Dastardly Bastard(20)
“How do you know?” Trevor asked after a moment.
“Because I don’t remember anything, either. All I remember is darkness, a black area where my thoughts should be. It’s all gone, like it never happened. One minute, I was watching those two go back and forth.” Marsha pointed at Jaleel and Donald. “The next, I was looking at Lyle. And… he was…” She fought back a hard spot in her throat. “He was scared of me. After that, he tried to jump off the cliff. I wanted to help, would have done anything to save my child, I promise you that, but I couldn’t move. My arms and legs just wouldn’t function. Thank God, that man… that man…” She broke down, her body racked with sobs. She looked back on Lyle’s form.
Brrrrr… brrrrr… brrrrr…
Lyle’s eyes fluttered open. He put a hand to his temple and massaged the area. “Mom?”
“I’m right here.”
“Where am I?”
“We’re still on the trail, hon. Don’t worry. We’re gonna get help.” Marsha looked up at Jaleel, directing the next comment at the tour guide. “Help will be here soon.”
“Does anyone have a cell phone?” Jaleel asked.
Trevor sighed. “Yeah. You can use mine.” Trevor pulled a silver cell phone from his front pocket and handed it to Jaleel.
“Thanks.” Jaleel flipped open the phone. “Damn it! No signal.”
Marsha saw something in Jaleel’s eyes. A hint of dishonesty. She was a mother; she knew that look well. “What about your—” She started to point out the radio attached to Jaleel’s hip, but there was that damn noise again.
Brrrrr… brrrrr… brrrrr…
“Shit!” Marsha yelled, cursing herself for being so stupid. “It’s on vibrate!”
Trevor slapped his hands on his legs. “Now what is she talking about? She ain’t going crazy on us again, is she?”
“No, no, I’m not crazy.” Marsha went at Lyle, clamoring for his pockets. The boy tried to scurry away, still obviously scared of her, but she had to ignore it, if just for a moment.
“It’s been ringing,” Marsha told them as she pulled the phone from her son’s pocket. “It’s been on vibrate. I thought I was just hearing things.”
The screen read “Unknown Caller” in green letters. She slid the bar at the bottom, unlocking the device. Shoving it up to her ear, she yelled, “Sorry, but we’re in trouble. There’s been an accident, and we need help. I need to use this line to call the po—”
“Let me talk to Lyle.”
The voice was terribly familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Something was blocking her memories again.
“Who is this?”
“Marsha, give the phone to Lyle.”
Her mouth went dry. She was left with ice in her veins. “Is this some kind of joke?”
The voice was loving, sugary-sweet. “Nobody’s jerking you around, sweetheart. Though I might let you grab my crotch another time. For now, give the phone to our son.”
Marsha felt lost. Everything was wrong. The norm had been disturbed, her entire way of looking at things changed. She had lain next to her dying husband, felt his hand loosen in her own, watched his life slip away. Yet his voice was on the phone. It just wasn’t possible.
But it’s him. I will never forget Paul’s voice.
Fourteen years ago, Marsha had been dragged along to the reunion of a high school she had never attended. Her best friend, Debra Trundell, needed Marsha present to help with her nerves. Debra, a natural introvert, rarely stepped out of the house to grocery shop, let alone to attend parties. Marsha was surprised Debra would want to put herself through some awful gathering of people she probably didn’t even remember.
Marsha hated every minute of the reunion. She hadn’t known anyone, of course, so when Debra ran into a boy she used to date in the eleventh grade, Marsha had retreated to the bar. Let her have her fun, she thought. She’d just drink.
The open bar was tended by a tight-chested, thick-armed man wearing a blue suit. With a twinkle in his eye, he told her he was from Armenia. The more Marsha drank, the more handsome the man became. She tried not to stare, but it was damn near impossible. The guy was so hot, and she was so hypnotized, she didn’t notice another man had sat down next to her until he spoke.
“Doesn’t it always happen like this?”
Startled, she spilled her whiskey sour down the front of her dress. “Whush?” What she’d meant was “What?” but it didn’t come out like that.
“Life.” He looked at her over his drink, his smile distorting as it showed through liquid inside the glass. “It never goes as planned.”
She shrugged too hard, spilling more of her drink in the process. “Maybe you got planned to do somethin’ else?”
“How many have you had?”
“I’m not drunk. Just bushing.”
“Buzzing?”
“Yesh.”
“And I am so not worthy of your current attention.”
Marsha followed the man’s gaze to where the flat of her hand rested on his crotch. She couldn’t remember putting her hand there. More than likely, she’d been aiming for his thigh. Even that seemed odd, as she didn’t know him.