Chuck's clothes were strewn all over the floor, and even the drawers had been pulled from the dresser by the wall. "She had the door locked," he explained. "She told me she was throwing me out, that I was part of some plot she'd dreamed up. She wasn't anything like rational, and finally, well…" Again, he shrugged then glanced at his watch. "Look, I've got to go. I've got some of Charlotte's things here, and I have to take them over to Canon City."
"I see," Sharon whispered. She gazed around the ruined room once more, then followed Chuck back down the stairs and out of the house. "It-It must have been terrible for you," she said at last as Chuck tossed the suitcase into the backseat of theLaConners ' Buick.
"It hasn't been easy," Chuck agreed as he slid in behind the wheel. His eyes met Sharon's gaze, and he hastily looked away. "But it's been a lot worse for her," he said. "I-I guess I just don't know what we're going to do now."
"If there's anything I can do," Sharon began, but Chuck waved her words away.
"I wish there were," he said sadly. "But I'm afraid there isn't. Not right now, anyway."
He started the car, then offered Sharon a lift, but she refused, and a moment later he drove away.
Sharon stood on the sidewalk, watching the Buick until it disappeared, then turned to look at the house once again.
In her memory she heard once more the disjointed telephone call in which Charlotte had pleaded for her help, and once more saw the look that had been in Charlotte's eyes on Saturday, just before Chuck had led her out of the Tanners' home.
Don't believe him, that look hadsaid.Pleasedon't believe him!
Then she pictured the chaos of the master bedroom. Though Chuck's clothes had been scattered everywhere, she hadn't seen so much as a trace of Charlotte's own clothing.
Charlotte's closet hadn't even been opened.
And yet Chuck had said he was packing Charlotte's things to take them to the hospital.
"Don't worry," Sharon said now, speaking out loud even though there was no one to hear her. "I don't believe him. I don't believe a single word he said!"
Chapter Eighteen
Sharon gazed uneasily at theTarrenTech building. She'd seen it before, of course, even admired it. It had been so perfectly designed for its environment that it almost looked like an outgrowth of the landscape itself. But now it seemed to have changed, taking on the appearance of an animal crouching in the undergrowth, awaiting its prey. But that was ridiculous, of course-it was nothing but a building, and nothing about it had changed. It was she herself who had changed, and even as she'd walked the half mile from the town out to the low building set amidst landscaped acreage, she'd felt the difference in herself. She'd tried to walk slowly, as if out for nothing more than a leisurely stroll, just in case someone happened to be watching her.
And that, too, was silly, she reminded herself now as she approached the front doors. She'd done nothing except respond to a call for help from an acquaintance. Why should people be watching her? Yet as she drew close to the entrance, she found herself glancing around uneasily, searching for the hidden cameras she knew were trained on her. But the cameras had no personal interest in her; they were nothing more than inanimate objects, continuously scanning the area around the building, alert for nothing in particular, but nevertheless recording everything that crossed their paths.
It was CharlotteLaConner's words that had put Sharon's nerves on edge, and they still echoed in her mind: "They're going to send me away. They've done something terrible with Jeff, and they don't want me to find out."
Had she meantTarrenTech, or had she meant the sports center?
Sharon had turned the words over in her mind, looking at them from every direction, and finally come to the conclusion that it didn't matter exactly what Charlotte had meant, for she was certain that one way or another the sports center, like nearly everything else in Silverdale, was totally dependent onTarrenTech for its survival. An operation like Marty Ames's couldn't possibly survive on the fees it could collect as a summer training camp for high school kids.
Unconsciously straightening her posture, Sharon pushed through the door and stepped up to the information desk, where she was met by a smiling receptionist.
"May I help you, Mrs. Tanner?"
Sharon frowned, then glanced instinctively at the girl's lapel, searching for the identification badge that allTarrenTech employees wore.
This girl wore none.
The girl's smile broadened as she realized Sharon's dilemma. "I'm Sandy Davis," she said. "And you don't know me. The security system did a photo comparison on you, so I knew who you were even before you came into the building."
Sharon's body stiffened. A photo checkofher? But why? And how? She'd never given the company a picture of herself- they'd never even asked for one. But of course the answer was obvious: the cameras in San Marcos had recorded her comings and goings, and no doubt images of her "had been transmitted to Silverdale along with the personnel files on Blake. Still, there was something eerie about it all, something creepy about knowing that she'd been spotted and identified even before she'd entered the building. She returned Sandy Davis's smile, hoping her nervousness wasn't showing.
"If you'll just tell me where my husband's office is?"
"Just down the hall to the left, turn right, and it's in the far corner, near Mr. Harris's."
Sharon started walking down the long corridor, but now that she was inside the building, the strange sensation of being watched was even stronger. She felt the hairs on the nape of her neck standing on end. Her step instinctively quickened, and she had to remind herself to appear as though nothing was wrong. By the time she reached Blake's suite, she was walking at a normal pace again. As soon as she stepped into the outer office, his secretary-another woman whom Sharon had never met-offered her a warm smile that was almost an exact copy of Sandy Davis's. "He's on the phone right now, but I slipped him a message that you're here," she said, after introducing herself with a firm handshake. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"
Sharon shook her head, and almost immediately the inner door opened and Blake stepped out. "This is a pleasant surprise," he said, smiling a welcome. "What are you doing all the way out here?"
Sharon quickly blurted out the first thing that came into her mind. "The car," she said. "I wanted to do some shopping, and the list was too long for my cart." Then she glanced at the secretary out of the corner of her eye. "Could we go inside?"
Blake looked puzzled, but he nodded and held the door open for her. It was Sharon herself who closed it when they were both in his office. He cocked his head. "What's going on that you don't want Ellen to hear?"
"It's CharlotteLaConner," she said, automatically lowering her voice. Carefully trying not to betray the emotions churning inside her, she explained to Blake what had happened. When she was finished, Blake looked at her, bewildered.
"You came all the way out here to tell me that?" he asked. "That Charlotte's had a breakdown? Honey, we both saw that coming a couple of days ago."
"It's not that," Sharon said nervously. "At least not quite. It's whatshesaid. That 'they' had done something to Jeff. I think she must have been referring to the sports center."
"Or the great communist conspiracy," Blake observed archly. At the hurt he saw in Sharon's eyes, he tried to soften his words. "I didn't mean that," he said apologetically. "But we know Charlotte was getting paranoid, and with paranoia-"
"Was she?" Sharon interrupted. "I don't think we know that at all. We know she was upset, and she had every right to be. After what happened with Jeff, why wouldn't she be?"
Blake took a deep breath, then lowered himself into the chair behind his desk. "All right," he said. "What's on your mind? It's not just Charlotte, is it?"