Helens-of-Troy (13 page)

“Okay, then...” Ellie said, moving away
from the girl. She now had something in common with Jacey. She
didn’t want to sit with this girl either.

Ellie weighed her options. She could go
back up with Tom and Jaceyno option there as far as she was
concernedor she could admit defeat and go sit with the Helens.
That made her head hurt even more.

“At the risk of being branded a dork
for life,” she thought to herself, “I think I’ll just say I have a
stomach ache and call it a night.” She made her way over to where
her mother was sitting. “Mom,” she said, her back to the field, “I
think I’m coming down with something, I’m going to head back to the
house.”

“Do you remember how to get there?”
Helen asked.

Before Ellie had a chance to answer, a
shock wave went through the crowd, and the fans were suddenly on
their feet.

“Did you see that?” Helena asked. “That
goon hit Ryan, and he didn’t even have the ball.”

Ellie turned around. The home team had
gathered around their fallen player.

“That’s going to hurt for a while,”
Helena said. “He took it on the shoulder.”

“He’s a big boy," Helen said. “I’m sure
he can take it.”

The crowd gave Ryan a standing ovation
as he picked himself up. They could see he was holding his right
shoulder as he walked over to the bench and had words with the
coach. He left the field shortly thereafter.

Ryan would probably stay until the game
ended, Ellie knew, but waiting alone by the car was the lesser of
all evils at the moment. She wasn’t certain if she could find her
way home herself or not. Nighttime was probably not the best time
to try to find out.

She made her way outside to the garbage
area and tied her scarf around her nose. It wasn’t so much the
smell that made her do this. The night had gotten colder and the
tip of her nose was beginning to go numb. She sat on the hood of
the car and tried to call Dina, getting only her voicemail once
again.

“Out of sight, out of mind, I guess,”
Ellie said disappointedly, putting her phone back into her
pocket.

Five minutes later, Ellie heard the big
metal door of the school open. She turned and saw Ryan making his
way over to the car. He actually looked happy to see her. “Can you
drive, Goth?” Ryan asked, throwing her the keys.

“Yes,” Ellie lied.

“I think I’m okay, but I don’t know how
long it’s going to take for the painkillers to kick in.” He tried
to rotate his shoulder but had difficulty doing so. “It hurts so
much I don’t even want to hang in to the end of the
game.”

“How’d you get painkillers? You haven’t
even seen a doctor.”

“No doctor tonight, Goth-Chic. He’s
looking for his kid. I keep a few in my gym bag for just such an
emergency.”

“What about Tom and Jacey? Maybe Tom
can drive your car. I’ll go back and get them.”

“Tom is the worst driver in Troy.
There’s no way I’d let him behind the wheel. And Jacey’s just
learning to drive a stick.” He studied Ellie. “You really can’t
drive, can you?” he asked, snatching the keys back from her
hand.

“I can drive. Stick or auto. But the
license is a bit of a technicality.”

“It’s okay to say that, Goth-Chic. I’ll
still respect you in the morning.”

“Then...is it okay to point out that
having taken painkillers, you probably shouldn’t drive
either?”

“True enough. Maybe we could walk home
together. You can make sure I don’t stumble into a ditch. Tom and
Jacey will figure it out. I can pick up the car
tomorrow.”

“But what about your girlfriend?” Ellie
questioned hesitantly. “Shouldn’t you walk home with
her?”

“What girlfriend?” Ryan laughed. “What
are you so nervous about all of a sudden Goth-Chic?”

“This girl just totally dissed me when
I went to sit with her. She made it rather clear that there would
be a voodoo doll with my name on it if I even glanced in your
direction.”

“What were you doing sitting with some
freak? How come you didn’t sit with Tom and Jacey?”

“It’s complicated.”

Ryan laughed harder. “Jacey has a way
of doing that. What’s wrong Goth? Have you got a thing for
Tom?”

“No...” Ellie said. She could feel her
face getting warm.

