Meet Me in Barcelona (17 page)

“Don't move.”

No problema,
she thought, but she couldn't even say the words. She pressed her back hard against the building. Jean Sebastian scooted close to her. He put one hand on either side of her, one foot on either side of her feet. They were face-to-face, close enough to kiss, and she had the most inappropriate urge to do just that. Jake would not like this one bit. Jean Sebastian scooted his left hand out farther, then brought his right to her other side and finally swung his last foot over. He was now on the other side of her. From there he jumped. She heard a bang as he landed on a chair on the balcony and knocked over a cigarette bucket that clanged to the ground. He landed with the chair on top of him and his top leg bent.

“Are you okay?”

“Un momento.”
Jean Sebastian moaned and held his leg. He thrashed out and kicked the cigarette bucket away. “Maybe I will quit,” he said, flicking butts off him. “Fuckers.” Grace guessed the word worked no matter what your native language was. She wondered what the Belgian word for fuckers was. Jean Sebastian soon righted himself. He held out his arms. “Nothing broken.” He moved close to the edge and kept his arms open. “I'll catch you. I promise.”

He was tall. And seemed pretty sturdy.

“Can you move the chair? And get rid of the cigarettes?”

“You're pretty picky for a damsel in distress.”

“Sorry.”

Jean Sebastian shook his head and smiled, but moved the chair and kicked cigarettes out of the way. “Good?”

“Better.”

“Jump.”

“Oh, God.”

“I've got you.” Grace jumped. Jean Sebastian's arms wrapped around her, but the force of her coming into him sent him stumbling back a few steps. Their bodies slammed into the rail of the balcony, and for a moment Grace was sure they were going over. Jean Sebastian was definitely in a back bend. If the railing gave, they wouldn't even have time to protect their heads and necks. Jean Sebastian grunted, then curled forward, and the two of them hit the deck of the balcony with a thud. Grace felt all the air go out of her lungs as Jean Sebastian fell on top of her. This was the moment when being petite certainly didn't help. “Sorry, sorry.” Jean Sebastian immediately removed himself from her. “Are you all right?”

“I'm okay.”

“You can talk. Good. Means you can breathe.”

We're setting the bar pretty low here, aren't we?
Jean Sebastian held out his hand. Grace took it, and he hauled her up. They looked over the balcony rail. It was still a good six-foot drop. Jean Sebastian was already lowering himself over the edge. Maybe compared to the Congo, this was like recess. He hung for a minute and then dropped. He landed on his feet. Stan used to drop out of the tree house like that. Funny how seeing Carrie Ann was bringing back all these memories, a tidal wave of little moments.

“Your turn,” Jean Sebastian said. “I'll catch you if I can.”

“Catch me if you can,” said the Belgian man.
She really was a girl out of Nashville.

Grace couldn't get to the apartment fast enough. She and Jean Sebastian walked for a short while and then encountered a taxicab driver snoozing in his car on the side of the road. They startled him by pounding on the window, but got a smile out of him when Grace flashed the cash. He was then as chipper as could be, as he raced around the streets of Barcelona toward La Rambla. He didn't even seem to notice that Grace didn't speak Spanish. Jean Sebastian knew enough to keep up a conversation, and after he told her they were discussing sports, she could not have cared less. The world could be ending and men would still be talking sports. She just wanted to get to the apartment and find Jake. She had this horrible feeling that he wasn't there. Again, there was no way he would have ever left her on a bathroom floor. If he too had been drugged, where did he end up? They were going to have to call the cops, but the apartment was the first step. The cops. Probably not the slang used for Spanish police. What a nightmare it was going to be, working with police from a different country. Would they care about a missing American tourist? Well, Grace would make them care. Oh, God. She was going to miss another call with her mother. This was just a nightmare. Her mom might be out of it, but her dad would probably catch on that something was wrong.

When the cab drew up as close as it could get, Grace threw the money at Jean Sebastian and started to run to the apartment.

“Wait,” Jean Sebastian yelled. “I don't know where it is.”

Right. Grace stopped, already breathing heavy, and waited for Jean Sebastian to catch up. Luckily, he was smart enough to make it fast. “Sorry.”

“What if they're not there?” he said as they ran toward the building. They. He was worried about Carrie Ann too. Possibly Rafael. All she could think about was Jake. Was it wrong to blame Carrie Ann? She was just a magnet for trouble. Could Stan have pulled this off all by himself? She supposed it was easy enough to drug a bunch of drinks, but wouldn't he have needed help in getting the others wherever he had taken them? Wait. Hadn't Carrie Ann said something about Stan's being friends with Rafael? Her memory of last night was too fuzzy for Grace to be sure. If only she'd warned Jake! This is what she deserved for keeping things from him.

“These are nice,” Jean Sebastian said as they went under the archway leading to the apartment building's entrance.

“Rafael's parents own it, I guess,” Grace said.

“You guess?”

