The Rapids by Carla Neggers

Author:Carla Neggers [Neggers, Carla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Suspense
Publisher: MIRA
Published: 2004-05-16T04:00:00+00:00

Maggie waited until nightfall to call her mother, using her cell phone as she sat cross-legged on her bed. A passing shower had left the air moist and a bit cooler, the wind sucking her curtains against the wet screen.

If the light was just right, her mother wouldn’t pick up the phone. At night, Maggie thought, her odds of reaching Cora Spencer, painter, were better.

She answered on the second ring.

“Hey, there,” Maggie said. “It’s me.”

“Maggie! I’m so glad you called. I just got in from a walk. It’s hotter than blue blazes here. How are you?”

“Doing fine. You haven’t heard?”

A half beat’s pause. “Heard what?”

Her mother didn’t watch the news. If the world were ending, if a hurricane were bearing down on her, she would rely on a friend or neighbor to let her know. “Nothing. Never mind. You’re doing okay?”

“Great. I’m working hard, teaching at the community college. Isn’t it the middle of the night where you are?”

“I’m in New York,” Maggie said.

“Oh. On business, I assume? Well, I know you’ve got an important job to do.”

And she didn’t want to know any of the details. She never asked questions. It wasn’t that she didn’t care—she was tired of caring, worn out from it. She wanted a quiet life with routines. She liked painting pretty pictures of gardens and beaches and flamingos and visiting with friends, talking about nothing more serious than whether there was a riptide or it was safe to swim in the warm water outside her apartment.

If she was a little self-absorbed these days, she was allowed. Or so Maggie told herself. Her mother had been married to a man with wanderlust and secrets, and her only child was the same. She’d figured out a way to have a life of her own and to let them—now just Maggie—have theirs.

“I was wondering,” Maggie said, “did Dad ever mention Ravenkill, New York?”

“Not that I recall, no.”

“The Old Stone Hollow Inn. Does that sound familiar?”

“No.” She didn’t ask why Maggie wanted to know.

Maggie unfolded her legs and stretched out on the bed, leaning back against fluffy pillows with lace-trimmed cases. “Do you ever recall meeting a man named William Raleigh?”

“I’m sure I haven’t met him, no.”

“He’s in his midsixties, maybe late sixties. White hair. Red-faced, probably from drinking—”

“Maggie, I don’t know him. I’m sorry I can’t help you. If he’s a friend of your father’s, I’ve put that part of my life behind me.”

“I understand. Thanks.”

Maggie knew there was nothing more to talk about. Her mother wouldn’t ask questions. She didn’t know about Tom Kopac and Nick Janssen. She’d listen if Maggie wanted to tell her, but the most basic information would suit her. Her daughter was fine. She was in New York or The Hague or wherever.

Her problems were her own, for her to solve.

Even before her father had wandered off from his marriage, Maggie had known that her mother wouldn’t be there for her. She didn’t mean not to be. She just wasn’t.

But Cora Spencer didn’t expect Maggie to be there for her in return, either.

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