The fifth vial

CHAPTER 20

Big Bend Diner. Sandy Macfarlane flicked off the red-and-green neon sign even though, technically, the place was still open for another ten minutes. What the heck, the Corlisses wouldn't mind. In six years of working for them she had hardly missed one day. She was a pretty woman with orange-red hair, and a sensual, desirable figure that she often boasted about by bemoaning the weight she had to lose.

"Closin' early, Sandy?" Kenny Hooper asked.

Hooper, a widower in his late sixties, still held down a regular job working for Tennessee Stone and Gravel. There was nothing for him to go home to except his old hound dog, so every evening after his shift was over he stopped by the Big Bend for a late dinner.

"Got some errands that need doin', Kenny," Sandy said. "Besides, there ain't no one comin' in between now and closin' anyhow. I got me a sixth sense about such things."

Sandy didn't like lying, even about something as insignificant as her plans for the evening, but if Twin Rivers, Tennessee, was the world's best at anything, it was gossiping, and Kenny Hooper was as good at that as anyone. If he learned that she was dating one of the customers from the diner, the whole town would be talking about it in no time, and every Jack Snap in the valley, married or not, would be considering making a run at her. A single woman with an eight-year-old kid and a decent body was fair enough game as it was, without people thinking she was desperate.

But Rudy Brooks seemed like he was worth the risk.

"Any possibility a gittin' one last cup a joe before you dump the pot?" Kenny asked.

Sandy was about to say that the coffee had already been emptied and the grounds cleaned out when she saw the man staring right at the pot behind the counter.

"All right, all right," she said, filling a mug and adding two creams and two sugars without having to be asked. "But make it quick."

Hooper watched her fix her hair and apply a swatch of lipstick at the mirror behind the bar.

"You sure you just got errands?" he asked with a glint.

"Just drink your coffee, Kenny Hooper. Here. Here's the last piece of blueberry pie. I was gonna throw it out anyway."

Rudy was a Texan, rugged-looking and smart, with jeans and a sports shirt that didn't come off the racks in any Army Navy store. He was narrow in the waist and real broad across the shoulders — just the way she liked her men. But what got to her most was his smile. It was sexy and sly, like that of a gunslinger who knew that no matter how fast you were, he was quicker. Of course, in Twin Rivers, when it came to available men, there wasn't a heck of a selection — certainly few or none that looked like this one.

Sandy finished wiping down and made a last check of the kitchen. Rudy might be married, she acknowledged. Men were always lying about that. But tonight they were just going to meet at the Green Lantern for a couple of drinks. No fancy stuff. If, as he said, his company was going to build the first shopping mall in Twin Rivers, and if, as he said, he was going to be a regular visitor to the site just west of town, he would get his chance to be amorous. Maybe plenty of them.

"So, where's little Teddy tonight, Sandy? Nick got 'im?"

"Nick has Teddy every Wednesday."

"I heard your ex put on quite a show at Miller's t'other night. Took four men to throw him out. Man has a problem, I'd say."

"And I'd say keep your notions to yourself unless you have proof and it involves Teddy."

Sandy felt her heart tighten at the notion of Nick hitting the bottle again. Although as far as she knew, he had never hit their son, he had hit her plenty over their five years of marriage — always when he was drinking. She had told the judge about his temper and his alcohol problem, and had even provided witnesses to support her request that there be no overnights at all until Nick could document he had been going to AA or therapy or something. But the judge had strong ideas about a child's need for two involved parents, and turned her down. So every Wednesday and every other Saturday, there wasn't a damn thing she could do except to pray that Nick could keep it together, and that his girlfriend Brenda could keep her drinking together, too, and then the next day ask Teddy indirectly if there had been any problems.

Even though there hadn't been any alcohol-related incidents, at least until now, the truth was that Sandy ached every time the boy was away from her — even when it was for an overnight play date with one of his friends. He was the sort of kid who made even long hours of waiting tables seem worthwhile. People met him, and after just a few minutes, they loved him. He just had that way. Maybe it was his smile, maybe his freckles, or maybe just the fact that he had never done or said an unkind thing to anyone in his life. Whatever the reason, Sandy knew, as did almost everyone in town, that Teddy Macfarlane was going to amount to something special.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Kenny Hooper pushed himself back from the table, left enough money for the tab plus his usual five-dollar tip, then shambled out the door. Anxiously checking the time, Sandy wiped down Hooper's table and shut out the lights. Then she hurried to her fire-engine red Mustang convertible, decided in the interest of her hair to leave the top up, and skidded out of the parking lot onto the Brazelton Highway. Brazelton, about the size of Twin Rivers, was much more interesting, with more bars and clubs, it seemed, than there were people in the town. She was two miles down the highway when she picked up her cell phone and called Nick.

It was not usual for her to interrupt Teddy's time with his father, and Nick really didn't like her doing it, but even through the anticipation of meeting up with Rudy Brooks, she felt a powerful ache to connect with her son — and, she admitted, to check up on his father.

" 'Lo?"

"Hi, it's me."

"Yeah?"

"I was just calling to see how you guys were doing?"

"We're doin' fine. Jes fine."

That was already plenty of words for her to tell that Nick had a couple under his belt, although he wasn't in the bag. His speech was always the first to go. Asking for confirmation that he was drinking, though, was the same as asking him to hang up on her.

