Nighttime Is My Time

by Mary Higgins Clark

  The pictures he had taken in the morning of the Mountain Road house were still clipped and hanging on the line. His gaze fell on the last one, the out-of-focus picture of the front of the house. As he looked closely at it, his eyes widened.

  He grabbed the magnifying glass, studied the picture, then unclipped it and rushed out of the darkroom. Jill Farris was still there, grading papers. He dropped the picture in front of her and handed her the magnifying glass.

  “Jake,” she protested.

  “This is important, really important. Look at this picture and tell me if something looks out of place or different. Please, Ms. Farris, really look.”

  “Jake, you’d drive anyone crazy,” she said with a sigh, taking the magnifying glass from him to study the print. “I guess you mean that the shade on that window on the second floor in the corner is kind of lopsided. Is that it?”

  “That’s exactly it,” Jake exulted. “It wasn’t lopsided yesterday. I don’t care how empty that kitchen looks—somebody’s living in that house!”

  91

  Sam had returned to the Glen-Ridge House rather than go back to the office in Goshen because he was beginning to feel certain that one of the honorees, or perhaps Jack Emerson or Joel Nieman, was responsible for the threats to Lily. All of them had worked in the building where Dr. Connors’ office was located. At some point over the weekend, one of them had referred to Jean as having been his patient. But which one he hadn’t yet determined.

  Fleischman had insisted he heard one of those other men mention that Jean was Connors’ patient. Of course, he could be lying, Sam thought. Stewart denied ever hearing the remark. And he could be lying, too. But at least at the Glen-Ridge he could keep an eye on Fleischman and Gordon Amory, who were still checked in there. The fact that Jean was missing would be picked up by reporters and be broadcast, and he’d bet anything that the news would bring Jack Emerson rushing there as well.

  He’d already asked Rich Stevens to put surveillance on all of them. That would kick in soon.

  At ten after twelve he got the call he was hoping to receive from the technical guys. “Sam, we have a fix on Jean Sheridan’s phone.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In a moving car.”

  “Can you tell where the car is?”

  “Near Storm King, heading toward the Cornwall area.”

  “He’s coming from West Point,” Sam said. “He has the cadet. Don’t lose him. Don’t lose him.”

  “We don’t intend to.”

  92

  “Please turn the car around,” Meredith said. “I am not permitted to leave the grounds. When you asked me to sit in the car, I thought you meant just to talk for a minute. I’m sorry you left the letter about my mother in your other pocket, but I’ll have to wait to get it. Please, I must go back, Mr.—”

  “You were about to use my name, Meredith. I don’t want you to do that. You must refer to me as Owl or The Owl.”

  She stared at him, fear suddenly gripping her. “I don’t understand. Please take me back.” Meredith grasped the handle of the passenger door. If he stops for a light, I’ll jump out, she thought. He’s different. He even looks different. No, not just different—crazy! Questions of doubt, unanswerable questions, flitted through her mind. Why did Dad ask me to promise I wouldn’t leave the grounds? Why did he ask me about the hairbrush that I lost? What does this have to do with my birth mother?

  The car was speeding north along Route 218. He’s going way over the speed limit, Meredith thought. Please, God, let us pass a cop. Let a cop see us. She considered grabbing the steering wheel, but there were cars coming in the other direction; somebody in one of them might get killed. “Where are you taking me?” she demanded. Something was pressing into her back. She moved forward in the seat, but it was still there. What was it?

  “Meredith, I lied when I said I met your mother’s friend at the reunion. I met your mother there. I’m taking you to see her.”

  “My mother! Jean! You’re taking me to see her?”

  “Yes, I am. And then the two of you are going to join your birth father in heaven. You’ll have a wonderful reunion, I’m sure. You look a lot like him, you know. At least you look as he did before I smashed into him on the road. You know where that happened, Meredith? On the road near the picnic grounds at West Point. That’s where your real daddy died. I wish you’d had a chance to visit his grave. His name is on the tombstone: Carroll Reed Thornton, Jr. He would have graduated one week later. I wonder if they’ll bury you and Jeannie beside him. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  “My father went to West Point, and you killed him?”

