But the problem of coping with Gary, Millie realized, was something to be worried about after this mess with Lynn got cleared up. The woman let out a long breath of relief as she peeked through the drapes and watched Arthur's Lexus ease into the driveway.
Finally.
A moment later she heard the bang of the car door, the hum of the garage door opener, and-at last!-Arthur stepped into the kitchen.
Stocky, only a couple of inches taller than his wife, a black-haired fire hydrant of a man, Arthur Blair-like Millie-had retained a youthful demeanor. Even though he was older than his wife (forty-four), his hair stayed free of gray; God had blessed him with good genes and without his wife's anxious streak. Black-framed Coke-bottle glasses turned his brown eyes buggy, but Millie's husband remained a handsome man.
Arthur had first met coed Millie ("Never call me Mildred!") Evans at a frat party back in their undergraduate days. A sorority sister and a little wild, she had dressed like, and looked like, that sexy slender Pat Benatar, all curly black hair and spandex, and she took his breath away. Immediately recognizing that she was out of his league, the bookish Arthur wouldn't have said a word to her if she hadn't struck up a conversation at the keg. Throughout the course of the evening they'd exchanged glances, but no further words. He could tell she was disappointed in him, but he'd been just too shy to do anything about it, at first; and then, pretty soon, he'd been too drunk….
The next semester they'd had an Econ class together and she had recognized a familiar face and sat down next to him. Now, twenty years later, she still hadn't left his side.
Walking through the kitchen, Arthur moved into the dining room, set his briefcase on the table, tossed his suit jacket onto a chair and passed straight into the living room to find Millie standing in the middle of the room, holding herself as if she were freezing. Her face seemed drained of color, her eyes filigreed red. She'd clearly been crying….
"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked, moving to her, taking her into his arms.
Arthur knew his anxious wife might have been upset about anything or nothing; but he always took her distress seriously. He loved her.
"It…it's Lynn," she said, sobs breaking loose as he hugged and patted her.
It was as if his arms had broken some sort of dam and she cried uncontrollably for a very long time before she finally reined in her emotions enough to speak coherently.
Arthur held her at arm's length. "What's wrong, baby? What about Lynn? Has that tape got you going…?"
"Not the tape…I mean, yes the tape, but no…" Gulping back a last sob, Millie said, "She phoned this afternoon, about four-real upset. Said she had to see me, talk to me. Said she was on her way over."
"Well, what did she have to say, once she got here?"
"Arthur, that's just it-she never showed up!"
She told him about trying to call, getting the machine, and how she just knew Lynn had "disappeared."
Her husband shook his head, dismissive of the problem but not of her. "Honey, it could be anything. There's no point in getting all worked up…at least, not until we know what happened."
She stepped out of his embrace. Her eyes moved to the drawer handle of the end table across the room. His gaze followed hers-they both knew what lay in that shallow drawer: the tape. That awful audio tape that they had played last night….
"Just because…" He stopped. "…this doesn't mean…necessarily…"
She drew in a deep breath, calming herself, or trying to. "I know, I know…It's just that…well, you know if she'd been delayed, she would have called, Arthur. Certainly by now she would have called."
He knew she was right. After a sigh and a nod, he asked, "Is Gary home?"
She nodded back. "In his room, of course. Behind the closed door."
"It's normal."
"He…sort of gave me the silent treatment again."
"Really?"
"Well. No. He was polite…I guess."
Arthur walked to the foot of the stairs and called up. "Gary!"
Silence.
A curtness came into Arthur's voice, now: "Gary!"
The clean-cut young man peeked around the hallway corner, as if he'd been hiding there all the while. "Yes, sir?"
"Your mother and I are going out. You okay with getting your own dinner?"
"Yes, sir. Already told mom I would microwave something. Anyway, I have to go into work for a couple of hours. Maybe I'll just grab something on the way."
"Well, that'll be fine, son…. We'll see you later."
"Yes, sir."
The boy disappeared again.
Millie, shaking her head, said, "All I get are shrugs. I can't believe how he opens up to you. He really respects you, Art."
Arthur said nothing, still staring up the stairs at where his boy had been. He wondered if his son's respect was real or just for show-assuming the kid even knew the difference. Arthur had had the same kind of relationship with his own father, always "yes sirring" and "no sirring," thinking he was doing it just to stay on the old man's good side, then eventually finding out that he really did respect his father. He hoped Gary would some day feel that way about him…even if the boy didn't do so now.
He turned to his wife. "Come on, sweetie," he said. "And get your coat. Some bite in the air, tonight."
"Where are we going?" she asked, even as she followed his directions, pulling a light jacket from the front closet. Also navy blue, the jacket didn't quite match her slacks and she hoped at night no one would notice.
"I think we'll drop by at our good friends, the Pierce's."
She didn't argue. For a woman with an anxious streak, Millie could be strong, even fearless, particularly when the two of them were together. Arthur realized going over to the Pierces was the course of action she'd wanted all along, she just hadn't wanted to be the one to suggest it.
Her respect for him was real, Arthur knew. Anyway, their church taught a strict, biblical adherence to the husband's role as the head of the household.
They moved to the door, but-at the last second-Millie hurried back to the living room, grabbed the small package out of the end table and tucked the audio tape into her purse.
The drive to the Pierce home took only about twelve minutes. Traffic had thinned out and the cooler autumn temperatures had settled in, apparently convincing many a Las Vegan to stay inside for the evening. Millie wondered aloud if they should listen to the tape again, in the car's cassette player, as they drove over.
"No thanks," Arthur said, distastefully. "I remember it all too well." Then he shook his head and added, "I don't think I'll ever forget the…thing," almost swearing.
Though Owen and Lynn Pierce were supposed to be their best friends, Arthur and Millie Blair both loved her, and barely tolerated him. Arthur found Pierce to be a vulgar, cruel, Godless man, an opinion with which Millie agreed wholeheartedly. Arthur also believed that Owen dabbled in drugs, or so the rumors said; but he had no proof and kept that thought to himself. He feared that Millie wouldn't allow Gary to continue dating Lori Pierce if she thought there were drugs anywhere near the Pierce home-even if Lynn was her best friend.
The Pierce house looked like a tan-brick fortress, a turret dominating the left side of a two-story structure that presided over a sloping, well-landscaped lawn, sans moat however. Inside the turret, a spiral staircase led to the second floor (the Blairs had been guests at the Pierces' home, many times). The front door sat in the center of this mini-Camelot with a three-car garage on the right end. With just the one turret, the house seemed to lean slightly in that direction, giving the place an off-kilter feel.