Gone ,but not forgotten

by Philip Margolin

  Now, I've got to make my flight, if you still want me to."

  "Come on down, Mr. Turner. I'll respect your wishes. See you at ten."

  Page hung up and sat in the dark, wide-awake. What would Turner tell him? What possible connection was there between the President's nominee to the United States Supreme Court and Martin Darius? Whatever it was, Turner thought it would guarantee Darius's conviction, and that was what mattered. Darius would pay.

  Since the first bail hearing, the case seemed to be slipping away from him. Not even Lisa Darius's tragic death had given the prosecution substance. Maybe Turner's information would save him.

  Wayne Turner opened the door and let Alan Page into his hotel room.

  Turner was impeccably dressed in a three piece suit. Page's suit was wrinkled, his shoes unpolished.

  If anyone looked like he had just flown three thousand miles, it was Page.

  "Let's get the striptease out of the way," Turner said when the door was closed. Page took off his jacket. Turner patted him down expertly.

  "Satisfied?" Page asked.

  "Not one bit, Mr. Page. If I had my druthers, I'd be back in D.C. You want some coffee?"

  "Coffee would be nice."

  There was a thermos on a coffee table and the remains of a sandwich.

  Turner poured for both of them.

  "Before I tell you a damn thing, we have to have some ground rules.

  There is an excellent chance that Senator Colby will not be confirmed if what I tell you is made public. I want your word that you will not call the senator or me as a witness in any court proceeding or make what I tell you available to anyone else-even members of your staff-unless it is absolutely necessary to secure the conviction of Martin Darius."

  "Mr. Turner, I respect the senator. I want to see him on the Court. The fact that he's willing to risk his nomination to give me this information reinforces the feelings I've had about his worth to this country. Believe me, I will do nothing to jeopardize his chances, if I can help it.

  But I want you to know, up front, this prosecution is in a lot of trouble. If I had to bet, I'd pick Martin Darius to walk, based on what I've got now."

  Kathy insisted on eating at the Spaghetti Factory again.

  There was the usual forty-five-minute wait and the service was slow.

  They were not back in Rick's apartment until after nine. Kathy was pooped, but she was so excited she did not want to go to bed. Rick spent half an hour reading to her. He was surprised how much he enjoyed reading to his daughter. That was something Betsy usually did. He enjoyed dinner too. In fact, he had enjoyed all the time they spent together.

  The doorbell rang. Rick checked his watch. Who would be calling at nine forty-five? Rick looked through the peephole. It took him a moment to remember the Woman who was standing in the hall.

  "Miss. Sloane, isn't it?" Rick asked, when the door was open.

  "You have a good memory."

  "What can I do for you?"

  Sloane looked embarrassed. "I really shouldn't intrude like this, but I remembered your address. You told Betsy before you left the office. I was in the neighborhood. I know it's late, but I was going to arrange a meeting with you for background for my article, anyway, so I thought I'd take a chance. If you're busy, I can come some other time."

  "Actually, that would be best. I've got Kathy with me and she just went to sleep. I don't want to disturb her, and I'm pretty beat myself."

  "Say no more, Mr. Tannenbaum. Could we meet later in the week?"

  "Do you really want to talk to me? Betsy and I are separated, you know."

  "I do know, but I would like to talk to you about her.

  She's a remarkable woman and your view of her would be very informative."

  "I'm not sure I want to discuss our marriage for publication."

  "will you think it over?"

  Rick hesitated, then said, "Sure. Call me at the office."

  "Thank you, Mr. Tannenbaum. Do you have a card?"

  Rick patted his pockets and remembered his wallet was in the bedroom.

  "Step in for a minute. I'll get you one."

