“I guess that’s not exactly a shock, either.”
“Listen,” she said sharply, raising a finger near his face. “I used to do a lot of things I don’t do anymore. My life changed drastically this summer, and that’s all I’m going to say about it right now.”
“Fair enough.” He leaned against the brick building. “Show me how to act drunk.”
“Just do like I do, and don’t exaggerate.” Kelly stepped out from the doorway and walked back onto the sidewalk, her body angling slightly and her feet misaligned in a sporadic gait. She seemed to be using the bottle as a counterweight to keep from falling.
Nathan shook his head at the pitiful sight. There was no way he could do that. It just wouldn’t be right. He ran to catch up and grabbed her arm. “Kelly. Stop.”
She halted and pointed at a man across the street. In his early twenties and wearing a muscle shirt, he was unloading a string-bound stack of newspapers from the back of an old oversized van marked, Stoneman Enterprises.
“Look!” she said. “Let’s ask him where he’s delivering.”
Glad for a chance to stop Kelly’s antics, Nathan strode up to the muscular young man. “You heading out west at all?”
“Yep.” With his collar-length brown hair falling into his eyes as he worked, he dropped the stack and cut the string with a flick of a pocketknife. “I take the early edition as far as Des Moines. I’m heading out as soon as I deliver these.”
“That’s perfect.” When Kelly joined them, Nathan took her hand. “Do you have room for a couple of hitchhikers hoping to go a little farther than Iowa City? We … uh … kind of lost our transportation home.”
“It’ll take till morning to get there.” He eyed them suspiciously. “You look kind of young to be out drinking this late, especially in this part of town.”
Kelly held up the bottle. “Oh, you mean this stage prop. We’re brother and sister. We were acting in a play at a theatre and lost our way on the ‘L’ train.” Setting the bottle down, she pinched her pant leg with one hand and touched her still-bleeding cut with the other. “See? Our costumes, the cool makeup job they did on my machete wound …”
The young man gave them a smirk that didn’t reveal whether he believed her or not. “With all my papers, there won’t be any room in the back, but you can squeeze in up front.”
Nathan extended his hand. “I’m Nathan Shepherd, and this is Kelly.”
The man wrapped Nathan’s fingers in his powerful grip. “Gunther Stoneman.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” Nathan read the lettering on his van again. Could he be related to the Stoneman who helped him at the Wal-Mart? “Your name sounds familiar. Have we met?”
“Not that I can remember. I know some Shepherds, but none that look like you.”
Nathan gave a little shrug. “Okay … well, thanks for the ride.”
“Sure thing. Let me load this paper box, and I’ll be right back.”
After Kelly boarded the van through the front passenger door, Nathan slid in next to her, hip to hip. He pulled a newspaper from the bundle behind him and checked the date, stealthily showing it to Kelly. “Get a load of this!”
She whispered, “Nineteen-seventy-eight?”
“Yeah. And it’s summer, just like we thought. July the twenty-ninth.” He flipped to another section. “Look at that! Four thousand bucks for a new car!”
“That’s fresh off the press,” Gunther said through the open window on the driver’s side. He opened the door and climbed into his seat. “There’s supposed to be a blurb about the double murder at Ganz Hall.”
“A double murder?” Nathan repeated.
“Yeah.” After starting the engine, he raised his eyebrows at Nathan. “What’s it say?”
As the van pulled away from the curb, Nathan fanned out the front page over Kelly’s lap and began reading the short article. “Police report that two musicians were murdered backstage shortly after their quartet’s performance. Their bodies were found in twin coffins surrounded by broken instruments but later mysteriously disappeared. A woman who found the bodies claimed that their eyes had been burned out. Although police refused to comment about the victims’ identities and possible suspects, bystanders report that two teenaged — “He stopped and cleared his throat.
“Tired, Nathan?” Kelly set her finger on the article. “Bystanders report that two teenaged African-American girls left the scene, both wearing straw hats and purple miniskirts.”
Gunther whistled into the fresh breeze blowing in through the windows. “African girls in straw hats? They should be easy to find.”
