CHAPTER 37
Rebecca
Uncle T’s voice was a snarl behind the door, which was open just far enough for them to see his face. “Whaddaya want.”
Rebecca watched as he took them in—the tall dark-skinned preacher, his well-dressed and beautiful wife, the old woman in blue jeans and a yellow West Dahlia Leaders Summer Enrichment Camp T-shirt, and her, in her rain-drenched wrap dress.
When T’s eyes settled on Rebecca, they narrowed in recognition.
“You again?”
Rev took a step forward, blocking his glare.
“I’m Reverend Mack Bryant, Devon’s pastor.”
T looked like he’d swallowed a jar of pickle juice, but he said nothing.
“He’s been out of camp and church, and we’re concerned about him,” Rev said, his voice calm and controlled, but Rebecca saw him ease a foot into the door crack.
T scowled. “Man, he ain’t none-a your concern.”
“Beg pardon, but Devon Robinson is my concern,” Rev said, then gestured to Marla, Granny, and Rebecca. “He’s our concern. He’s our friend. Is he sick?”
“He’s gone.”
Marla frowned. “What do you mean, gone?”
“Got a hearing problem? He’s. Gone.” T’s last word came out in a hiss.
Rebecca felt rather than saw Rev’s muscles tense. Marla put a warning hand on his arm. Granny slipped her hand into Rebecca’s.
“Well, where is he?”
“How would I know? Kid took off after the ambulance came.”
“Ambulance!” Rebecca blurted.
“My Maw. Had’a go to the hospital.” T set his chin. “He took off out the back door. Ain’t seen ’im since.”
T tried to shut the door, but Rev’s foot blocked it.
Rebecca’s throat went dry.
“When?” Rev asked. “And where’s Memaw?”
“Yesterday, day before. Dunno where he went,” T muttered. “Maw’s at regional. Ambulance came Thursday. Now move your foot, a’ight?”
Thursday? Her hand tightened in Granny’s.
“Has he taken off before?” Rev asked.
“First time for everything.” A small smile threatened. “He ain’t all that. He’ll be back.”
Rev’s back stiffened. “No, sir, that’s where you’re wrong. He won’t be back. Ladies, to the car.”
Marla gunned the engine as they all slid in.
Before he got in, Rev called to T, “Mark my words. We’re going to find your nephew, and if you ever see him again, it’ll be to say goodbye. For good.”
Thursday. Rebecca closed her eyes, tried her best to drown out the roaring in her ears.
Devon’s Memaw had been in the hospital since Thursday, if they could believe T, and no one had seen or heard from Devon himself in days.
God gives us instincts for a reason. Why hadn’t she trusted hers?
She wished Josh were with her now, wished it so badly she could taste it. Where was Devon?
“Rebecca, you had burgers with him a few days ago, right?” Rev said, pulling a notepad and pen from the center console as they backed away from the house, headed to their cars.
“Thursday, at Harold’s,” Rebecca said, squeezed her eyes shut. All those days, all that time. Wasted. On what—etiquette? Soothed feelings?
“He wasn’t at the giveaway Friday, or at camp,” Marla said.
“And he wasn’t at church Sunday,” Rev said, making notes.
“We came by with soup Saturday and didn’t see him,” Granny said.
Marla pulled out her cell phone, dialed.
“Hi, Diane, this is Marla Bryant from Dahlia Community Bible Church,” she said in a warm voice.
“Good to hear your voice, too! Listen, I’m checking in on a member.
Do you have a Dolores Robinson as a patient there?
” Marla nodded at them, gave a thumbs up. “Since Thursday night, you say?”
“Is Devon there too?” Rev mouthed, and Marla added, “You haven’t seen her little grandson by chance, have you? Devon. He’s eleven. ... No? All righty, we’ll be down in a bit to visit. You be sure to send our love, now.”
She hung up.
“Okay, so at least that’s the truth—Memaw’s in the hospital, but no sign of Devon.” Marla frowned. “Now where would Devon go if not to us? Does he have any close friends who might take him in?”
They passed two-twenty-one Baker, and Rebecca remembered CJ.
“There!” Rebecca pointed as they passed. She could see her car ahead. “His friend CJ lives there.”
“Good thinking, girl,” Granny said. “Devon and CJ have been friends a long, long time.”
“There’s also Shenise,” Rev said. “I know her family real well.”
“And the Garcia girls, Gabby and Mariana,” Marla said. “They live off Tristan Street, in the trailer park.”
“But aren’t they all at camp?” Granny said. “I’m sure I saw the Garcia girls this morning.”
Marla stopped the car at the intersection. The rain began to fall again, soft now instead of the morning’s hard pellets, but fast.
“Let’s do this the smart way and divvy the labor.” Rev turned to them. “Marla, you and Helen go to the school, see what you can find out from CJ, Shenise, Gabby, and Mariana, and anyone else you can think of who might have information.”
“Got it,” Marla said, and Granny nodded.
“Rebecca, you feel okay going to CJ’s and seeing if you can find out anything there, and I’ll head over to Shenise’s and the Garcia house?” Rev said. “We can call each other in twenty minutes sharp and share what we’ve learned.”
“Absolutely.”
“Be safe, girl,” Granny said as Rebecca opened the door to slide out of the car and into the rain.
She gripped Granny’s hand, squeezed a quick I-love-you.
“I will. You, too, Granny.”