The One Safe Place (18 page)

He smiled back, as mechanically polite as ever.

“I haven't ever for a minute considered myself stuck with you, Faith,” he said. “Please, stay as long as you need to.”

 

R
EED WAS HAVING
one of the worst days of his life. Justine had mixed up all the appointments, and everyone was pissed. Spike was boarding again, left with strict instructions to be checked regularly for signs of depression, and right off the bat the damn lizard had tried to take a chunk out of Reed's left thumb. He'd
been sorely tempted to give the spoiled reptile something to be depressed about.

And then, for the past hour, Gavin had been squalling. Every animal who came in was edgy and uncooperative, unsettled by the noise. Reed himself was getting a killer headache. It was taking all the emotional equilibrium he had to muddle through this thing with Faith. He just wasn't in the mood for any more stress right now.

When he finally got a break in the action, he went out to Justine's desk, ready to raise some hell.

But what he saw stopped him in his tracks.

Justine was bent over her blotter, crying her eyes out. And Mike Frome was standing in the waiting room, as stiff as if he were facing a firing squad. He held Gavin awkwardly in his arms, and the baby was throwing a fit, screaming and stretching his whole body back toward his mommy.

“Justine.” Reed put his hand gently on her shoulder, but his tone was no-nonsense. “What's going on out here? Go get your son. He's upset.”

Justine looked up, her eyes bloodshot, her pale skin blotchy, streaked with watery brown lines of mascara. Reed was shocked. Justine had been a beauty queen so long she knew how to cry quite prettily. He'd never seen her like this.

And that's when he knew the rumors must be true. Mike Frome must really be Gavin's father. No wonder the boy looked so damn poleaxed.

Oh, man, what a mess.

“Justine,” he said again, his voice extremely firm. “Gavin.”

“Mike's got him.” She dragged in a wet breath. “He's so sure he wants to be a daddy. Let him see what it's really like.”

“This is not what it's really like,” Reed said. “Gavin doesn't know Mike, that's why he's crying.”

He strode over and plucked the wailing baby from the poor kid's arms. Mike still didn't move. He even kept his hands up, though now they were empty. He looked as if he'd been turned to stone.

Gavin calmed down a little almost instantly, now that he recognized the hands that held him. He still cried, but the terror and fury abated. Reed patted him a minute, then brought him back to Justine.

“Teach Mike a lesson some other time,” he said. “When it's not at Gavin's expense.”

To her credit, she looked ashamed. She folded her baby into her arms, bent her head over him, and cooed soothingly.

With her makeup all cried off, she looked much too young to be anyone's mother. Reed looked into Gavin's big watery blue eyes and felt a little sick. The poor infant had no idea he'd just become the rope in a heartbreaking tug-of-war between these two teenagers.

Two frightened kids, who were too damn young to know how to fight fair.

And he wondered, for the first time, whether Alton Millner's desire to see this baby put up for adoption
might not have been as selfish as he once thought. Maybe, just maybe, Alton had believed it would ensure a smoother life for Gavin.

But, in spite of the fact that there might be some rocky times ahead, Alton was wrong. Justine loved this child. Reed had seen it every day. She didn't know much about parenting, but that skill could be learned. The capacity for love was either in a person, or it wasn't. In spite of her wretched home life—or maybe because of it—that capacity was definitely in Justine.

Motherhood just might, in fact, be the making of her.

“Look,” he said. “You two clearly need to talk. Take the rest of the afternoon off. I can handle things here.”

She shook her head stubbornly. “He just wants to badger me. But he might as well forget it. I'm not going to marry somebody who doesn't love me.”

Mike looked furious. “Damn it, Justine. Who says I don't love you?”

“I say.” She nuzzled Gavin. “I've learned a few things about love in the past year, Mike. Things you've never dreamed of.”

“And whose fault is that? I haven't had a chance to learn anything about being a father, because you wouldn't let me. You still don't want to let me.”

“Damn right, I don't.” Her eyes teared up all over again. “You think I want to marry a guy who's got the hots for somebody else? No way, Mike. I grew
up with people like that, and take my word for it. It's a rotten way for any kid to live.”

“Got the hots for—” Mike flushed. “What—You're talking about Suzie?”

Justine didn't even answer. She was probably crying too hard to get any more words out anyhow.

“I—” To Reed's surprise, instead of getting hopelessly defensive and flustered, Mike seemed to stand a little taller. “I like Suzie, I'm not saying I don't. I like her a lot. I was even starting to think we might—”

He broke off. “But that was before I knew about the baby. Now the baby comes first, before anything. Suzie will understand that.”

He looked uncomfortably toward Reed, then turned back to the weeping young woman.