  Rick turned his back on Nora Sloane and started into the apartment. Nora was taller than Rick. She glided behind him and looped her left arm around his neck while she drew the knife out of her deep coat pocket with her right hand. Rick felt himself jerked up on his toes when Sloane leaned back and tilted his chin up. He did not feel anything when the knife slashed across his throat, because his body went into shock. There was a jolt when the knife slid into his back, then another jolt. Rick tried to struggle, but he lost control of his body. Blood spurted from his neck. He viewed the red fountain like a tourist staring at a landmark. The room wavered. Rick felt his energy drain out of him along with the blood that drenched the floor. Nora Sloane released her hold and Rick slid to the carpet. She closed the apartment door quietly and looked around. There was a living room at the end of the hall. Sloane walked through it, down another ball and stopped at the first door. She pushed it open gently and stared at Kathy. The darling little girl was asleep. She looked lovely.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Betsy was finishing breakfast when the doorbell rang. A light rain had been falling — all morning and it was hard to see Nora Sloane through the streaked pane in the kitchen window. She was standing on the welcome mat holding in umbrella in one hand and a large shopping bag in the other.

  Betsy carried her coffee cup to the front door.

  Nora smiled when it opened.

  "Can I come in?" Sloane asked.

  "Sure," Betsy said, stepping aside. Sloane leaned her umbrella against the wall in the entryway and unbuttoned her raincoat. She was wearing tight-fitting jeans, a light blue work shirt and a dark blue sweater.

  "Can we sit down?" Nora asked, gesturing toward the living room. Betsy was confused by this morning visit, but she sat down on the couch. Nora sat in an armchair across from her and took a gun out of the shopping bag.

  The coffee cup slipped from Betsy's fingers and shattered when it struck the marble tabletop. A dark brown puddle formed around the shards.

  "I'm sorry I frightened you," Sloane said calmly.

  Betsy stared at the gun.

  "Don't let this bother you," Sloane said. "I wouldn't hurt you. I like you. I'm just not certain how you'll react when I explain why I'm here, and I want to be certain you don't do anything foolish. You won't do anything rash, will you?"

  "No."

  "Good. Now, listen carefully to me. Martin Darius must not be freed. On Monday, before the hearing starts, you will ask to use judge Norwood's jury room to speak in private with your client. There's a door that opens into the corridor. When I knock on the door, you'll let me in."

  "Then what?"

  "That's none of your concern."

  "Why should I do this for you?"

  Nora reached into the shopping bag and pulled out Oliver. She handed the stuffed animal to Betsy.

  "I have Kathy. She's a sweet child. She'll be fine, if you do what I tell you."

  "How… how did you get Kathy? Rick didn't call me."

  "Rick's dead." Betsy gaped at Nora, not certain she had heard her correctly. "He hurt you. Men are like that.

  Martin is the worst example. Making us act like dogs, forcing us to fuck each other, mounting us as if we were inanimate objects, cartoon women, so he could live out his fantasies. But other men do the same thing in different ways. Like Rick. He used you, then discarded you."

  "oh, God!" Betsy wept, stunned and only half believing what Sloane said.

  "He's not dead."

  "I did it for you, Betsy."

  "No, Sloane. He didn't deserve this."

  Sloane's features hardened. "They all deserve to die, Betsy. All of them."

  "You're Samantha Reardon, aren't you?"

  Reardon nodded.

  "I don't understand. After what you went through, how could you kill those women?"

  "That was hard, Betsy. I made cer
tain they didn't suffer. I only marked them when they were anesthetized.

  If there was another way, I would have chosen it."

  Of course, Betsy thought, if Reardon kidnapped the women to frame Martin Darius, it would be easier to deal with them if they were unconscious. A nurse who assisted in surgery would know all about anesthetics like pentobarbital.

  Reardon smiled warmly, reversed the gun and held it out to Betsy.

  "Don't be afraid. I said I wouldn't hurt you. Take it.

  I want you to see how much I trust you."

  Betsy half-reached, then stopped.

  "Go on," Reardon urged her. "Do as I say. I know you won't shoot me. I'm the only one who knows where Kathy is. If I was killed, no one would be able to find her.

  She'd starve to death. That's a cruel and horrible way to die. I know. I almost died from starvation."

  Betsy took the gun. It was cold to the touch and heavy. She had the power to kill Reardon, but she felt utterly helpless.

