Payne & Misery Page 6

  Jesse slammed the Jeep door with unnecessary force. At this stage in his fatigue, I knew better than to comment, even in sympathy, so I returned to my reverie.

  Although afraid of horses, Molly instinctively loved sheep. For a few months, Jesse accompanied her to herd dog training. A quick study, Molly immediately demonstrated aptitude for sheep work. Jesse, however, needed further training. Molly’s vocabulary comprised an amazing variety of verbal commands, including “go find the cat,” if on occasion I couldn’t get a stubborn cat to come inside at night. Working with the sheep proved more play than work for her. I pictured Molly’s ears flowing in the wind as she darted in and out, corralling the stubborn sheep, obeying the trainer’s commands with amazing inborn skill.

  Otherworldly luminescence hovered over the terrain on this night before the full moon. Nevertheless, our field of vision didn’t extend far enough into the darkness to find a black-and-white animal in a black-and-gray-world where shadows blurred distinct features. After a mile or so, Jesse stopped the car and turned to face me. “We’ll have to wait ’til daylight. Sorry, Christine.”

  Tears inundated my eyes. We hadn’t seen an injured or dying dog by the side of the road. For that I should be grateful. But where could she be? Never before in all her twelve years with us had she gone off alone without coming back when we called. Someone or something must be restraining her. I knew just who that would be.

  As we returned home, the gray house loomed before us in the headlights. The night shadows and eerie lighting made the house look even more malicious than in daylight. Could there be a legitimate reason why that strange man had watched Molly? I couldn’t think of one.

  A torrent of sadness cascaded over me. “We’ve got to find her, Jesse. And we’ll have to go in that house to do it.”

  9

  CHAPTER NINE

  I didn’t sleep much, tossing and turning for hours. Exhaustion overcame me at last, and I lay still in a puddle of wakeful memories and thoughts. Jesse enjoyed the contented slumber of those who get up early, exert themselves in the hot sunshine, and then drive for hours to get home.

  Through the sleepless hours, I sorted and rearranged the odd cluster of events surrounding the disappearance of our dog. What did she see down by the fence? Maybe that man did hide a body in the boxes piled just below our pasture. Did he take our dog to warn me to stay away from Lila? Swirling around such musings, recollections of Molly wove in and out like colorful ribbons fluttering away in the wind.

  I rolled to one side, pulling the comforter to my chin. Maybe Will Payne didn’t take her. But if not, where could she be? I hoped she would stay warm and dry and find her way home in the morning.

  At some point I must’ve fallen asleep, because Jesse’s stirring awakened me. I squinted at the clock through puffy eye slits to see seven o’clock in red numbers.

  Jesse hunched on the side of the bed. “Are we going to church this morning?”

  “Oh, it’s Sunday.” I stared into Molly’s sleeping crate. For the first time since we brought her home as a curly-haired puppy, I didn’t see her brown eyes peeking back through the door. A huge knot lodged in my throat.

  A groan escaped when I flopped onto my stomach. “Do we have to?” I had no desire to make the effort.

  Jesse stood and stretched his arms over his head. “Church would be a good thing today. We need encouragement. We’ll look for Molly as soon as we get home.”

  Turning over, I pulled the covers around my neck. “But I don’t want to. How can I think about anything but Molly?”

  He patted my leg and pretended not to hear. Men are good at selective hearing. Especially Jesse, whose escalating hearing loss gave him continual opportunities not to hear what I said. He just didn’t want to hear me. Not anymore.

  I rolled out of bed, mumbling these sentiments to myself.

  Hoping for distraction while I dressed, I switched on the TV news after my shower.

  A well-coiffed lady in a tidy blue suit maintained a respectful serious face. “And in local news, a fatal hit-and-run last evening claimed the life of a four-year-old Nevada City boy. Police are searching for anyone who saw or heard the accident. So far, they have no leads. In other developments …”

  “What’s that?” Jesse asked from the doorway.

