The Lure

by S. W. Hubbard

“It’s vitally important—just let me try.”

  The doctor scowled. “All right, but put a mask and gown on—she’s at risk of infection.”

  Frank slipped into Melanie’s room. She lay propped up in bed, her head, shoulders and right arm swathed in bandages. Her pretty face peeked out, remarkably unscathed. She glanced at him without recognition—probably thought he was another doctor come to poke and prod her.

  “Hi, Melanie…it’s Chief Bennett.”

  Her eyes, which had been at half-mast, flew open.

  “How are you feeling?”

  She smiled slightly. “A little better.”

  He could see that she was groggy. No time for pleasantries—he’d better get right to the point. “Mel, I need to ask you some questions. Who did you meet at the park in Verona?”

  “Mrs. Stiler.”

  “Did she offer to place your baby for adoption?”

  “We talked about babies. She was careful what she said, but I knew…” Melanie’s eyelids fluttered.

  Gingerly, Frank took her left hand in his and squeezed it slightly. Mel resumed. “I went back to her house in my car, like I was still interested in knowing more about it. Then after we talked she left me alone to make a phone call, and I slipped out the back door. But her husband saw me.”

  “She didn’t go with you to the Veeches?” Could Constance have been telling the truth after all?

  “No…” Again the eyelids dipped.

  “Melanie!” he said sharply. She snapped to attention. “Why did you go to the Veeches?”

  “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I overheard something at work, and I thought I’d check on that, too.”

  “What?” Frank demanded.

  “That Ralph is growing something up there. Plants…”

  Her eyes shut, and Frank couldn’t rouse her again.

  Frank entered the empty office and plopped down at his desk, grateful to sit and rest.

  The raid on the Veech place had gone surprisingly well. He’d been in on the discovery of the generator that ran the florescent lights and heating system that kept three hundred marijuana plants growing in a shed deep in the woods behind the Veeches’ living quarters. He’d even stayed long enough to witness the uncovering of hundreds of packets of PCP. But he’d left when the state police handcuffed Ralph, Anita and Pap, because he couldn’t bear the reproachful glare of little Olivia as she sat in a patrol car waiting for Trudy to come and take her away.

  So he had solved the mystery of where Dean Jacobson had got his drug of choice, and figured out why Anita had been so anxious to keep him from snooping around Harkness Road, but he was no further along on proving who ran Sheltering Arms.

  In the middle of his blotter lay a manila folder with a sticky note covered in Earl’s childish scrawl. “Thought you might be interested in this. I got it from my Uncle Harry’s brother’s wife. She’s a nurse. I went to see Melanie today but they still won’t let her have visitors.”

  Frank opened the folder. Inside was a slightly crooked photocopy of a hospital form. At the top, his eyes scanned the typewritten words “Veech, Anita,” before being drawn by a section outlined in yellow hi-liter. “Discharge notes: Mother relinquished baby for adoption. Baby left hospital in custody of Barry Sutter, Esq.”

  Chapter 34

  “Are you out of your mind?” Frank had hauled Earl into the office where he cowered in his chair as Frank paced back and forth. “Haven’t you learned one thing, one friggin’ thing from me in a year and a half?”

  Frank waved the file folder. “This is illegally obtained evidence—we can’t use it. The judge specifically denied me access to Anita’s records.”

  “Yeah, but can’t we use it to pressure Mrs. Stiler? Tell her we know that the Goldings and Green Tomorrow are behind the adoption scam? Make her admit she works for them?”

  “How can we do that? Think, Earl, think! Her lawyer’s going to demand to know how I came upon this information. And if your cousin’s father’s brother’s wife— whoever she is—is anything like you, she’s probably blabbed her part in it to everyone who’ll listen.”

  Earl looked particularly miffed at this assault on the honor of his extended family. “She has not. I told her how important it was to keep it a secret. Besides, she’d get in trouble at work if anyone knew it was her.”

  Frank still seethed. “You’re a loose cannon, Earl. Why do you go off and do these things without talking it over with me first?”

