A Trick of the Light Page 9

  “Wanda! Where are you going?” the woman’s voice screeched.

  She pushed herself up and reached for the tiny table in front of her. That’s how she got to her feet.

  “You have to stay inside. Your father will be home soon, and you know how angry he gets when we’re not here for him.”

  He pulled at the lever, fingers gripping it so hard it hurt.

  She got to her feet, then took a step. He pulled the lever all the way, and the door opened. White birds scattered from the trees. The air was cool and smelled salty. It was a big place out there. He didn’t like big places. But the woman was coming closer. In his fear, her voice had become a garble of noise. Her hand was stretched out toward him. He looked outside again. And then he ran.

  CHAPTER 8

  Chloe had gone to bed determined to forget about both Dylan and Teddy. She’d woken up thinking about Dylan and Teddy. The more she tried to put them out of her mind, the more they demanded her attention.

  Especially Teddy. The dreams she’d had last night were so real, she could smell his little boy sweat. He needed her, even if his stubborn father didn’t. Frustration knotted her insides. She threw on cotton pants and a tank top and went down to the workshop beneath her house. She had spent many days as a youngster watching Irina create things out of clay. Chloe loved the way just a gentle touch of her finger created a groove as the wheel spun. It was almost hypnotic, watching her hands mold the clay, creating a pot or vase out of a lump of wet clay. Too bad she was miserable at it.

  An hour later, she threw the fourth failure against the door. Her twisted flower lamps and warped face pots were all a testament to her lack of creative skill.

  She spotted a butterfly duck in through the doorway. Another lost soul trapped where she shouldn’t be. It took fifteen minutes to get her out, fifteen minutes of jumping, shooing, climbing on barrels and stools, only to have the fragile butterfly land on her hand. “You’re way too tender to be stuck in here,” she said, lifting her hand outside and watching it take flight.

  She closed up the workshop and tried trimming the thorny bougainvillea with the papery purple and pink flowers. She ended up butchering them down to thorny stems. Desperate for something to quell her restlessness, she did the next best thing: she cut her hair.

  Now she stared at her reflection, devoid of curls. She ran her fingers down the shorn locks that fell to just a few inches below her ears. She’d moussed it so the curls would straighten. No more cute-Chloe.

  “Wonder what Dylan would think? Not that he’ll see it. The man is the biggest pain in my tushy.” And he’d kissed her silly.

  Not that the kiss was silly; her reaction to it was. Her heart had jumped around in her chest like a sprung rubber ball. She had never, never been kissed like that before, as though she was the only thing that mattered in the world. For those beautiful moments, she’d thought of that long-forgotten romantic poet she’d dreamed about, before she’d become cynical.

  She smirked at her frog prince sitting on the bathroom counter. Yeah, right. “That’s the problem. I’m not cynical enough. You’d think I’d learn. First I fall head over for a builder with political aspirations. Now I fall head over —” She slapped her face, then winced because she’d slapped her scraped cheek. “I am not falling for him.” She stared again at her reflection, at the dreamy sparkle in her blue eyes. A new face. Maybe she’d call it her marshmallow face. “Just what you need, Chloe Samms. A man who doesn’t believe in miracles, who thinks you’re a fraud or a loony, take your pick, and is probably married to his work.”

  She sighed and moved away from the mirror. She definitely needed to ground herself.

  Chloe walked outside, enjoying the feel of the cool earth beneath her bare feet. Lena had taught her at a young age that grounding herself meant occupying her own space. It meant flushing out other people’s vibes and energy and focusing only on her own. She sat on the white bench in her back yard, inhaling the temperate air and pushing her toes into the soil. The rustle of leaves soothed her almost as much as Gypsy’s purring. The world smelled of earth and flowers and salty breezes. The ground was a kaleidoscope of changing patterns as sunlight danced through the moving leaves.

  A flock of snowy egrets took sudden flight from one of the mangrove islands in the distance. Something had startled them. She walked to the water’s edge and listened. The ever-present sound of boat engines filled the air with their hum. Water lapped against land. Sunshine glittered on the ripples of the water. All of the beautiful things she never took for granted. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  Then why did she feel restless?

