Chase smiled, but he couldn't help thinking about the child of his who would have been a toddler by now. Considering that, he applauded himself for holding up very well.
"A girl," Chase said ruefully. Then he boomed
a laugh. "A girl! If that's not poetic justice, I
don't know what is. A girl! God has a terrific sense of humor."
Pat, catching his drift, began to chuckle.
Laurie looked between them, perplexed. Lucky's face turned red.
"The fastest zipper in East Texas now has a daughter," Chase said, laughing and clapping his hands together. "Oh, that's rich."
"That's not funny," Lucky grumbled.
"I don't think so either," Laurie said primly.
"It's hilarious," Chase cried. Throwing back his head, he hooted. "Wait till Sage hears about it. She'll give you grief."
"Sage! Oh, my goodness." Laurie began fishing in her handbag for coins. "She made me promise to call her the instant the baby was born. Pat, do you have some quarters?"
"I need to try Marcie again too," Chase said.
"Y'all excuse me," Lucky said. "I'm going back in to be with Devon. Stick around. They'll bring baby girl Tyler out in a few minutes."
"No name?"
"Not yet."
"We'll be right here." Laurie kissed her younger son on the cheek and gave him a bear hug. "I'm so happy for you, Lucky."
"Be happy for Devon. She did all the work."
He disappeared through doors marked delivery.
The three of them moved toward the bank of pay telephones. "Where is Marcie anyway?"
Laurie asked Chase.
"I tried calling her when we first got here.
Her secretary was about to leave for the day.
She said Marcie was showing a house, but was expected to return to the office before heading for home. She promised to leave her a message. On the outside chance they missed connections, I'm going to try calling Marcie at the house. She'll want to be here."
"Speaking of her…" From his breast pocket
Pat extracted a sheet of computer-generated data. "I just received this list of phone freaks from Dallas this morning. The technicians were thorough. The list covers the whole state and even includes suspects who were never convicted.
Course her nut might be a new one who's never been caught at it. Anyway, tell her to look it over and see if she recognizes any of the names."
Marcie's ex-fiance in Houston had been eliminated as a viable suspect. His telephone bills over the last few months showed only long-distance calls to his mother in Detroit and one to a mail order house in Pittsburgh. He had ordered a pocket calculator. He sounded like a singularly dull nerd, and that had secretly pleased Chase.
He, like any other, could be using a pay phone to make the calls, but Chase tended to agree with Marcie that this guy lacked the imagination.
It had taken longer than they had anticipated to receive the information from Dallas.
Chase was pessimistic that it would do any good, but he was heartened to know that Pat was continuing the investigation even though
the caller hadn't been heard from since the night they had involved the sheriff's office.
He hoped that something would break soon, and that it wouldn't be Marcie. The more time that passed, the more distraught she became.
She was determined to prove to him the calls were real. He had never doubted it for a moment.
He'd seen her fear; he'd held her trembling body after she'd suffered through a nightmare.
He hoped to God he never got his hands on the bastard who was putting her through this hell. He couldn't be held responsible for what he might do to him.
"Thanks, Pat." Chase took the paper from him and set it on the shelf beneath the pay phone. He dialed his home number. The tapping sound he now knew to listen for signaled that Pat hadn't stopped monitoring their telephone either.
It rang several times before he hung up and tried Marcie's office telephone. He got a recording saying that the office was closed and asking the caller to try again between nine and six the following day.
At the tone he said, "Marcie, it's me. Are you there?" He waited, but she didn't pick up the receiver as he had hoped.
"Sage is thrilled!" Laurie exclaimed as she hung up after speaking to her daughter. "She's leaving Austin now."
"That won't put her here until midnight."
Pat said, consulting his wristwatch.
"I know. I tried talking her into waiting till morning, but she insisted on coming tonight."
Mentioning the time had reminded Chase just how late it was. So much had happened since Lucky had received the call from Devon, he hadn't realized the hour had grown so late. "Who's looking at houses at this time of day?"
"Pardon?" Laurie asked him.
"Nothing. Go on back. Don't miss your granddaughter's debut. I'm going to try again to reach Marcie."
Laurie headed toward the newborns' nursery.
Pat hung back. "Chase, anything wrong?"
"No. At least I don't think so." Then he finally shook his head. "No, I'm sure there's not."
"Let me know."
"Sure. Hey, Pat." Pat had taken a few steps when Chase called his name. The sheriff turned around.
"That was some kiss."
The older man opened his mouth as though to deny all knowledge of what Chase was referring to. Then he ducked his head with chagrin.
"It sure as hell was." He and Chase smiled at each other, then Pat turned and moved down the hallway to rejoin Laurie.
Chase dialed his home number again. No answer. He called the office again. He got the recording.
Taking the telephone directory from its slot, he looked up Esme's home phone number.
"Oh, in. You still haven't talked to Marcie?"
"No. Did you speak with her before you left the office?"
"No. But I left your message on the telephone recorder and a note on her desk just in case there was a glitch with the tape. Whether she calls in or goes back to the office, she can't miss it. Was it a boy or girl?"
"What? Oh, it was a girl," he replied absently.
Where the hell could Marcie be? Shopping?
Running errands? Still showing a house?
"Esme, what time did she leave?"
"Just before six. You only missed her by a few minutes. She'd just walked out when you called the first time."
