Barefoot in the Rain (39 page)

The whole situation reminded her of the night of her mother’s funeral. Except Guy wasn’t dead. She hoped.

Please, God, don’t let him be dead. I have to tell him—

Zoe came up behind her, putting her hands on Jocelyn’s shoulders with a soft squeeze. “Nice gladiolas.”

Jocelyn almost smiled and twisted the needle. “I want to finish this for him but I haven’t a clue how to do this kind of thing.”

“I do.” Zoe reached over and took the needle, twirling it like a mini-baton. “I know, who would think I had a crafty bone in my body? But you need to go in the kitchen now, sweetie.”

“Why?”

“Deputy Dawg wants to talk to you.”

Jocelyn whipped around, the spool of embroidery thread tumbling to the floor. “Slade’s here? Did they…” Blood drained from her head instantly.

“No news, I promise. He just wants to tell you what the plan is for the night.”

The night. It had been dark for several hours now. After the initial scouring of town, then the streets that led out, the ragtag team of Lacey, Clay, Tessa, and Zoe, later joined by Lacey’s daughter, Ashley, had gathered at the house so the professionals could take over.

But no one had seen him. A maid at the Fourway Motel thought she saw a man meeting his description wandering along the walkway behind the hotel, but a thorough search of the building turned up nothing. A tourist at the harbor was certain he saw an older man just like him fishing on the docks, but that lead took them nowhere as well.

And, the worst of all, the UPS guy said he thought he’d seen an old man crossing the causeway. What if he’d fallen off the bridge? What if he was…

Please, God, no
.

The ache in her heart as heavy as a lead ball, Jocelyn handed the embroidery hoop to Zoe, refusing to give voice to her dark thoughts. “You can do needlepoint?” At Zoe’s nod, Jocelyn just smiled. “You’re full of surprises.”

“Aren’t I, though?” She pointed the needle toward the kitchen. “Go talk to the hot cop.”

She started to walk out, but Zoe stopped her. “Speaking of hot, have you reached Will?”

She hadn’t tried after that one call to verify that he’d gotten the reporter out of town, since Jocelyn had wondered if someone from the media had actually kidnapped
Guy to get to her. But she hadn’t told Will they’d lost him. “He’d just be on the next plane back and miss his interview tomorrow morning. There’s nothing he can do.”

“He could comfort you,” she said.

Not anymore. Jocelyn just shook her head and left Zoe, turning the corner to face a kitchen full of people.

Tessa and Lacey had coffee going and food on the table. Ashley was cleaning up. Clay and some other men were talking to Slade Garrison.

“Do you have any news?” she asked the deputy as he shifted his attention to her.

“We haven’t turned up a single person who’s seen him, except those I told you about. And, Jocelyn, time is critical. He has to be found in the first twenty-four hours or…”

She waved her hand. “I know the statistics.”

He stepped closer, his expression softening. Lacey and Tessa also joined the conversation, flanking Jocelyn in support.

“Look, I realize your situation is a bit different than usual,” Slade said. “And out of respect for your privacy and the fact that our island location makes it hard to get too far, I’ve held off on the next step. But I have to issue a Silver Alert, Jocelyn. I have to. I’m sorry.”

“What exactly is that?” Tessa asked.

“It’s like an Amber Alert for missing teens, but this is for elderly dementia patients.”

“Why
wouldn’t
you do that?” Lacey asked.

“Because,” Jocelyn answered, “it’ll have media crawling all over this place by morning.”

Slade nodded. “It will, but there’s no reason you have to be in the spotlight, Jocelyn. My office will handle media contact.”

“But reporters will come here.”

“Possibly,” he said. “But just as likely someone watching the local TV station will have seen him. That’s how it usually works, if we move fast. I normally wouldn’t even talk to the family first, but considering the situation and all…”

“Do it,” she said without hesitation. “Do whatever you have to do to find him.”

He nodded. “I will, Jocelyn. Go get some rest. We’ll be working all night.”

“Please have your men consider this a base,” Lacey said. “We’ll keep coffee and food and whatever you need.”

Lacey and Tessa’s arms tightened around her for a quick hug, just as the front door popped open without a knock. Everyone turned expectantly, only to see Charity Grambling march in like she owned the place.

“Did you find the old bastard yet?”

