Of course she does. And I can?t blame her
CHAPTER
50
I'm sitting at a private table in a side room of the Castle, the restaurant Caitlin and I frequented most often when she lived here. It?s a Gothic outbuilding of Dunleith, the most magnificent antebellum mansion in the city. I often make sure that people who are flying in to look at industrial sites stay here, and to prime them for the experience, I tell them that the main house makes Tara in
look like a utility shed. No one has ever argued the point.
Caitlin and I have had good meals and bad ones at the Castle, not because of the quality of the food, but because we?ve worked through so many phases of our relationship over the tables here. When times were good, we ate at the small table in back, beside the window overlooking the verdant grounds. When times weren?t so great, we ate in the private dining room where I'm waiting now. If Caitlin does show up, she won'?t be surprised to find me at this table.
It?s 12:25 now, and though I hate to admit it to myself, she?s probably not coming. Caitlin tends to be late now and then, but she wouldn'?t be on a day such as this. I can?t quite believe she?d leave me sitting here without even a phone call, or at least a text message. But I guess she feels strongly enough about where things are to view standing me up as her statement on the subject. I should probably
just order lunch and try to parse out her feelings, but given my conversations with Annie, I don'?t think I can put this event?or nonevent?behind me without being sure Caitlin hasn?'t been delayed by something unforeseen.
I speed-dial her cell, but it kicks me immediately to voice mail. Either she switched off her phone, anticipating upsetting calls from me, or else she?s driving south and chatting happily to Jan about the documentary she?ll soon be working on.
Searching my contact list, I call the
office and ask for Kim Hunter, the reporter who is Caitlin?s best remaining friend on the staff. It takes some time for Kim to come to the phone.
?Hello?? says a young male voice free of any Southern accent.
?Kim, it?s Penn Cage.?
?Hey.?
?Look, I'm down at the Castle, and I thought Caitlin was going to be joining me for lunch. Do you know anything about that??
?No. She didn't say anything to me.?
?You saw her this morning??
?No. I haven'?t seen her since yesterday afternoon. She came in and pulled some old stories she worked on.?
?Do you know what stories??
?Something she did on charismatic religions. You know, foot washers and faith healers, that kind of stuff.?
Maybe the stories have something to do with her interviews in New Orleans, I think, though it seems unlikely. ?Did she say anything to you about going to New Orleans today??
This time the silence is longer, and Hunter sounds uncertain about telling me more. ?She said she might be going down to do some interviews for a documentary being shot there.?
?I know about all that, Kim. About Jan, everything. Please tell me anything you know.?
?Hang on. Mike would know more about that. He?s been taking messages from the guy.?
?From the filmmaker??
?Right. He?s called here two or three times this morning. Hang on.?
I hear the phone clatter onto something hard.
An alarm is buzzing in my head?. If Caitlin had made plans to
be in New Orleans today, she would have made them directly with Jan?of that I'm sure.
?Penn??
?I'm here.?
?Mike said the guy called just a few minutes ago. He?s been trying to get Caitlin all morning. Apparently Mike figured Caitlin was with you, working on whatever you guys have been doing this past couple of days.?
?Thanks, Kim, I appreciate it. If you hear from her, please have her call me immediately, okay??
?I will. Is something wrong? Should we be worried??
?I don'?t know. Just try to find her if you can.?
My next call is to the landline at Caitlin?s house, but by the fifth ring I'm already out of the restaurant and running to my car.
My tires screech as I skid into the curb in front of Caitlin?s house. Her door is standing open. It was closed this morning when Annie and I left for school. For a moment I think everything might be okay, but then I realize Caitlin?s rental car isn?t in the driveway.
Bounding up the steps, I go through the door and find Kelly crouched over Carl Sims, trying to unwrap duct tape from his wrists. Carl is lying on the floor, his eyes closed, his usually mahogany skin almost gray.
?What happened?? I ask. ?Where?s Caitlin??
?Not here, that?s all I know. I just got here. Carl?s fucked up. They darted him with something.? Kelly points to an orange feather lying on the floor, then looks up at me. ?I think they?ve taken her.?
?
her??
?Kidnapped her.?
?Sands??
?Who else? But why, I have no idea.?