  “I was just over at the hospital and I ran into Gail, and well, it seemed like a good idea. I didn’t think…”

  “That’s just it, Earl—you don’t think. You. Do. Not. Think. Now get out of here.”

  Earl slunk toward the door.

  “And I’m not writing that letter of recommendation for the police academy,” Frank yelled after him.

  Frank found it hard to concentrate when every drop of blood in his body felt like it was boiling through his brain. He tried taking a few deep breaths to calm down, but he’d really never bought into the whole yoga thing. He got up and kicked the wastepaper can a few times and felt a little better.

  Gradually, the significance of what Earl had discovered was sinking in. Green Tomorrow was linked to Sheltering Arms. Baby-selling was just another activity the group used to raise money. He would have been content just to chase Green Tomorrow out of town when he thought all they were involved in was the attempt to shut down Raging Rapids. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to let them continue to exploit young women and desperate couples—their operation might reach all over the country for all he knew.

  The tricky part was he had to make the case against Sheltering Arms without using the illegal evidence Earl had produced. Without, in fact, ever revealing that he knew it. And that ruled out using the state police auditors to try to piece together the money trail between Green Tomorrow and Anita Veech, Constance Stiler and the Finns.

  Constance and Anita weren’t yielding to pressure. Meredith Golding would probably be just as resilient. It was time to put all his energy into finding the Finns, and Mary Pat’s baby. And now he had the advantage of knowing the baby’s father had never given permission for her adoption and wanted her back. He reached for the phone. Here was something he could use state police help for without compromising himself, or Earl.

  Frank sat in the computer lab of the Buchanan Open Academy looking over the shoulder of the state police computer technician. The principal of Brian Finn’s school had been more than willing to give them access to the computer network. Brian’s disappearance had undermined his confidence in the security of the system. “Who knows what he was up to in here,” the principal complained, as he lurked around the back of the lab. “For all I know, the whole school’s in here shopping on eBay and downloading porn. Can you check on that for me while you’re in there?”

  The technician grunted.

  Frank shifted impatiently as screens full of unintelligible code flashed before his eyes. The technician tapped, squinted, tapped some more then sat back with a snort of satisfaction. He pointed to something on the screen. “Someone’s been logging in remotely using Finn’s password.”

  “Remotely from where?”

  “Probably a public access computer—a cybercafé or a library. We can trace it eventually.”

  “What did Finn do when he got in?”

  “ Looks like he accessed some files, then deleted them.”

  “Deleted them? Can you get them back?”

  “No, but it looks like Finn ran a pretty tight ship here. Everything’s backed up automatically. We’ll find it there. He couldn’t erase the back-up remotely.”

  Frank settled back to watch the technician work.

  “This could take a while. Why don’t you go get some coffee or something?”

  Frank forced himself to stay out for forty-five minutes. When he returned, the technician was pulling some documents from a printer. Frank took a copy of what looked like an email that had been saved and read:

&n
bsp; Dear Mr. Finn:

  I understand your concern for the lack of documentation. Rest assured that after we receive the final payment you will receive the certificate.

  Barry

  “Is that it?” Frank asked. “He must be referring to the baby’s birth certificate, but he’s kept everything intentionally vague.”

  “Look at this one.”

  Dear Mr. Finn:

  The BM has experienced some unanticipated expenses. We will require an additional $20,000 to complete the transaction.

  Barry

  “BM must be Birth Mother. Can you prove what computer these messages were sent from?”

  “If you know who this Barry is, we can get a warrant and seize his computer. They’ll show up on there.”

  “Do it. And find where Finn was when he accessed this system.”

  Frank kept busy tracking down the Finns’ friends and relatives while the technician worked his magic. By the time the computer jock called with the news that Brian Finn had used the computer at the Glens Falls public library last Tuesday, Frank had discovered that Eileen Finn’s sister Brenda lived in Glens Falls.

