Last Light

  She raced through the house and out the back door. “Doug, Deni’s gone! We’ve got to find her!”

  Doug was putting out the fire under the grill. He looked up. “Gone where?”

  “To Washington!” Her face twisted as the tears burned her eyes. “How could she do something so stupid? How could she take off without food or money?” She thrust the letter at him.

  He read it quickly, the lines deepening in his face. “God help us. How long do you think she’s been gone?”

  “Maybe hours,” she cried. “When she left after lunch, and kissed us and thanked us . . . Doug, she was saying good-bye.”

  “But how? Who did she ride with? Did she take her bike?”

  “I don’t know.” Kay ran to the garage. It was too dark to see the bikes, so she pulled open the door, letting in what was left of daylight. Deni’s bike was still here.

  Doug was behind her when she swung around.

  “She didn’t take it,” Kay said. “What does that mean?”

  Doug shook his head. “I don’t know. She wouldn’t have left on foot. Maybe she got a horse somehow.”

  Kay pulled the garage door shut. It clanged and vibrated throughout the garage. “Doug, you’ve got to go after her. You’ve got to stop her before she gets any farther!”

  By now, Logan had come to see what was wrong. “Mom, what is it?”

  She burst back into the house. “Your sister’s run away.”

  “Why?”

  Jeff answered his question. “Because she’s an idiot. A complete moron.”

  Kay turned on him. “That’s enough, Jeff! Your sister is in trouble.”

  His cheeks blotched red. “She deserves to be in trouble.”

  “I said, that’s enough!” She turned to Doug, astonished that he was just standing there, staring into space.

  Beth came down from her room. “What’s all the yelling about?”

  Kay swung around. “Have you seen your sister?”

  “No, not since she left after lunch.”

  Kay grabbed the letter back from Doug, tearing a corner as she did. Her hands were shaking as she read again. “Doug, we have to do something.”

  “I am. I’m going to Chris’s. She’ll know something.”

  “Dad, I just went there,” Jeff said. “She said she doesn’t know where Deni is.”

  His eyes flashed. “She’s lying. I’m going over there.”

  “I’m coming with you!” Kay turned back to the kids. “Jeff, stay here and eat, and take care of the house.”

  “I will.” Even as he said it, he started for his plate. She couldn’t blame him, really. He was starving, as were Beth and Logan.

  But she had lost her appetite.

  “Pray for Deni,” she cried as she started out the back door, locking it behind her. “Pray God will help us find her.”

  The look on Chris’s face told Kay and Doug she knew exactly whom Deni had gone with. But she wasn’t telling.

  “Really, I don’t know,” she insisted weakly.

  Chris’s parents had come to the door to see what was wrong. “Chris,” her father said, “don’t lie to them. If you know who Deni’s with, tell them.”

  Chris’s mouth trembled. “I tried to talk her out of it. I warned her it would be dangerous, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  Kay took Chris by the shoulders and stared into her face. “Chris, you listen to me,” she said through her teeth. “My daughter is with some stranger on her way to the East Coast with no food and no money. So help me, if you don’t tell me who she went with, I can’t be responsible for what I do!”

  Chris’s eyes widened, but she wouldn’t budge. “She’s okay, really. He isn’t a stranger. And he has food and money.”

  “He?” Doug asked. “She went off with a guy?”

  Chris looked as if she’d been caught, and she swallowed hard. “I don’t know. I think it was a man. Maybe it was a woman . . .”

  Kay shook her and screamed into her face, “Don’t you understand she could be in danger? What is wrong with you? Don’t you care about her at all?”

  “Kay!” Chris’s mother tried to get between them. “That’s enough. Let her go.”

  Chris started to cry as Kay dropped her hands. “Of course I care! But I promised her—”

  “You shouldn’t have!” Kay screamed. “What kind of friend are you?”

  Doug pulled Kay back, making her more angry. His voice was broken, raspy, as he appealed to Chris again. “Please . . . I’m begging you.”

  Finally, Chris dropped her hands and looked down at her feet. “She went with Vic Green.”

  Kay gaped at her. “Vic? Mark’s father? But—he was at our house this morning. Did they plan it then?”

  Chris sucked in a sob. “No. They’ve been talking about it for a while. They went in this crazy-looking wagon he built, pulled by four horses.”

  Kay’s face twisted as she tried to imagine that relationship. “I didn’t even know Deni knew him. I thought today was the first time they’d met.” She looked up at Doug, saw the anger pulling at his face. She felt the tremor of rage passing through him as he held her.

  “Come on,” Doug said. “We’re going over to Vic’s house. Maybe she’s still there.”

