Package Deal(89)

Evelyn was quiet for a moment. “That’s a tough one. I think I’d want to know to keep my child out of danger. And it would give me nightmares to think what might have happened. But if he’s in jail, I for sure would feel better about things.”

“I hear you.”

“Does Amanda know where this guy is?”

“Nobody does, that we know of.”

“Well, if you have news and I was Amanda, I’d want to know.” She paused. “Were you able to talk with Cecelia?”

Marcus sighed. “Not yet, but Amanda said she would try to arrange it. Except that every time I’ve asked her about it, she keeps putting it off—says Cece needs more time.”

“Hmm. Maybe more time means you’re out of time.”

“I’m afraid to think that way.” He sighed loudly.

“Since when does Marcus of the take-no-prisoners Dunbar clan give up so easily?” Evelyn’s voice came through stronger.

“What? Hey, I’m not giving up. I just haven’t been able to make much progress.”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?”

He sat back down at the kitchen table and began cutting up an apple. “I guess you do.”

“If you love her—Amanda and her little girl—go after them. You said yourself you can’t have one without the other, so make clear to them how you feel. Each of them.”

“I did, to Amanda. She still talks to me.”

“For heaven’s sake, Marc. Tell that child what she needs to hear, what she wants to hear.”

“I’ve been trying, Evie. But she won’t talk to me. And, with what happened to her—you know—before, I’m afraid to push too hard.”

“Then reach out to her in a way she can’t ignore.”

Marcus hung up and went out to sit on the porch swing. He knew Amanda wasn’t happy about Evan’s behavior toward Cecelia. And he was certain the girl wouldn’t go near him, which meant Amanda was safe from his clutches, too.

He needed to call her, to tell her what Mike had learned. If only the cops had been able to talk to Carlton before he disappeared. He’d mentioned how much safer he thought Cece would be if Amanda agreed to move in with him, away from town.But why had Cecelia not answered his letter? He knew Amanda would have insisted that she do so, if only out of politeness, even if the girl said no to what he had asked.

Marcus watched the sun slide into the sea. Only when the stars began to blink in the night sky did he go back inside to work on some exercises he intended to give to his news reporting class. He added one more item to his to-do list—write a story for Cecelia. Maybe that would get her to talk to him.





Chapter 17



Carlton rolled over and groaned. “I need a real bed—no more sleeping in the backseat,” he muttered. He pulled the scratchy wool blanket around his shoulders to stop his shivering in the chill of the late September morning. He’d have to figure out where to go, what to do, before the weather turned any colder. Who knew that the woods around here could get so cold without snow on the ground.But not Wisconsin, he thought. Too cold, too dangerous.And he needed to find a job.

Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes. Empty beer cans littered the floor of the car. He must have been drinking for a long time. When did he buy that last six pack? “I have to stop drinking so I can think straight,” he said to himself, shaking his head.

A thought came to him. My scarf. It’ll keep me warmer.

He climbed out of the car and opened the trunk. He smiled, relieved. There it was, the box. But when he pulled the top back, his heart started to race and his stomach tightened. Wrong box. His business clothes, the ones he wore to class, were there. Maybe he’d moved the scarf. He worked his hands frantically through the dress shirts and suit pants as his frustration climbed. Wrong box—no scarf, and no papers either. Those special papers. They had to be in the other box.

Where was it? Maybe the box was still in the apartment. It had to be. Why hadn’t he taken it with him? He hadn’t paid his last month’s rent and the landlord—he’d probably already rented it out. He rubbed one grimy finger against the stubble on his chin.No, it wasn’t there. He’d taken everything with him when he left, the day after that article about Cecelia had appeared in the paper. Besides, he couldn’t go back there. He must have moved it—after that journalist asked so many questions.

“The filing cabinet—at the office. That’s where I must have put it. Where it’d be safe from prying eyes.” Amanda never opened his part of the filing cabinet. He breathed deeply and slowly relaxed. He would go to the office.