Leaning close to Kelly’s ear, Nathan whispered, “They didn’t call black people that in nineteen-seventy-eight. Your lies are going to get us in trouble.”
She turned his way also whispering. “My lies are keeping us in this van. If he thought we did it, he’d dump us at the police station for sure.”
“If we told him the whole truth, maybe not.”
“The whole truth? You gotta be kidding —”
“Is something wrong?” Gunther asked.
“No,” Kelly said, straightening quickly. “Nothing at all.”
Nathan folded the paper and set it in his lap. “Actually Gunther, there is something wrong. We’re the two teenagers the witnesses saw, but we’re actually running from the murderer ourselves. We were going to be his next victims, but we escaped on the ‘L’ and got off at the station up the street. The police would never believe us, so we have to get home as soon as possible.”
Gunther turned sharply onto a new road. “I already read the article, so I thought you might be the fugitives.”
Nathan tightened his grip on the newspaper. “Are you going to take us to the police?”
“I was, until you came clean. You two don’t look like murderers to me. Your sister’s a bad liar but not a murderer.”
Nathan sneaked a peek at Kelly. She clenched her fingers tightly on her lap, her head bowed in silence.
After driving the van up a ramp and merging into the traffic on a major highway, Gunther settled back in his seat. “Why don’t you tell me your story while we head west?”
As the breeze stiffened and swirled through the van, rattling the newspapers in the back, Nathan explained how he had found his parents dead in the prop room at the same performance hall, and how tonight, he and Kelly were searching for clues, trying to figure out how they had died. Although he left out the strange time shift and the visions in the mirror, every word he spoke was true. Finishing with enough details about their harrowing escape over the rooftops to make his story believable, he finally let out a long sigh. “I guess that sounds pretty crazy, huh?”
“Not really. You know what they say. Truth is stranger than fiction.” At that point, Gunther took over the conversation, rattling on and on about his favorite books, his evening classes at college, his beloved Chicago Bears, and his life in general. Although his night job kept him up until dawn, he caught three short naps a day and subsisted on turkey-and-tomato sandwiches and Hawaiian Punch. And so the chatter continued as the van tunneled into the dark outskirts of the city.
Soon, Kelly’s head listed to the side. She leaned on Nathan’s shoulder, and her breathing deepened to a rhythmic rumble. He tried to keep as still as possible. She had mentioned not getting any sleep the night before. Not only that, the crazy chase and her loss of blood gave her every reason to be exhausted. Even Gunther’s frequent stops and door-slamming didn’t faze her.
After a few hours, Nathan caught himself dozing, the van door awakening him as Gunther battened down the hatches after another delivery. The sun’s early-morning rays stretched across the horizon and painted the sky and clouds in a wash of orange and blue.
“We’re just past Iowa City,” Gunther announced as he slid behind the steering wheel. “I can take you straight to your house if you want.”
“Sure.” Nathan nudged Kelly. “Can you give Gunther directions?”
“Directions?” She jer
ked her head up and glanced around, blinking rapidly. “Where are we?”
Gunther pointed at a wrinkled map attached by a rubber band to his sun visor. “Ten miles west of Iowa City.”
Kelly yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Do you know where the Wal-Mart is in Newton?”
“Wal-Mart? There’s no Wal-Mart in Newton.”
“Right,” Kelly said, laughing nervously. “I must have been dreaming.”
“I wouldn’t mind having one there.” Gunther shifted the van into gear. “That would be a great delivery job. They say Wal-Mart’s a good company to work for.”
As they pulled back onto the interstate, Kelly leaned forward and squinted at the map. “Do you know where the exit for Highway 14 is?”
“Sure do.” Using his finger, he traced a line on Interstate 80 from Des Moines to Newton. “About seventy miles. I have a stop there.”
“Good.” She nodded toward the windshield. “I’ll guide you from the exit.”
Gunther narrowed his eyes at Nathan. “Why couldn’t you give directions?”
