Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(68)

The screen door banged behind him. He turned toward her, only to feel his anticipation fade as he saw the determined look in her eyes.

“Let’s go, Gabe. We’re going to find that Bible right now.”

He got ready to argue, but then gave up. What was the use? Rachel’s mind was made up.





“Another waste of time,” Gabe said as he closed the door of his truck.

The interior was hot, and the seat belt burned Rachel’s fingers as she snapped it together over the skirt of the dress she’d been reserving for a special occasion, a square-neck yellow cotton printed with black-and-orange monarch butterflies. “We only have one more name to go.”

“Let’s eat instead. I could use a hamburger.”

“I swear you have a tapeworm. We just ate an hour ago.”

“I’m hungry again. Besides, checking up on Rick Nagel’s going to be an even bigger waste of time than this was. The fact that he cheated off Kristy’s geography test when she was in fifth grade doesn’t mean he should be a suspect.”

“I trust Kristy’s instincts.”

Gravel crunched beneath the tires as Gabe backed out of Warren Roy’s short driveway. Rachel watched him flip on the air conditioner. At the same time, he gave her a look that combined both tolerance and irritation. He thought she was on a wild-goose chase, and he was probably right. The blank expressions on the faces of the first two men they’d visited had convinced her neither one had any idea what she was talking about. Still, the Bible had to be somewhere.

Something had been nagging at her ever since she’d first seen the list, and once again, she took out the paper to study the names. Bill Keck . . . Frank Keegan . . . Phil Dennis . . . Kirk DeMerchant . . . She hadn’t known any of them.

Dennis. Her gaze shot back up the list. “Phil Dennis? Is he related to Carol?”

“Her brother-in-law. Why?”

She jabbed her finger at the paper. “He was there that night.”

“Then you’re out of luck. I heard he moved out west a couple of years ago, so if he took your Bible, it’s long gone.”


“Not if he gave it to Carol.”

“Why would he do that?”

“She was loyal to Dwayne. She still believes in him, and that Bible would mean a lot to her. Maybe her brother-in-law knew that and took it.”

“Or maybe not.”

“You could be a little more encouraging, you know.”

“This is as encouraging as I get.”

His attitude was irritating, but at least he was sticking by her. She studied his profile with its hard planes and blunt angles and thought about telling him a knock-knock joke so she could watch his face soften when he smiled. A lassitude stole through her, a need for him that wasn’t going away. She wanted to tell him to turn his truck around and head right back up Heartache Mountain, but she couldn’t do that, so she concentrated on folding the paper instead. “I want to see Carol next.”

She waited for him to protest. Instead, he sighed. “You sure you don’t want to get a hamburger?”

“If I eat another hamburger, I’ll start to moo. Please, Gabe. Take me to Carol’s house.”

“I’ll just bet she’s another charter member of your fan club,” he grumbled.

“Um.” No need to tell him exactly how much Carol Dennis disliked her.

Carol lived in a white colonial tract house set on a rectangular lot fronted by two symmetrically planted young maples. Matching redwood planters filled with purple and pink petunias sat on each side of the front door, which was painted Williamsburg-blue and held a grapevine wreath decorated with yellow silk flowers. Rachel stepped ahead of Gabe and braced herself for what could only be an unpleasant interview, but before she could push the bell, the door opened and two teenage boys came out, followed by Bobby Dennis.

It had been nearly a month since she’d seen him with his mother at the grocery store, but as he caught sight of her, his face hardened with the same hostility. “What do you want?”

Gabe stiffened at her side.

“I’d like to speak with your mother,” she said quickly.

He grabbed the cigarette the red-haired boy on his right had just lit, took a drag, and handed it back. “She’s not here.”

Rachel shuddered at the thought of Edward turning out like this. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

He shrugged, already bummed out on a life that had barely begun. “My mom don’t tell me shit.”

“Watch your mouth,” Gabe said in a low, almost toneless voice that sent a shiver up Rachel’s spine. Although he didn’t do anything overtly threatening, he seemed to loom over the surly teenagers, and the Dennis boy began to study one of the petunia pots.

His red-haired friend, the one he’d taken the cigarette from, shifted nervously. “My mom and her are workin’ at the pig roast today.”

Gabe’s lips barely moved. “You don’t say.”

The redhead’s knobby Adam’s apple wobbled in his throat. “We’re goin’ down there later. Do you want us to give her a message or something?”

Rachel decided to intercede before the poor kid swallowed his cigarette. “We’ll find her. Thanks.”

“Punks,” Gabe said as they returned to the truck. The moment they were settled inside, he turned to her. “You are not going to that pig roast.”