“Well, it's not like I've ever met them.”
And I take everything Carrie Ann says with a boatload of salt.
Grace raced into the lobby. Stefano wasn't at the desk. Great. The one time he could actually be useful, and he was gone. Grace flew up the stairs, taking them two steps at a time. Her hands shook as she inserted the key and threw the door open. “Jake?” She was immediately hit by a feeling of stillness. Emptiness. “Jake.” She tore through the place, looking for any signs that he'd at least come home after the club. As far as she remembered, things looked exactly the way they had when they'd left for the evening. Jake's comb and toothbrush were even in the same spot in the bathroom. He'd never made it home from the club. That reality was like a slap to the face. Where were they? What was happening to them?

“Anything?” Jean Sebastian stood in the doorway. Tears invading, Grace shook her head.

“Carrie Ann's apartment is directly above,” Grace said. Jean Sebastian nodded and turned toward the stairs. Grace was about to follow when the computer began to ring. She stopped. Her mother. She turned to Jake's laptop, expecting to find it password protected as before. Instead, the screen was open and available. Had Jake been able to get in and remove the password requirement? She knew her mother would be anxious to hear from her. And Grace didn't want to miss out on a single conversation with her mother. Not a single one! She had to bite down hard on the side of her mouth to stop the flow of tears. She sat in the chair in front of the computer and answered the call.

“Gracie?” There was always a few-second delay until the picture came in. But she could tell just from her mother's voice that Jody was coherent. These rare times were little gifts. Actually getting to speak to her mother, the one that remembered.

“Hi, Mom. Hi there. How are you?”

“Oh honey, it's so good to hear your voice. Can you see me?”

“Not yet.” And then the picture came in. Jody Sawyer was sitting up in her bed. Her hair looked like it had recently been done, and she was wearing makeup and a regular top. In other words, she had dressed up for this phone call. “There you are,” Grace said. “Oh, Mom. You look beautiful.”

“So do you, darling. Although you look a bit tired.”

“We went to a dance club last night.”

Jody clasped her hands together and opened her mouth in an O. “A dance club. I love it.”

“It was really fun.”
You know. Except for being drugged and left overnight on the bathroom floor and waking up to find that Jake has probably been kidnapped
. “It was right on the ocean.” Grace could feel someone in the doorway. Jean Sebastian was standing there. Grace held her index finger up. “Can you hold one sec, Ma? There's a neighbor at the door.”

“A neighbor,” Jody said. “How intriguing.”

“Hold on.” Grace ran to the door. “Sorry—my mom.”

“You have to talk now?” Jean Sebastian said.

“Yes. I have to. It's a long story.” Grace glanced upstairs. “Anything?”

“I knocked. Over and over. No answer, and I couldn't hear anything coming from inside,” Jean Sebastian said.

“Okay. You can sit at the counter, but don't make a peep, okay?” Jean Sebastian nodded. Grace went back to the call. “Sorry about that, Mom. So tell me how it's going.”

“Oh, fair to middling. My tumor shrunk a little bit, honey. Isn't that great?”

“Oh my God. That's so great. And you're feeling better?”

“I think your adventure is reviving me. So tell me. What else have you lovebirds been doing?” Grace managed to tell her about Casa Batlló and Sagrada Família and the Miró Museum without giving away that anything was wrong. “Where's my future son-in-law?” Jody asked.

“He's actually out at the market,” Grace said. “Getting a little something for our lunch.”

“That sounds wonderful. Will you drink wine with it?”

“Oh, yes.”
No. I'm never drinking ever again.

“Hey, Graceful.” Her father's head popped onto the screen.

“Hi, Dad.”

“How's our traveler today?”

“I'm good, Dad.”

“You look tired.”

“She was out dancing, James. All night long. Remember when we used to do that?” It had been a long time since Grace had heard her mother call him James. Grace bit her lip to keep from crying.

“Did we ever do that?” Jody swatted Jim and smiled at Grace.
All the time,
she mouthed. Grace smiled.

“Have you seen Stella, Dad?”

“As a matter of fact, Dan brought her by just the other day.”

Dan. It was partly his fault they were in this mess. Grace was going to strangle him when they got back. “How is she?”

“Feisty. She's a hoot on that skateboard.”

“Cats don't skateboard,” Jody said.

“Stella's a dog, Mom. Our bulldog.”

“We don't have a dog,” Jody said. She sounded irritated. “We had a cat, Brady.”

“Yes, we had a cat. But that was a long time ago. I have a dog now.” Grace knew better, but sometimes she just wanted to puncture that veneer of forgetting.

“Brady,” Jody said. She looked at the camera. She looked frail and vulnerable. Then her face hardened; her lips pursed. “Carrie Ann strangled Brady,” she said.

Grace heard the squeal of a chair behind her. Jean Sebastian had almost fallen off it. “What?” Grace said. “No. Brady just died. I found him on the steps.”

“I found him on the steps,” Jody said. “I had just enough time to remove the scarf wrapped around his poor neck before you saw him.”

“Dad?” Grace said. This had to be her mother forgetting things again. “Dad?”

