"You don't need to watch my back, or Sheila's. I can take care of her. You've got no right to push your way into our lives. This is my home and you don't belong here. The next time I find you within a hundred yards of my property, I'll call the cops."
Tony shook his head like I was a slow learner. "I see how much the cops have done for you so far. Honey, Greensboro's a small town. Your police haven't seen anything like what's headed your way if Vernell don't turn up."
I didn't know what to say, and fortunately I didn't have to say anything. Sheila walked back out onto the deck, the cordless phone in her hand, a stricken, colorless look replacing the carefree manner of a few moments before.
"Mama," she said, her voice small and childlike. "Somebody wants to kill Daddy."
I reached her as the sobs started, taking her into my arms. "What happened, baby?" I asked. Sheila was shaking.
"Somebody… somebody just said if Daddy didn't get the money back, people were gonna keep dying." Sheila pushed away from my shoulder and looked at me. "What did he mean, Mama? What's going on?"
Tony was standing up, his massive frame becoming a shield between us and the outside.
"Maggie, let's go inside. And for heaven's sake, turn off some of those damn lights and pull the curtains."
I didn't see the gun in his hand until we were in the house. He shoved it back into the back of his waistband, keeping it hidden by his black leather jacket. We both moved around the house, turning out some of the lights, pulling curtains and lowering blinds. The trouble with my house is, it's filled with windows-good for sunlight and good for target shooting, if you're the shooter, that is.
Tony led us into the narrow, windowless hallway between the kitchen and the dining room and prepared to hold council. Sheila was still crying, but softer now. She trembled as if she were cold, but I knew she was terrified. I was shaking for the same reason.
"All right," he said. "I'm gonna shoot straight with you, kid. Your dad's in a lot of trouble. Along about the time he disappeared, a lot of money vanished. Unfortunately, the man loaning your dad the cash is dead and your dad's the missing link. So people are looking for your pa, and as you just heard, they're not nice guys." Tony stopped and looked at Sheila, checking to see that she followed what he was saying.
Sheila looked up at him and nodded softly.
"I'm trying like hell to find him before they do," Tony said. "But I can't do that if I have two jobs to worry about."
Sheila looked puzzled. "What two jobs?" she asked.
Tony smiled gently, and for a moment all the menace was lost from his face. "I can't watch after you and find him. I'm going to have to ask you to help me out."
Sheila could only nod.
Tony looked at me. "Is there a safe place where you can go?" he asked.
I thought about Jack's and discarded it instantly. If Marshall Weathers could find me there, so could they. There was only one place for Sheila, back home with her Aunt Darlene and Uncle Earl. No one would find her there, and if they did, they'd sure be sorry. I thought of Earl's shotgun and his passel of guard dogs and smiled.
"Sure," I said, "I've got a place." But I wasn't stupid or foolish enough to tell him about it. Sure, he seemed like he only had our interests at heart, but I'd seen his eyes. And Tony was getting paid by someone to find Vernell. Until I knew more about that, I wouldn't trust Tony Carlucci with any information.
"I'm not going anywhere," Sheila said suddenly. "I'm gonna stay here and look for my dad."
"Sheila, there's nothing you can do. It's too dangerous." I'd figure out what to tell her about why I was coming back later. For now, I only needed to get her away from here.
"Sheila," Tony said, "I need you to help me by staying away." He was looking into her eyes, his hand resting on her shoulder. "If I'm not worried about you, I can work faster to find your dad. Besides," he added, "the quicker I find your dad, the quicker you and I can go back out cruising on my bike."
Sheila smiled.
"What? You took her on your motorcycle?"
Sheila and Carlucci both smiled at me indulgently. "Like, of course, Mama," Sheila said. "How else would I have gotten home? I mean, you did send him to get me, right?"
Behind her Tony smiled and shrugged his shoulders, as if saying "What else could I tell her?"
I sighed. They had me. "Well, that was just this once," I said. "I don't think you'll be riding on that thing anymore."
"Right," Sheila said, like she totally intended to follow my directions.
"Pack," I said. "You'll have to do it without turning on any lights. So do it fast and don't bring the entire universe with you."
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Sheila, what does it matter? You'll be missing school and on vacation. I'll tell you all about it later."
Tony Carlucci wasn't fooled. He waited until she stalked off to her room before he started up again.
"You're staying there with her," he said.
"No I'm not." I tried to brush past him, but he grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, forcing me back against the wall.
"Let go of me," I said.
"Not until you listen," he said, his voice barely audible above the sound of Sheila's CD player. "You are worthless in this situation. This is what I do for a living. I find people. Just stay out of everybody's hair and let me do my job."
His fingers bit into my flesh, and when I glared back at him I was frightened by the intensity of the anger I saw there.
"All right, fine," I said. Let him think whatever he wanted. I just wanted to get away from him. Anybody can charm a schoolgirl, I thought, but it takes more than a cheap smile to put one over on Maggie Reid. I was coming back to town just as soon as I dropped Sheila off with her Aunt Darlene and Uncle Earl.
Carlucci could look for people all day long, but he didn't know Vernell like I did. I'd see the signs or read the clues far better than he or Weathers could do, and I cared far more about my ex-husband than outsiders ever could. I was coming back, all right, and Carlucci could just deal with it. That is, if he saw me before I saw him.
Chapter Thirteen
Sheila made the trip to Danville a living hell. She didn't want to ride in my car. She didn't want to leave without her CD player. She didn't think the towels I piled on the seats would keep her designer jeans dry. She complained about the smell, the drive, not having a cell phone like all her friends had, and not even owning a pager.
"Mama," she said, "if only I had a phone or a pager, then Daddy could've called me and told me where he was going."
So that was what was at the bottom of all this. "If onlys" were attacking Sheila. If only she'd been available; if only she'd stayed closer to home; if only she'd been the perfect child, her daddy wouldn't have left. I shook my head. I'd seen this same behavior when Vernell had left us for Jolene, the lovely Dish Girl.
"Baby," I said, reaching over to turn down the screaming radio, "if your daddy could've called you, he would've. If he's in trouble it's on account of not seeing what was coming, being blindsided." I patted her knee. "Sweetie, Daddy's a survivor. He'll be all right."
"Mama, my psychology teacher says what you're doing is called denial."
"And what your psychology teacher knows about the real world could be…" I bit my tongue. This would get us nowhere.
Sheila humphed and looked away. I tried again. "Baby, I know you're worried sick about him, but he'll turn up."
Sheila whipped back around. "Yeah," she said, "but will he be dead or alive?"
I was saved from answering her by our arrival at Darlene's trailer. We turned off the two-lane into a narrow dirt drive that was rutted with potholes. Darlene's husband, Earl, says he doesn't level it out more often on account of how it keeps trespassers away. What Earl isn't taking into account is the way it tears up a welcome visitor's car and shortens the life of Earl's own vehicles.