  "if I do what you say, you'll give me Kathy unharmed?"

  "Kathy is my insurance policy, just as I was Peter Lake's. Nancy Gordon told me all about the governor's pardon. I've learned so much from Martin Darius. I can't wait to thank him, in person."

  Reardon sat (quietly for a while. She did not move.

  Betsy tried to stay just as still, but it was impossible. She shifted on the couch. The seconds passed. Reardon looked as if she was having trouble framing her thoughts.

  When she spoke, she looked into Betsy's eyes with an expression of deep concern and addressed Betsy the way a teacher addresses a prize pupil when she wants to make certain that the student understands a key point.

  "You have to see Darius for what he is to understand what I'm doing. He is the Devil. Not just a bad person, but pure evil. Ordinary measures wouldn't have worked.

  Who would believe me? I've been committed twice.

  When I tried to tell people in Hunter's Point, no one would listen. Now I know why. I always suspected there were others working with Martin.

  Nancy Gordon confirmed that. She told me all about the conspiracy to free Martin and blame Henry Waters. Only the Devil would have so much power. Think of it. The governor, the mayor, policemen. Only Gordon resisted. And she was the only woman."

  Reardon watched Betsy intently. "I'll bet you'll be tempted to call the police as soon as I leave. You mustn't do that. They might catch me.

  I'll never tell where Kathy is if I'm caught. You must be especially strong when the police tell you Rick is dead and Kathy has been kidnapped. Don't weaken and give me away."

  Reardon smiled coldly.

  "You must not put your faith in the police. You must not believe that they can break me. I can assure you that nothing the police can do to me compares to what Martin did, and Martin never broke me. Oh, he thought he did.

  He thought I was submitting, but only my body submitted. My mind stayed strong and focused.

  "At night I could hear the others whimpering. I never whimpered. I folded my hate inside me and kept it safe and warm. Then I waited. When they told me Waters was the one, I knew they were lying. I knew Martin had done something to them to make them lie. The Devil can do that-twist people, change them around like clay figures-but he didn't change me."

  "Is Kathy warm?" Betsy asked. "She can get sick if she's in a damp place."

  "Kathy is warm, Betsy. I'm not a monster like Darius I'm not inhuman or insensitive. I need Kathy to be safe. I don't want to harm her."

  Betsy did not hate Reardon. Reardon was insane. It was Darius she hated.

  Darius knew exactly what he was doing in Hunter's Point when he created Reardon by stripping her of her humanity. Betsy handed the gun to Reardon.

  "Take it. I don't want it."

  "Thank you, Betsy. I'm pleased to see you trust me as much as I trust you."

  "What you're doing is wrong. Kathy is a baby. She never did anything to you."

  "I know. I feel badly about taking her, but I couldn't think of any other way to force you to help me. You have such high principles. I was upset when you told me you were dropping Darius as a client. I counted on you to get me close to him. But I admired you for refusing to represent him. So many lawyers would have continued for the money. I helped you with your marital problems so you'd see how much I respect you."

  Reardon stood up. "I've got to go. Please don't worry. Kathy's safe and warm. Do what I told you and she'll be back with you soon."

  "Can you have Kathy call me? She'll be frightened.

  It would help her if she heard my voice."

  "I'm sure you're sincere, Betsy, but you might try to have my calls traced. I can't take that chance."

  "Then give this to her," Betsy said, handing Oliver to Reardon. "It will make her feel safe."

  Reardon took the stuffed animal. Tears streaked down Betsy's face.

  "She's all I have. Please don't hurt her."

  Reardon closed the door without answering. Betsy ran into the kitchen and watched her walk up the driveway, back straight, unwavering. At that moment, Betsy suddenly knew bow the husbands felt when they came home to find only notes that read "Gone, But Not Forgotten."

  Betsy wandered back to the living room. It was still dark, though a sliver of light was starting to show on the fringe of the hills. Betsy slumped on the couch, exhausted by the effort it took to keep her emotions at bay, unable to think and in shock. She wanted to mourn Rick, but — all she could think about was Kathy. Until Kathy was safe, her heart would have no time to ache for Rick. autopsy photographs, she tried to block her memory of the picture Darius had painted of his dehumanized prisoners, but she could not stop herself from seeing Kathy, her little girl, frantic and defenseless, curled up in the dark, terrified of every sound.

