The Day Will Come Read online

  I swung around at the call of my name, Loader fortunately so well-grounded there was no fear of tipping over.

  Lenny looked up at me, amusement in his eyes.

  Lucy stood beside him giggling, her hands on her hips. “What in the name of Pete are you doing up there?”

  “What do you think I’m doing?” I held up my hands, not quite sure how to communicate with Loader, who had yet to say a word, or even grunt. I patted him on the head. “Uh, Loader? Can I get down?”

  He knelt, allowing me to slip off his shoulders.

  “Thank you for the…um…ride.”

  He nodded, his face as blank as before, and turned to go, on-lookers scurrying out of his path.

  “Where did you find that?” Lenny asked.

  I waved off his question. “Any sign of Nick?”

  Lucy shook her head, concern in her eyes. “We’ve been looking. For both of you.”

  I surveyed the area. We stood next to Lucy’s Civic, about twenty feet from a streetlight and a tree with a dead limb sticking out the top. “You guys going to stay right here?”

  Lucy shrugged. “Don’t know where else we’d go. They’re not letting anybody leave.”

  “Not that we could get out if we tried,” Lenny said.

  “Then I’m going to hunt around for Nick.”

  “Shouldn’t have let your bulldozer take off,” Lenny said.

  “His name was Loader, not Dozer. Anyway, I could get up on you.”

  Lenny winced. “Normally I’d do it, but I wrenched my back something good carrying Norm out of the building.”

  “Norm?”

  Lenny and Lucy glanced behind them to Lucy’s car, where the man from the wheelchair was sitting, the woman beside him.

  “Oh. Norm. He okay?”

  Lucy nodded. “Just scared. And exhausted.”

  As he had a right to be. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

  I headed away, searching the faces for Nick’s, but couldn’t find anyone who even approached his clean shaven state. Shaved heads, sure, but most faces were covered with beards or week-old scruff. Harley T-shirts, flyaway hair, round beer bellies. They were all there. But no movie star blonds in clean jeans.

  When I’d made a full circle and reached the entrance to the parking lot I spotted several ambulances with paramedics treating those injured in the rush out of the building. It was at the third one of these I found Nick, sitting on the back ledge of the vehicle. I bee-lined a path to him, stopping only when I could reach out and put a hand on his shoulder.

  He blinked slowly and looked up at me, his eyes glassy.

  “Nick? What’s wrong?”

  “Can’t find anything wrong, ma’am,” the paramedic said. “I pulled him out of the crowd because he looked dazed, but his vitals are fine, and he says he wasn’t bumped on the head.”

  “He’s been weird like this all night.” I squeezed Nick’s shoulder. “Haven’t you, Nick?”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m just so tired.”

  A man with a B.B. King T-shirt strode up to the ambulance, a woman in his arms. “Help me out here? She’s got a nasty cut on her leg.”

  Blood seeped through the denim around the woman’s calf, and I winced.

  “We should go,” Nick said. “I’m in the way.”

  “Hang on,” the paramedic said. “I’ve got room for her over here. You wait till you feel ready before you get up. Don’t want you passing out. I’d just have to help you all over again.” He smiled to soften his words, but the look he gave me said to keep Nick on his butt for a few more minutes.

  I leaned against the side of the ambulance. “Stay put, Nick. We’ll just hang here for a bit.”

  So we watched the people go by, some still panicked, some laughing—whether from nervousness or drunkenness I wasn’t sure—and some peeling off from the crowd to visit one of the ambulances.

  The man in the B.B. King shirt came back several times, in each instance carrying or leading one of the injured to an ambulance. His manner was so professional and efficient I figured he must’ve been an off-duty cop or firefighter. He was dropping off a woman at the ambulance next to us when another man ran up to him.

  “You seen Bobby?” the man asked, his voice reaching us ten feet away.

  The guy shook his head. “Huh-uh. He missing?”

  “I can’t find him anywhere.”

  The B.B. King guy made sure the woman was in the hands of a paramedic before taking off back toward the club with the man.