  “Of course I did. Do you think it was fair for him and Jean to be so happy and leave me out in the cold? Do you think that was fair, Meredith?”

  He turned his head and glared at her. His eyes were flashing. His lips were pressed together so tightly that his mouth seemed to have disappeared beneath flaring nostrils.

  He’s crazy, she thought. “No, sir. It doesn’t seem fair,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. I can’t show him how scared I am.

  He seemed mollified. “Your West Point training. ‘Yes, ma’am.’ ‘No, sir.’ I didn’t ask you to call me sir. I told you to call me ‘Owl.’ ”

  They had passed the cutoff for Storm King Mountain and were on the outskirts of Cornwall. Where are we going? Meredith wondered. Is he really taking me to my mother? Did he really kill my father and is he planning to kill us now? What can I do to stop him? Don’t panic, she warned herself. Look around. See if there’s anything you can use to defend yourself. Maybe there’s a bottle of water somewhere. I could hit him in the face with it. It might give me enough time to reach the ignition key and stop the car. We’re passing enough cars now that somebody might notice a struggle. But as she glanced around, she saw absolutely nothing she could use to defend herself.

  “Meredith, I can read your thoughts. Don’t even think about trying to attract attention to yourself, because if you do, you will not live to get out of this car. I have a gun, and I will use it. At least I am offering you a chance to meet your mother. Don’t be foolish and throw it away.”

  Meredith’s hands were gripped together. What was pressing against her back? Maybe, maybe it was something that would give her a chance to save herself and save her mother. With infinite care she unclasped her hands and moved her right hand slowly to her side. She sat up straighter in the seat as she slid her hand behind her back. Her fingers touched the edge of a narrow object that felt familiar.

  It was a cell phone. She had to tug to get it loose, but The Owl didn’t seem to notice. They were driving through Cornwall now, and he was looking from side to side as though afraid he’d be stopped.

  Meredith moved her hand slowly back, the phone cupped in it. She flipped it open, glanced down, and her finger pressed 91—

  She did not see his hand shoot across the car seat, but she felt it as he grabbed her neck. She slumped forward, unconscious, as The Owl grabbed the phone, lowered his window, and threw it onto the road.

  Less than ten seconds later, a mail truck rumbled over it, breaking it into bits of plastic.

  “Sam, we’ve lost him,” Eddie Zarro said. “He’s in Cornwall, but we’re not getting any more signals.”

  “How did you lose him?” Sam shouted. It was a stupid, useless question. He knew the answer—the phone had been discovered and destroyed.

  “What do we do now?” Zarro asked.

  “Pray,” Sam said. “We pray.”

  93

  Jake again asked permission to leave his car outside the delicatessen, and once more it was granted, but Duke’s curiosity was now at a fever pitch. “Who are you taking pictures of, sonny?” he asked.

  “Just of the neighborhood. As I told you, I’m doing a little story for the Stonecroft Academy Gazette. I’ll give you a copy when I finish.” Jake had an inspiration. “Better yet, I’ll mention you in it.”

  “That’d be nice. Duke and Sue Mackenzie. No
capital k in Mackenzie.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Jake’s cell phone rang as, camera over his arm, he was starting out the door. The call was from Amy Sachs, on duty at the hotel. “Jake,” she whispered, “you should be over here. All hell is breaking loose. Dr. Sheridan is missing. They found her car abandoned at Storm King Lookout. Mr. Deegan is in the office here. I just heard him shouting about something being lost.”

  “Thanks, Amy. I’ll be right over,” Jake said. He turned to Duke. “Guess I won’t need that space after all, but thanks anyhow.”

  “There goes that fellow from the reunion I was telling you about,” Duke said, pointing to the street outside. “He’s going kind of fast. He’ll get a ticket if he’s not careful.”

  Jake looked out quickly enough to see and recognize the driver. “He’s been buying stuff here?” he asked.

