Ruby Falls (38 page)

Summer could tell he’d been hurt. Terribly hurt. She wished she could make this situation better, but Jessie wouldn’t talk to her. Things had been cool at the house, all around. Things were bad between Jessie and Cary, between Cary and Steve and even to some extent between Steve and her. He had never asked her, but he must suspect she’d known about what was going on. She was grateful he hadn’t come right out and asked her, because then she would have had to admit the truth, that yes, she had known. And she didn’t know how that would affect their relationship.

But it wasn’t Cary standing there, it was Jessie. “Oh, Jessie, you’re home.”

Jessie didn’t stop. She had her head averted, as if she were trying to hide something.

“Jessie, wait.”

She didn’t stop. In fact, she broke into a run, dashing up the steps. Summer could hear her pounding up the stairs as she quickly wiped her hands on a dishtowel and followed her. This couldn’t go on. She had to get Jessie to talk to her. When she got to her room, of course the door was closed. She tapped lightly, and then opened the door. “Jessie?”

She was face down on her bed, her body shaking with her sobs. It tore Summer up to see her like this. She moved to the bed and sat down next to her. “Honey, please. Talk to me.” Jessie shook her head, her face buried in her pillow. “Jessie, maybe it would help to talk it out. Maybe I can help you.”

“You can’t help me. No one can.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, sweetheart. Please sit up.” Summer watched as Jessie turned and scooted against the headboard. She reached and grabbed a tissue from a box on the nightstand, handing it to her. “What brought on these tears?”

“Cary hates me,” she sobbed.

“That’s not true, sweetie.”

“Yes, it is. He won’t talk to me. God, he won’t even look at me.”

“Jessie, he’s hurt. Very hurt. He’ll never admit it, but whatever happened hurt him terribly.”

“I never meant to hurt him.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I c-can’t,” she replied, her voice choked with tears.

“Jessie, he thinks you cheated on him.”

Jessie broke into a fresh bout of tears.

“He said he saw you leaving a motel. Is it true, honey?”

She nodded.

“Oh, Jessie.”

“It’s not what he thinks, I swear.”

“Then what was it?”

She shook her head back and forth. “I can’t tell you.”

Oh my God. What was she doing there? A drug deal? “Jessie-”

“Please, I can’t talk about it. Please just leave me alone.”

“Jessie, are you in trouble.”

“I’m fine. You’re not my mother. Now, please go.”

Summer pulled back at that remark. “Honey-”

“Just go!”

Summer got up and left, quietly closing the door. She stood in the hall and leaned back against the door. Jessie was right, she wasn’t her mother. She was just…the housekeeper. But she’d hoped she was a friend, too. Perhaps all Jessie needed was time. Summer tried to tell herself that this was only a school girl crush and she would get over it, but Summer couldn’t really believe that, no matter how hard she tried. Jessie was in love with Cary and she was devastated by this breakup. And Summer knew, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, that Cary was hurt much worse than he’d be over some casual fling. This relationship they had was real and the feelings they had for each other went deep. She only wished there was some way she could fix it for them, but that was something they were going to have to figure out themselves.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Summer hung-up the phone and crossed off the last name on her list. She sat at the kitchen table, looking over her notes. She had called every number that the realtor had given her of people with rental property in the Helen area. Most were dead ends, but there were still a few that Summer had left messages for on answering machines, and she was waiting for someone to return her call.

She was getting frustrated, and sitting here waiting for the phone to ring was going to drive her crazy. She needed to get out of the house for a while. Summer looked at the clock. It was 3;30pm. She had time to run into town before she had to be back to make dinner. Getting up, she grabbed her purse and headed out the back door. As she crossed the yard to the old pickup truck, Jessie pulled in, parked and got out.

“Hi, Jessie,” Summer greeted her. “How was school?”

“Okay. Are you going out?” She asked as she hiked her backpack onto her shoulder.

“Yes. I was getting frustrated with all the dead-end phone calls I’ve been making. I just need to get out for a while. I thought I’d drive to town.”

“Okay. See you later,” Jessie said, turning toward the house.