Instantly Lacey stiffened. “Charity, don’t make this worse than it already is.”

Charity ignored her and slid a gaze to Slade. “My niece told me you were here.”

Slade didn’t look happy about that. “The best way for you to help is to stay at the Super Min, Charity. You can talk to every single customer and, frankly, that’s where he was last seen. We need you there, not here.”

“Gloria’s there, as you well know. I’m here to help Jocelyn.”

Lacey bristled again. “She doesn’t need you—”

“Yes, I do,” Jocelyn said, stepping forward. Charity had saved her once and no matter what the woman thought of Jocelyn’s recent change of heart, she was always welcome. “Thank you for coming, Charity.”

Jocelyn could feel Lacey’s glare on her, but she guided Charity toward the living room, where Zoe sat on the sofa doing needlepoint. Like bodyguards, Tessa and Lacey followed.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee, Charity?” Jocelyn asked.

The older woman stood in the middle of the room, her strawlike dye job sticking out in a few directions, a pair of khaki pants hanging loose on her hips. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and kept her gaze on Jocelyn. “I know you didn’t like what I had to tell you today, but you have to consider the possibility that it’s true.”

“That what’s true?” Zoe asked, either completely oblivious to the strange dynamics in the room or at least pretending to be.

“He’s faking Alzheimer’s,” Charity said.

Tessa and Lacey sucked in a soft breath, but Zoe just pulled a long green strand of embroidery yarn through the pattern. “That’s what I thought.”

“You did?” Tessa asked.

“What do you think?” Lacey asked Jocelyn. “You know him better than anyone.”

“I don’t think he’s faking it,” she said. “He’s always been… unstable.”

Charity snorted. “He’s a fucking criminal!”

The women stared at her, but Jocelyn held up her hands. “That’s not true—“

“How can you say that?” Charity practically stomped her sneakered foot. “He damn near killed you.”

“What?”

The question came from all three women at once. They stared at her with a mix of horror, shock, and genuine
sadness. Jocelyn turned to the kitchen, catching Ashley in the doorway. “Honey, please. Don’t.”

“Give us a minute, Ash,” Lacey said quickly to her daughter, who obeyed by pivoting and disappearing.

“Why didn’t you tell us, Joss?” The crack in Tessa’s question almost tore Jocelyn’s heart out.

“You didn’t need to know the details. And, honestly, he didn’t…” Yes, he did. “It was a long…” That didn’t matter. “I’ve tried to forget it.”

“Well, I haven’t.” Charity practically spit the words. “And, frankly, if he fell off the causeway it wouldn’t be good enough for him.”

“Charity, please.” Jocelyn reached for her. “I know how you feel. And I know you think that my forgiving him is some kind of personal affront, or not—not showing gratitude for what you did, but—”

“What did she do?” Lacey asked, unable to hide the disbelief in her voice. Of course, Lacey, like every lifetime resident of Mimosa Key, knew Charity as a nasty, mean-spirited gossipmonger. And last year, that mean spirit went to new and personal heights when she tried to stop Casa Blanca from ever getting built.

“I saved her life.”

Again, every eye in the living room was on her. Zoe’s needlepointing fingers stilled and Lacey just looked positively wretched at this turn of events. And Tessa, the woman who hated secrets the most, was clearly on the verge of tears.

Jocelyn dropped onto the edge of the sofa with a sigh. “I never wanted to tell you guys this.”

Zoe put the needlepoint hoop on the table and reached for her. “We kinda knew.”

“Not really.” Jocelyn looked up at Charity. “Not the extent of it. Not how bad it was.”

“I’ll show them.” Charity reached into her back pocket. “You don’t think I was dumb enough to give you the only copies of the pictures, do you?”

“No!” Jocelyn jumped up, but Charity flung the pictures on the table like she was folding her poker cards, an array of bruises, blood, and brutality instantly spread before them.

Oh, God. She couldn’t even look—not through the eyes of her friends. Sharp daggers of shame pierced her heart and stung her eyes as she choked on a sob. She had to get out of here.
She had to get out of here
.

“Holy hell,” Zoe said. “He
did
almost kill you.”

“Why are you doing this?” Jocelyn demanded of Charity. “Why betray me? I trusted you.”

“Her?” Lacey almost spit. “Why would you trust her?”

“Because she picked me up off the street when I was running away.” Charity had been the right person at the right time. “She helped me.”