  “You know who that was?” I asked Nick. “He looked familiar.”

  “We’ve seen him bringing people to the ambulances.”

  “No, not the B.B. King guy. The other one, who just ran up.”

  “Oh.” His forehead crinkled. “I guess his face did look—”

  “We saw him tonight, didn’t we? At the club?”

  His face cleared. “Backstage. He was coming in when we were going out.”

  I smacked the ambulance. “The owner. Jordan told us his name, but I forget it.”

  “Well, I sure don’t remember.”

  A couple struggled up to the ambulance, the man leaning on the woman for support. Nick hopped off the ledge to make room, and I grabbed his arm. “You sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m not limping or anything, like that guy. Let’s go.”

  We’d gotten about twenty feet away when a cop stepped into our path, a pad and pencil in his hands. “You folks at Club Independence tonight?”

  Why else would we be in that parking lot? “Yessir, we were,” I said.

  “Anybody else talk to you tonight? Cops, I mean? Since the evacuation?”

  “Nope.”

  Nick shook his head.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” the cop asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. We heard there was a bomb.”

  He tried again. “I mean what happened with you. We’re taking care of the other stuff.”

  “Oh, well, I was on the second level platform when the music stopped. Somebody yelled up to us that there was a bomb, and we all started clearing out. It seemed like chaos, but I guess most of us got out okay.”

  “No casualties that we’re aware of,” the cop said, pride coloring his voice. “And we’re pretty sure everyone’s out.”

  “Impressive.” I jutted my chin at Nick. “He was somewhere else.”

  The cop turned to Nick. “Sir?”

  “The bathroom on the lower level. It wasn’t till I was making my way back up that I ran into mobs of people trying to get out.”

  He scribbled on his pad. “And neither of you heard anything else about the bomb? Or saw anything suspicious?”

  We shook our heads.

  “Can I get your names and addresses, please? For follow-up?”

  We gave him what he wanted, and he moved on to the next clump of folks.

  I looked above our heads and pointed toward the tree with the dead limb. “That’s where we’re headed. Lucy and Lenny are parked under there.”

  “Lead on.”

  We found them where they’d promised, Lucy with a blanket from the trunk wrapped around her shoulders while she sat in the front seat and talked with Norm and the woman. Lenny stood by the front of the car with Jermaine, who must’ve been done with his security detail.

  “Hey,” I said.

  Jermaine lifted his chin a fraction. “Hey, yourself.”

  “You look beat.” I took in his slumped shoulders and sweat-soaked security T-shirt. He had to be freezing in the chilly air.

  “Spent the last hour herding freaked-out folks, trying to keep them from trampling each other.”

  I nodded. “Cop told us no one was killed in the rush to get out?”

  “Not that we know of. Lots of injuries, but no pile-ups, thank God. Mann keeps the club in good working order and up to code, plus the security staff is well-trained. I had to pass
a test before he gave me the job tonight.”

  I looked at Nick. “Mann, that’s his name.” I gestured over my shoulder. “We saw him not too long ago at the ambulances, looking for somebody named Bobby. Know him?”

  Jermaine shook his head. “Nah. But then, I don’t know many of the staff. Not by name, anyway.”

  “You all done for the night?”

  “Supposedly. The official cops have taken over now, and we’re not even allowed back in the building. I called Vernice to let her know what was happening, just in case she saw it on the news.”

  “You call home?” I asked Lenny. “Let the baby-sitter know you’d be late?”

  He shrugged. “Lucy might’ve.”

  “I’ve got a phone,” Nick said. “I’ll ask her.” He walked over to the car door and leaned in. Lenny followed.

  “Stella! Jermaine!” Jordan strode up to us, his face a tight mask of anxiety. The two girls we’d seen backstage trotted along behind him. “You see any of the band?”

  I shook my head. “No, but I haven’t been looking for them.”

  Jermaine held his hands up, palms to the sky. “They weren’t my responsibility. Don’t know where they got to.”