  “Just more bad news.” I pressed the off button. So much pain in the world. “I don’t know why I ever watch TV anymore.”

  We finished dressing in silence. Jesse didn’t sing. Most mornings, he belted out snippets of tunes while he dressed. He wove songs into an amusing jumble, liberally mix-matching lyrics and melodies from his extensive repertoire.

  Although I love to sing, I never sang with Jesse because he unpredictably moved to the next song whenever he ran out of words. Besides, I never knew what tune he would use. I often complained about his truncated crooning but missed it when he didn’t sing.

  Along the drive to town, we hunted for some sign of the dog. I tried not to blink as I scanned the shoulder and down the side of the roads, thinking if Molly had been hurt, she might’ve dragged herself out of the street and into a ditch somewhere. No matter how hard I looked, no dog appeared, hurt or otherwise.

  “Where could she be?”

  Jesse shook his head. “I don’t know, Christine.”

  Tears bubbled into my eyes. “Well, I know. That man

  took her.”

  “You’re jumping to conclusions again. The neighbor has no reason to take her.” Jesse smiled weakly and patted my knee. “Don’t worry. We’ll find her.”

  If only I could be so sure.

  While walking through the church parking lot, we caught up with the Callahans. For a change, Ed wore black slacks and a sports jacket. Church seemed to be the only place he wore anything besides plaid golf pants and a bright golf shirt. I greeted them and added, “Molly’s missing.”

  Zora Jane gathered her gray wool coat tighter around her until the fake fur collar haloed her face. “Your dog? What do you mean missing?”

  Jesse caught up with us. “Missing as in we can’t find her. We hunted all over the property. Even drove the neighborhood last night, but not a sign of her.”

  Ed’s frown made deep furrows that extended into where his hairline used to be before he shaved his head. “Has she ever gone out of bounds before?” Ed frequently salted his speech with golf terms. Maybe because he hadn’t considered anything unrelated to golf since his retirement.

  Tears filled my eyes again. “Never. It’s just not like her.”

  Zora Jane laid her hand on my arm. “Oh, my dear. How long has she been gone?”

  I blinked hard. “Since yesterday. Last night, actually.”

  They glanced at each other and grins broke out.

  Next they’d say she hasn’t been gone long and (pat, pat) don’t worry, she’ll probably be home by the time you get back. Didn’t anyone ever take me seriously? I sniffed. “She never stayed away all night before.”

  Zora Jane threw one arm around me and, sure enough, she patted my shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll come home soon. We’ll keep our eyes open for her too.”

  I stiffened and bit my lip. At their urging, we resumed our amble toward the sanctuary until Ed hauled up, his expression a study in concern. “Have you looked in the woods behind your house? The trees and brush are real thick there. If she fell down one of those slopes, she might get stuck at the bottom.”

  I froze in mid-step. Another frightening possibility I’d never considered. Thick woods covered the north and rear of our lot, continuing behind the Paynes’ property. Vines entwined the trees, dense and impenetrable. We didn’t even know whether fences marked our property boundaries hidden in those woods. After we heard that the woods were full of wild creatures, we’d never been brave enough to hunt for fences. I shuddered as panic invaded my chest.

  Jesse’s expression brightened. “Good idea.”

  Ed slapped Jesse on the back. “Wear thick boots and long pants, Ace. And tuck your shirt in—your pan
ts too. Snakes and ticks live in those woods.”

  Snakes and ticks! My hand covered my mouth as I winced.

  Ed screwed up his face, imitating a lunatic. “And watch out for that old duffer who’s been sleeping in the woods. They say he’s crazy as a sandbagger.”

  At my horrified gasp, Zora Jane punched Ed in the arm. “Come on, Ed. We don’t want to scare them away completely.”

  I glared at Ed for making jokes at my expense.

  Ed leaned toward me, his voice thickly accented with a Boris Karloff quality. “Take care. They say a crazy tramp lives in those woods.”

  Jesse grinned. “Bring him on. We can take him. We’ll do just about anything to find Molly.”

