See Tom Run (23 page)

“Hmm, maybe you’re right. Oh well, it’s not the end
of the world if I don’t find her. She used to have an uncle that
owned a home improvement business somewhere near Columbus and I was
trying to find out how to reach him. He supposedly does great work
for reasonable rates but I can’t remember his name or the name of
his business to save my life. We want to add a family room to our
house.”

Tom knew this fabricated story sounded lame, but Brad
didn’t catch on to it.

“Sorry I can’t help you more. Hey, you want to play
some cutthroat?”

“Nah, I’d better get going. I’ve got to get back to
Columbus before the wife reams me a new one.”

“I hear ya! I heard there’s supposed to be a big
snowstorm coming sometime this evening. You sure as hell don’t want
to get stuck in that.”

“For sure,” Tom replied. He killed the last of his
Ultra and offered his hand to Brad.

“Hey, take care of yourself, man. It was great seeing
you again.”

“You, too. Give me a call next time you’re in town
and we’ll tie on a good one.”

“Will do. Nice meeting you, Lenny. See you
around.”

Tom headed for the door, dropping his beer bottle off
at the bar on the way. He noticed that the wind was picking up as
he stepped outside, reminding him of what Brad had said about an
approaching winter storm. He checked his watch: half past noon. He
still had an hour or so before he should start heading back
home.

Back in his Jeep, Tom was still reeling from what
Brad Thompson had told him about Mindy and Charlie Gossett. He was
absolutely numbed by the eerie coincidence. Not only had Mindy
married a redneck hillbilly just like the fictitious Donnie
Shortridge in his dream, her husband had ended up being a
wife-beater and sent to prison for assault to boot!

What in the hell was that all about?

He hadn’t been prepared for this. Although his dream
had had a certain ominous quality to it, he never expected to see a
direct connection between what had happened in the dream and
reality. The girl named Erin in the dream had nothing whatsoever to
do with the Erin in the real world—he had simply assigned Erin
Landry’s face to a fabricated character named Erin Myers, a
by-product of his poison fume-fueled imagination.

But now, the more he thought about Mindy Conkel and
her real life crazy, violent husband, or ex-husband, the more
nervous he got.

Would he be better off leaving well enough alone? Get
out of Dodge City before he got himself into REAL trouble?

Tom now wished that he hadn’t drank that beer.
Because he wouldn’t mind having a few more right this moment.

He pulled up to the traffic light on the corner of
Second Street and waited for it to turn green, staring across the
street at the bridge crossing the Ohio River into Kentucky.
Something about all of this crazy shit had some kind of hold on
him. That much he knew. And he would never know what it was if he
backed down now.

The light changed and Tom hung a right. Two blocks
later he spotted a convenience store and pulled into the parking
lot. He got out and entered the store, glancing around for a pay
phone. He spotted one near the coffee machine and headed for it. He
picked up the phone book and shuffled through the pages.

He found the G’s and looked for any listing that
could be Mindy’s. There was only one Gossett listed: a Floyd
Gossett with a West Smithtown exchange. His only hope now was that
Floyd was a relative of Charlie’s and willing to tell him where
Charlie’s estranged wife lived.

He was hoping for a miracle, he realized.

The store employee was staring at him so Tom decided
to use the pay phone to call Floyd instead of pulling out his cell
phone. He found a quarter in his pocket, dropped it in the slot and
dialed the number.

Six rings later, a thin raspy voice said,
“Yellow.”

“Is this the Gossett residence?”

“Uh huh.”

“Hi, I’m trying to locate Mindy Gossett and was
wondering if you by any chance know her whereabouts,” Tom said,
crossing his fingers.

“What’s that you say?” the man said, apparently hard
of hearing.

Tom upped the volume to his voice. “I said I’m
looking for Mindy Gossett and wondered if you might know how I can
reach her.”

“Mindy, you say? Now what would you be a-wantin’ with
her?”

“I would just like to talk to her about something. Do
you know how I could contact her?”

“Who is this?” the man asked suspiciously. “This
ain’t one of Charlie’s friends, is it?”

“No, sir. I’m an old friend of Mindy’s. I haven’t
seen her in a long time and would like to talk to her if I
may.”