“That's when I knew Carrie Ann had to go,” Jody said. “She strangled Brady. That's when she had to go.”

“Dad?” Grace said.

“Gracie, let's not keep this conversation going,” her father said. “You two just have a good time.”

“Is she telling the truth?”

“Who are you?” Jody said.

“We'd better go,” Jim said.

“Dad. Answer me. What about Brady?”

“We didn't have any proof, darling,” Jim said. “But we had to play it safe. It was your pink scarf.”

Grace's hand flew up to her mouth. “Couldn't it have been one of the boys?” she said.

“They weren't allowed in your room,” Jim said.

“That didn't mean they wouldn't go in.”

“It was just—the way Carrie Ann reacted when we told her Brady was dead. I can't explain it, honey. But I saw her eyes. She already knew. And she wasn't sorry. Not one bit. I'm telling you, sweetie, I think your mother was right about that girl.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God.”

“Honey, that was a long time ago, okay? The last person we need to ever think about is Carrie Ann.”

“I'm sorry, Dad. I have to go.”

“No problem, darling. Tell that handsome boy we said hello.”

“I will.”
As soon as I find him.
“Bye, Mom. I love you.”

“Who are you?”

“Wait,” Jim said. “Jake's mother called me.”

“She did?”

“It seems her boy isn't as good at keeping in touch. She wanted me to tell you to give him a swift kick in the behind next time I talked to you. Make sure he calls his mama now, darling.”

“No problem!” Grace and her father said their good-byes. Grace felt a pang as he disappeared from her computer screen. Oh, no. Just what she needed. Barbara Hart's getting a whiff of something wrong. That woman was an alarm-puller in the best of times. She had to find Jake ASAP.

“Is your mom okay?” Jean Sebastian said.

“She's fine,” Grace said. She didn't want to talk about her mother with just anyone. Jean Sebastian kept his eyes on hers. “She has cancer,” Grace said. “The doctors give her one to six months. Her memory comes and goes.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Jake and I are supposed to be videotaping this trip, sending her little movies of our wonderful time.”

“I couldn't help but overhear,” Jean Sebastian said. “Did she say Carrie Ann strangled your cat?”

“I don't know. I mean that's what she said—but the medicine makes my mom confused at times.”

Although it certainly explained everything. Why her mom had suddenly announced that Carrie Ann had to go. Grace had thrown a horrendous fit that day. She'd screamed at her mother. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Not once did her mother tell her the real reason Carrie Ann had to go. Would Grace have believed her? Did Carrie Ann kill Brady? Had her mom warned the Gales?

That girl is evil,
her mother had once said. It all made sense now. Brady, lying on the steps, his neck drooped down the step. Oh, God. She did it. She did it.
You know she did,
a little voice inside Grace said.
You know she did
. That's why Carrie Ann had gone to live with Stan. And Lydia. And Lionel Gale.

“Stop,” Grace said out loud.

“What?” Jean Sebastian said. “What's happening?”

“Nothing. I just can't think about the past right now. We have to find them.” If Carrie Ann had killed Brady, it had been because she was jealous. Because of how much Grace loved Brady. And it wasn't near as much as Grace loved Jake. This was insane. “Let's see if Stefano is back.”

Jean Sebastian looked flummoxed. “Stefano?”

“The guy at the desk.”

“Right.”

Grace sailed down the steps. Stefano was just walking out the front door. Grace ran after him. “Hey,” she yelled. He didn't turn around. “Hey,” she yelled louder. He must have headphones on. Grace sprinted after him and touched his shoulder from behind. He spun around, crouched, and threw up his hands. Even after he saw it was her, it took him a few minutes to recover.

“Sorry I—” He had lowered his hands. He had a fresh black eye. “Oh my God,” she said.

“It's no thing.” He spoke like they were in the Bronx instead of Barcelona. He'd been watching too many American movies.

She briefly wondered if one of the females in the building had gotten sick of his leering and let him have it. “What happened?”

“What do you want? Are you following me now?” He glanced up and saw Jean Sebastian coming out of the building and threw his hands up again.

“He's with me,” Grace said. “What happened to you?”

“Looks recent,” Jean Sebastian said. He gestured to the black eye.

“Do not worry. It's no—”

“Thing,” Grace finished for him. “If you say so. Listen. We had some trouble of our own last night. Have you seen Rafael, Carrie Ann, or my boyfriend, Jake, since last night?”

Stefano threw his arms up and began ranting in Spanish. The only words she understood were Carrie Ann and American. She wished she hadn't taken French all four years in high school. She turned to Jean Sebastian.

“He said an American man claiming to be Carrie Ann's husband did that to him.”

“Oh my God.”

“Then he stormed up to the room. Stefano called Rafael to warn him. But no one answered. When the guy came back down, he thought Stefano had sent him to the wrong room on purpose. They fought. He said—basically the Spanish equivalent of ‘You should see the other guy.' ”

Jean Sebastian held out money to Stefano. He snatched it up and walked away. “Wait,” Grace said. Jean Sebastian held out his arm to stop her. “I have more questions.”