  “Yup. Didn’t come in this morning, but most days he’d buy coffee and toast, and sometimes stop by for coffee and a sandwich at night.”

  Could he have been buying it for Laura? Jake wondered. And now Dr. Sheridan is missing. I’ve got to call Sam Deegan. I’m sure he’ll want to check Laura’s old house. Then I’ll go up there and wait for him, he decided.

  He dialed the hotel. “Amy, put Mr. Deegan on. It’s important.”

  Amy didn’t take long to come back. “Mr. Deegan told me to tell you to get lost.”

  “Amy, tell Mr. Deegan that I think I know where he can find Laura Wilcox.”

  94

  Jean looked up as the door to the bedroom was pushed open. The Owl was standing in the doorway. In his arms he was carrying a slender figure, dressed in the dark gray uniform of a West Point cadet. With a satisfied smile he walked across the room and lay Meredith at Jean’s feet. “Behold, your daughter!” he said triumphantly. “Look into her face. See the features that must be familiar to you. Isn’t she beautiful? Aren’t you proud?”

  Reed, Jean thought, it’s Reed! Lily is Reed incarnate! The narrow aquiline nose, the wide-set eyes, the high cheekbones, the pale golden hair. Oh, my God, has he killed her? No, no—she’s breathing!

  “Don’t hurt her! Don’t you dare hurt her!” she cried. When she tried to shout, her voice became muffled. From the bed she could hear Laura’s frightened sobs.

  “I’m not going to hurt her, Jeannie. But I am going to kill her, and you are going to watch. Then it will be Laura’s turn. Then yours. By then I think I’ll be doing you a favor. I can’t imagine you would want to live after watching your daughter die, will you?”

  At a deliberately slow pace, The Owl walked across the room, removed the hanger with the plastic bag on which he had written “Lily/Meredith,” and carried it back. He knelt beside Meredith’s unconscious form and slid the hanger out of the bag. “Do you want to pray, Jean?” he asked. “I think the Twenty-third Psalm is appropriate for you to recite at this time. Go ahead—‘The Lord is my shepherd . . .’”

  Stunned and horrified, Jean watched as The Owl began to slide the plastic over Lily’s head.

  “No, no, no . . .” Before the plastic reached Lily’s nostrils, she tipped the chair, falling forward, protecting her child with her body. The chair hit The Owl on his arm and pinned it. He screeched with pain. As he struggled to pull it loose, he could hear from downstairs the sound of the front door being smashed open.

  95

  When Sam Deegan got on the phone with Jake after Amy Sachs had explained to him that Jake thought he knew where Laura was being kept, he did not give Jake the chance to deliver the speech he had hastily prepared.

  Jake wanted to say, “Mr. Deegan, notwithstanding the fact that you publicly disclaimed my assistance and made me the subject of ridicule, I am being generous enough to help you in your investigation, particularly since I am very concerned about Dr. Sheridan.”

  He got only as far as “Notwithstanding the fact” when Sam interrupted. “Listen, Jake. Jean Sheridan and Laura are in the hands of a homicidal maniac. Don’t waste my time. Do you know where Laura is, or don’t you?”

  At that, Jake almost tripped over his own tongue as he rushed to tell what he knew.

  “Somebody is staying in Laura’s old house on Mountain Road, Mr. Deegan, even though it’s supposed to be unoccupied. One of the honorees from the reunion has been buying food at the delicatessen down the street from the house almost every day. He just drove by. I think he was on his way to the house.” Jake had barely spit out the name of the man before he heard the click of Sam’s phone.

  That sure got Deegan’s attention, Jake thought as he waited on the street near Laura’s old house. It wasn’t more than six minutes later that Deegan and that other detective, Zarro, were screeching to a stop at the curb, followed by two patrol cars. They hadn’t used the sirens to announce their arrival, which Jake had found disappointing, but he supposed they wanted to surprise the guy.

  He had told Sam he was sure that whoever was in the house was in the corner front bedroom. Immediately after that, they broke down the front door and rushed in. Sam had yelled to him to stay outside.