“Oh, he’d get us lost,” Kelly said. “He knows he’s terrible at — “She halted, squirmed for a second, and cleared her throat. “Nathan’s not as familiar with the area as I am. He’s been traveling overseas a lot, and you know how fast things change around here.”
“If you say so,” Gunther said, shrugging.
Nathan focused on the road ahead, not wanting to give Gunther a chance to read his eyes. He was suspicious enough already.
After about an hour of quiet travel, they turned off the main highway. Kelly seemed lost, frequently shifting forward and swinging her head back and forth. Finally after several miles, she pointed at a street sign. “There it is! Turn right here!”
Gunther pulled the van onto a narrow dirt road, even narrower than the familiar road to their house. As they passed between the cornfields, the van’s draft brushed the stalks, shorter and greener than the stalks they had so recently seen.
Kelly bounced in her seat, extending her finger. “There! There’s our house!”
Gunther rolled alongside the huge estate and whistled as he came to a stop. “Nice place. Looks brand new.”
“We just moved here. That’s why I had a hard time finding it.” Kelly set a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “Let’s get out.”
Nathan pushed the door open and jumped to the dirt road, then helped Kelly down. “Thanks,” he said, nodding at Gunther. He held up the section of newspaper he had read earlier. “Can I keep this?”
“Not a problem.” Smiling, he winked at Nathan. “Keep your sister out of trouble.”
“I will!” Nathan tore off the front page and folded it into his back pocket. As he and Kelly walked slowly toward the house, Gunther wheeled the van a few feet into the yard to make his U-turn before driving away.
Kelly reached for a leaf on the cottonwood tree. “Green. Just like in the picture.”
“This whole scene is exactly like it.”
“Yeah. It’s spooky.” She angled her body to look around the side of the house. “I wonder where the little girl is.”
“Let’s check.” He marched straight toward the door.
“Nathan! Wait!”
He spun around. “What?”
“We need a story.” She caught up with him and touched the wound on her scalp. “It’s so early in the morning, and no one’s going to want to talk to a stranger who looks like this.”
“Another lie?”
She flashed an angry glare. “Get off your soapbox. If you have a better idea, then let’s hear it.”
“Just be casual.” He hopped up to the porch. “If we pretend not to notice, maybe whoever lives here will pretend, too.”
She joined him, raising her shoulder to wipe the still-oozing blood onto her short sleeve. “That’s like pretending there’s no elephant in the room when he’s sitting on your lap.”
Nathan shrugged, then knocked. “Scratch him on the back and maybe he’ll go to sleep.”
After a few seconds, the door swung open, revealing a thirty-something redheaded woman wearing a blue smock. A graceful smile decorated her lovely, slender face, but her bloodshot eyes gave away an inner weariness, and the cane she leaned on revealed some kind of crippling handicap. “May I help you?”
Nathan gawked at her. Except for the red hair and hazel eyes, she looked exactly like his mother. “Uh … I …”
A young raven-haired girl stepped into the foyer, clutching a three-quarter-size violin and bow. “Who is it, Mommy? I heard someone mention an elephant.”
Nathan’s gaze riveted on her. Wearing a blue and white pinafore and purple and pink canvas shoes over white lacy socks, she defined cuteness. This was definitely the girl in the photo. “We’re kind of lost,” he finally said. “Can we use your phone?”
She stifled a yawn. “Maybe when my neighbor gets off. We don’t have a private line yet.”
As the girl wrapped her arm around her mother’s waist, Kelly spoke to her in a sweet tone. “Is your name Francesca?”
A broad smile crossed her face. “Yes.”
“How old are you?”
“I just turned ten.”
Kelly pointed at her nose. “How did you get that nasty scratch?”
“My cat, Leopold. I was giving him a bath.” She furrowed her brow. “How did you know my name?”
Her mother’s brow knitted in exactly the same way. “Yes. How did you know?”
Kelly pushed Nathan’s shoulder. “We found the right place after all.” Reaching for Francesca’s hand, Kelly looked at the girl’s mother. “I know it’s kind of early, but we’re here from the music school to interview your little prodigy. We heard she has the potential to become one of the greatest.”