“You DO have a thing for Tom. I know
the look. I’ve seen it a hundred times,” Ryan laughed. “You’re a
blusher, GC.”

“Please don’t tell him,” Ellie
begged.

“
What’s it worth to you,
Goth? Will you carry my gym bag for me? I can’t lift it with my
shoulder the way it is. If you don’t tell anyone about that, I’ll
keep quiet about your little high school sweetheart fantasies.
Deal?”

“What’s wrong with your other
arm?”

“I took that TV into your room for
Helena. That’s a big bed you’ve got in there,” he teased. “Do you
think about Tom when you’re lying there naked?”

Ellie grabbed his bag. “Deal. I’d also
appreciate you calling off the Doberman with the short black hair
and the nose ring.”

“Tara? Tara Wildman? Is that who you
sat with? She’s not my girlfriend. Tara and I have an understanding
that she doesn’t quite understand, is all.”

“You think?”

Ryan laughed. “See Goth, you’re picking
the wrong guy. All the ladies, they go after Tom. They don’t see
the potential in me. They probably will in a few years when I’m on
Monday Night Football, but for now, I’ve got to coast. I take what
I can get. I can get Tara. Life works in mysterious
ways.”

“That’s not very nice,” Ellie replied,
smacking his sore shoulder. “Your eventual superstardom does not
give you the right to act like a pig for now.”

“Ow! Take it easy Goth. I hurt like a
girl.”

“That’s probably the only no-bull thing
you’ve said to me since we left the school,” Ellie noted. “There
was some guy following you with a camera tonight. Is this injury
going to ruin your scholarship chances?”

“I doubt it. I’ve got scouts coming out
of my ass. And look at my ass, Goth. It’s a wide one. I’ll kill the
fucker who did this to me next time we play. It was a cheap shot.
I’m on a hit list.”

“Like a gang or something?”

“No. Like someone else wants my college
scholarship.”

“My Nan could probably help you with
your shoulder,” Ellie offered kindly.

Ryan turned and studied Ellie. He had
known all the girls in his school most of his life, so it was nice
to have someone new in town to talk to. Maybe that was part of the
attraction. Ellie was someone who wouldn’t know about things he had
done in the past, or not done in the past, and therefore wouldn’t
judge him the way most of the other girls did. It seemed too good
to be true.

“Why are you here, Goth?” Ryan asked,
stopping in the street. “Why is a nice, hot, city-chic like you
gracing us Troy-mongers with your presence? Are ya
preggers?”

“You’ve got more in common with my mom
than she thinks,” Ellie assessed. “Why does everyone assume I’m
going to get pregnant? And why do they think Troy is the answer? Is
there a condom factory here I don’t know about?” She shrugged. “I
really don’t know why we’re here. My Mom just decided to leave her
dead-beat boyfriend all of a sudden, so here we are.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Ryan offered. “I
know what it’s like when people split up.” He cleared his throat
uncomfortably.

“It’s okay. Sometimes ‘all of a sudden’
takes about five years too long. It was bound to happen. You sound
like you’re talking from experience.”

Ryan didn’t answer.

“Okay, I’ll change the subject,” Ellie
said diplomatically. “What kind of music do you like? Are you a
rocker or are you into the whole gangsta-rap thing?”

“Both,” Ryan laughed. “But since we’re
bonding here Goth, I’ll tell you something not even Tommy-boy
knows. When I’m all alone, down in my basement...“

“Ryan...” she said
nervously.

“I sing country.”

“What?” Ellie laughed. She tried to
picture him in a Stetson hat and a blue denim shirt, with a guitar
strung over his back. It somehow didn’t flow with the sweaty
athlete image standing beside her.

“Maybe I’ll serenade you outside your
window one night. I’ll sing you a hurtin’ song and I’ll steal your
heart away.” He laughed and started back down the road. “There are
lots of things we need to get to know about each other, Goth.
Consider me a sheep in wolf‘s clothing.