"Think I could just say good night to Teddy?"

"He's watching cartoons with Bern. I don't want to bother him unless you have somethin' important to say."

"No, not really. I…I just wanted to say good night."

"I'll tell him you called."

"Do that, Nick, okay?"

"See you tomorrow."

"Yeah…thanks."

Helpless, Sandy set her cell phone down. Almost instantly, it began ringing.

"Sandy, hi, it's Rudy."

Damn, she thought. First Nick won't let me talk to my boy, and now I'm about to get blown off.

"Well, hi, yourself," she said. "I just got out of work. Are we still on?"

"Been looking forward to seeing you all day."

At least something was going right.

"That's sweet of you to say. Well, I been lookin' forward to seein' you, too, Rudy Brooks."

"Just one little change. I'm still here at the mall site with one of the contractors — Greg Lumpert. I think you know him."

"I know who he is, but we're not really personally acquainted." "Well, me an Lumpert got some more business we need to finish. Any chance you could stop by here for a few minutes? We could actually use your opinion about some things. The site's right on the way to the Green Lantern, and just a couple a hunnert yards off the Brazelton Highway.

"I…guess so, sure," Sandy said, deciding that Greg Lumpert had no reason to start rumors about her, and grateful that her date with Rudy was still on.

Rudy described the turnoff in some detail, although he needn't have bothered. Sandy knew almost exactly where it was.

"I'll be there in less than ten minutes," she said.

"Terrific. See you soon by the light of the moon."

The turnoff to the mall site was not more than a mile from the Brazelton line in a wooded area that was still largely undeveloped, but had been the subject of much speculation over the past few years. Sandy found it exciting — even titillating — to be in on the ground floor of a project that was going to change the physical and economic landscape of the town she knew so well.

She turned off the highway onto a stony dirt road and slowed way down to keep from bottoming out or sending a stone up through the muffler. Her high beams jounced up and down off the forest ahead. Just as she began to think she was too far off the highway and might have actually taken the wrong turn, the woods fell away into a good-sized clearing that looked as if some sand and gravel operation might have done some excavating there. Parked off to one side was a Ford Bronco, with Rudy standing there alone, leaning against the hood. Just beyond the Bronco, close to the trees, stood a massive mobile home. Lights from inside the RV shone through the huge front windows.

Rudy waved her over. He was wearing tight-fitting jeans, tooled cow boy boots, and a colorful long-sleeved sport shirt. Just a fine looking man, Sandy thought.

"Hi," she said.

"You look great."

"Thanks, where's Greg Lumpert?"

"Oh, his wife called. Some sort of problem at home. We were just about done, anyhow, so I told him to go ahead."

"You sure it was his wife? I was pretty certain I heard she died a few years ago."

"I thought that's what he said," Rudy replied, "but I coulda misheard. I had other things on my mind."

He nudged Sandy's arm for emphasis, and gave her a gunslinger smile. From his two visits to the Big Bend, she knew he was well built, but tonight he seemed even bigger and stronger than she had pictured.

"So, what's with the bus?"

"Callin' that just a bus is a little like callin' Jessica Simpson just a girl."

Sandy decided against mentioning that she couldn't stand Jessica Simpson.

"Does it belong to your company?" she asked instead.

"It's like my home away from home when we're doin' site work. Wanna peek inside?"

Suddenly, inexplicably, Sandy felt uneasy.

"Some other time, maybe. It's like, I don't know, it's like that's your hotel room."

"I don't see it that way," Rudy said, "but suit yourself."

Sandy looked around at the absolute blackness of the forest. The traffic noises from the highway were barely audible.

"Maybe we should get going to the club," she said nervously. "I hear the band they have playing there is great."

"What's the rush?" Rudy asked, not moving from his spot by the truck.

"Rudy, please, let's go. This is starting to creep me out."

"Trust me, darlin', there's nothing to be creeped out about."

She stood just a few feet away and watched in confusion and mounting fear as he took a handkerchief from his pocket, folded it neatly on the hood of the Bronco, then doused it thoroughly with something poured from a metal flask.

Sandy gauged the distance to the Mustang. It wasn't a good bet that she could make it. Then the sickly sweet odor of chloroform reached her. At that exact moment, the door to the massive RV opened, and a young woman, thin, shapely, and blond, stepped out.

"Hey, Sandy," she called out cheerily, "come on over and let us give you a tour of this thing."

Reflexively, Sandy swung around toward the voice. In that single second, any chance she had to resist vanished. Rudy closed the distance between them with two quick steps and clamped the chloroform-soaked rag across her mouth and nose so tightly that she could not even struggle. In just moments, the scene around her began to swirl, then dim. Terror exploded through her mind, but was immediately replaced by a single image, a single word. Teddy. The vision of her boy was the last thing Sandy saw before darkness engulfed her.

Fifteen minutes later, the magnificent Winnebago Adventurer swung left onto the Brazelton Highway. It was followed not too closely by a bright red Mustang convertible. Eighteen miles down the highway, the RV pulled into a rest area while the Mustang bounced down a two-mile-long dirt road that ended at Redstone Quarry — a small lake that was reputed by the locals to be bottomless. The drop from the cliff's edge to the water was fifteen feet. The empty Mustang had vanished into the blackness before it hit the surface.

No one, except the man who had called himself Rudy Brooks, heard the splash.