Charlaine Harris - Poppy Done to Death

“Uh, let’s see. Two and a half days to Dallas, a half day to get the ride with Mr. Hammond, then the ride to Texarkana, where I helped him unload the truck, and then the other guy, the one in the pickup, that lasted about two hours, and I hid in the woods…”

I could feel all the blood draining from my face, and I sat down on the hood of Perry’s car, which was the closest.

“Hey, Roe, don’t look so… It wasn’t as bad as you’re probably thinking. I’d just… I’d never imagined… He probably wouldn’t have actually, uh, forced me… I just freaked.”

“That’s okay. That’s what people do when they’re faced with a scary situation. Hiding was the best way to make sure you were safe,” I said reasonably, thinking I would even try calling the Psychic Friends hot line to find out who this individual was who had ripped a hole out of my brother’s life. And then I’d rip a hole out of his.

“Now,” I said briskly, “I think you’ve gotten up to four days?”

“I think so. Anyway, I did get a ride with a chartered busload of people who were going to the gambling boats at Tunica- you know, right below Memphis? But I got them to drop me off in Memphis, because I thought I probably had a better chance at getting a ride in a city. And then I met Britta and Margery.”

“So, your mom and dad haven’t known where you were for six days, give or take a day?”

“Uh, well, I called them, you know.”

I closed my eyes. Thank God.

“I called them with my phone card, from pay phones. I’m almost out of minutes on it now. I just told them I was okay. I didn’t tell them I was coming to you.”

And it had never occurred to them, because they hadn’t called me to ask me to be on the lookout. For some reason, that made me angry. My half brother is missing, and my own father can’t call me and let me know?

I realized, looking up at his young face, that Phillip was exhausted. Though I hadn’t been around for much of Phillip’s youth, due to my father’s taking him far away from me-on purpose-when Phillip was in elementary school, I was sure that Phillip had had as sheltered and middle-class an upbringing as his parents could provide in Southern California.

“Maybe they’ll let you stay for a while,” I said. “I sure would like that.”

“I’m sorry they wouldn’t come to your wedding, or your husband’s funeral,” Phillip said miserably. “I really liked Mr. Bartell, when I met him. I tried to make them let me come by myself, but they wouldn’t listen.”

“Hey, bud, that’s okay,” I said. Of course it hadn’t been, but his parents’ bad behavior wasn’t Phillip’s fault. Martin had uncomfortably excused his son, Barrett, who had done pretty much the same thing, but Martin had been quick to become angry with my father and Betty Jo: Of course, he could see that my father had hurt me. Martin and I had stopped in to see them when we’d taken a trip to California. The visit had been very uncomfortable; the only highlight had been seeing Phil-lip.

That had been what-a year and a half ago? I figured Phillip had grown five inches in that time.

“We need to talk a little more about your trip later, and we need to call your folks, and we need to put your clothes in the wash, and you, too. You don’t have any other clothes?” I was trying to sound mature and in charge, but I’d used up a lot of whatever authority I possessed when I was dealing with my errant brother-in-law.

“Uh, I left my backpack when I got out of the truck so fast,” he confessed, his eyes sliding away.

“Then we’ll take care of the clothes situation.”

“Uh, Roe, you dating now? Mom said there was something in a gossip column in one of the movie magazines.”

“Ugh. I didn’t know that. I’m sure not important enough to rate that, so it must be because of Robin Crusoe, the man I’m dating. He’s a writer. I knew him a long time ago, and he came back to Lawrenceton a couple of months back and we started going out.”

“I read Whimsical Death .” That was Robin’s nonfiction book, which had made a lot of money and spread his name everywhere. “So I can just hang somewhere else when he’s staying over,” Phillip told me with a man-of-the-world air.

“We’ll talk about that later. It’s not going to be a problem. And Robin’s out of town right now anyway.” But I had to call him, and right away. Robin would be hurt if I didn’t tell him about Poppy as soon as possible. “Now, let me go inside and let them know I have to take the rest of the afternoon off, and we’ll go over to my new house. I told you I’d moved, right?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, then.” I still had my purse clutched in my left hand. I dug out my car keys and pointed out the Volvo to my brother. “You go wait in there while I run in for just a second.”

“Okay,” he said.

I started in the back door of the library, wondering what kind of fool I was to give my car keys to a wandering teenager, and I prayed with all my heart that he would be there when I came back.

Explaining to Sam wasn’t easy, but then talking to Sam was becoming increasingly difficult. Sam was getting crankier as he got older, and since he was only in his early fifties, he had a lot of room to spare. He’d lost his perfect secretary a few months before, and he hadn’t replaced her. He couldn’t find anyone who even gave a hint that someday she might be almost as good as the lamented Patricia. I wondered how Sam’s wife was taking his prolonged grief. I didn’t know her very well, but Marva had been a junior high algebra teacher a long time, and I didn’t think she’d put up with much foolishness.

To my overwhelming relief, Phillip was in the car when I opened the door. Not only was he in the car but he was sound asleep. His head was tilted back on the cushion, and when I slid into the driver’s seat, I noticed that Phillip had a few long hairs on his chin. I almost burst into tears, and that would have been terrible. I drove to my house as gently as anyone can drive, and when we got there, I maneuvered my little brother (now only chronologically smaller) into the kitchen from the garage, and then into the guest bedroom. He was just barely awake.

“You get into the shower, and then you climb in the bed. I’ll wash your clothes while you’re asleep,” I said. “I’ll even call your mother for you, if that’s okay.”

“Would you?” Phillip was transparently grateful for that. I probably should not have offered, but I couldn’t let them worry a minute longer than necessary about their son, and he was clearly in no shape for an emotional confrontation.

I kept a robe hanging in the closet in the guest room. I pointed it out to Phillip, who looked at it as if he’d never seen such a garment before. I left to give him a little privacy, and in a short time I heard the shower running-and running, and running, and running. Just when I was about to go into the bathroom to see if he’d drowned, the water cut off. I caught a glimpse of Phillip shuffling from the bathroom back into the bedroom, the robe swathed around him. His clothes-and two towels-were in a heap on the floor of the steamy bathroom, and I automatically went through the pockets of his grimy blue jeans so I wouldn’t wash anything I wasn’t supposed to.

I fished out his wallet, a couple of wadded tissues, a pocketknife, some loose change, and two sealed condoms.

Okay, I was horrified. Legally, my brother couldn’t even drive by himself!

I had to sit down and collect myself for a minute. I was reacting as if I were Phillip’s mother-and I was old enough to be Phillip’s mother-but I wasn’t . I was his big sister. Phillip had a perfectly functional mother, who admittedly thought I was the devil incarnate, but other than that, she seemed to be a reasonable woman.