Thomas Perry - Vanishing Act

The cab took only fifteen minutes to reach Deganawida, and then Jane took over. "Turn left at the next light. Go straight for two lights. Turn right up here. It’s the third house from the corner, the one with the green door."

The cab had just made it out of her driveway and Jane was picking up her suitcase when Jake Reinert came outside. It was only six-thirty in the morning, but there he was, all dressed and walking stiffly outside with shower-wet hair combed straight back on his head. She was too tired for Jake. "Hi, Jake," she said, and hurried toward her door.

The old man danced down his steps and, with a haste she couldn’t remember seeing in years, stepped across both his lawn and hers, leaving deep, wet depressions in the saturated grass. "Hold up, Jane," he said. "Got to talk to you."

She set down her suitcase on the porch and got out her keys. "Sure," she said unenthusiastically. "Come on in."

She swung open the door and hurried to the keyboard on the wall to press in her code and turn off the alarm system. When she turned around, Jake was inside and shutting the door. "You had a burglary while you were gone."

"Oh?" she said. "Did they get caught?"

"Not exactly."

She had been expecting this, right up to the word no, and she assumed that she was going to have to face a big housecleaning because they would have vented a little of their rage on her belongings while they searched. It didn’t matter. She never kept records of her clients. Her clothes were the only expensive things in the house, and it would probably make her feel better to spend the next few days buying new ones. "Why not exactly?"

Jake seemed to be shuffling his thoughts into logical order. "Here’s how it happened. They broke your back window, here." He took a couple of steps toward it to show her the plywood nailed over the break. She could see the black fingerprint dust the police had used all over the glass, but he answered the question she hadn’t asked. ’’That set off the alarm at the police station. They heard it ringing inside, so they started to run. But I woke up, and turned on my porch light just as they were coming around between the two houses. You know how bright that is. It’s a two-fifty flood. Like daylight. It was so bright it startled them. They all turned to look right at it for a second, then covered their faces and ran to their car."

Jane was so exhausted that she felt giddy. She started to laugh. Jake’s floodlight was so powerful that on the few occasions when he had turned it on, she had been furious. "You really did get your money’s worth on that light, Jake."

"The hell I did. The damned hardware store sold Margaret the fixture years ago, and when I got a look at it and took it back, they wouldn’t accept it. The bulbs cost five dollars even in those days. You could use it to jack-light deer."

"Well, for once I’m glad you had it. They didn’t get inside at all?"

"No," he said. "Not with the light and all. And of course they knew an alarm must be connected to something, and how long could it take for the police to get here in a town this size?"

"How long?"

"Too long. Maybe four or five minutes. By then they were probably that many miles away."

"Well, if they didn’t get in, then nothing’s lost," she said, and lifted her suitcase to take it toward the bedroom.

Jake ignored the hint. "I saw them."

"Yes," she said noncommittally.

"Really saw them," he said. "Saw them so clearly it was like a flash picture. There were four of them, and not kids, either. Grown men. When I turned on the light, one of them started to pull out a gun. He couldn’t see me, because the switch is inside by the front door."

"Did you describe them to the police?"

"Sure, but they’re not from around here. The Deganawida police aren’t going to pick them up and put them in a lineup for me."

"I don’t think they could do a lineup for you, Jake. They have to put in extra people to fool you, and you know everybody," she said. "But if they were just passing through, at least they won’t break into somebody else’s house tomorrow."

"Jane ..."

"What?"

"You know the chief, Dave Dormont, he’s a good friend of mine. I pulled him out of Ellicott Crick one time when we were kids. The Rowland boys had tossed him in and I was ten years older, and ... Anyway, he’s a really good cop. Maybe it’s because he got picked on when he was little, so he doesn’t put up with the strong hurting the weak. He was an F.B.I, agent for years."

"I heard that," she said.

"That wasn’t just gossip. I was saying he might be able to help."

"Oh," she said. "I don’t think I need anything special. Look around. Unless they wanted some women’s clothes ..."

"They weren’t after your stuff," he said quietly. "And you know it."

"I do?"

"I said your house was burglarized, and you didn’t get scared or run around looking to see what they’d taken. I said ’they,’ instead of ’he,’ and you didn’t say, ’How many?’ When I said I saw them, you didn’t ask what they looked like. You knew what they looked like because you’ve seen them too."

"Jake," she said carefully. "You know I love you and I value your friendship and I don’t forget the things you did for all of us kids when we were little. It didn’t matter whose kids were whose, we all piled into the car and fought for the window seats and lined up for Popsicles. But I don’t need any help."

"You mean I’m wrong?"

"I mean this is a conversation we’re not going to have all the way through."

He stared at the floor for a moment. "All right. I just want you to know that it won’t matter if it turns out to be your own fault. I saw those four, and I know men like that don’t just come out of the blue after a young woman in Deganawida. You have to go where they are to attract their attention. How it happened doesn’t matter to me. I’m on your side." He started for the door, then stopped. "And thanks for not lying to me about it. You know I’d hate that."

"Yes, I do," said Jane.

Jake went out and closed the door, and she hurried to lock it behind him and activate the alarm system. She blew out a sigh of exhaustion, frustration, and despair. She decided she would face her life better after a bath and some sleep. As she walked into the bedroom upstairs, she saw that the light on her answering machine was blinking. Her heart stopped, and she actually heard herself gasp. Did he know her number? Why not? He’d been in here alone for days, and it was on the dial. Maybe something was wrong. She carefully pressed the button, superstitiously afraid that somehow she could press the wrong one and erase it.

"Jane?" It was a woman’s voice. "You know who this is." There was a pause. "I wanted to let you know I made it. I’ll never forget what you did for me. Never." There was some complicated clicking, and she heard two seconds of dial tone before the machine disconnected. It was Rhonda Eckerly, and the message was at least a week old. Jane released the breath she had been holding. She could hear the happiness in Rhonda’s voice, her throat so tight she was almost choking on it. Jane tried to feel the happiness, but she couldn’t. She had wanted it to be Felker. Even though it would have been a stupid thing for him to do, she wanted to hear his voice. She wanted him to be as stupid as she was.

Jane lay in the bathtub for nearly an hour, until the water was cold and her fingertips and toes were wrinkled and every molecule of dust from the road had been soaked off. Then she put on sweats and lay down to think. She awoke on top of the covers at four in the afternoon, already thinking about the police.

She sat up and dialed information to get the number they used for normal business. "Deganawida police," said the deep, resonant voice.