The telephone rang twelve times before Laney gave up. “Sherry’s still not answering, Wes. It’s after midnight. Where could they be?”
“Maybe they just turned the ringer off,” Wes said, throwing a reassuring look at his wife. “Sherry was so dead set on avoiding Clint.”
Laney leaned back in the bed and brought her knees to her chest. “It just doesn’t feel right. I think we need to go over there and check on them.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” He sighed and got up. “Neither of us will be able to sleep until we’ve seen that they’re okay.”
Laney looked up at him. “Wes, shouldn’t you call your father first? See if he’s heard from Sherry? Ask him if she told him where she was going.”
Wes’s jaw popped as he shrugged on the shirt he’d left hanging over a chair. “I don’t have to call the U.S. attorney to find out where my sister is. There’s nothing wrong. She’s probably sleeping and forgot she left the phone unplugged.”
“I wasn’t suggesting him because he’s the prosecutor, Wes. I suggested him because he’s your father. She spends a lot of time with him. She might have told him something.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“You won’t even call him?”
“No, I won’t.”
“Wes, don’t you think that’s a little stubborn? You should be putting your sister above your own pride!”
“Pride?” He swung around to his wife. “Are you kidding me? This doesn’t have anything to do with pride. I don’t even know that man, and I’m supposed to pretend that he’s a part of my family?”
Laney got up, her long white gown pooling around her feet. “Wes, he is part of your family. You can’t change that.”
“I don’t have to acknowledge it.” He grabbed his keys off of the dresser, and headed out of the bedroom.
Wes pulled into Sherry and Madeline’s driveway and saw that Madeline’s car was there. He relaxed somewhat, and told himself that the scenario he had envisioned was accurate. At least one of them was home—they just weren’t answering the phone.
Since it was so late, he started to drive on home, instead of waking them if they were asleep, but something compelled him to go in and talk to Sherry himself. If she’d been disturbed enough to unplug the phones, then maybe she could use her brother’s ear.
He trotted up the front steps to the door and rang the bell. There was no answer, so he knocked hard, and went to the living room window to peer in. There was one light on in the living room, but no evidence that anyone was home.
He went around to the side of the house and peered into Sherry’s bedroom window. A night-light cast a pale glow throughout the room, and he could see that the bed was still made. No one was there.
A prayer started to form in his mind as he hurried to the other bedroom and looked into Madeline’s room. Still no one.
Frantic now, he went to the back of the house and checked under the mat for the extra key. When it wasn’t there, he tried the storage room where he knew they kept another one. He took it and hurried back to the door to open it. The door opened easily, and he stepped inside.
“Sherry?” he called. “Madeline? Are you here?”
The silence screamed out at him. He closed the door behind him, locked it, then went through the house, searching each room. He saw a drawer open in Madeline’s room, and some of the clothes had dropped onto the floor, as if someone had hastily grabbed something out. He went back into the living room and saw a stack of mail tossed down, unopened, next to Madeline’s car keys.
He turned around slowly, trying to find some clue, anything, that would tell him where his sister may have gone. On the couch was an opened envelope, and next to it a paper lying face down. He picked it up.
In cut-out magazine letters, he read the words, “Tell him revenge is sweet, and falls on those we love.’”
He took in a sharp breath as the first talons of fear gripped him. He grabbed the phone and started to dial 911, then changed his mind and called Laney instead.
“Hello?”
“Laney, there’s something wrong! They’re not here, but there’s a note. I need to call him-Eric. His number’s probably unlisted. Do you have it anywhere?”
“Yes,” Laney said. “I have it right here. But Wes, what did Sherry say in the note?”
“It wasn’t from Sherry. It was from someone else. Look, I’ll call you back as soon as I know something, okay?”
“Wes, please be careful!”
“I will.” He dropped the phone back in its cradle and said a quick prayer. What had happened to his sister? He dialed the number, and waited as it rang two, three, four times. Finally, his father answered in a raspy, groggy voice.
“Eric Grayson.”
His stomach tightened. “This is Wes Grayson,” he said coldly. “I’m looking for my sister. Do you know where she is?”
There was a slight hesitation, and finally, Eric said, “Wes, we need to talk.”
“Then you know where she is?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well, say it! Do you or don’t you?”
“Wes, where are you?”
“In Sherry’s living room.” His lips were taut, and his words were clipped, angry. “I’m holding a note from some lunatic talking about revenge, and it’s obvious that something’s wrong. Now do you know where she is or not?”
“Just wait there, Wes. I’ll be over in ten minutes.”
“I just want an answer!” he shouted. “Yes or no. Do you know or don’t you?”
But the phone clicked in his ear. Wes jammed it into its cradle. Where was she? And what was so important that Eric couldn’t tell him over the phone?