  Jordan stuck his hands in his pockets, craning his neck to see around Jermaine. “I found Tom Copper, along with LeRoy and Donny. They’re set up pretty well down at the other end. But I haven’t found Genna.”

  “The female singer?” I asked.

  “Right. You met her backstage.”

  I studied his face, remembering how Genna had avoided looking at Jordan.

  “She’s probably with Ricky.” The dark-haired girl cracked the gum she was chewing like a cud. “Where else would she be?”

  Jordan’s expression made it obvious her words had no soothing effect. “I need to know she made it out.”

  “The cops told us everybody’s out of the building,” I said. “She’s probably stuck in this crowd somewhere.”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  A phone played the first few bars of INXS’s “Pretty Vegas” and the dark-haired girl reached into her coat. “Hi,” she said. Her eyes flicked to Jordan. “He’s here, but she’s not. Huh-uh.” She looked around. “Under one of the streetlights. I don’t know. South, I guess.”

  “Dead tree limb,” I said, pointing.

  She repeated our location into the phone. “Okay. We’ll wait.” She closed the phone and stuck it back in her pocket. “Ricky’s on his way here. Says he’s close.”

  “Genna’s not with him?” Jordan’s voice cracked.

  “Nuh-uh.” She cracked her gum again. I fought the urge to smack her on the back and send the gum flying. Or down her throat.

  “Who’s Ricky?” I asked.

  Jordan glowered. “The band’s drummer.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Ricky was the guy making neck-wringing threats before the concert. “Why would she be with him?”

  Jordan didn’t answer.

  “He’s her boyfriend,” the gum-cracker said.

  I looked at Jordan, who avoided my eyes by studying the crowd, arms crossed over his chest.

  “So who’re you?” I said to the girls.

  The dark-haired girl stopped her mouth mid-chew. “I’m Marley. This is Annie.”

  The blonde’s mouth flickered, as if she were trying to smile but couldn’t quite do it.

  “What do you do with the band?”

  “Oh, we’re not official,” Marley said. Crack, crack. “We just hang out.”

  Annie’s eyes narrowed for a second before her expression ironed out. “I help Jordan with the sound.”

  “That’s right. Jordan said something to you backstage about taping a cable.”

  “There you are!” The drummer was suddenly there, forcing his way through the crowd and ending up nose-to-nose with Jordan. “Where’s Genna?”

  Jordan’s nostrils flared. “I can’t find her. I assumed she was with you.”

  “Well, she’s not.”

  It wasn’t clear whether the spikes in Ricky’s black hair were there by design or situation, but they stood up in wild peaks. His thin and angular face highlighted nearly black eyes, and his leather vest, with nothing underneath, made me shiver. He’d obviously chosen it for the concert—and it looked good, I had to admit—and not for a chilly night in a parking lot.

  “So why aren’t you looking for her?” Jordan asked.

  “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

  “Have you called her cell phone?”

  Ricky waved his phone in Jordan’s face. “For the last half-hour. She’s not answering.” He thrust the phone into Jordan’s stomach. “Here. You call if you think I can’t do it good enough.”

  “I don’t want your phone.” Jordan pushed his hand away. “But if you’re not going to look for Genna, I will.”

  Jordan’s expression made no bones about how he felt toward the drummer, and I hoped Jermaine and I wouldn’t have to jump in between them.

  “Fine,” Ricky said. “Let me know the minute you spot her.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that.” Jordan’s usually sweet voice dripped with sarcasm, and I watched with surprise as he stomped away.

  Jermaine met my eyes with his own, which opened wide with interest.

  “I bet Genna just took off,” Marley said.

  Ricky snorted. “Not without her lap dog.” He watched Jordan leave, and I shook my head at the venom in the drummer’s voice. He had a few jealousy issues to work out. Not that he might not be right about it.

  A cop made the mistake of approaching our group just then. He’d barely opened his mouth when Ricky started into him.

  “My girlfriend’s missing and nobody in this lame-ass police force will help me find her.”