  In less than an hour, he sat in Brenda’s kitchen. She bore an amazing resemblance to her sister that extended right down to her voice and gestures, even to the impeccable crispness of her clothes. “I don’t know what’s going on,” she told Frank as she picked at the hem of the placemat before her. “Eileen came here alone on Friday the fourth. She said she came to say good-bye, that she and Brian would be away for a while, but she wouldn’t say where. She wouldn’t answer any of my questions. Said it was best I didn’t know. Then she kissed me and left.”

  “Where would they go? Is there a vacation home somewhere? A town in another part of the country where they might have some connections?”

  Brenda shook her head, teary-eyed now. “I can’t think of anything. Why is this happening? Is Eileen in danger?”

  “The adoption they were trying to arrange was illegal, ma’am. We think they took off with the baby.”

  “But the deal fell through. Eileen was devastated.”

  “That’s what they claimed. But I think somehow they got her back, and now they’re on the run.”

  Brenda shook her head. “I don’t think they have the baby.”

  “Why not?”

  “If Eileen had that baby, she’d be happy. Even if it was illegal, even if it meant giving up her home and her job.” Brenda stopped her fidgeting and looked Frank in the eye. “She wasn’t happy when I saw her. She was terrified. Please find her, Chief Bennett. I’m worried sick.”

  Frank looked around the neat, cheerful kitchen that so resembled Eileen’s, heard the sound of children giggling at cartoons in the next room, smelled a pot roast cooking, and with a sickening certainty it came to him why the Finns had disappeared.

  Chapter 35

  Meredith Golding faced Frank and Meyerson across a table in an interview room. This was the first time they were talking to her since the attack on Melanie. By now she had to know that they had a witness to Constance and Melanie’s meeting and that Barry Sutter’s computer was being searched. But she also knew that all the evidence against them was circumstantial, and that no one yet had crumbled under questioning. She looked like a seasoned quarterback in a third-and-ten situation—too experienced to be cocky, but too confident to be panicked.

  “Can I get you a drink before we get started?” Meyerson offered.

  “No thank you, but I want to wait for my lawyer to get here.”

  “Sure, if that’s what you want.” Meyerson shrugged. “We just thought you’d be interested to hear that we’re pretty certain we know who killed your husband.”

  Her air of studied nonchalance dropped. “That’s why you called me here? That’s wonderful!”

  Meyerson made a waffling gesture with his hand. “We haven’t actually caught him yet—we may need your help for that.”

  “Anything.” She sat forward eagerly.

  “We were just wondering,” Frank took over, “if you might know where Brian and Eileen Finn might have taken off to with Mary Pat Sheehan’s baby.”

  Instantly her face shut down. “What kind of trick are you trying to pull?”

  “No trick,” Frank assured her. “You see, I spent a few hours with Eileen Finn’s sister yesterday and she told me quite a bit about her brother-in-law. A few things you might not know. Like how he has a hair-trigger temper when someone threatens something he cares about. Apparently he once knocked a man unconscious at a neighborhood picnic for making too many cracks about the Republican Party. So you can imagine how angry he was when you took that baby away, and broke his wife’s heart.”

  Meredith watched him with spellbound dread. “Of course you already knew he was a teacher, but maybe you didn’t realize one of the subjects he taught was computer science. Yeah, he was quite a pro. All those cryptic emails you sent him—he knew exactly where they came from.

  “And one other detail about Brian Finn: he’s a real newshound. Takes two newspapers everyday, addicted to CNN. He knew all about Green Tomorrow. He knew that Barry Sutter, the man arranging his adoption, worked for Green Tomorrow. But he didn’t care, as long as he got that baby.”

  “So that was your mistake, Mrs. Golding. Not giving him that baby. Because when you told Sutter to up the ante, and the Finns couldn’t pay, you underestimated your man. You thought Brian Finn would just give up and go away, but that’s not the kind of man he is. He’s the kind of man who takes action. He’s the kind of guy who knows if you want results, you have to go straight to the top. So he didn’t bother arguing with Barry Sutter or Mrs. Stiler. He took his complaint to the boss—Nathan Golding.”