“Look, Justine, we need to do what Dr. Fairmont said. We need to go somewhere and talk. Maybe you're right, we shouldn't get married. But we have to do something. Gavin is my son, and I'm going to be a part of his life one way or another.”

Reed gave the kid an admiring look.
All right,

Mike,
he thought.
All right.
When something was this important, you just had to find a way.

Even Justine seemed to recognize the sudden determination in his voice. She dried her eyes on a tissue, sniffed hard and turned to Reed.

“Do you want me to go get Faith?” She gestured to the pile of scattered telephone message notes and
chaotic appointment cards. “She probably wouldn't mind helping you out in here.”

“No, that's okay,” he said. Watching Mike just now, watching the kid take his first step toward becoming a man, Reed had remembered something important. He had remembered that, though life was rough as hell, sometimes giving up just wasn't an option. “I can manage.”

When the subdued teenagers finally left, with Gavin bouncing on Justine's shoulder, oblivious to the tension around him, Reed sat down at Justine's desk and picked up the telephone.

He called the sheriff's department, which was one of the preprogrammed numbers. He got lucky. Harry answered right away.

“I need the name of the best private detective you know,” Reed said without preamble. “The police can't seem to catch this Lambert guy. I don't care if he's living in an igloo at the top of the North Pole, I want him found. He's not getting away with this.”

“Damn, Reed. Are you sure? It could cost a fortune. The police will have worked all the obvious angles.” Harry hesitated. “It may not be realistic to think there are any more unturned stones.”

Reed looked out the clinic window. Faith and Spencer were playing tag with Tigger by the pond. The ducks were ignoring them, paddling placidly through a floating sea of red and gold leaves.

Faith was smiling—she always smiled at Spencer. She had tied her hair back with a bright green ribbon.
But her eyes had dark shadows under them, and her face was very pale. He remembered the desperate tone in which she had begged Detective Bentley to give her back her life.

If he'd had any doubts about where her heart lay, about whether she could ever come to think of Firefly Glen as “home,” that tone had eliminated them. There was no question that Faith was suffering. And that was something he simply couldn't bear.

Harry spoke carefully. “This is just how it goes sometimes, you know. Sometimes the bad guy doesn't ever get caught.”

“This one's going to. Faith wants to go home, Harry. And, one way or another, I'm going to see to it that she can.”

D
OUG HATED KITSCHY
little eateries like this. Mediocre food at best, but pretensions up the wazoo. Candlelight Café, his ass. Cloth napkins and candles and fresh flowers and a bossy old lady in an apron didn't change the fact that this was essentially just a tacky tourist-trap mountain dive.

However, he wasn't here for the food. He was here because this was where Faith Constable had made her amazingly naive call home to check her messages. He was here because this was where the trail began, and he needed to catch the scent.

So he ordered Theo Burke's coffee, which surprised him by being tolerable, and took his time drinking it.

He kept his ears pricked. Within an hour, he knew he'd hit the mother lode. Believe it or not, this little dump was the heart of Firefly Glen social life, the place where all the really good rumormongers congregated to smack and drool over the freshest, juiciest gossip.

And what a little soap opera it was! Some socialite had married her handyman, the sterile sheriff and his wife were trying to adopt a baby, the widower vet
had finally fallen in love again, the mayor's daughter had been knocked up by somebody, there seemed to be some debate over exactly who.

And on and on and on. These yahoos would blather on about anything to anybody. The concept of discretion apparently hadn't made it this far north.

But nobody mentioned Faith Constable. And after a couple of hours Theo Burke was beginning to look at him sharply. He had to order dinner just to buy some more time.

She poured him fresh coffee. “So. You here for the leaves?”

He looked up at her with a charming expression. He didn't mind if she noticed him particularly. It wouldn't help anybody to hear her describe the nice redheaded backpacker who had come in the other day. No one would hear that and think
Doug Lambert.

“Yes, ma'am,” he said with a smile that showed off the brilliance of his white teeth. “I've been hearing for years that Firefly Glen had the best foliage in the northeast. This is my first chance to take a look for myself.”

She nodded, apparently satisfied, and moved on to the next customer. But Doug was not satisfied, not at all. He had suddenly realized the disturbing implications of what he'd said.

People did come up here as tourists. Lots of them. Even now, the overly precious downtown streets of Firefly Glen were clogged with several thousand sim
pletons who apparently thought a few red maple trees constituted the eighth wonder of the world.

What if Faith had been one of them? If she'd been here just to gawk at nature, if she'd just stopped by once to use the phone, no telling where she might have escaped to by now.

It had been stupid not to think of that. And Doug was rarely stupid. This whole Faith thing was getting to him. He needed to settle it, and soon.

But he wasn't quite ready to give up on Firefly Glen just yet. Just a few minutes ago, Theo had been chatting to a pretty little brunette with a baby in her arms. And Theo had said something—he couldn't quite hear what—about someone named Spencer.