"Hmm. Who was she with? Buyers or sellers?
Was it someone she knew?"
"She wasn't with anybody. She had an appointment to meet Mr. and Mrs. Harrison at a house they're interested in."
"The infamous Harrisons?"
"The very same. Frankly, I think she's wasting her time on them, but she said you never know when clients are going to make up their minds and take the plunge."
Chase muttered his exasperation and shoved his fingers through his hair. "God only knows how long she'll be with them."
"As far as I know, they only asked to see one house tonight. It's a new listing on Sassafras Street."
"Well, thanks, Esme. Goodbye."
"I'm sure she'll be in touch soon."
He hung up. For a moment he stared at the phone, weighing his options. Marcie usually checked in with her office before going home.
Surely, one way or the other, she would get his message to come to the hospital. In the meantime he would try at intervals to reach her at home. She would never forgive herself for missing the birth of Devon's baby.
He redialed their home number. After getting no answer, he hung up impatiently, retrieved his quarter, and turned away. When he did, the computer printout Pat had given him drifted to the floor. He bent down and picked it up.
As he made his way toward the nursery, where Pat and Laurie were waiting at the large window for a first glimpse of Lucky's daughter, he scanned the sheet.
It was printed in dot matrix. The fluorescent tubes overhead almost bled the letters out. The names were in alphabetical order.
He had almost reached the midway point when his feet came to a standstill.
He gripped both sides of the sheet and raised it closer to his face so that there would be no mistaking the name. Then he crushed the paper between his hands and roared. The feral cry came up through his soul.
"No!"
Laurie and Pat whirled around, their faces registering astonishment. The bloodcurdling noise stopped a rushing intern in his tracks.
All up and down the corridor, heads turned, sensing disaster.
"Chase?" his mother asked worriedly.
Pat said, "What the hell, boy?"
Chase didn't acknowledge them. He was al
ready tearing down the corridor, knocking aside a metal cart and a nurse's aide who was dispensing fruit juice and Jell-0 to the maternity patients.
He didn't even consider taking the elevator.
It would be too slow. When he reached the door to the stairwell, he shoved it open with the heels of his hands and clambered down two flights at a run, taking several stairs at a time, hurdling the banister at every landing, his heart racing, his mind refusing to consider that, in spite of his haste, he might already be too late.
The house on Sassafras Street set well away from the street. Marcie commented on that amenity as she and her client approached the front door via a stone walkway.
"You'll notice some lichen on these stones, but plain laundry bleach kills it.
Personally, I like it. Maybe Mrs. Harrison will too," she said hopefully.
"Yeah, maybe."
Because this house had a large yard, Marcie hadn't suggested it to the Harrisons. A few weeks earlier the expansive lawn of another
house for sale had prompted a dispute between the couple. When Ralph Harrison had called and asked to see this house, Marcie had cited the yard as a possible drawback. To her surprise he had reversed his previous opinion on taking care of a large yard.
"The yard would be no problem," he had told her.
Now Marcie pointed out that even though the yard was generous, it would require minimal care. "As you can see, there's very little grass to mow. Most of it is ground cover, front and back."
"That's why I noticed the house as I passed it today. I liked it and wanted to see it right away."
"It's a shame Mrs. Harrison couldn't join us."
"She wasn't feeling well. But she was real excited about the house when I described it to her. She told me to go ahead and preview it. If I like it, she'll come see it tomorrow."
Things were looking up, Marcie thought.
This was the most cooperative the Harrisons had ever been with each other.
It was dark inside the entry alcove, but it was dry. Marcie shook out her umbrella and propped it against the exterior brick wall.
The gloom was so pervasive, she had to try the key several times before successfully opening the lock.
As soon as she cleared the front door she reached for a light switch. The chandelier in the front foyer had a bubbled, amber glass
globe that she found distinctly offensive. It cast weird shadows on the walls.
She didn't like showing houses at night.
Only rarely did a house show to its best advantage after the sun went down. For the Harrisons, however, she had made this exception.
So much time had already been invested in them, she was in so deep, she couldn't afford to stop accommodating them now. The law of averages was bound to catch up with her soon. She would sell them a house.
"The living room is spacious," she said.
"Nice fireplace. Lots of windows. Lots of natural light. Of course, you can't tell that now.
But tomorrow when Gladys comes with you, you'll see." She opened the drapes.
"I liked it better the other way," he said.
You would, she thought. She drew the heavy drapes together again and led him through a narrow dining room into the kitchen. "The garage is through that door," she told him.
"It has a built-in workbench I know you'll enjoy."
"I'm not much of a handyman."
"Hmm." She searched for something that would pique his interest. So far, he'd walked through the rooms, following closely on her heels as though he were afraid of the shadows in the vacant house, and displaying little reaction either positive or negative.
Not wanting this to take any longer than necessary, she seized the initiative and asked him point-blank,
"What do you think of the house so far, Mr. Harrison?"
"I'd like to see the rest of it."
She nodded pleasantly, but she was secretly gritting her teeth. "This way."
It was the kind of house that Marcie personally abhorred, with long, dark hallways and small enclosed rooms. But because she had wisely realized years ago that tastes were as varied as people, and because Sassafras
Street was tree lined, gracious, and underpopulated, she had aggressively gone after this listing for her agency. Maybe for the very reasons she disliked the house so much, the Harrisons would admire it.