The phone rang once, but she left it alone. No one would be calling her. She began to worry that Nest would miss her and come after her before Penny arrived. She brought her small bag to the front door and stood looking out at the streetlit darkness. Cars came and went, a few, not many, indistinct and hazy lumps in the blowing snow. She wondered if it would snow all night. She wondered if the bus would be on time. She wished she had a fix.
By the time a car finally pulled into the driveway her anticipation and need were so high she could feel her skin crawl. She peeked out from behind the window curtain, uncertain who it was, torn between hiding and charging out. When the driver's door opened and Penny's Little Orphan Annie head appeared, she let out an audible gasp of relief and rushed to the front door to let her in.
"Ohhh, little girl, you are in some kind of state!" the redhead giggled as she came inside, slamming the door on the wind and the cold and throwing off her coat. "Let's get you back together again right now!"
They shot up right there in the front entry, sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor, passing the fixings back and forth, heads bent close, whispering encouragement and laughing. It didn't matter what was said, what words were used, what thoughts were exchanged. Nothing mattered but the process of injecting the drug and waiting for that first, glorious rush.
Bennett had no idea how much of the stuff she used, but it hit her like a sledgehammer, and she gasped with shock as it began to take hold. She threw back her head and let her mouth hang open, and everything in the world but what she was feeling disappeared.
"There you go," Penny whispered from somewhere far, far away, her voice distant and soft, barely there at all, hardly anything more than a ripple in the haze. "Bring it on, girl. Momma needs her itch scratched good!"
Bennett laughed and soared and watched everything around her change to cotton candy. She was barely awake when Penny climbed to her feet and opened the front door. She was barely aware of the black-clad old man who walked through and stood looking down at her.
"Hey, girlfriend," Penny hissed, and her tone of voice was suddenly sharp-edged and taunting. "How's this for an unexpected surprise? Look who's joining the party!"
Bennett lifted her eyes dreamily as Findo Cask bent close.
It was after nine-thirty before Nest missed Bennett Scott. She was having a good time talking with friends, some of them people she had known since childhood, sharing stories and swapping remembrances. Robert was very much in evidence early on, trying to make up for last night's provocative comments about John Ross by being overly attentive. She tolerated his efforts for a while because she knew he meant well, but sometimes a little of Robert went a long way. Fortunately, Amy was up and about, though not feeling very much better, and when Nest made a point of beginning a discussion with her about pregnancies and babies, Robert quickly disappeared.
Now and then, Nest would drift down to the rec room to see how the children were doing. She had played in this house as a little girl, so she knew the floor plan well. The rec room was safe and secure. A single entry opened down the stairs from the main hallway. There were no exterior doors or windows. The girls who were baby-sitting knew that only parents and friends were allowed to visit and were instructed to ask for help if there was any problem.
Harper fit right in with the other kids, but Little John parked himself in a corner and wouldn't move. She kept checking on him, hoping something would change over the course of the evening, but it never did. Her attempts to persuade him to join in proved futile, and eventually she gave up.
Once or twice she caught sight of Bennett, but since her concerns were primarily for the children and Bennett seemed to be doing all right, she didn't stop to worry about her.
But finally she realized it was getting late and they had to think about making arrangements to get home, and it was then she realized she hadn't seen Bennett for a while. When she had gone through the house twice without finding her, she tracked down Robert and drew him aside.
"I don't want to make too much of this, but I can't find Bennett Scott," she advised quietly. From her look, he knew right away this wasn't good.
He raised and lowered one eyebrow in a familiar Robert gesture. "Maybe she went home."
"Without Harper?"
He shrugged. "Maybe she got sick. Are you sure she's not here somewhere? You want me to ask around?"
She wheeled away abruptly and went back downstairs to the rec room. Kneeling next to Harper as the little girl worked to make something out of Play-Doh, she asked if her Mommy was there.
Harper barely looked up. "Mommy go bye-bye."
Nest felt her throat tighten in panic. "Did she tell you this, Harper? Did she tell you bye-bye?"
Harper nodded. "Yeth."
Nest climbed back to her feet and looked around helplessly. When had Bennett left? How long had she been gone? Where would she go without taking Harper, without telling anyone, without a car? She knew the answer before she finished the question, and she experienced a rush of anger and despair.
She bounded back up the stairs to find Robert. She would have to go looking, of course—even without knowing where to start. She would have to call John home to watch the children while she took the car and conducted a search.
In a snowstorm where everything was shut down and cars were barely moving? On a night when the wind chill was low enough to freeze you to death?
She felt the futility of what she was proposing threaten to overwhelm her, but she shoved aside her doubts to concentrate on the task at hand. She found Robert coming down the stairs from the second floor, shaking his head.
"Beats me, Nest. I looked everywhere I could think—"
Nest brushed the rest of what he was going to say aside with a wave of her hand. "She's gone. I got that much out of Harper. She left sometime back. I don't know why."
Robert sighed wearily. "But you can guess, can't you? She's an addict, Nest. I saw the tracks on her arms." He shook his head. "Look, I know this is none of my business, but—"
"Don't start, Robert. Just don't!" She clenched his wrist so hard he winced. "Don't lecture me about the company I keep, about Bennett and John Ross and all the strange things happening and how you remember it was just like this fifteen years ago on the Fourth of July! Just warm up your car while I get the children into their coats and boots and then drive us home!"
She let go of his wrist. "Do you think you can manage that?"
He looked mortified. "Of course I can manage it! Geez!"
She leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. "You're a good guy, Robert. But you require a lot of maintenance. Now get going."
The demons bundled Bennett Scott into her parka and took her out of the house and into the night, letting the drugs in her system do the job of keeping her in line. Snow was flying in all directions, the wind was blowing hard, and it was so cold that nose hairs froze, but Bennett Scott was floating somewhere outside her body, barely aware of anything but the pleasant feeling of not really being connected to reality. Every so often, something around her would come sharply into focus—the bite of the wind, the white fury of the snow, the skeletal shadow of a crooked tree limb, or the faces of Findo Gask and Penny Dreadful, one on either side, propping her up and moving her along. But mostly there was only a low buzzing in her ears and a wondrous sense of peace.