My stomach flipped as I remembered the feel of Detective Weathers's fingers against my skin and the taste of his lips. Did he really think I could've killed somebody?
"Maggie!" I looked up and found one of the doormen gesturing impatiently. "I been calling you and calling you! You've got a phone call."
My first thought, as always, was of Sheila. She was the only one in my life who would call me here, and then only if something was wrong. I quickened my pace, half running toward the phone.
"Sheila?"
There was silence on the phone and then music, scratchy and thin, sounding as if it came from a long distance away.
"Thank heaven, for little girls…" Maurice Chevalier's voice, gay and lilting, sang through the receiver.
"Who is this?"
"For little girls grow older every day." Then silence. Then a raspy whisper. "Where's your little girl, Maggie?"
Chapter Eighteen
I screamed, but no sound escaped my throat. The scream stuck, with the unshed tears of terror in my chest, squeezing the breath from my body. The phone line had gone dead, the connection severed. Somewhere someone had just threatened my daughter.
I didn't say anything. I couldn't. Instead I made jabbing motions at the keypad, trying to dial Vernell's number and failing to remember it.
"Damn it!" I cried. Cletus, who'd wandered up to help collect the cover charge and check IDs, stopped what he was doing, alerted by my tone.
"What's the matter, Maggie?" he asked, but I couldn't stop to answer. I had to go. I had to get to Sheila.
I pushed past him, running now, from the Golden Stallion entrance to the back. I know I shoved someone out of my way, when I heard a surprised, angry cry echoing behind me. I heard footsteps following me, but I didn't stop until I reached the dressing room and had grabbed my purse and keys.
"Maggie, stop!" It was Jack, his face concerned. He grabbed my arm and held me. "Take a breath."
"Let go of me," I screamed, wrenching my arm away. "He's going to hurt Sheila!"
I was running again, with Jack right behind me. "Who? Maggie, stop! What is it? Wait!"
But I was gone, the mother in me taking over. I had to get to Sheila. My voice was screaming her name over and over in my head. It throbbed, pulsing with my heartbeats, stronger and louder. I had to find my little girl. I slammed the car into gear, tearing out onto High Point Road, screaming at the cars that got in my way.
It was after midnight on a Thursday night, a school night. Sheila should be at Vernell's, in bed, sleeping. I drove, talking to myself, careening down Holden Road, cutting across Greensboro in search of my baby. I issued instructions, like "Don't hit that car!" I screamed at other drivers, and finally I prayed. "Don't let my baby get hurt. Be with Sheila! Protect her!" The tears came then, filling my eyes. But I couldn't cry, not now.
I made it across town in five minutes, flying down Vernell's darkened cul-de-sac and screeching to a halt in front of his garage doors.
Sheila's black Mustang sat in the driveway. That wasn't good enough, not by a long shot. I raced from the car to the front door, pounding on it, ringing the doorbell and trying the handle.
"Open this door!" I cried. "Vernell!"
But it was Sheila herself who answered. She was dressed for bed in her long white T-shirt, her face scrubbed pink, and an expectant look on her face. She was not at all frightened or cautious, as she should have been. She never should have opened the door.
I flew into her, pushing her backward into Vernell's expansive foyer, slamming the door behind us.
"Oh, my God, Sheila!" I cried, sinking down with her onto one of the steps that led to the second floor of Vernell's house.
"Are you all right?" I asked. I pulled her to me, holding her as tightly as I possibly could. My breath came in ragged gasps and dry sobs that I couldn't control.
Sheila was scared now.
"Mama, what's wrong?"
Above us, lights flared on, doors opened, and footsteps started down the hall.
"What in the hell is she doing here?" Jolene asked. She stood at the top of the steps in a filmy white negligee.
Vernell came staggering out behind her, fighting to become conscious. His thick black hair stood up on one side of his head, and lay flat on the other.
"Hey, Maggie," he said, a bleary smile jumping across his face before he realized Jolene was right by his side.
I sat, rocking Sheila back and forth in my arms, just as I had when she was a baby.
"Mama!" Sheila protested, struggling to get free.
I looked up at Vernell, ignoring Jolene. "I got a call at the club tonight," I said. "Made me think Sheila was in danger. A man threatened her."
"What?" I had Vernell's complete attention now. "What do you mean? What'd they say? Who was it?" The questions flew out of Vernell. Instantly, he was awake and angry.
"He played a little bit of this old song about little girls and then asked if I knew where Sheila was."
Jolene's shrill laugh cut off Vernell's next question.
"That's it?" she asked from her position at the top of the stairs. "Someone calls up and asks if you know where Sheila is and you freak out? Why, that's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard!"
Vernell looked from her to me, uncertain for a moment. Sheila stiffened in my arms.
"A man said that?" she asked. "You're sure?"
I grabbed her even tighter. "I'm sorry, sweetie," I said, "but yes. That's why I came over here the way I did."
Vernell was down the stairs, an angry scowl on his face. "Ain't nobody gonna hurt my little girl." His thick black eyebrows furrowed together, and his face was a dull reddish brown. "Sonofabitch! Did you call the police?"
I started to answer, but Jolene interrupted. "Now, don't you people think you're getting a little carried away?" Vernell looked up at her, clearly irritated. "I mean, babe," she cooed, "the man only asked if Maggie knew where Sheila was. Why, the way I take it, he was making more of a statement about a mother who stays out till all hours cavorting in a honky-tonk than he was talking about Sheila."
She moved a little closer to the edge of the top step, adjusting her posture to feature her most prominent assets, and smiled seductively. "And look what it's done," she said. "Got you and me out of our warm snuggly bed, and woke little Sheila up. Woke her up out of her own safe bed, I might add." She scowled at me. "All on account of her mother's overreaction." Vernell was starting to look confused.
"I wasn't sleeping," Sheila huffed. "And if my mama wants to come see about me, it don't matter when it is!"
Jolene ignored her. "What would make you think Vernell couldn't take care of his only daughter?" she called down to me. "She's safe here, not like in that ratty old neighborhood where you live, in a house that don't even lock good!" Vernell started to break in, but Jolene rushed ahead. "You gave her up, Maggie! Her own mother! Now look at you! Out till all hours, and now you're acting concerned. Why you-"
"Shut your mouth, Jolene!" Vernell suddenly yelled. It was the old Vernell that I remembered from the good days. Sober and taking up for his family, only in this case, Jolene was the outsider. "I won't have nobody talking to Sheila's mama that way, do you hear me?"
Jolene was shocked, her face going pale with the impact of tumbling down from Vernell's pedestal. The honeymoon was over.