  She decided to go into “downtown Lilithdale,” as it was affectionately called. She headed to the Happy Haven Tea House for a cup of Oregon Chai latte to go.

  “Chloe! You cut those beautiful curls,” Sangeeta said before even greeting her.

  “It was time for a new look.”

  “But I loved those curls!”

  Chloe grinned. “You want them? Maybe we can glue them to your head.”

  “Silly girl.” A few minutes later Sangeeta brought her a recycled, earth-friendly container of latte. “You want me to read the leaves? Oh, shoot, there are no leaves with this stuff. It comes in a mix.”

  Chloe inhaled the heavenly blend of spices, honey, and vanilla, getting a dab of foam on her nose. “Maybe next time.”

  “Oh, Chloe, am I happy to see you!” Nita said when Chloe walked in the doorway of the little bookstore. “I’ve got to pee-pee so bad, and there are three customers in here. Two are tourists,” she said on a whisper. “Thanks, sweetie!” After a kiss on the cheek, Nita disappeared behind the purple curtain in the back.

  Chloe settled behind the counter and searched for the account books she was supposed to have picked up the day of the accident. Maybe work would distract her.

  Warm, natural light spilled in through the high windows. Curling up in one of the worn chairs in a corner breathing in the scent of incense and books sounded heavenly.

  “Ma’am,” one of the tourists said, approaching the counter. “Do you have any books on neurocranial restructuring? My holistic doctor suggested coming here.”

  Chloe blinked. Whatever it was, it sounded way painful. “Your head looks all right to me.” When the woman gave her a strange look, Chloe added, “Nita will be right back, and she’ll be able to tell you off-hand. I think the woman has every title in here memorized.”

  “Against the back wall in the right corner,” Stella said, sailing through the door in a flowing leopard print dress. “Dr. Schlatzy, great book. Chloe, you have such a peaceful aura about you this morning. And you look a lot better, doesn’t she, Rascal?” Her dachshund popped out of the big tote bag and made a slurping sound. “Maybe a little pale, yes. Oh, my, you’re right! Chloe, you cut off your curls!” She kissed Rascal on the head and set him on the floor.

  “I needed a change.” Chloe gave her a hug and held on for a moment.

  “What’s that for?” Stella asked, though she didn’t hesitate to squeeze her back.

  “Because I’m here and I can.”

  Stella set a cup of pungent lemon tea on the counter. “Any more dreams about the boy?”

  “Another one last night. I don’t know what to do about them. I don’t have any abilities; how am I going to find him?”

  “Pay attention to those dreams. They’ll tell you something.”

  “I’ve been writing them down, but so far nothing has clicked. And every day that passes …” She didn’t want to think about that little boy alone out there. “I went to see Dylan yesterday. He still thinks I’m a flake. And get this —”

  “He kissed you!”

  “How do you do that?”

  Stella shrugged. “It was the way you said his name. Definitely had a kiss sound to it.”

  “Well, he did kiss me, but that’s not what I was going to say. We found out Teddy is autistic. Remember how Wanda told me he was different. He is different. And it makes it all the
more urgent that we find him.”

  “You’ll find him. I know you’ll find him.”

  “Has Lena had any …”

  Stella shook her head, dislodging her matching bow. “She’s feeling as down as a dog in the summer heat. I think it’s all coming back to her, the visions, the fear, and the mess it all became. It’s not that she’s a hard-hearted woman —”

  “I know that. She’s just afraid. I understand afraid.”

  Stella pinched Chloe’s chin. “Better get going. I’ve got a manic-depressive Dalmatian at ten and a German shepherd with an inferiority complex at eleven. Rascal, honey!”

  Rascal’s nails click-clicked on the tile floor as his little legs carried him to Stella. That dog was her baby, without a doubt. He slept in his own cherry wood sleigh bed, and every night she covered him up with a quilt she’d made for him. She got up in the middle of the night to make sure he was still covered. And she even warmed up his dog food.

  That wasn’t anything like Chloe holding Shakespeare’s dog bowl. And she only made their food from scratch because it was healthier; no preservatives and all that. But she drew the line at warming it up. Except on very cold mornings.

