A Breath Away by Rita Herron

the fifth ring, she was sweating bullets. Where in the hell was that no-account boy? He knew better than to go out by himself. What if he hadn’t taken his medication…?
    One of the nurses walked by, carrying a bedpan, and Mavis reminded herself things could be worse. Dwaynecould be physically handicapped, too, and wearing diapers, or bound to the bed and needing that bedpan like poor Miss Laudy.
    Or she could be old Mrs. Baker, who’d just found out her boy killed a child, and who needed nursing care herself.
    Praying Dwayne had just gone out in the yard to play with that mangy dog he’d named Snake, she punched the number again, and wiped sweat from her neck when he still didn’t answer. Finally, she slammed down the receiver and hurried over to the desk.
    â€œI’m taking my lunch hour now. I’ll be back to do the east wing in an hour.”
    Willese, the volunteer at the desk, patted her hand. “Everything all right, Mavis?”
    â€œI’ve got to go home for a minute.”
    Willese offered a sympathetic look, and Mavis headed to the door, nearly running. Please don’t let him have taken off again. The last time, just last week, he’d been gone over twenty-four hours. She’d nearly lost her mind. She still didn’t know where he’d been and what he’d been up to. But she had an idea, and it weren’t no good.
    Ten minutes later, Mavis’s ancient El Camino barreled down Pine Needle Drive. As she passed the run-down Baker shack, she remembered the rumors in town, that Baker had thrown himself off the cliff, that his daughter was back to bury him. Would Dwayne do the same for her when she kilt over?
    Panic stabbed at her. She couldn’t get sick and die. Who would take care of Dwayne then?
    She screeched into her driveway, jumped out, then shuffled through the grass to the house. It was empty.
    Her stomach knotted when she noticed the pills sitting on the table. Dwayne had taken his medication this morning, but now he’d missed a dosage. Even one would throw him off.
    She twisted the dishrag into knots in her hands. Where on God’s green earth was that boy?
    * * *
    G RADY’S FATHER WASN’T HOME , so he drove into town, his senses on alert for his dad’s white Cadillac. Once he’d have known exactly where to find his old man—the town hall. Monroe had once been entrenched in the politics of the small town and had loved the title of mayor—until Darlene’s death. Then he’d stopped working, stopped socializing, stopped caring about anything. Not the future of the town, his son’s or his own.
    A small car whizzed by, and Grady did a double take, thinking it was Violet’s. But the car was a VW. Violet had been driving a Civic. Where had she gone? Was she in town?
    He scanned the side streets and parking spaces for her car, but didn’t spot it anywhere. She didn’t have old friends living here, did she?
    No, Violet’s only friend had been Darlene.
    Determined to question his father during the light of day, when he might actually find him sober, Grady took a chance and stopped by the Redbud Café. In spite of his snobbery toward the Longhorse family, his father usually ate at least one meal a day at the establishment.
    Grady lumbered inside, scanning the room, curious at the odd looks the locals shot his way. What was going on?
    Normally he’d assume his old man and Baker had gotten into another public brawl, but with Jed gone…
    Kerry fluttered a wave, then darted toward him. He forced a smile, although the waitress’s hopeful look suddenly irritated him. He didn’t want anyone expecting anything from him, not ever again. He’d just let them down.
    She pumped up her breasts. “Well, Sheriff, what can I do for you today?”
    He ignored her innuendo, checked to see if Joseph Longhorse was watching, but didn’t see the man. “Have you seen my father?”
    Heads