A smile emerged on her mother’s face, proud, but still suspicious. “Well … she is good. At least I think so.” She gave them a curious squint. “How did you hear about her?”
“From her teacher, of course.” Kelly glanced at Nathan and began snapping her fingers. “What was the name again?”
“Nikolai. Nikolai Malenkov.” He extended his hand. “And you must be Mrs. Romano.”
She shook it with a firm grip. “Pleased to meet you.” As soon as she released his hand, she again covered up a yawn. “I’m sorry I slept terribly. Bad dreams all night.”
“It’s okay. We’re tired, too.” Nudged by memories of the nightmare article, he lowered his voice. “Were you worried about something?”
She copied his quieter tone. “Ever since my husband died, I worry about …” She glanced at Francesca. “Well, about security, you know, being alone way out in the middle of nowhere, and since I have lupus, I can’t defend myself. I’m thinking about getting a German shepherd.”
He gave her a nod. “Not a bad idea.”
“What happened to your shirt?” Francesca asked, pointing at Kelly’s bloodstained sleeve.
Kelly quickly re-tucked the hem. “Sorry. It must have come loose on the way.”
“I didn’t mean that. I meant the bl —”
“Where do you normally practice?” Kelly interrupted. “That would be the best place to do the interview and maybe get some pictures.”
“In my room.”
Kelly took Francesca’s hand. “Can you show me?”
“This way.” As the little girl led Kelly toward the hall, Kelly looked back, gesturing for Nathan to follow.
When Nathan stepped in that direction, Mrs. Romano grabbed his arm with an iron grip. “Wait. I can’t let you go in there without me.”
“Oh … yeah. I understand.”
She began a slow hobble toward the bedroom, her cane leading the way. “I’m not saying you’re one of them, but with all the crazy people out there, I can’t take any chances with my daughter.”
“Of course. I’d be the same way.” Nathan placed a hand under her elbow and walked slowly next to her. How could he blame her for being suspicious? Two strangers with matching khakis showing up early in the morning claimi
ng to be from a music school wasn’t exactly normal, especially since one of them had a nasty cut.
With the thumping cane accentuating her words, she looked up at him with teary eyes. “You remind me of my dear husband. Whenever my lupus acted up, he would walk at my side, until leukemia took him away from me. He was such a gentleman.” She stopped and patted his hand. “Thank you for raising that lovely memory.”
Nathan shook his head. “Don’t thank me. Thank my father. He told me I should always treat women as treasures, especially mothers. Without them, where would we be?”
As a tear made its way to her cheek, she smiled. “You’re a lucky boy to have such a wise father.”
“Lucky?” Nathan kept his voice steady. “I was lucky I guess. My father died a couple of days ago. The funeral’s tomorrow.”
She looked him in the eye, her hand trembling on her cane. After a few seconds of silence, she nodded down the hall. “Go ahead to Francesca’s room. Your friend is probably wondering what happened to you.”
Nathan pulled back. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She scanned his body. “Where’s your camera?”
He tried to hide his nervous swallow. “Camera?”
“Aren’t you going to take pictures?”
He patted his shirt. “I forgot to bring it.”
“I have one you can borrow. I’ll get it and meet you there.”
As Mrs. Romano shuffled away in the other direction, Nathan strode ahead and turned into the bedroom, his bedroom, at least what had been his bedroom … or would become his bedroom. He shook his head hard. Everything was so confusing!
When he entered, he quickly scanned the room. Instead of a huge mirror on the wall, a pastel-colored mural decorated the smooth plaster — a painting of a serpentine musical staff with happy-faced notes climbing on the lines like mischievous spider monkeys. He deciphered the notes and nodded. The first measures of “Brahms’ Lullaby.”
Against the wall opposite the mural, a trunk sat on the floor, its lid open. He wanted to shout to Kelly “That’s the same trunk!” but decided to wait. No use startling Francesca. He stepped closer to see the inside. Sheets of handwritten music covered the bottom, maybe an inch or so thick.