  Sure, laugh. But what would we have to do to find Molly? Queasiness in the pit of my stomach predicted that before this ordeal ended, I’d find myself in more than a few places beyond my comfort zone.

  I don’t remember much about the sermon or any other part of the service, except one comforting song that promised God’s love for all living creatures. Mostly, our upcoming foray into the woods consumed my thoughts.

  The ten-mile road from Grass Valley back to our house snaked through lush trees and neighborhoods over a succession of hills and dales as the elevation declined. Jesse appeared deep in thought, so I stared out the window, praying for a successful search. But did God care what happened to Molly? Or would he dismiss Molly as being only a dog?

  Although emotionally detached most of the time, now and then Jesse could be spot-on in tune with my thoughts—maybe because we’d spent so many years together. Just then, he read my mind. “I asked God to keep Molly safe. Do you think he answers prayers about animals?”

  My immediate answer flew out as much to convince myself as to persuade Jesse. “He made them, didn’t he?”

  Jesse glanced my way, offering a tentative smile.

  A childhood memory flashed to mind. I looked away. Should I share it? The wonder of it had not dimmed over the years. Maybe this would be beneficial just now, if he would listen.

  I faced Jesse, laying my hand on his arm. “When I was a girl, our boxer, Rexanne, had a big litter of puppies. I picked out one with lots of personality and named him Wiggles.”

  Jesse jerked his head, frowning at me. “Wiggles?”

  I nodded, searching his eyes. I could never tell whether he made fun of me or not.

  He returned to watching the road. “Very imaginative name.”

  I shrugged. “I was just a kid. What do you want? My imagination hadn’t developed yet.”

  He let out a tiny “Ha!”

  “Anyway, one day I found a hard growth about the size of a walnut on his neck. He lay so still. Didn’t want to eat. My mother said not to touch him because I might hurt him. She told me to leave him in his box. She didn’t think he’d live.”

  Now for the wondrous part. I bent toward Jesse to see if he was listening.

  “And?” he asked without looking my way. “Can’t you tell this without the drama?”

  I flopped back in my seat. Did I really want to share my wonderful story?

  He sighed. “Go on. I’m listening.”

  I stared out the side window, knowing he’d have trouble hearing if I didn’t face him. “That afternoon, I sat on the front steps holding Wiggles as tight as I could in my little girl arms and prayed for God to heal him. Next morning, the lump was gone.”

  Jesse slowed the car and leaned toward me. “What?”

  I stared at him before the words rushed out. “The lump went away after I prayed.”

  He blinked before turning back to the road. “And you think God healed him?”

  For a moment, a slight smile played on his lips and I feared he might break into laughter.

  I looked out the window again. “That’s what I thought at the time.”

  I guess I did have one answered childhood prayer after all—God answered my prayer for Wiggles.

  When we rounded the next corner, Jesse grabbed the steering wheel with both hands.

  Racing toward us, a weathered white pickup careened into our section of the road.

  In a millisecond, Jesse yanked the wheel to the left. “Hang on!”

  I screamed and grabbed the door handle to keep from falling.

  Tree branches scraped the side of the Jeep. Dust swirled, mixing with exhaust fumes as spinning tires sought traction in the sandy shoulder. Taking sudden hold, the Jeep fishtailed back onto the pavement.

  At the same time, a white blur whizzed by and continued its erratic rush out of sight around another bend. I twisted my head to look out the back window. “Did you see that guy? Was that the neighbor’s truck?”

  Jesse re-adjusted the rearview mirror as if the encounter threw the whole car out of alignment. “He came out of nowhere. Want me to turn around and follow?”

  “Do you mind?” My heart still pounded from the near miss. “I guess he does go out every day after all. That’s not my imagination.”

  Changing direction on the narrow roadway took more time than we anticipated. Jesse accelerated to decrease the gap between us. After a few minutes, we came to the stop sign at the end of the street. I looked both directions but didn’t see a white pickup anywhere. Where had he gone? Did he go the same place every morning?

