No Time for Goodbye - Linwood Barclay [116]
“Why wouldn’t she want you to know? Why would Jeremy have gone to Milford?”
“She must have seen it,” he whispered. “Found it, something.”
“What? Seen what?”
“Dear God,” he said faintly, and rested his head back on the pillow, closed his eyes. He moved his head from side to side. “Enid knows. Dear God, if Enid knows…”
“If Enid knows what? What are you talking about?”
“If she knows, there’s no telling what she might do….”
I leaned in closer to Clayton Sloan or Clayton Bigge and whispered urgently inches away from his ear, “If Enid knows what?”
“I’m dying…. She…she must have called the lawyer. I never intended for her to see the will before I died…. My instructions were very specific. He must have screwed up…. I’d had it all setup….”
“Will? What will?”
“My will. I had it changed. She wasn’t to know…. If she knew…It was all arranged. When I died, my estate, everything would go to Cynthia…. Enid and Jeremy, they’d be left out, left with nothing, just what they deserve, just what she deserves….” He looked at me. “You have no idea what she’s capable of.”
“She’s here. Enid is here, she’s in Youngstown. It was Jeremy who went to Milford.”
“He’d do whatever she tells him to do. He has to. She’s in a wheelchair. She won’t be able to do it herself this time….”
“Do what herself?”
He ignored my question. He had so many of his own. “So he’s coming back? Jeremy’s on his way back?”
“That’s what Enid said. He checked out of a Milford motel this morning. I think we beat him back here.”
“‘We’? I thought you said Cynthia wasn’t with you.”
“She’s not. I came with a man named Vince Fleming.”
Clayton thought about the name. “Vince Fleming,” he said quietly. “The boy. The boy she was with that night. In the car. The boy she was with when I found her.”
“That’s right. He’s been helping me. He’s with Enid now.”
“With Enid?”
“Making sure she doesn’t call Jeremy, tell him that we’re here.”
“But if Jeremy, if Jeremy’s already on his way back, he must have already done it.”
“Done what?”
“Is Cynthia okay?” He got a desperate look in his eyes. “Is she alive?”
“Of course she’s alive.”
“And your daughter? Grace? She’s still alive?”
“What are you talking about? Yes, of course they’re alive.”
“Because if something happens to Cynthia, everything goes to any children…. It’s all spelled out….”
I felt my whole body shiver. How many hours had it been since I’d talked to Cynthia? I’d had a brief chat with her this morning, my one conversation with her since she’d slipped away in the night with Grace.
Did I really know, with any certainty, that she and Grace were alive now?
I got out my cell phone. It occurred to me then that I probably wasn’t supposed to have it on within the hospital, but since no one even knew I was here, I figured I could get away with it.
I punched in our home number.
“Please, please have gone home,” I said under my breath. The phone rang once, twice, a third time. On the fourth ring, it went to voicemail.
“Cynthia,” I said, “if you come home, if you get this, you’ve got to call me immediately. It’s an emergency.”
I ended the call and then tried her cell. It went to voicemail immediately. I left her pretty much the same message, but added, “You must call me.”
“Where is she?” Clayton asked.
“I don’t know,” I said uneasily. I considered, briefly, calling Rona Wedmore, decided against it, called another number. I had to let it ring five times before there was an answer.
A pickup, then throat clearing, then, “Hello?” Sleepy.
“Rolly,” I said. “It’s Terry.”
Clayton, hearing the name “Rolly,” blinked.
“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Rolly said. “No problem. I’d just turned out the light. You’ve found Cynthia?”
“No,” I said. “But I’ve found someone else.”
“What?”
“Listen, I don’t have time