Hannah Alexander - A Killing Frost

“Mom, it’s been a hard day for you and Dad-”

“I just called Heather.”

He felt sick.

“She started crying, told me they had to keep that line open, then hung up. Tyrell, I want you to tell me what’s happening, and I want you to tell me now.”

Doriann’s toe caught on a fallen limb and she fell headlong, her face landing in a soft bed of pine needles. Stickery pine needles. She rolled over, looked behind her, scrambled back to her feet, and then stopped. Listening.

A breeze whispered through the pines. A bird sang somewhere above her. It sounded like a mockingbird. She didn’t hear anything else.

But the wind and the birdsong could be masking other sounds.

She looked up into thick clouds. She couldn’t tell where the sun was in the sky. How long had she slept outside that barn, and how far had she run? Would it be twilight soon? It could get dark before long, and yet she knew her sense of time and direction were both wacko.

She didn’t know which way to run. So she didn’t. She looked around for the tallest pine tree with limbs low enough for her to reach. She saw one across a narrow, rocky creek bed. She crept to the tree and ducked beneath its branches, then reached up and began to climb.

Tyrell turned onto River Street toward the clinic as he explained to his mother what might have happened to Doriann, and then, because he wanted so badly to be able to convince himself, he said, “Mom, nothing is certain. I know how it looks. I want to believe that this is all some big mistake, and that Doriann will come walking home any time after a day in the park.”

“But we both know that probably won’t happen.”

He shifted his cell phone to his other hand to signal a turn.

“It’s four o’clock in the afternoon, Tyrell. She may be strong-willed and impulsive, and she may be desperate for some downtime, but she wouldn’t worry her family like this. Not all day. She would know her parents would call and check on her frequently during the day.”

Tyrell knew this far too well. He’d been driving himself half crazy with this knowledge. Denying the obvious did no one any good, but what else could he tell his family? That if Doriann had fallen into the hands of killers, she was most likely already dead? And yet…he prayed this wasn’t the case.

“Doriann is a very mature child,” Mom said. “She’s bright and capable.”

“She is.”

“If she is in a bad situation-”

“Worrying won’t help us right now.”

Another silence, this one longer. “I want to know where my granddaughter is, and I want to know now.” She could no longer hide the tremble in her voice.

“Mom, you’ve got to hold it together for Dad’s sake.”

“I…I know.” There were tears near the surface; he could hear them.

“This is an impossible situation for you,” he said. “Jama did all she could to keep you from having to go through it.”

“But I needed to know. Don’t you understand? I need to be praying.”

“The news about Doriann right now could slow Dad’s healing, even set him back.”

Silence.

“That’s why we tried to keep this under wraps until we had more information,” Tyrell said.

“I understand, but Doriann’s my flesh and blood. She’s your father’s oldest grandchild, and he would be livid if he knew he was being coddled this way.”

“Let him be livid later,” Tyrell said. “Right now, he needs to heal. Do you think you can keep mum until he’s out of the woods a little further?” Tyrell pulled into the clinic parking lot, relieved to see only two cars. The patients hadn’t arrived yet. Jama would have time to give him a quick orientation.

More silence from Mom. Longer this time. “I can do this, honey,” she said. “Dad’s going to be fine.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Not before it’s necessary. He’s the worrier of the family, you know.”

“The stroke he had when Amy-”

“I know. Let me handle him. And please, Tyrell, keep me in the loop.”

“Do you have to go back to the room for a while?” he asked.

She sighed. “No. I can have a nurse tell Monty I’m tired and decided to get a room. Tyrell, you do understand I’m serious about this. I want every update. I’m going to glue myself to the waiting-room chair and watch for every television announcement.”

“I’ll keep you updated.” Tyrell sat in the car and kept the line open, listening as she accepted the reality of this horror in her own way. Nobody was going to fix this for her.

For the first time all day, the phone was quiet. The next influx of patients had not yet arrived. Jama sat in her director’s office as Ruth perused the top résumé of a small stack.

“Do you know Chelsea Franklin?” Ruth asked.

“Yes.”

Ruth flipped the page, then frowned. “Who writes a résumé on both sides?”

“Somebody who has to conserve paper. Chelsea is Etta Franklin’s girl, and the family doesn’t have a lot, especially now that Mr. Franklin decided he couldn’t care for a wife with early onset Alzheimer’s.”

Ruth read the sheet for a few seconds, then looked up at Jama. “What else do you know about this applicant?”

“Graduated about ten years ago from River Dance High, graduated from college, worked a few years as a medical technician to save money for med school, then returned home recently.”

“That doesn’t tell me any more than her résumé does. What can you tell me about her character?”

“She was a sweet child. I used to babysit her sometimes. I don’t think that’ll help you much.”

“Zelda implied today that the two of you could help me significantly. Let’s test that theory.”

“Maybe you should ask Zelda, then, since it was her idea. I haven’t been around, myself, for a long time.”

“You’re here, Zelda is not, and I want to make some decisions right away.” Ruth swiveled in her chair and leaned toward Jama. “You grew up here. I know you’ve got old friends who keep you apprised of local news…friends such as the Mercers, Zelda. I need you to help me decide whether or not this candidate would be a good addition to the mix we already have here.”

“Which is?”

“Which is three very opinionated, strong-willed women, who will have to figure out a way to learn to get along.”

“If you think that, why did you hire Zelda, and why didn’t you fire me?”

“Zelda’s experience is invaluable, and Eric wouldn’t let me fire you even if I tried. It would be a huge financial loss to the community to replace you.”

“Thanks,” Jama muttered.

“Tell me about the applicant,” Ruth said.

“Chelsea’s quiet. She doesn’t push her opinions on others.”

“So she could either be nervous working with us, or could serve as a buffer between us,” Ruth said.

“She’s probably anxious about coming back to town, concerned she may not find a job nearby. She needs to be able to spend time with her mother.”

“Our need for the right employee is what we have to focus on. Can she do the job?”

“I’m sure she can.”

“It appears to me that Chelsea’s commitment to her mother shows some character.”

“It’s heartbreaking,” Jama said.

Ruth laid the résumé aside, as if she’d made her decision. “She’s probably no happier about returning to River Dance than you are.”

“I can’t speak for her. It would just take a few days for her to prove herself,” Jama said.

“Since she’s due to arrive in about ten minutes, we may be able to put her to the test during her interview, depending on the incoming casualties.”

The waiting-room door opened, and Jama got up to peer along the hallway. Tyrell stepped inside. He gave her a halfhearted wave.