  Time passed in a blur. The rain stopped and the sky changed from dark to light without her noticing. The pool of cold coffee had spread between the fragments of the broken cup and across the top of the coffee table.

  Betsy walked into the kitchen. There was a roll of paper towels over the sink. She tore some off the roll, found a small paper bag and grabbed a large sponge. Doing something helped. Moving helped.

  Betsy picked up the pieces of the cup and put them in the paper bag. She sponged off the tabletop and used the paper towels to wipe it down. As she worked, she thought about help. The police were out. She could not control them. Betsy believed Samantha Reardon. If Reardon thought Betsy betrayed her, she would kill Kathy. If the police arrested her, she would never tell where she was holding Kathy.

  Betsy put the wet towels into the bag, carried the bag into the kitchen and put it in the garbage. Finding Kathy was the only thing she cared about. Reggie Stewart was an expert at finding people and she could control him, because Reggie worked for her. More important, he was sensitive. He would put finding Kathy ahead of arresting Samantha Reardon. Betsy would have to act quickly. It was only a matter of time before someone discovered Rick's body and the police investigation started.

  Reggie Stewart's flight from Hunter's Point landed in Portland after midnight, and Betsy's call aroused him from a sound sleep. He had wanted to go back to bed, but Betsy sounded so upset and cryptic on the phone, he was concerned. Stewart smiled when Betsy opened the door, but his smile faded as soon as he saw Betsy's face.

  "What's UP, Chief?"

  Betsy did not answer Stewart until they were seated in the living room.

  She looked like she was barely under control.

  "You were right. Samantha Reardon killed the people at the construction site."

  "How do you know that?"

  "She told me, this morning. She Betsy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her shoulders started to shake. She put a hand over her eyes.

  Betsy did not want to cry. Stewart knelt next to her. He touched her, gently.

  "What's happening, Betsy? Tell me. I'm your friend.

  If I can help you, I will."

  "She killed Rick," Betsy sobbed, collapsing into R
eggie's arms.

  Stewart held her close and let her cry.

  "Have you told the police?"

  "I can't, Reggie. She has Kathy hidden somewhere.

  The police don't know Rick is dead. If they arrest Samantha, she won't tell where she has Kathy hidden and she'll starve to death. That's why I need you. You have to find Kathy."

  "You don't want me, Betsy. You want the cops and the FBI. They're much better equipped to find Kathy than I am. They have computers, manpower "I believe Samantha when, she says Kathy will die if she learns I went to the police. Reardon has already murdered the four people at the site, Lisa Darius and Rick."

  "How do you know Reardon so well?"

  "The day after Darius hired me, a woman calling herself Nora Sloane phoned me. She said she wanted to meet me for lunch to discuss an article she was writing about women defense attorneys. She wanted to use my cases as the centerpiece. I was flattered. When Darius was arrested, she was already my friend. When she asked if she could tag — along while I worked up Martin's case, I agreed."

  "Reardon?"

  "Yes."

  "Why did she kill Rick?"

  "She said she killed Rick because he left me."

  "If she killed Rick because he hurt you, why hurt you more by kidnapping Kathy?"

  Betsy decided not to tell Stewart about Reardon's instructions. She trusted her investigator, but she was afraid Stewart would warn the police if he learned of Reardon's plan to get into the jury room with Darius.

  "After I found out Martin killed the women in Hunter's Point, I told him I wouldn't represent him, and I told Reardon I was dropping Martin as a client. She was very upset. I think she wants to be able to control the case. With Kathy as a prisoner, she can force me to do things that will ensure Martin's conviction. If you don't find Kathy, I'll have to do what she says."

  Stewart walked back and forth, thinking. Betsy wiped her eyes. Talking to someone helped.

  "What do you know about Reardon?" Stewart asked.