Until Dark - Mariah Stewart [104]
“. . . to get you yesterday afternoon . . .” Selena was saying. “. . . before I left, but there was no answer. My sister-in-law broke her elbow—in-line skating with the kids—by the way, remind me to pass on that next time the opportunity arises. Anyway, I drove up here to take care of my niece until things settle down. I expect I’ll be back by tomorrow, by then they should have been able to arrange for someone to come in to help out. I brought Lola with me, by the way, because there just didn’t seem to be quite enough chaos in my brother’s house the last time I was here.”
Selena paused, then laughed self-consciously. “There was one other thing. . . . I know you’ll think I’m crazy. But, well, I’ve been having the worst dreams, Kendra. Dark and threatening and well . . . well, the darkness seems to be directed toward you, though I can’t pinpoint what or who or why. But it’s gathering around you . . . surrounding you . . . I can’t explain it and I don’t know what it means.” She laughed again, the laughter sounding forced. “Okay, yeah, I know. Nutty Selena.”
She hesitated, then added, “You know, maybe you’re right, maybe I shouldn’t have tried so hard to push all of that out of me. Maybe I should have left well enough alone. Maybe I’d know how best to interpret the impressions that I’m getting. Damn, Kendra, I’m sorry if I’m scaring you. I probably shouldn’t have said anything at all. If I could figure out how to erase this tape from here, I would. Anyway, you have my brother’s phone number. Give me a call when you get this message and I’ll deny that I ever said any, well, any of the stuff I just said. I’m sorry. I guess it’s just silliness. . . .”
Kendra frowned. Selena must have left that message before she called the Mission to tell her that she’d meet her here at the house at five. Maybe Selena’s sister-in-law was released from the hospital earlier than expected.
Kendra stood up and opened the middle desk drawer for her phone book, a small loose-leaf notebook covered in a plaid fabric in which she kept every phone number she’d recorded practically since college. She’d just located the number for Selena’s brother when she heard the soft shuffle of a foot behind her.
“Hello, Kenny,” a soft voice said from behind.
She looked over her shoulder at the man who stood in the doorway.
“Peter . . . ?” What was he doing here? And where was Joe Clark?
“No, no. Not Peter.”
“Where’s Joe Clark?” she asked.
He took one step into the foyer, and she noticed his shoes. Brown leather. She knew where she’d just seen them.
“Guess.”
She shook her head, confused.
“Oh, come on, now. You can figure it out. We all know what a smart cookie you are.” He circled her. From one pocket he drew out something dark and furry, which he draped over his top lip. “Look familiar?”
He slipped dark glasses on and she gasped.
“Who are you?”
Pausing behind her, he whispered in her ear, “Here’s a clue. How many people call you Kenny?”
“No one . . .” Her hand flew to her mouth, remembering.
“Ahhhhh.” He smiled with great satisfaction.
“No.” She shook her head.
“Say it.” He leaned directly into her face. “Ian. Say it. Ian.”
Kendra tried to step backward, but the desk was in the way.
“Now, after all the years you grieved for me . . . you did grieve for me, you and Mom, didn’t you?”
His eyes narrowed and Kendra tried to peer into them, tried to determine their depth, but she saw nothing. How could these dark, blank eyes be Ian’s? Was this his face? It had been so long since that summer day they’d put him on the plane to Arizona. Had the young boy’s soft face smoothed into such lean angles?
“How could you be Ian?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, her brain refusing to acknowledge this face as the face she’d so recently studied, so recently sketched. No. No no no no no no . . .
“How could I be anyone but?” He appeared slightly amused. “Well, I suppose I really can’t blame you. I have been a bit . . . scarce.”
“Why?”
“Why? Why have I