Sheridan and Lucy were now in their pajamas and they came out so Grandmother Missy could kiss them good night. Lucy was dutiful; Sheridan shot a glance at her mom about the good-bye ritual that Marybeth pretended she didn’t catch. Missy turned to go.
Marybeth was behind her mother and snapped on the porch light as Missy opened the front door.
Missy froze on the porch.
“Marybeth, who is out there?” she asked.
Marybeth felt her legs almost go limp. Oh, no, she thought. What now? The way her mother asked . . .
She looked over her mother’s shoulder. The porch light reflected back from the lenses of a pair of dark headlights as well as the windshield of a vehicle parked and pointed at the house in the dark.
“Someone’s just sitting there,” Missy said, backing up into Marybeth, “staring at us.”
“Come back in the house,” Marybeth said, stepping aside, thinking of the loaded lever-action Winchester rifle in the closet in Joe’s office.
When she looked at the profile of the vehicle in the darkness, she recognized the squared-off roofline and the toothy grille.
She heard Sheridan come to the door behind her and say, “Who is it out there?”
“That’s not Nate’s Jeep.”
And it wasn’t, Marybeth realized as she went out through the gate and practically skipped to the driver’s-side window. It wasn’t Nate at all, and in an instant her fear returned, canceling out the surprisingly strong burst of elation. Instead of Nate Romanowski, a man she couldn’t see well slumped against the window from the inside, his cheek pressed against the glass in a smear of drool.
Marybeth felt foolish for jumping to conclusions. She rapped against the driver’s-side window with one knuckle.
Tommy Wayman sat up with a start, then turned and looked at her, his eyes wide for a moment until he seemed to recognize where he was, who she was.
She opened the door. “Tommy, are you all right? Why are you here?”
“Is Joe here?” the river guide gushed. She could smell the fetid smell of alcohol. As he spoke he moved in his seat and Marybeth could hear empty bottles clink at his feet.
“No,” she said, stepping back.
“I saw her,” Tommy said, his eyes comically widening, as if he’d suddenly remembered why he came in the first place and everything was just rushing back to him as he sat there. “I fucking saw her today!”
“Who?” Marybeth said coolly. “And please watch your language at my home.”
“Opal Scarlett!” Tommy hissed.
“Opal.
“I doubt that,” Marybeth said to Tommy, then turned back to the grouping of her mother, Sheridan, and Lucy on the porch looking out. “It’s all right,” Marybeth said. “It’s Tommy Wayman. He’s drunk.”
Missy gestured “whew!” by wiping her brow dramatically.
“I really did see her,” Tommy said, reaching out and grasping Marybeth’s arm, imploring her with his eyes. “I need to tell Joe! I need to tell the world she’s alive!”
“You can wait for him out here or in his office,” Marybeth said, hoping Tommy would chose the former. “He should be home anytime now. I’ll call and tell him you’re here.”
“Tell him who I saw!”
Marybeth went back into the yard. This was the kind of thing she hated, these late-night adventures with drunken men who wanted to talk to Joe. Add this to the fact that someone was harassing them, and Missy’s idea about moving to the ranch sounded better all the time.
“Watch out for that guy,” Marybeth heard Sheridan telling Missy. “He throws old ladies in the river.”
“I’m not an old lady,” Missy said icily.
As Marybeth passed her daughter, trying not to smile at the exchange, Sheridan leaned toward her mother and said under her breath, “Nate, huh?”
Marybeth was grateful it was dark, because she knew she was blushing.
20
“SO YOU CLAIM YOU SAW HER EXACTLY
“I told you three times,” Tommy said, raising his mug with two hands but not successfully disguising how they trembled. “At that big bend of the river before you get to the old landing. Closer to Hank’s side of the ranch than Arlen’s. She was just standing there in the reeds looking at me as I floated by. Scared me half to death.”