  Fat chance, Jake thought. He’d given them time to get to the bedroom, then followed, the camera slung over his shoulder. As he got to the top of the stairs, he heard a door slam. The other front bedroom, he thought. Somebody’s in there.

  Sam Deegan came out of the back corner bedroom, his gun drawn. “Get downstairs, Jake!” he ordered. “There’s a killer hiding up here.”

  Jake pointed down the hall. “He’s in there.”

  Sam and Zarro and a couple of the cops ran past him. Jake rushed to the door of the front bedroom, looked inside, and, after an instant of total shock at what he was seeing, focused his camera and began snapping pictures.

  He took a photograph of Laura Wilcox. She was lying on the bed, her gown crumpled, her hair matted. A cop was supporting her head and holding a glass of water to her lips.

  Jean Sheridan was sitting on the floor, holding in her arms a young woman dressed in the uniform of a West Point cadet. Jean was crying and whispering, “Lily, Lily, Lily,” over and over again. At first Jake thought the girl was dead, but then he saw that she was beginning to stir.

  Jake aimed his camera and was able to record for posterity the moment Lily opened her eyes and, for the first time since the day she was born, looked into the eyes of her birth mother.

  96

  It will be only a matter of seconds before they force open the door, The Owl thought. I came so close to completing the mission. He looked at the pewter owls he had clasped in his hand, the ones he had intended to place with the bodies of Laura and Jean and Meredith.

  Now he would never have the chance.

  “Give yourself up,” Sam Deegan shouted. “It’s over. You know you can’t escape.”

  Oh, but I can, The Owl thought. He sighed and took his mask out of his pocket. He slipped it on and looked into the mirror over the bureau to be sure it was properly in place. He put the pewter owls on the dresser.

  “I am an owl, and I live in a tree,” he said aloud.

  The pistol was in his other pocket. He took it out and held it against his temple. “Nighttime is my time,” he whispered. Then he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

  At the sound of the shot, Sam kicked the door and it flew open. With Eddie Zarro and the cops behind him, he rushed inside.

  The body was sprawled on the floor, the gun beside it. He had fallen backward, and the mask was still in place, blood seeping through it.

  Sam bent down, pulled off the mask, and looked into the face of the man who had taken the lives of so many innocent people. In death the scars from the plastic surgery were clearly visible, and the features that some surgeon had managed to make so attractive now seemed twisted and repulsive.

  “Funny,” Sam said. “Gordon Amory was the last one I would have figured to be The Owl.”

  97

  That night Jean had dinner with Charles and Gano Buckley at Craig Michaelson’s home. Meredith was already back at West Point. “
After the doctor checked her over, she insisted on going back today,” General Buckley said. “She was still worried about her physics exam tomorrow morning. She is such a disciplined kid. She’ll make a great soldier.” He was trying not to show how shaken he had been when he learned how near to death his only child had come.

  “Like the goddess, Minerva, she sprang full-fledged from her father’s brow,” Jean said. “It’s exactly what Reed would have done.” She lapsed into silence. She could still feel the unspeakable joy of the moment when the cop had cut her loose from the chair and she had been able to put her arms around Lily. She could feel the poignant beauty of the sound of Lily whispering, “Jean—Mother.”

  They had been taken to the hospital to be checked. There, she and Lily had sat side by side talking, beginning to catch up on nearly twenty years. “I always imagined what you looked like,” Lily had said. “I think I pictured you just as you are.”

  “And I you. I’ll have to learn to call you Meredith. It’s a beautiful name.”

  When the doctor cleared them for release, he said, “Most women after your ordeal would be on tranquilizers. You two are troupers.”

  They had stopped in to see Laura. Seriously dehydrated, she was on an IV and sedated into a healing sleep.

  Sam had returned to the hospital to drive them back to the hotel. But as they met in the lobby, the Buckleys arrived. “Mom, Dad,” Meredith had called, and with sad understanding, Jean had watched her fly into their arms.

  “Jean, you gave her life, and you saved her life,” Gano Buckley said quietly. “From now on you will always be a part of her life.”