“Don’t you have that
backwards?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to find
out,” he said, howling at the moon for effect.

Ellie stared at his face.

Goth,” Ryan stammered, “I was only
joking around.”

“You don’t have two different colored
eyes, do you?” she asked.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Saturday...

CHAPTER SEVEN

Roy Cohen picked up the megaphone and
prepared to address the crowd of a hundred or so people that had
gathered outside the town hall. During the nearly three decades
that he had served on the Troy police force, he had his share of
tragedies to contend with. None of them prepared him for
today.

“On behalf of the Quinlan family,” he
began solemnly, “I would like to thank everyone for coming down
here. If you’ll all just give me a few minutes to get organized,
I’ll be able to brief you on what we need to do today. If we divide
it up, we should have most of the town covered before
dark.”

There was a grumble from the crowd,
prompting Roy to raise his hand. “Before you say anything, I know
most of you won’t be able to stay the whole day. I appreciate the
time you can spare. I’d rather you do a thorough job for a short
period of time, than rush this. As more people show up, we’ll have
them sub in for those of you that have to leave. The Topaz Cafe has
donated some coffee, juice and pastries this morning, so please
help yourselves.”

He put the loud speaker down and
reached into his pocket for his leather gloves, wishing Colin and
Cody Dayton, his two scheduled day officers, were there to help. As
luck would have it, they had called to say their radiator had blown
on the way into town and they were being towed. There was no sense
calling in Rick Purdy. That would leave him short on the night
shift. He was going to have to handle this himself.

Flory Neuberg, the manager of Neuberg’s
Drug Store, approached him carrying a box full of photocopier
paper. He took it from her and placed it on the folding table the
town council had thoughtfully provided for his use. Inside the box
were hundreds of copies of Brooke’s photo. He barely glanced at
them. Her image was hauntingly embedded in his mind.

“Ellie,” he called, noticing Helena’s
granddaughter in the assembled group. “Can you help me for a few
minutes and hand these out?” He lifted a bundle of pages from the
cardboard box.

“Um, okay,” Ellie grunted, as she tried
to suppress a yawn. She was surprised the cop remembered her
name.

“Are we keeping you up?” the Chief of
Police asked her.

“Somebody did,” Ellie snapped, glancing
back towards the Helens. “My parental unit is well practiced in
ancient forms of sleep deprivation.”

Having raised three children of his own
to adulthood, Roy knew teenage sarcasm when he heard it.

“Good. If you’ve learned anything from
the experience you’ll be able to teach my officers a thing or two.
Their interrogation skills need work.” He smiled at her. He could
see the family resemblance between the teenager and her
grandmother.

Her nose up in the air, Ellie turned to
her mother and shoved a poster into her hand without saying a word.
She headed off into the crowd without so much as a
see-ya-later.

“Do you think she’s still mad at us for
waking her up last night?” Helena asked.

“Well, every hour on the hour might
have been a bit much,” Helen admitted. They had hoped that Ellie
would have been pulled back into a dreamscape during the night. But
every time the Helens thought she had finished a deep sleep cycle
and woke her up, Ellie had nothing new to offer themaside from a
few choice words about a lack of beauty sleep normally being their
problem, not hers.

Helena was certain Ellie had flipped
them the finger beneath her covers at least once during the night.
She was prepared to forgive her under the circumstances.

“It’s odd that he didn’t reappear
though,” she commented to Helen. “Willie, I mean. He’s usually a
keener for a repeat performance.”

Although the man in the dream was just
an anonymous antagonist to Ellie, her description of him had led
the older LaRose women to the same conclusion about his identity.
He was “Whistling” Willie, so named for his annoying habit of
whistling to announce his unwelcomed arrival.

“Maybe Willie got it all wrong and he’s
gone off to haunt some other family,” Helen shrugged. “It wouldn’t
be the first time he was confused.”