  Questions about Will Payne just kept piling up. Why couldn’t we find any answers?

  10

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Which way?” Jesse pulled onto the shoulder, turning his head from one side to the other as he waited for direction. To the right, the street we usually took into town wound through the trees. Left led to Highway 49, bypassing Grass Valley.

  A car behind us slowed before continuing around the Jeep. The occupants peered askance at us as they passed. I offered a weak smile and a shrug.

  I fidgeted, expecting my instinctual direction finder to kick in. Sometimes I have a good sense of direction and have guessed correctly more often than not in our travels.

  Patience had never been Jesse’s strong suit. His fingers tapped the steering wheel while he monitored oncoming traffic in the rearview mirror. “Christine?”

  No matter how hard I concentrated, I had no idea which way to turn. “I … don’t know.”

  He pursed his lips.

  I didn’t want him to lose his temper; not while I needed his help. “Maybe we could go after him another time. Anyway, if there are leftover clues to Molly’s whereabouts, they’re getting colder by the minute.”

  Jesse agreed, so we returned home to change clothes.

  Mindful of Ed Callahan’s warning, we outfitted ourselves in pants tucked into hiking boots and long-sleeved shirts tucked into work gloves. We advanced along the fence around our yard—heads bowed to search for anything we might have missed in the dark— but found nothing out of the ordinary.

  Hands planted on my hips, I scanned the yard. She couldn’t have disappeared without leaving a single trace. I felt my blood pressure elevate a few degrees.

  Jesse linked his arm with mine. “Not time to worry, Christine. We haven’t scouted the woods yet.”

  When I didn’t move, he tugged me toward him. Arm in arm, we marched to the gate on the wooded end of our yard. From there, we had to continue single file along the narrow dirt footpath meandering into the trees. I followed Jesse, treading as if on cat paws. The deeper we tramped into the woods, the more vegetation blocked our way. Soon, we lost the path altogether.

  Jesse stopped and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Molly. Molly.”

  A tree branch crashed to the ground. We stood still to listen.

  No Molly.

  Jesse pivoted 180 degrees and called in the opposite direction. “Molly.” After maybe half a minute of silence, we returned to thrashing through the undergrowth.

  Ahead, something scurried in the leaves.

  I froze. “What was that?”

  “Squirrels. Or birds, maybe. Something small.”

  “Sure it wasn’t a snake?”

  Jesse smirk
ed. “Couldn’t be a snake. Moved too fast.”

  I picked my way through the brush, arms bent and pinned to my chest. By affecting various intricate contortions, I managed minimal contact with tree branches and plants. Jesse disappeared ahead, intruding on the forest like a bulldozer.

  After a few minutes, he backtracked, scowling when he found me. “What are you doing back here?”

  “Trying not to touch anything.”

  “Why?”

  “There might be ticks on these trees.”

  He waved his arms. “For Pete’s sake, Christine! Of course, there are ticks. Ticks and all kinds of icky bugs. Don’t be a whiny baby. You can’t avoid them in these dense woods. Not with all the deer. Just push through. Think of it as … an adventure.” He crashed forward into the brush.

  I’d rather not have this kind of adventure, thank you, but soon I had to accept the impossibility of avoiding the trees. I took a deep breath, extended both arms in front, and closed my eyes for a moment before setting out again. Somehow, I managed to pull through the tangle, ducking under limbs and breaking branches as I forged ahead. I banished thoughts of ticks, but then I thought of Molly. Where would Will hide her?

  Here and there, I sighted bare ground peeking through. Every now and then, I spied a footprint—deer and lots of smaller ones like raccoons or squirrels—but nothing I thought the right size or shape to be Molly’s.

  By plodding steadily, I soon caught up to where Jesse stopped to call again. Through my shirtsleeve, I scratched a spot that felt like a bug bite. “Are we still on our property?”

  “Don’t know.” Jesse glanced back the way we’d come. “No telling where we are at this point.” He turned, staring into the woods on all sides. “Wish I’d brought a compass.”