“I’ll be back in-time to start dinner,” Summer insisted over her shoulder as she climbed into the truck. She backed the truck up, pulled down the gravel drive and out onto the highway. Rolling down the window, she breathed in the crisp, fall air. It was a beautiful November day. The sky was a bright blue and the trees were in full autumn color. It felt good to get out and enjoy the day. Summer turned up the radio and drove, clearing her mind of her worries.

She arrived in town and drove down Main Street. She parked in one of the diagonal parking places in front of Margie’s Diner. Stepping up on the sidewalk, she saw Margie in the window wiping down a table. Margie saw her, smiled and waved her to come on in. Returning the smile, Summer headed for the door. When she walked in, Margie gestured for her to sit at the booth she’d just cleaned. Summer slid in the seat and put her purse down.

“How are you, honey?” Margie asked.

“Good. I just needed to get out of the house for a while.”

“I can understand that. It sure is a beautiful day out, too beautiful to be stuck inside. So, what’ll you have?”

“Coffee and how about a piece of that apple pie of yours?” Summer smiled.

“You got it, honey,” Margie replied, turning over the coffee cup and filling it from the pot in her hand. “I’ll be right back with your pie.”

After Margie walked away, Summer took a sip of her coffee and looked out the window at the people walking by. There were workers across the street putting up Christmas decorations. They were attaching Wreaths to all the lamp posts and stringing lights across Main Street. Summer imagined it would be beautiful to drive down Main Street under a canopy of little white lights.

Margie returned with her pie. “Here you go, honey. Enjoy.” She set the pie on the table, winked at Summer and walked away.

Summer picked up her fork and took a bite. Hmm, it was heavenly. She wondered if Margie would share her recipe. She sat and ate her pie and watched the workers for a while.

Glancing around the diner, she noticed Deputy Wilcox sitting at the counter. He had a cup of coffee in his hand, but he was looking at her. He smiled and turned away. A moment later he stood up and laid some money on the counter.

Margie walked up and refilled Summer’s coffee cup.

Deputy Wilcox walked past and tipped his hat. “Ladies.”

Margie watched as he walked out the door. “That man gives me the creeps. He always has,” Margie murmured, her eyes following him as he crossed the street. “I think he might be the one that my waitress, Darlene, was seeing before she disappeared.”

“What?”

“I don’t have any proof but…”

“But what?”

“I don’t know, just a feeling I have. It was the way they acted. She started to seem nervous whenever he came in, and he started coming in more and more. The night she disappeared, he had been in here and he was sitting at the counter. He was leaning over, whispering something to her. When I walked by, they stopped talking and she almost spilled the whole pot of coffee.”

“Did you ever tell the Sheriff?” Summer asked.

“The Sheriff? No, but I asked him.” Margie nodded out the window toward where the deputy had gone.

“What did he say?”

“He denied it. He said they were just friends, but I wonder if he way lying.”

“Margie?”

“Hmm?”

“The night Darlene disappeared…what happened?”

“Well, she and I were alone closing up the place. I was in the kitchen washing dishes and she was filling the saltshakers. We heard a car horn in the back alley. Darlene opened the door and looked out, and said her ride was here. She had mentioned earlier that she had a date. I told her to go on, then. I would finish up. She got her coat and purse, and left out the back door. That was the last time I ever saw her.” Margie paused, looking off, her eyes getting glassy with tears. “I never looked out back or even bothered to ask her who it was. God, why didn’t I look out the door?”

“Margie, you couldn’t have known. Don’t blame yourself. She was a grown woman.”

“I know. It’s just…the not knowing. It’s like when Rita disappeared and-”

Suddenly something clicked in Summer’s head. “Does he drive a white pickup truck?” Summer interrupted, suddenly suspicious.

“Who?”

“The deputy.”

“Well, I’ve usually only seen him in the Sheriff’s cruiser, but, he might have a pickup. Why?” Margie asked.

“Do you know where he lives?” Summer asked.

“He bought the Wilson’s old place at the end of Carson Road. Why?” Margie asked.

“Can you give me directions?”

“What’s this about, Summer?” Margie insisted, her hand on her hip. “You might as well tell me.”

