“We’re here because her younger sister is missing. Tiffany Durand,” Tony explained. “You probably heard about it on the news.”
The doctor stared at Tony for a moment, then looked back to the patient. “I’m so sorry to hear this. Can you breathe more slowly, Mrs. Gates? Deep and slow.”
Alexander tucked the stethoscope earpieces into place and positioned the diaphragm on Joanna’s chest. Joanna abruptly stopped breathing or at least stopped gasping. Tony leaned to see past the doctor. Joanna stared, wide-eyed and unmoving, at the other woman.
Was she purposely not gasping anymore?
Joanna bolted upright. “I feel fine now.” She started to yank EKG wires off her chest. “I just need to get back to the hotel and lie down.”
The doctor stared at her, surprise or shock or something on that order on her face.
Joanna hopped off the exam table and rushed from the room, yanking her sweater down as she went.
“I apologize for my wife,” Tony said, hoping to salvage the moment. He had no idea what just happened. “As you can imagine she’s very upset. It’s been a week and her sister is still missing.”
“It’s a terrible situation.” Alexander hung the stethoscope around her neck. “I’m afraid I don’t really know much about it—other than what I’ve seen on the news.”
“Tiffany was a patient of yours,” Tony said. “You prescribed her birth control.”
“I have other patients, Mr. Gates.”
The doctor rushed from the room. The nurse shrugged. “It’s been that kind of day. I was really sorry to hear about Tiffany and Vickie. They’re both really nice girls.” She smiled. “Nicer than most.”
Tony smiled sadly. “Thank you for telling me that. We’re so worried that Tiffany met some guy who’s taken advantage of her.”
The nurse, Renae, nodded. “They were both here at the beginning of the month for physicals. Neither was—” she lowered her voice “—sexually active. At least they insisted they weren’t—but Dr. Alexander likes to urge the girls to take precautions.”
Tony grabbed the nurse and hugged her. “Thank you.” He dug in his pocket for one of his business cards. Plain white with only his name and cell number printed on the front. He placed it in her hand. “Please call me if you think of anything that might help us find the girls.”
The nurse nodded. “Sure.”
As Tony headed for the door, she said, “Didn’t you say your name is Gates?”
Tony glanced back at her, pressing a finger to his lips. “That’s my stage name. I’m an actor. Gates is my real name.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened and she grinned. “I thought you looked familiar.” She pressed a finger to her lips as if trying to place his face. She shook her head. “I can’t think of the movie, but it’ll come to me.”
Tony flashed her a wink and hurried out of the building. Joanna was already in the car, seat belt fastened.
As soon as he dropped behind the wheel, she said, “I need to get away from this place.”
“You recognized her.” He backed out of the slot and put the BMW in Drive.
“More important—” Joanna blew out a breath and nodded toward the clinic where the slats of a blind abruptly fell back into place “—she recognized me.”
22
10:00 a.m.
Jo locked the bathroom door and walked to the sink basin and stared at her reflection in the mirror. They’d made it all of a mile from the clinic when she’d told Tony she needed a bathroom.
He’d swerved into the first gas station they encountered and she’d scrambled out of the car.
Voices from eighteen years ago whispered through her mind. She’d had light brown, shoulder-length hair back then. No lines around her eyes like now. She’d wanted so badly to move on to the next phase of her life. Mostly she wanted a relationship. All through high school and so far in college, she’d been the friend. Nobody’s girlfriend. She’d thought that would happen in college. For Christ’s sake she had lost the weight. The braces were gone.
She’d heard other girls talking about being on the Pill. Why not be prepared? She carried condoms in her bag. Why not take the next step?
The doctor had noticed her birthmark.
Jo lifted her sweatshirt and looked at the rectangular shape that was several shades lighter than the rest of her skin. She’d always hated it. What kind of birthmark was shaped like the state of Tennessee?
She walked over to the toilet, closed the lid and sat down. She rummaged in her bag for the cigarettes and lighter. She fished a smoke out of the pack and jammed it between her lips, but didn’t possess the wherewithal to light it.
Squeezing her eyes shut she tried to remember why she had come here. What did she really expect to accomplish? Ellen was dead. What difference did it make if she uncovered the name or names of the person or persons responsible for what happened to them? It wouldn’t bring Ellen back. Wouldn’t give comfort to her husband and children. Or her parents and little sister...
Ellen didn’t really have a little sister.
Jo opened her eyes. She tore the unlit cigarette out of her mouth and tossed it into the trash can. The pack and the lighter followed. She didn’t want to smoke; she wanted to make the bastards who had damaged and taken so many lives pay.
She dragged out her cell phone and stared at the recent calls list—Ellen’s number.
It had been years after what happened before Ellen had told Jo about the child. Right after the semester ended and they both went back to their respective homes, Ellen had discovered that she was pregnant. The first missed period hadn’t surprised her considering what they’d been through, but when she missed the second one she knew something was wrong.
Several home pregnancy tests had confirmed her worst fears. She was pregnant. Since, like Jo, she’d been a virgin before the abduction, the baby unquestionably belonged to her rapist. For weeks she had toyed with the idea of an abortion. Her parents had stepped up and assured Ellen that they would support whatever decision she made. A compromise of sorts was reached when her parents offered to raise the child as their own, allowing the baby to believe it was Ellen’s younger sister. Ellen would only have to miss the fall semester of school, and then she could get on with her life. Ellen had agreed. After all, she’d insisted, it wasn’t the child’s fault. The baby was innocent.
Jo hadn’t been very kind about the news when Ellen told her. She’d made a remark about how she should have aborted it. The kid would probably grow up to be a monster just like her father.
Ellen hadn’t called her again for a long time after that.
Jo had never apologized. She should have. Goddamn it, she should have.
She bit her lip and blinked repeatedly to hold back the tears.
Who’re you crying for? Your friend or yourself?
Ellen had not really been her friend—just her partner in tragedy.
Later Ellen had told Jo that maybe she had been right after all. The girl had problems. She’d been diagnosed with some sort of severe mental disorder. Jo had felt like a total asshole.
The damned tears she’d tried to hold back slid down her cheeks. It wasn’t her fault Ellen got pregnant or that her baby was ill. Ellen had made her own choices.
Yet, somehow it felt like Jo’s fault. She should have been a better friend. She should have answered when Ellen called that last time before she took her life...
But she hadn’t. She’d been selfish and uncaring.
She swiped the dampness from her cheeks and pressed the number for Ellen’s phone. Two rings later Ellen’s husband answered.
The man was keeping his dead wife’s phone charged and handy. How pathetic was that? Jo wouldn’t know because she’d never had a man besides her father who cared enough about her to want to call her again much less hang on to any part of her.
“Hey, Art. This is Joanna. How’s Alton?”
As Ellen’s husband explained that they’d gotten to go home today, Jo unrolled enough toilet paper to dry up the damned flood of tears flowing down her cheeks.
“Good. I’m glad he’s getting better. And Elle?”