Charity waved her off. “I’m no Good Samaritan, believe me. I just hate abusers. I hate men who hit.” She touched her face as if she could still feel the pain of a fist there. “And I hate Guy Bloom and couldn’t care less if he is dead.”

Jocelyn closed her eyes. “But I care.” She put up her hands in surrender, needing the conversation and the pitiful looks and the hurt for not sharing to stop. As fast as she could without actually running, she left the room, headed down the hall, and darted into Guy’s bedroom, fighting the urge to slam the door just to get rid of some of the emotion surging through her.

Dropping on the bed, she let the sobs escape.

Now they knew everything. Just like Will, they’d never look at her the same. They’d never look at Guy the same and, at one time, that wouldn’t have mattered, but now it did.

Now she not only didn’t hate him, she actually cared for him. She—

“Hey.” The door popped open and Lacey’s reddish-blonde curls edged in. “Can we come in?”

Everything in her wanted to scream no.
Go away. Leave me alone.

Alone being her default and most preferred place to be. But alone was so—alone. And now she knew how much it sucked to be alone.

“Yeah.”

In a split second, the three of them were in, surrounding her on the bed, cooing, sighing, laying their hands on her back with so much love and support she almost started crying again.

“I’m sorry, you guys,” she murmured. “I should have told you.”

“It’s okay,” Lacey said.

“We understand,” Tessa added.

“You owe us for life,” Zoe teased.

She looked at them, one after another, her heart swelling with love. “Obviously, I’m embarrassed.”

“With us?” Tessa tapped her leg. “There’s nothing about each other we don’t know or haven’t seen. We love you.”

“And”—she took a deep breath—“I don’t want you to hate him. Because when I find him—and I am going to find him—I’m going to forgive him and take care of him for as long as I’m able.”

She braced for the onslaught of judgment and opinions, but got none.

“He’s a different man now,” Zoe finally said.

“He’s forgotten,” Tessa added. “So it’s pretty damn wonderful of you to do the same.”

Lacey rubbed her hand up and down Jocelyn’s arm. “It’s going to be tough, though. Charity’s hellbent and might not keep your secret any longer. She’s pissed that you’re letting him off the hook. You’ll need to face that.”

“I’d face anything if that’ll help find—” Suddenly a thought sparked in the back of her tear-soggy brain, forcing her up. “The media. The tabloids.”

They stared at her.

“Forget a Silver Alert. If
I
called a press conference to talk about Coco, just imagine how far the message would go. Network TV,
Entertainment Tonight
, they’d all have to carry the story. And maybe someone saw him, maybe someone knows where he is. Even if”—she cringed at the thought—“even if he is faking it and hiding out or something. I don’t know what’s going on in his head; all I know is I have to find him. What better bullhorn to use than national media?”

They looked at each other, obviously unsure.

“I think those rags are more interested in your dirt than in your dad,” Zoe said.

“There
is
no dirt,” she said.

“Then you need to tell them the truth and let them know why you’re the fall guy in a marriage you didn’t break up.”

Would she do that? Would she sell out Coco to find her dad? “Maybe I can just not address that.” No, that would never fly.

“Just tell them the truth,” Lacey said softly. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Nothing to me. But Coco.” She fell back on the pillow. She couldn’t put Coco in that kind of danger. She couldn’t hurt poor, sweet, weak Coco who was just so much like another poor, sweet, weak woman that she’d stolen a permanent place in Jocelyn’s heart.

But maybe if Jocelyn had forced her mother’s hand, she wouldn’t have lived in fear.

“I’ll decide in the morning,” she finally said. “Maybe they’ll find Guy overnight.”

“Maybe,” the others agreed.

But no one sounded very certain.

A nasty mosquito nibbled on his neck, but Guy was too tired and too scared to move and slap it. Where was Henry? Shouldn’t he be here to flap his wings and ward off these horrible bugs?

Guy curled deeper into the tiny opening he’d found in the mangrove hammock, the cloying stink of rotten honey from those darn white flowers bursting all over the place. The sharp smell of the pepper trees made him sneeze. He sniffed again, then started sniveling like a toddler.

Which he might as well be.

Turning from the stiff tree root that poked his back, he brushed some sand and dirt off the side of his face. Something crawled on his finger and pinched.