John Saul by Guardian

suspected that the boy already knew. It would have been impossible tohear the scream Audrey must have made as she fell, without knowing exactly what had happened.
    As he stepped into the house, Gillie looked at him questioningly, and he shook his head. “I’m thinking maybe you’d better call someone in the family,” he said. Understanding exactly what he was saying, Gillie gasped, and slipped her arms protectively around Joey Wilkenson. “I’m sorry, Joey,” Rick went on. “I—I found your mother. I guess—well, I guess she must have tripped.” He watched Joey carefully, searching for any falseness in the boy’s reaction, but there was none.
    Joey only looked up at him, and when he spoke, his voice was hollow. “She was calling me. If I’d answered her …”
    Gillie drew him close. “Don’t think about it,” she told him. “It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident.”
    Joey gazed up at her. “But what if it wasn’t?” he asked. “What if—”
    “We need to call someone, Joey,” Gillie broke in, wishing she could save the boy from the thoughts that must be racing through his mind. “Do you have a favorite uncle? Or aunt?”
    When Joey spoke again, his voice was barely audible. “There isn’t anyone,” he whispered. “We don’t have any relatives, except Aunt MaryAnne.”
    “Aunt MaryAnne?” Gillie repeated gently. “Who is she?”
    “My godmother,” Joey replied. “She’s my mom’s best friend, ever since they were little.”
    “Do you know where her number is?”
    “In the book,” Joey replied, his voice numb, his eyes fixed on the floor. “Under Carpenter. Over there by the phone.”
    It wasn’t until Audrey Wilkenson’s address book was already in her hand that Gillie Martin saw the message light blinking on the elaborate instrument that sat on the kitchen counter. Without thinking, she pressed the playback button, and a few seconds later the strained tones of MaryAnne Carpenter’s voice filled the kitchen. In silence, Gillie and Rick Martin listened to the message Audrey Wilkenson’sbest friend had left no more than ten or fifteen minutes after Audrey herself had died.
    It makes you wonder, Gillie thought as she found MaryAnne’s name in the address book and dialed the New Jersey number. It makes you wonder if you understand anything that goes on in this world.
    “You know, this is really nuts!” Alan Carpenter exclaimed, doing nothing to mask his fury as he watched MaryAnne throwing clothes into a suitcase. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
    MaryAnne glared at him. “Of course I know what time it is,” she snapped. “It’s almost four o’clock in the morning, and I have to be at the airport by five-thirty! Now, are you going to help me or not? Because if you’re not, then just go home, and I’ll call a cab!”
    “For God’s sake, MaryAnne, don’t you think we should at least talk about this?”
    MaryAnne dropped the pair of jeans she was holding into the suitcase, then turned to gaze steadily at Alan. “What is there to talk about? My best friend is dead, Alan. And so is Ted! How can I not go?”
    “But what can you do?” Alan demanded, once again picking up the argument that had been raging ever since MaryAnne had awakened him after the call from Sugarloaf. “You can’t bring them back to life!”
    MaryAnne took a deep breath. Why couldn’t he understand? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already explained it a dozen times. Still, she tried once more. “There isn’t anyone else, Alan. I’m all Joey has left. Ted hasn’t heard from either of his parents since he was a boy, and you know what happened to Audrey’s. Who else is going to take care of Joey?”
    “There’s got to be plenty of people out there,” Alan replied. “Christ, they must have someone who’d take the kid in—”
    “Joey!” MaryAnne uttered the word with such force that Alan was struck silent. “His name is Joey, and I made a promise to Audrey years ago, before he