  If I’d been the cop, I would’ve laid Ricky out cold. The officer, however, had more self-control, and actually took a respectful step back. “We’re doing our best to make sure everyone’s out of the building, sir. Perhaps you could start by giving me your name?”

  In fits and starts the officer pulled the information from Ricky, taking down Marley and Annie’s info, as well. I told him the cops already had my name, and pointed him back toward Lucy and Lenny.

  “We’ll do our best to find your friend, sir,” the officer told Ricky. “Until then, you just have to sit tight and maybe she’ll find you.”

  Ricky turned away from him, scanning the crowd. He didn’t seem to care so much about Genna’s safety as about making sure he found her before Jordan did.

  The cop, realizing he’d gotten everything he would from us, headed back toward the Civic.

  “What about you two?” Ricky said to the girls. “You see Genna?”

  Marley shrugged. “Before the concert. Not since.”

  “And you?” Ricky’s eyes bored into Annie, and she huddled tighter in her sweater.

  “Saw her backstage. Not after the bomb threat, though.”

  “Hmphf.” He turned back to the crowd, glowering.

  “Looks like the place is clearing out a bit.” Lenny appeared at my shoulder. “Cop said we can leave if we can get out.”

  I looked at the car, where Nick now sat in the driver’s seat, one leg sticking out the door, his head leaning on the headrest. His eyes were closed.

  “We probably should.” I looked at Jermaine. “You’ll stay with Jordan?”

  “Sure. What’re brothers for?” He flashed a quick smile. “He rode down with me, anyway. I’ll get him home.”

  “Norm and Cindy’s car is down the aisle there,” Lenny said, pointing. “We’re going to drop them off. You mind following us on foot?”

  “Nope. Can Nick go with you, though?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Lenny’s forehead wrinkled. “What’s up with him, anyway?”

  I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

  “Okay, so I guess Lucy can drive them down, and Nick can ride. I’ll walk with you.”

/>   “Peachy.” I turned toward Ricky and the girls, but they were already slipping into the crowd, Marley hanging onto Ricky’s elbow, Annie sticking close behind.

  I couldn’t help but hope Jordan found Genna first.

  Chapter Three

  Five-o’clock rolled around pretty fast the next morning. I silenced the alarm with a quickness that surprised me, and slipped out from under the quilt, doing my best not to fall on my face from exhaustion.

  After pulling on some jeans I tiptoed down the stairs, disgusted at the smell of smoke still hovering around my body. We’d gotten home so late I didn’t have the energy to take a shower, but now I regretted it. Even the cows would probably turn their noses up at me this morning.

  I peeked into the front room, where Nick had taken over the sofa. He’d fallen asleep on the way home from Philly, and I’d practically carried him into the house before dumping him as gently as possible on the couch. His face, from what I could see of it in the darkness, looked relaxed and peaceful.

  I walked back through the house to the kitchen, where I poured a bowl of Cheerios and ate it while watching the early morning news. The bomb threat at Club Independence received headline status, after a story about a Philadelphia Mafia multi-homicide, and I recognized scenes from the night before, with the cop cars and fire trucks filling South Street.

  The anchor, fresh-faced and handsome—Kevin Something—was speaking. “Last night we reported that the Club Independence security staff was able to evacuate the building with no fatalities after a bomb scare at the concert of one of Philadelphia’s favorite musical sons, Tom Copper. The successful clearing of the building marked an extraordinary occurrence in these days when club fires and bombs mean multiple trampling deaths, caused by panic and fear. We are saddened to learn this morning that a body has been found in the building, apparently a victim of the chaos. More from our correspondent on the scene, Maria Gomez.”

  I stopped eating as the screen split into two pictures—one the anchor, one the reporter on South Street. Milk dripped from my spoon into my bowl, and my mouth hung open. The cops had been so proud the night before of their casualty-free evacuation, and the paramedics calm and confident.

  “A tragic development, Kevin, but true,” the reporter said. “Officials tell us a body has been discovered in Club Independence following last night’s bomb scare, but the identification of the victim will not be released until family has been notified. Cause of death has not been disclosed, nor has the location of the body in the building.”