“And what would be your name?”

“Tom. Tom Grayson.”

“Well Tim, I’m not so sure that’s such a good idea.
You see, I don’t want nobody botherin’ that poor gal and since I
don’t know you from the man in the moon, I’m not gonna give you no
help. That goddamn son of mine has done screwed up her life already
and I ain’t gonna let another Gossett screw her over again.”

Jesus, Tom thought, it was Charlie’s father! And he
had just given him his name like an idiot—Charlie will probably
want to kill him when he gets out of prison!

Or maybe not. Charlie’s father didn’t exactly sound
like he was particularly pleased with his son—in fact, quite the
contrary.

“Mr. Gossett, I can assure you that I mean no harm to
Mindy. If it would make you feel any better, maybe you could let
her know I was looking for her and ask her if she would be opposed
to meeting with me. Then, if it’s all right with her, I could call
you back and you could tell me how to find her.”

There was a moment of silence before the man spoke
again.

“I reckon that would be okay, long as it’s okay with
the girl. I’ll give her a call and tell her you’re wantin’ to talk
to her. What was that name again? Tim Anderson?”

“No, Tom Grayson.”

“Okay, I’ll pass that on to her.”

“When should I call you back?”

“Give me ten minutes, son.”

“Thanks, Mr. Gossett. I’ll call you back then.”

Tom was ecstatic as he hung up the phone. He had
finally found her!

He went over to one of the coolers and took out a
bottle of Ice Mountain, paid for it and left the store. After he
was back in the Jeep, he realized that he’d forgotten Gossett’s
telephone number. He grabbed a pencil and paper from the dash
compartment, ran back into the store, located the number in the
phone book and jotted it down. As he returned to the Jeep, he hoped
that Mr. Gossett got his name right when he spoke to Mindy and that
she would be willing to see him, or at least allow him to talk to
her.

Screwing off the cap, Tom took a huge gulp of cold
water and looked out ahead, noticing that it was clouding up. He
started thinking about Peg and how she would react if she knew that
he was in Smithtown hunting down some chick from his past instead
of at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland with Frank.

He felt faint as he realized just
how absurd this whole situation had gotten and how much deeper he
was getting into it by the minute. What was driving him to
do
all of this, running
around like a madman trying to make sense of something that seemed
so utterly
senseless?
Was it worth the risks he was taking with his marriage and his
family, the most important things in his life?

The cell phone rang and simultaneously danced around
like a hooked catfish on the Jeep’s console, causing him to spill
his water on his lap. He picked it up and read the caller ID—

It was Peg!

In a panic, he debated whether or not to take the
call. At first he wasn’t going to—Peg would just assume that he
didn’t hear the phone or had forgotten to turn it on. Then he
changed his mind. What if something bad had happened?

He took a deep breath and flipped the phone open.

“Hello, babe,” he said, trying to sound as normal as
he could.

“Tom, I’m so glad I reached you! You’ll never guess
in a million years who just blew into town!” she said
excitedly.

He breathed a silent sigh and wondered who it could
be. “Who?”

“Maggie! Can you believe it?”

Maggie Tolman was Peg’s best friend who had moved to
Colorado a few years ago. The two were as close as two friends
could be. “That’s great, Peg. How long will she be in town?”

“Not very long, I’m afraid. She has a two-hour
stopover in Columbus on her way to New York—apparently her flight
is all messed up. Anyway, I’m going to drive out to the airport and
have lunch with her.”

“Sounds like fun. Be sure to tell her I said hi,” Tom
said.

“I will. How’s the museum?”

Tom thought he took too long to answer. “Great! Lots
of cool stuff here.”

“And are you and Frank behaving yourselves?”

“Of course.”

“Well, you may want to consider coming back soon.
They’re forecasting another snowstorm heading our way.”

Peg’s voice was starting to cut out. Tom looked at
the signal strength indicator on his cell: two bars. His battery
strength was down to a single bar, and it dawned on him that he’d
forgotten to charge the thing before heading out of the house.

“I’m sorry, dear. What did you say about a
storm?”

“It’s going to snow again. They’re predicting three
to four inches by late evening.”