  “She’s not,” Chris said. “I saw him leave hours ago. Not that long after church was over. He fixed this covered wagon up with Goodyear tires and captain’s chairs, and everyone was rushing to see it when he rode out of the neighborhood. Deni wasn’t with him. She must have met him someplace.” Her father pulled her into his arms, and she buried her face in his chest. “I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Branning. I should have told you when she started talking about it. I knew it was the wrong decision. I tried to tell her.”

  Kay found no comfort in knowing the truth. “Did Mark go with them?”

  She shook her head. “No. He lives with his mom next door to where the Abernathys lived. But maybe he can give you some ideas about where they’re going.”

  They left the girl weeping, and hurried off.

  Doug ran up the street to Vic Green’s house, Kay right on his heels. “Doug, do you think he’s dangerous? Shouldn’t we get a gun?”

  Doug jogged up the steps to the door. “I’m the one who’s dangerous, Kay. When I get my hands on him—” He banged on the door, with no response. He knocked harder, unwilling to give up.

  “Doug, he’s not here.”

  He hammered with his fists. “Maybe he is. Maybe he’s just a coward and doesn’t want to answer it. Maybe I should just kick it in.”

  Kay stopped him. “That’s a waste of time. Mark lives around the corner. Let’s go talk to him.”

  Doug stopped banging and dropped his hands. Breathing hard, he turned and looked toward Mark’s house. “All right, let’s go to Mark’s.” He walked so fast that Kay could hardly keep up.

  When they got to Mark’s, Doug banged again. This time, Mark’s mother, Martha, answered the door. “Doug! Kay!”

  “We need to see Mark.” Doug struggled to keep his voice even. “It’s an emergency.”

  “Well, sure.” Martha stepped back from the door. “I’ll get him.”

  She led them into the darkening house, then walked out back and called her son. Mark was at the grill stirring a pot, but he came inside when his mother told him who was there.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Branning. How’s it going?”

  “Our daughter is missing.” Fear wobbled on Kay’s voice. “Do you know anything about it?”

  He frowned. “Missing? What do you mean?”

  Doug met the boy’s gaze. “Chris said Deni left town with your father.”

  “Oh no.” Mark’s mother brought her hand to her mouth. “He didn’t. Mark, did you know about this?”

  “No!” The look of disgust on his face looked genuine, but Doug couldn’t be sure. “I mean, Deni told me she was thinking about it. But I thought I talked her out of it.”

  “Then you knew your father was leaving town?” Doug asked.


  “Well, yes. I saw the rig he was building. He had business to do . . . I heard him invite her one time, but I didn’t think she took it seriously.”

  “Heard him?” Kay asked. “Where?”

  “They were both over here looking at my car. She’d been swimming at his house a lot, and they’d gotten to be friends.”

  Martha’s lips were tight against her teeth. “That lowdown, sorry excuse for a man! How dare he?”

  Her indignation didn’t make Doug feel any better. He could feel Kay’s body trembling next to his, so he unclenched his fists and put his arm around her. “Mark, we need you to tell us where your father was going, when he left, and how far you think he could have gotten by now.”

  “I don’t know,” Mark said. “He owns a chain of bookstores across the south. I guess he was going to stop at each one.”

  “Do you have a list of the stores?” Kay asked. “A map of where they’re located?”

  “No. I try to stay out of my dad’s business.”

  Martha’s eyes were filling with rage. Doug wondered if they were tears of anger or compassion. “My ex-husband is not the most scrupulous man in business. I’ve never wanted Mark to be that involved with him.”

  “You must know something that could help us,” Doug said. “Do you have a key to his house?”

  Mark’s eyes widened. “Yes, I do. I’ll go in and see what I can find. Surely he has a map in his office or a listing of his stores.”

  Finally, some hope. “Yes,” Doug said. “Please, hurry.”

  Mark got the key and pulled on his shirt and shoes, then led them back to his father’s house. He unlocked the door, and they followed him in.

  The décor of the house would have been comical if Doug hadn’t been so worried. It looked like something one of those crazy TV decorators had put together. Vic had left an empty beer can on the table and a wadded napkin next to it. Beside it was a notepad with what looked like a packing list.

  “His office is upstairs,” Mark said. “Come on, you can help me look.”

  All the doors on the second floor were closed. That was odd. If Vic lived alone, why would he need the doors closed, especially when the heat was so intense? Wouldn’t he want to keep the upstairs windows open and the air circulating?

  Mark went to the second door down the hall and pushed it open. Doug and Kay followed him inside.

  Kay gasped. The office was decorated with lewd photos, and on the floor around his desk were several boxes filled with pictures and porno magazines.

  “I’m gonna be sick.” Kay backed out of the room.

  Doug took in the images around him. His pulse hammered in his temples, making his head throb. What kind of man was Deni with? “What business did you say your dad was in?”

  Mark hesitated. “Bookstores.”

  “What kind of bookstores?”