  “Oh, a word of warning. Mom’s in dire need of help at the Blue Moon tonight. Pepper’s got mono, poor pup, and Lena’s not up to it.”

  “Thanks for the warning, but —”

  “Yeah, I know,” Stella said with a wave. “You can’t turn your back on someone in need. You’re a love. I’ve got a skunk having stink withdrawals at seven-thirty, but I’ll try to swing by and relieve you for the second seating. Hey, Nita! Just stopped in to let you know Lena got the shipment of juniper berry skin cream. There are three bottles behind the counter for you.”

  Nita joined Chloe at the counter. “I’ll stop by and get them this afternoon. Thanks, Chloe. My bladder is very grateful.”

  “No problem. I found your books, so I’ll get started on them today.”

  “Oh, your hair!”

  “It’ll grow out.”

  As soon as Chloe walked out of the bookstore, she spotted Marilee coming from the Pink Motel’s office. She and Gerri, the owner, always had their morning prayer session and coffee together on the patio.

  “Sure, I can help,” Chloe said before Marilee could ask. “What time do you need me?”

  “What, you get psychic on me?”

  “Stella warned me.”

  “Ah, you’re a sweetheart. Never let me down, you haven’t. Six’ll be great. I’ve got seven tables going so far.”

  When Chloe passed the white cottage Stella and Lena shared on the edge of the bay, her shred of peacefulness slipped away. She didn’t want to hurt her aunt, but she needed her help. Before she could decide whether to approach Lena now or wait a few hours, Lena opened the door. She was wearing the pink, fuzzy robe that looked like a bedspread. She took in Chloe’s chopped tresses, but didn’t comment on it. Neither that nor the grave look on her face boded well.

  “Oh, boy, Chloe. You’re not going to like this, not one bit.”

  Chloe’s heart kicked into gear. “A bad feeling? It’s Teddy, isn’t it?”

  “No, nothing more metaphysical than the daily paper.”

  * * *

  Dylan, Detective Yochem, and Dr. Jacobs scheduled another press conference announcing Teddy’s autism. It was too late to make the six o’clock news, but they’d make the eleven o’clock news and the morning broadcasts. Afterward, Dylan went home alone and told himself to get some sleep.

  He couldn’t sleep, so he got up and started reading the books Dr. Jacobs had given him.

  The house was too quiet, too empty. In a way he couldn’t quite understand, it felt empty. He kept walking to Teddy’s room, as though expecting him to miraculously appear. Only he didn’t believe in miracles.

  Finally his body and mind overloaded, and he fell asleep. He dragged himself awake a few minutes later, only to discover it was ten o’clock in the morning. In the living room, he could hear the television and the sound of water running. Camilla. He hadn’t realized what a wonderful sound … sound was. Just knowing someone else was in the house. When had it become important to him?

  Since you’ve been alone.

  He felt a pang at the realization that Wanda would never make another sound in the house again. He was so focused on finding Teddy he hadn’t had a chance to mourn her death.

  Groggy and disoriented, he wasn’t ready to face those thoughts yet. Or Camilla. He took a shower and got dressed. Then he called the office and told Jodie to reschedule his morning appointments and apologize for any he missed. She had a funny tone in her voice. Probably pity.

  He should be used to it by now, but he wasn’t. He sure hadn’t gotten immune to it as a kid. The worst was when his mother had picketed town hall with a blank sign. She claimed only the bad guys could read it. The cameras had already been there when someone called him. Dylan had raced his bike downtown to bring her home. That night on the news everyone in town watched him plead and cajole his determined mother into leaving. That’s when they knew what they’d only suspected — his mom was crazy. That’s when the looks of pity became unbearable. Last night when he’d gone on the air about Teddy, it felt the same … and again he’d had no choice.

  As soon as Dylan walked into the family room, Camilla poured him a cup of strong coffee. It felt odd, sitting there at this hour in the morning. “Camilla, did you notice anything strange about Teddy’s behavior?”

  “Strange?”

  “Is he a … normal kid?”

  “All children are different, sir — Dylan. They develop at their own pace.”