Shit, he thought, he was going to have to get a move
on with this and get back on the road ASAP.

“That’s not good news at all,” he said. “We’ll
probably head back in an hour or so.”

“Okay. Well, be careful on the highway. I should be
home when you get here.”

“I’ll see you then, Peg. And have a nice time with
Maggie.”

“See you later.”

Tom disconnected and continued staring out the
windshield. He noticed that the wind was really picking up and dark
gray clouds were blowing in from the west. He glanced at the phone
in his hand, wondering if it had been ten minutes yet. Deciding it
had been long enough, he tapped in Floyd Gossett’s number.

“Hi, Mr. Gossett, it’s Tom Grayson again. Were you
able to reach Mindy?”

“Yep, sure did.”

“What did she say?”

“Well, can’t say as she was real thrilled with the
idear of meeting up with you. In fact, she didn’t seem to know who
you were when I mentioned yer name. But then I repeated it for her
and a light bulb lit up, I reckon.”

“Will she let me see her?” Tom asked, wondering how
much Floyd Gossett had butchered his name before Mindy finally
realized who he was talking about.

“I reckon she’s okay with it. She told me to give you
her phone number so you could call her.”

“That’s great—what is it, Mr. Gossett?”

He read the number to Tom, who in turn punched it
into his cell.

“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Gossett,” Tom said
sincerely.

“No problem, boy. Just don’t let me hear that you’ve
done anything wrong by Mindy or I’ll personally see that you regret
it!” the old man growled.

“Oh, don’t worry about that—I just want a few words
with her.”

“All right then. I reckon I’ll be going now.”

“Thanks again, Mr. Gossett.”

“Uh-huh.”

Click.

Tom stared at the number Floyd Gossett had given him
and realized that the exchange was the one used for the west
side—way out in the boonies. He took a deep breath and a swig of
water then pushed the “send” button.

Mindy Conkel answered after two rings.

“Hello.”

“Hi, is this Mindy?” Tom asked, trying to sound as
relaxed as he could despite the fact that the last time he’d talked
to this woman was nearly twenty years ago and his nerves were
frayed.

“Yes, and who might this be?”

“It’s Tom Grayson. Long time no see, eh?”

“I don’t believe it! When my ex-father-in-law called
and told me you were trying to find me, I about flipped out. So
what have you been up to?”

Tom was both surprised and pleased that she seemed so
receptive. This was a good thing.

“Oh, where do I begin? I lived in New York for a few
years then moved to Columbus. I’m teaching art history at Capital
State, married with a wife and two kids and that’s basically it in
a nutshell. What about yourself?”

“My life hasn’t been quite as exciting or glamorous
as yours, I’m afraid. Just doing hair at a salon and living in this
crappy town. That’s really about it.”

“C’mon, there’s got to be more than that! You make it
sound like this is the most boring place on earth!

“And you would disagree?”

Tom chuckled. “You got me there, I have to admit.
Anyway, I was wondering if we could get together for a drink or
something. I know it sounds sort of weird and on short notice but
it’s really important.”

“Sure. But I can’t leave home-my kids are here and I
can’t trust them by themselves. Why don’t you just come out to my
home?”

“Great!” Tom said. “How do I get there?”

“Just take Route 52 west until you’re almost to the
Adams County line then take a right on Slow Possum Hollow. I’m
about three miles from the highway in a white mobile home. You
can’t miss it.”

“That sounds easy enough. Is it okay if I come now?
There’s supposed to be a storm blowing in and I have to get back to
Columbus soon.”

“Sure. I’m not doing anything but the laundry.”

“Great. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you, Tom.”

Tom was thrilled-it had almost been too easy. He was
surprised that Mindy would be so willing to see him after all these
years. Especially after what had happened so long ago.

He closed the phone and started the engine. He was
already headed in the direction of the west side so he pulled out
and proceeded along Second Street until he reached the bridge
crossing the Scioto River. Glancing at the dashboard clock, he
estimated that he would reach the Adams County line in about thirty
minutes. That would make it around 2:40. Hopefully he wouldn’t have
to stay long to get his answers. That storm wasn’t going to hold
out forever.