  Mark glanced at the boxes. “I don’t really know, but . . . I have a good idea.”

  Doug felt the blood rushing from his head. Hold on, he told himself. Think!

  Mark pulled out the drawers on his father’s desk and looked through them, but he didn’t find what he was looking for. “I’ll look in his bedroom. I think he has a file cabinet in there.”

  He went back out in the hall, and Doug stepped out of the office. Kay was sitting on the floor, her head in the circle of her arms. He started down the hall to follow Mark, but as they passed another closed door, he paused. Opening it, he looked inside.

  And then he saw it. Boxes and boxes of food. Cereal and canned goods and soups and bottles of juice . . .

  “Where did he get all this?”

  Mark came back and looked inside. “I don’t know. We’ve been running out down at my house, and he knew it. He didn’t tell me he had this.”

  He went to open the drapes so he could see better. The light spilled in.

  Doug started going through the boxes, and saw some bags with a survivalist imprint on the front. He’d considered that brand of dried food when he tried to prepare for the year 2000 and the crisis they had expected.

  “Mark, was your dad a survivalist?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  Doug didn’t know anyone who was . . . except for the Whitsons. Hadn’t Ralph admitted it at one of the meetings?

  “I’ve been stockpiling this stuff since Y2K.”

  A chill ran through him, and his mind raced. What was in those other rooms? He pushed past Mark, out into the hall, and opened the next door down.

  The room was full—three flat-panel TVs, a Bose stereo system, five car stereos . . . Mark looked as shocked as Doug to see the stuff. “He didn’t have all this before.”

  Kay got up and pushed between them, and Doug saw the look of terror darken her face. “Doug . . . is he the one?”

  His throat closed up, and he couldn’t catch his breath. His hands trembled as he went to a small black velvet box sitting on a table. He lifted its lid.

  Twenty or thirty loose diamonds lay on the velvet.

  The blood seemed to flush from his head, and he felt as if he stared through a fog.

  He heard Kay’s choked gasp behind him. Covering her face, she cried, “Randall Abernathy sold diamonds! Vic killed them!”

  Mark swung around, stricken. “No way! Not my dad. That’s not where he got them.”

  Kay started to crumble, and Doug felt a numbness crawl over his body, weakening his arms, his fingers . . . blurring his thoughts.

  “My dad probably bought them. He’s always buying things. Thinking of new enterprises. He just . . . got these somewhere . . .”

  “I want to get out of here.” Kay couldn’t catch her breath.

  Doug pulled her into his arms and held her as he stared at Mark. The young man was going from box to box, declaring his father’s innocence. But his voice was growing weaker.

  As he did so, Doug watched him slowly wilt from a state of confidence to trembling realization. When he got to the Bose DVD player, he fell to his knees. “Aw . . . no!”

  “What?” Doug watched him pull out a box that was behind the system. It was full of DVDs. Mark’s fingers were clumsy as he grabbed some out. The Telletubbies, the Wiggles, Stuart Little. On the back of one was a child’s crude handwriting: “Propity of Michael Whitson.”

  The Whitsons’ six-year-old son!

  Kay let out an anguished moan, and Doug tried to keep her from falling. But he wasn’t sure he could stay upright, either.

  Vic Green was a cold-blooded killer.

  And Deni’s life was in his hands.

  forty-eight

  The highway was a wasteland of stalled, stripped cars with shattered windshields, the doors left open by hurried bandits. The useless vehicles stood in the way, slowing Vic’s wagon, and Deni had the urge to get out and walk ahead, closing the car doors as she went.

  The heat was oppressive, beating down on the sweating horses and dehydrating her. Every couple of hours they stopped so Vic could let the horses drink. They were moving much more slowly than she’d hoped, and the jostling ride, even in the captain’s chairs, was miserably uncomfortable. The sun was setting behind them, and soon it would be dark. Deni had no idea where they would sleep.

  Vic had been drinking beer—one after another—as they rode. He passed the time singing the songs from Les Miserables, in a voice that wasn’t half bad. When he’d covered every song, he moved on to Fiddler on the Roof.

  Just as well, since it kept them from having to make conversation—and she didn’t have to pretend she was listening.

  Finally, he quit singing. “What’s the matter, darlin’? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

  “Just the stress. Plus I’m a little frustrated that we’re moving so slowly. If I’d ridden my bike I’d have covered three or four times more ground.”

  “But then I couldn’t have carried all this stuff. Had to be a covered wagon.”

  Deni looked back over her shoulder. There were so many boxes piled in there that she didn’t know why the whole thing hadn’t c
ollapsed. “What all do you have back there, anyway?”

  “Products, I told you.”

  “Like books? Anything I could read?”

  He hesitated a moment. “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so . . . what? That they’re books or that they’re anything I can read?”