Now there were plenty of Spencers in the world, he knew that. It wasn't much to go on. But it was enough to make him stay another hour or so, choking down Theo's horror du jour, chickenshit stew, and listening.

Finally—before he had to order dessert, thank God—his patience paid off.

A sexy blond number came in and sat down next to an uppity black-haired teenage girl Doug had noticed before and discounted. Even if Faith was in Firefly Glen, she wouldn't bother with ghastly little geeks like that.

And at first the conversation sounded pretty damn dull. If Doug hadn't found the blonde easy on the eyes, he might have ignored it altogether.

“I'm telling you,” the blonde said. “Reed Fair
mont is absolutely positively one hundred percent in love.”

The teenager scowled. “Natalie, get a grip. You think everybody's in love just because you are. Last month you wanted to fix him up with Pauline. Face it. Reed's still in love with his wife. He's never going to get over that.”

Shit.
Were they back to the cow doctor's pathetic love life? Doug had already heard all this. Frankly, he didn't care if the widower vet got it off with his new housekeeper, or with one hand on himself and the other on his dead wife's memory.

All Doug cared about was finding Faith. And if something didn't turn up soon, he was going to tear this podunk town apart.

“Besides,” Suzie went on. “I was just there the other day. Vincent and Claude needed their shots. I didn't see any signs of a romance. You're dreaming.”

“I am not. I saw them at the festival, and I promise you. Reed Fairmont is flat-out in love with Faith Constable.'”

Doug dropped his spoon.

Suzie, the geeky teenager, turned to eye him, still scowling. He gave her his winning smile, but it felt funny. He felt funny. She turned away without returning the smile.
Little bitch.

“Yeah, well, even if you're right, so what?” She rolled her eyes at Natalie. “Love sucks.”

“It has its harrowing moments,” Natalie agreed,
grinning. “But it's worth it in the end, I promise you. When you finally get it right, it's—”

Suddenly her cell phone rang. She dug in her purse for it with comic excitement.

“It's Matthew,” she said, looking at the digital ID. Her tone implied the name was synonymous with God.

She cooed into the phone for a second, and then she stood up. “Gotta run. Love calls. Apparently there's something called a pneumatic drill, and it's very exciting.”

Suzie rolled her eyes. “Gross.” Then she stood up, too, her bill in hand. “Anyway, if he can get his mind off drilling things for even a second, tell him I said hi.”

Natalie hugged Suzie quickly, chuckling, and hustled out of the café. Doug was annoyed. He'd planned to follow her. He needed more information. He needed, among other things, the vet's address.

But he had a bill to pay, too, and obviously the stunning Natalie would be flying down the street on wings of love to where her husband waited with his big new drill.

So he had to settle for the skinny, homely Suzie. He stood behind her at the cash register and tried to make engaging small talk.

“The food here's pretty good, isn't it?”

Maybe the stress really was affecting him more than he realized. Two months ago, if he'd smiled at a boring bag of bones like this one, she'd pretty much
puddle at his feet. But Suzie just gave him a cold eye and said, “Yes.”

He tried again out on the sidewalk, where he found her wrestling with two large golden retrievers. The recently vaccinated Vincent and Claude, no doubt. They were nice-looking animals, and she was talking to them as if they were her children.

“Handsome fellows,” he said. Unfortunately, for some damn reason, his upper plate wasn't holding tight. Maybe that fool dentist had been right—maybe he should have gotten implants after all. His dentures started to separate in his mouth, and he had to force the plate back into place with his thumb.

Suzie looked at him as if he were some kind of pervert.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Her tone infuriated him. Now he knew he was starting to lose it. What difference did it make what this twit thought of him? She had no sex appeal, no brains, no breasts, no nothing. If he were feeling normal, he'd just laugh her off.

But he wasn't feeling normal. He was feeling damn strange, and for some reason her attitude violently insulted him.

He had a sudden vision of hurting her, and he had to physically stop himself from acting on it. Wild thoughts like that worried him. They weren't Doug Lambert. Doug Lambert was focused and disciplined and always worked from a plan. That was why he always succeeded.

Patience. Brains. Self-control. That's what Doug Lambert was all about.

So he followed Suzie and her dogs for a block or so, until they stopped to sniff a scarecrow in front of the bookstore. She saw him, then, and gave him a dirty look.

“Look, mister—”

But he ignored her this time. Because he'd had an idea. An idea worthy of Doug Lambert.

Pretending he hadn't noticed her
back-off
tone, he reached over to pet the dogs, fussing over them, making an elaborate show of admiring their personalized tags. Suzie whipped the animals away within five seconds, but five seconds had been enough.

“Weirdo.” She walked briskly into the crowd, looking back every few feet, clearly afraid of him. But that didn't matter.

