“I have a job, Eddie! I’m raising two kids.”
“I mean a real job.”
“That is a real job, Eddie.”
“Yes, I know, you’ve told me at least—”
“And I’d have what you call a real job if—”
“Yes, here we go again.”
“Yes, if I’d gone in with Denise when she—”
“Right, you’d be a big movie producer now.”
“I’d be somebody, Eddie. Instead of a person whose husband thinks raising two kids isn’t a real—”
“Oh, fuck the kids!” he shouts.
“Don’t you dare…”
“You keep using the kids as an excuse for—”
She rushes him with her fists clenched and raised, her eyes blazing, ready to strike him for what he just said.
“No, Mommy!”
Jamie’s voice.
She turns. He is standing in the doorway to his bedroom, tears in his eyes.
“Don’t hurt Daddy,” he says.
She takes him in her arms.
She hugs him close.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”
Three weeks later, Eddie drowned at sea.
And she wonders now if Jamie stopped talking only because he overheard their bitter argument and somehow blamed Alice for what happened out there in the Gulf of Mexico.
Ashley is talking in whispers because she doesn’t want her father or Christine to hear what she’s saying. She knows they are going to get under way as soon as it’s dark. She has heard them discussing this. She is afraid of what might happen after they get under way.
“What Daddy said is that he kidnapped us, do you know what that means, ‘kidnapped’?”
Jamie nods and pulls a face.
“And he asked for a ransom, do you know what ‘ransom’ is?”
Jamie rolls his eyes heavenward.
“So what he told Christine is that he can’t just let us go, he’s got to figure out what to do with us.”
Jamie looks puzzled.
“I think he’s afraid we’ll tell on him,” Ashley says.
Jamie is listening intently now.
“I think he’s going to drown us, Jamie.”
They get their first real clue on a call they make to Calusa Springs. The woman at Barker Real Estate there says, “What’s all this sudden interest?”
“What do you mean, sudden interest?” Sally asks.
“Second call we’ve had today about a black woman and a blonde,” the woman says.
“Oh?” Sally says. “What do you mean?”
Alert now. Alice senses this in her posture, her entire attitude. Doesn’t know exactly what Sally’s hearing on that telephone, but realizes it may be important.
”Policeman called here an hour or so ago,” the woman tells Sally. “Said he was trying to locate two women traveling together, a blonde and a black woman, who may have rented recently here in Calusa Springs. I told him I hadn’t rented any property to any people answering that description.”
“Nor anybody named Clara Washington, is that right?” Sally asks at once.
“Now how do you know that name?” the woman asks.
“How do you know that name?” Sally asks.
“She called me, had to be two months ago, said she’d seen on the Internet I had some cottages for rent, wondered how much they were renting for and whether I had one available for April and May.”
“Called from where?”
“New Orleans.”
“This was when did you say?”
“Had to be the middle of March.”
“Said her name was Clara Washington?”
“Yes, she did.”
“Did she give you an address where you could reach her?”
“No, but she gave me a phone number. Is she wanted for something?”
“May I have that number, ma’am?”
“Well, I don’t have it anymore, I’m sorry. I told her I’d need a hundred-dollar deposit if she wanted me to hold the rental and I also told her I could only hold the reservation for ten days. When I didn’t hear from her again, I tossed the number.”
“But it was a number in New Orleans, is that correct?”
“It was a 5-0-4 area code. That’s New Orleans, isn’t it?”
“That sure is New Orleans, ma’am. Tell me about this policeman who called you. Did he give you a name?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Would you happen to remember it?”
“Well, it was only an hour or so ago, I guess I can remember it.”
“Can you tell me what it was?”
“Ralph Masters,” the woman says.
Sally merely nods.
Alice knows she’s onto something. Maybe there’s a God, after all.
“Thank you very much,” Sally says, and hangs up, and turns to where Carol is sitting alongside her sister on the living room sofa.
“Mrs. Matthews?” she says.
“Yes?” Carol says.
“Your husband’s name is Rafe, isn’t it? Rafe Matthews?”
“Yes?”
“He ever use the name Ralph Masters?”
“No. Ralph Masters? No. Why would he?”
“Just curious,” Sally says. “His own initials being RM and all. Maybe he’s sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.” She turns immediately to Alice. “We’re going to have to leave you for a while,” she says.
“What is it?” Alice asks.
“Clara Washington called Florida from New Orleans. If the phone company can give us the information we need—”
“What’s my husband got to do with this woman?” Carol asks.
“He called Calusa Springs to ask about her maybe renting there.”
“That’s not likely,” Carol says, shaking her head. “Rafe’s on the road to Atlanta. In fact, he’s probably home by now.”
“Maybe so,” Sally says, and turns to Sloate. She is all efficiency now, not a wasted motion, not a wasted word. “You and Marcia might want to go back to your office, too, Wilbur.”
“What for?” Sloate asks.
“Help us find that number Clara Washington called from in the middle of March. From someplace in New Orleans to Barker Realty in Calusa Springs. Knowing how cooperative…”
She lands heavily on the word, almost sneering, almost spitting it out.
“…the phone company can be…”
Stressing that word, too.
“…maybe we should all try our luck.”
“What’s happening?” Alice asks. “Can you please tell me?”
“Will you be okay here alone?” Sally asks.
“She won’t be alone,” Carol says pointedly.
“Here’s where you can reach me if you need me,” Sally says, and hands Alice a card with the FBI seal on it. Not two minutes later, she is out the door.
“I need a road map,” Carol says, and goes out to the Explorer.
“Where’s Calusa Springs?” she asks Alice.
The map is open on the kitchen table.
“About a half hour south of here,” Alice says. “On U.S. 41.”
“Why would Rafe be phoning a town south of here, if he was heading north to Atlanta?”
“I don’t know,” Alice says.
She is wondering what Sally Ballew plans to do with a New Orleans phone number, if ever the phone company gives her one. She is wondering how a New Orleans phone number will help them locate Clara Washington — if that’s her name — and the blonde woman who together have stolen her children.
“Why would he call a real estate agent at all?” Carol wonders out loud. “And what did she mean about him using the name Ralph Masters?”