  Meredith was leaning forward now with her elbows up on the table and her head in her hands. Frank couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew she was listening.

  “We went back over the phone records from your husband’s room at the Mountain Vista Motel. This time, we noticed there was a call placed from your husband’s room to the Buchanan Open Academy, Brian Finn’s school, the day before your husband died. The state police had overlooked the significance of that. They assumed a call to a school had something to do with Green Tomorrow’s environmental education program. But really, it was Brian and Nathan, arranging a meeting. At that point, I suspect Finn thought he could strike a deal to get the baby back.

  “But that’s where Finn miscalculated, wasn’t it Mrs. Golding? Because your husband didn’t know anything about Sheltering Arms, or the way you were selling babies to finance Green Tomorrow’s operations. He was a very principled man—he would never have allowed that.”

  Frank paused, doodling in the margins of his notepad. The room was so silent, the scratch of the pen seemed to reverberate against the blank walls. “When Nathan told Finn he didn’t know what he was talking about, he really meant it. But Finn had just talked to me the day before. He knew that none of the money Sheltering Arms collected ever went toward Mary Pat’s medical expenses. He was sure Nathan was jerking him around, and that,” Frank lowered his voice, “made him mad.”

  Meredith was sobbing now. “Oh, I forgot one other thing about Mr. Finn. He’s a gun enthusiast. He hunts, but he also collects firearms. I’ve always thought that’s kind of a strange hobby, collecting guns. But I guess it’s no weirder than collecting stamps, or coins. Except you can’t kill someone with a buffalo head nickel. But if you happen to take a small handgun from your collection to the meeting with the man you think is stealing your money and your baby and your wife’s happiness, then things can get out of hand.”

  “Oh God! Oh, no!” was all Meredith said, then slumped back in her chair.

  Silence hung in the air. Then Meredith began to speak, her eyes focused on something only she could see. “It all started as a favor. One of the volunteers, a college girl, was pregnant. She didn’t want an abortion. I had friends who were eager to adopt. They met and liked each other. Barry took care of the legalities—everyone was happy. My friends
made a big donation to Green Tomorrow. In gratitude, you see.”

  “So you just took the next logical step. Created Sheltering Arms as a money-maker to support Green Tomorrow.”

  Meredith didn’t answer. She began to weep.

  “How did Constance Stiler get involved?” Frank asked.

  Meredith looked up. Her face was drained of all its usual energy and confidence. “She was the mother of that first girl whom we helped,” she said woodenly. “She was grateful that we found a good home for her grandchild. We all stayed in touch. Then George Stiler got sick.”

  “And you realized she was a woman who could be useful to your cause. Or should I say, your business. Constance delivered Mary Pat’s baby. She took her down to Albany to show her to the Finns, wearing a wig.”

  Meredith nodded. After interrogating Constance Stiler with such a spectacular lack of success, Frank hadn’t been at all confident of breaking down Meredith Golding. But maybe the difference was that Meredith realized she’d killed the only man she ever loved, while Constance still had everything to lose.

  “You’re under arrest, Mrs. Golding.” Calmly, Frank recited the Miranda warning. “Now, I want you to tell me who has Mary Pat Sheehan’s baby.”

  Meredith met his eyes for the first time since he entered the room. “Their names are Sam and Theresa Buckner. They live outside Rochester.”

  Frank was sitting with Lew Meyerson when the call came in from the Rochester police. He watched Meyerson’s right eyebrow go up–high emotion for Lew. This wasn’t looking good.

  “You searched the house?” Lew asked. Then he sighed and hung up.

  “The Buckners received an email from Sheltering Arms one day after they got the baby. The email said the birth mother had changed her mind and wanted the baby back. Sheltering Arms assured them they’d have another baby ready for them in a few days, so they let her go without too much fuss.”

  Frank sprang to his feet. “Godammit, that bitch is still lying to us! What’s she trying to pull now?”