Because now he knew where the dogs lived.

He felt himself relax. His blood pressure normalized. He thumbed his dentures, making sure they were tightly affixed. Then he put his hand in his pocket, appreciating the solid feel of the knife.

Yes, he felt much better now. It was always better to have a plan.

And, as usual, it was going to be almost too easy. Poor, stupid Faith. She should never have gotten herself mixed up with a veterinarian, of all people.

Because, see, that was the thing about vets. They were apt to get called out at all hours of the night.

 

I
T WAS ALMOST MIDNIGHT
. Reed wasn't sleeping. Faith wasn't sleeping, either, he knew. He'd heard her go downstairs half an hour ago to get a drink. He'd wanted to follow her down so bad he had seriously considered tying himself to the desk with his computer cord.

But he didn't. He stayed where he was, adding up numbers and entering them into the spreadsheet. It was mind-numbingly dull. Trying to keep his thoughts off Faith with something like this was as useless as trying to stop a river with a rope.

If it hadn't been so cold, he would have gone out to work on the shelter, which was almost finished. All those extra hours lately—staying out of the house, working off frustration—had definitely sped things up.

But he'd probably freeze some body parts off if he went out there tonight. Last time he'd checked, the thermometer had read about eighteen degrees and the stars had looked like icicles in the sky. And while he would like a few of his body parts to go into a temporary coma, if possible, he wasn't quite ready to relinquish them altogether.

All of which explained why he was almost relieved when the telephone rang. He didn't want any animals to be in trouble, but at least it was something to do.

Suzie Strickland, sounding absolutely terrified, was on the other end. “Dr. Fairmont, something's wrong with Vincent. Can you come look at him, please? I'm
really worried about him. He threw up, and now he's just lying there, and he doesn't respond to me.”

Reed began closing the file on the computer, saving the information he'd just typed in. “Is he breathing?”

“Yes, but it sounds funny. Please, Dr. Fairmont. I know it's late, but—”

“I was awake. Can you bring him to the clinic?”

She began to cry softly. “I tried already. But my parents are out of town in their car, and my car won't start. I would have called Mike, and asked him to bring me over, but he—we—”

“That's okay,” Reed said. He knew all about what was happening between Mike and Suzie. Poor kid, all alone there and scared to death. “I'll be there in a few minutes. Stay with him. Keep a phone with you.”

“Okay,” she said. Her voice trembled. “Okay. I'll wait. Thank you, Dr. Fairmont. Thank you.”

Reed pulled on his jacket as he walked down the hall to Faith's room. She was sitting up in bed, reading a book. She was wearing a different nightgown. This one was yellow, and he suddenly realized that her brown hair had a lot of gold highlights.

Her face was strained. Probably the sound of the telephone ringing had alarmed her. She was so vulnerable—she never knew what kind of news might be coming.

His heart tightened. He wished there were some way he could take the fear from her. But he couldn't. He couldn't do a damn thing, not unless she asked him to.

And she wasn't asking.

“I need to go out for a few minutes,” he said from the doorway.

She folded her book, marking the place with her index finger, and looked over at him. “Is everything okay?”

“I hope so. Suzie Strickland is worried about one of her dogs. She can't get here, so I need to run over and check it out.”

She nodded. This hadn't happened often, but it had happened a couple of times since she'd been here. He usually wasn't gone long, and she had always seemed quite comfortable with the idea.

“Yes, of course. Don't worry. We'll be fine.”

“I won't be long.” He paused. “You've got the cell phone, right?”

She smiled. “Well, at the moment it's under Spencer's pillow, but it's all charged up and working. Besides, I've got this one—” she gestured toward the bedside phone “—if I need it. But please don't worry, Reed. I'm fine.”

“Okay.” But then he remembered about the Petermans. “Oh, hell,” he said. “The Petermans might be coming home tonight, and if they do, they'll want to pick up Spike. He's in his terrarium, out in the utility room. They'll call first and—” He stopped. “No, forget it. I don't want you opening the door to anybody while I'm gone. You don't even know the Petermans when you see them.”

She smiled. “No, but I do know Doug Lambert when I see him.”

“No, forget it. If they call, just tell them I had an emergency, and they'll have to get Spike in the morning. It won't kill Jeanne Peterman to spend one more night without her lizard.”

Faith smiled again. “Okay, whatever you think is best.”

“Okay, then. Good. I'll lock up and set the alarm.”

God, they were so polite. How could anything so civilized be so painful?

He wasn't sure he could stand this much longer. Maybe tomorrow, if they got a minute alone, he would try to talk to her. No pressure, just an honest discussion of how he really felt.

Or maybe not. Maybe he'd just get in touch with that private detective. Maybe he'd just find the courage to stick to his decision and leave the poor woman alone.