foot from the man’s wrist.

Shanks slowly got to his feet, rubbing his wrist, grimacing.

He looked at Beth and then he looked at Carnes. Then a scowl covered his face.

“If you don’t mind, mister, I’ll be going now.” He turned to walk away.

Carnes grabbed him, spun him around, was cocking his fist and just about to drop the man when Beth grabbed him to prevent him from slugging the deputy.

“Don’t! ”

Shanks kept the scowl on his face.

“Maybe you didn’t hear her, mister. I’m a deputy.” Despite the pain in his wrist, Shanks seemed to have no trouble sounding all puffed up about himself.

“I’m impressed,” Carnes said sarcastically.

“Why were you following us?” Beth demanded.

“I wasn’t following you. I was just out for a drive tonight, it being such a beautiful night and all.”

“You’re a liar,” Carnes said.

“I could get damn sick of you, mister.”

“I’m already sick of you,” Carnes said.

Beth stepped between them. A referee.

“Delbert, it’s obvious you’ve been following us. We tried to lose you three times. It didn’t do any good. You always caught up with us.”

“Maybe it was just a coincidence we took the same route,” Shanks said, obstinate to the last.

This time Carnes jumped him and backed him into a tree before Beth could say or do anything.

He had his hands on the man’s throat and was pushing hard against Shanks’s Adam’s apple.

“Why were you following us?”

Shanks’s eyes bugged out, he writhed beneath Carnes’s grasp.

But it was obvious that he was pinned by Carnes’s superior strength.

Pinned and without any hope of escape.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Carnes said, “or so help me, I’ll kill you.”

He pressed even tighter on the man’s throat.

Beth came up from behind Carnes, tried to pull one of his arms away from the deputy.

“Adam. Please.”

“Go away, Beth.”

“Adam. Please.
Please.”

But he scarcely seemed to hear her. He just kept the pressure on the man’s throat.

Shanks said, through his teeth, barely able to get the words out, “All right, all right.”

For good measure, Carnes slammed the man back against the tree, just in case he was thinking maybe he could escape Carnes’s grasp.

Then he loosened his hold enough so that the deputy could breathe and talk.

“Who told you to follow us?”

“The sheriff.”

“Bullshit.”

A smirk came over Shanks’s fear-flushed face. “I tell you the truth and you don’t believe me.”

“Why would the sheriff have you follow us?”

“I ain’t sure.”

Carnes studied the man.

Just then a flicker of fear crossed Shanks’s eyes. Obviously he was afraid of the sheriff and what the sheriff could do to him.

Maybe then he
was
telling the truth ... it would not seem the kind of lie worth the risk ... not given what the sheriff would do to him if he caught him in it.

Carnes started back for Shanks, as if he were going to start choking him again.

“The sheriff sent you?”

“Yeah. Hey, man, I swear it’s true.”

“But you don’t know why?”

Carnes’s voice had gotten threatening again.

He repeated himself. “But you don’t know why?” “There’s something he doesn’t want you to find out.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

Carnes made a move on him again.

Shanks put his hands in front of his face. “I’m not lying. I don’t know what he doesn’t want you to find out. He didn’t give me any of the details.”

Beth came up beside Carnes. “He’s telling the truth.”

Carnes nodded. He thought so, too.

He stood in the beautiful twilight, hearing the birds singing on the breeze, thinking.

Finally, he said, “All right, Shanks, I want you to stand there while I go to my car.”

He walked over to the deputy, removed the weapon he’d expected to find from the man’s shoulder holster. He gave the gun to Beth.

She looked at it as if it were an instrument she had never seen before.

“If he moves, shoot him,” Carnes said in a loud voice for Shanks’s benefit. “Don’t try to kill him, just shoot him in the leg or the arm.” He looked at Shanks and smiled. “Better yet, why don’t you shoot him in the crotch.”

Even in the shadows, he had a good idea that Shanks was probably turning green at the last suggestion. He felt sure that Shanks probably would not risk running away.

In the rear of his car Carnes found what he was looking for.

A piece of clothesline rope that he and Deirdre had used to tie some boxes up for carrying.

The rope stretched maybe ten feet.

Perfect.

Carnes carried the rope back to the deputy.

Beth had taken her job seriously. She stood sternly watching Shanks, the gun aimed at his midsection.

Shanks was watching her, too. He seemed as wary of her as he would have been of a rattlesnake.

Carnes went up to the deputy and said, “All right, sit down against the tree over there.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“You’re about to find out.”

“You going to—hurt me?”

“No,” Carnes said. “But only because I don’t have time to indulge myself in any pleasures. Move.”

Shanks walked ahead of Carnes like a man moving toward the firing squad.

“Sit.”

Shanks sat.

Carnes made quick work of it.

He wrapped the rope around the deputy, starting with his feet. When they were tied tightly, he then moved to the man’s arms.

Soon Shanks was incapable of moving much more than his head.

My scoutmaster always said learning how to tie knots would come in handy someday, Carnes thought ironically.

Before he bent down to put the gag in the deputy’s mouth, he said, “One more time, Shanks. What’s going on that the sheriff doesn’t want me know about?”

Carnes had started to boil over again as he watched the deputy stupidly shake his head.

“I could stomp you right now and there wouldn’t be a damn thing you could do about it.”

“I know,” Shanks said miserably.

“What about my daughter?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know where she is?”

“No.”

“Or who took her?”

“No.”

“Or why they took her?”

Silently, Delbert Shanks shook his head.

Carnes could see that the man was probably not concealing anything. He looked too frightened to be holding anything back.

Carnes put the gag on him, then stood up.

Shanks got spooky now.

He swung his head right and left. His eyes bulged.

Carnes decided he had probably read all those tabloid stories about the terrible things that happen to people who get gags put in their mouths.

For a moment, Carnes almost felt sorry for the deputy.

But then he thought of how the deputy, no matter how unwittingly, was part of a conspiracy, the dimensions of which Carnes was only beginning to realize.

Shanks continued to writhe at his restraints.

To hell with him, Carnes thought, and walked back to Beth.

“You scared me a few minutes ago,” she said.

“Sorry.”

“Your temper, it’s—”

“Ugly is the word you want.”

“Yes, I guess that would be the appropriate word. I guess I’m just not used to violence.”

“Neither am I.” He thought a moment. “But then I’m not used to having my daughter kidnapped, either.”

She smiled at him. “Maybe I was a little insensitive. About your temper and all.”

“I understand.” He nodded toward his car. “Now, c’mon, let’s get going. I’ve got a feeling we’re starting to get close to each other.”

They were shadows moving against the twilight sky as they worked their way up the hill to Carnes’s car.

The only thing that worked against the idyll they seemed to be a part of was what dangled from Carnes’s hand.

He had not given the deputy his gun back.

Now it hung from his hand.

He knew that before this night was over he was going to need it.