“Margie, the night I lost my memory…there was a light colored pickup truck driving slowly down the road. Maybe it means nothing, but with your waitress disappearing the very same night…and if he was seeing her…and if he has a light colored pickup…” Summer was looking at the table top, her mind trying to make all the puzzle pieces fit.

“Summer, what are you saying?” Margie put the coffee pot down and slid onto the seat opposite Summer.

Summer looked into Margie’s eyes, leaned across the table and whispered, “What if he’s involved in her disappearance? What if it was him up in the woods that night?” I have to get a look at his place and see if the pickup I saw that night is there.”

“Summer, I don’t think that’s a good idea, and even if you did find a pickup, what would that prove?”

“Margie, if I see that truck again it might trigger something in my memory. Don’t you see? I have to try. It’s probably a wild goose chase, but I have to at least take a look.”

After a few more minutes of convincing, Margie finally gave her directions. Soon Summer was driving down toward the end of Carson road, to right before it came to a tee at Bearden Road.

She saw the last house on the right, it was a white clapboard with a red roof, just like Margie had described. Summer drove past and saw the cruiser parked in the gravel drive. She turned left on Bearden Road and drove a quarter mile, turning around. Then she headed back, parking about a block from the intersection of Carson Road. From where she sat, she could see the white house in the distance. She couldn’t see any other vehicles, but there could be one parked behind the house or in the garage.

She wasn’t about to take the chance of driving past again with Deputy Wilcox there. “Come on, leave already,” she murmured to herself. “Don’t you need to patrol or something?” She sat a few minutes, debating driving home, when she saw him come out the front door and cross to the cruiser. He climbed in, backed out and headed down Carson Road back toward town.

Summer waited a minute, then started the truck and drove to the house. She pulled in the drive and parked around back, where Steve’s truck couldn’t be seen. She climbed out and stopped dead in her tracks. There, parked next to the garage, was the white pickup truck with the spotlight on the driver’s side.

Summer felt the blood drain from her face and she suddenly felt light headed and sick to her stomach. All the fear she’d felt the night she’d last seen this truck came flooding back to her. She grabbed onto the side of Steve’s truck and took a deep breath.

After a moment, she calmed down enough to let go and walk over to look at the truck. It was the one, she was sure of it. Glancing over at the house, she wondered what this all meant. What kind of a man was Deputy Wilcox?

She walked over to the house and peered in the window, but she couldn’t see anything. Climbing the steps of the back porch, she looked through the glass into what appeared to be the kitchen. She banged on the door, listening to see if a dog started barking inside. Nothing. Trying the doorknob, she was surprised to find it unlocked.

She glanced around. The nearest neighbor was too far away to see anything. She stepped inside and looked around. The kitchen was very neat. She wandered down the hall. Walking through the dining room and living room, she noticed that nothing was out of the ordinary, except that this man was extremely neat. She walked down another hall. There was a bathroom on one side and a closed door on the other. She walked toward the closed door and hesitated, her hand reaching for the doorknob.

What am I doing here, she thought to herself, not even sure what she was looking for or thought she might find. She turned the knob and walked in. It was his bedroom. The bed was neatly made. She turned and looked at the dresser, and her hand came up to her mouth. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. There were photos stuck all around the edge of the mirror. Photos of naked women, some of them teenagers. They were actual photos, not magazine pictures. There were dozens of them and more in a stack on the dresser. They were not pretty pictures. In some of them, the girls were tied up or blindfolded. Some of them were taken outside in a wooded area and some of them looked like they were taken in a motel room. “What kind of a sick human being…”

And then something caught Summer’s eye. One of the girls in the photos…

“Oh, my God!” She reached up and pulled the photo down from where it was jammed in the frame of the mirror. She looked at it more closely. It was a picture of Jessie.

Summer looked down at the stack of photos lying on the top of the dresser. She picked them up and flipped through them. They were all Jessie, except for the very last photo at the bottom of the stack. It was an older photo…one taken with one of the old style instamatic cameras. It was turning yellow, but the image was still recognizable. It was a naked photo of Rita.