  “Be straight with me. I know I wasn’t around a lot. I should have been, but I wasn’t. Maybe I missed it, maybe I didn’t know what to look for.” Maybe he hadn’t wanted to see. “Tell me what Teddy did around here all day.”

  “He is a little different, for a boy of his age. I asked Mrs. McKain about it, but she said he was normal and for me to mind my own business. She said don’t ever mention it to you, or she’d accuse me of stealing and fire me.”

  “Wanda said that?” Camilla nodded. Dylan would have believed Wanda. In the same way he could see the truth in Chloe’s eyes, he could see it in Camilla’s. “I’m not going to fire you. Talk to me.”

  “I wasn’t around him much. He spent a lot of time in his room. I would hear her in there with him, talking for hours. The woman could talk. I always thought it was strange that Teddy never said hello or goodbye. He never came in and asked for anything. Never told me about anything. He would spend hours playing with those letter blocks, stacking and unstacking. If I tried to divert him, even to feed him lunch, he would throw a temper tantrum. He wouldn’t scream, mind you, but he tried. And then there was the doors.”

  “Doors?”

  “He would spend hours opening and closing every door in the house. And God forbid if I had to go into a room where he’d closed the door.”

  “I’ve never seen him throw a tantrum. He’s always so … well-behaved.”

  “Most of the time he is, but sometimes …” She shook her head, eyes wide. “And the goldfish. That was unusual.”

  How much didn’t he know about his son? His chest ached with the answer. “What about the goldfish?”

  “Do you ever notice how the fish keep changing in the aquarium?”

  “No,” he had to admit. He hardly noticed the fish at all. That was Wanda’s hobby.

  “Teddy liked … well, he liked to eat them. He’d climb up and pull off the lid. Then he’d catch them and pop them into his mouth. Quick little bugger, too. I had to keep buying new fish. But Mrs. McKain told me never to tell you, that you’d get upset.”

  Dylan leaned on the counter, rubbing his forehead. “There’s a reason for his behavior.”

  “I saw it on the news. I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Whatever you do, don’t be sorry.” He wouldn’t have Teddy pitied. “Any calls while I was in the shower?” />
  “I’ve been fielding calls all morning.” She picked up the yellow legal pad from the counter. “Two from families with autistic children who’d like to help you understand your child. And a strange thing.”

  His ears perked. “What?”

  “Well, first we had the call from a Selma. Just Selma, no last name. Like Cher, I suppose. She said that Teddy is with a tall man with blue eyes, and they’re driving toward Vero Beach. Another woman … let’s see, Lulu Craven, said she saw Teddy on a roller coaster somewhere warm. And then —”

  “Saw Teddy?”

  “In a vision. A man called from Miami and said he had a dream that Teddy was in a small room somewhere near a lot of people but hidden from sight. There was a large structure nearby. He said he’s had many pre … precognitive dreams and has helped the police in the past.”

  When the phone rang again, he picked it up. “This is Dylan McKain,” he answered in reply to the woman’s query.

  “My name is Lourda Monroe. I’m a renowned psychic in Palm Beach, and I’d like to work with you on finding your son. I see that you’re working with a Chloe Samms, and I have to tell you, I’ve never heard of her. Work with someone who’s well-known in regard to missing person’s cases, someone the press recognizes. The only thing I ask is that we allow the press to publish that I’m now working on the case. I’ve already had several visions about Teddy. If I can touch something of his, it’ll help immensely. I’ve already contacted —”

  “I don’t know who you are or where you got the information that I’m working with Chloe, but I’m not interested in any of your psychic tricks. Don’t contact anyone, understand?”

  He hung up before she could respond. “That’s what you’ve been dealing with all morning?”

  “Afraid so, sir.”

  “But why …” The apprehensive look on Camilla’s face killed his words. “What?”

  “It could be because of this.” She unfolded the Naples Daily News and slid it toward him.

  “Oh no,” he said as he read the headline. “Search for missing son leads Naples man to Lilithdale psychic.” He skimmed the article where Chloe’s involvement got more space than Teddy’s autism. His son was still in the news, but Dylan appeared to be a desperate man who believed in nonsense.