Wednesday's Child

by Gayle Wilson

  “I don’t understand.”

  She seemed to be saying that over and over, but nothing about this conversation had gone as she’d anticipated. She had been expecting to be told to stay away from the school. Instead, she’d been given information that contradicted almost every conclusion she’d reached since she’d been in Linton.

  “Four years ago they found the body of a Baby Doe up in Randolph County. It’s the right age and sex for your daughter, according to the coroner there. I didn’t remember the details, but when I talked to him this morning, I asked about the body.”

  As it had during the first call Adams had made to her, Susan’s heart had begun to hammer until it seemed to fill her chest, leaving her no room to breathe. This was not Emma, she told herself. Whoever they’d found, it wasn’t Emma.

  “But four years ago—” she began, only to be cut off.

  “It was only a skeleton at that point. The body had been buried in a shallow grave, but some animal had dug it up. A hunter stumbled over the remains.”

  Bile crawled into her throat, making it impossible to respond, even if she had known how.

  “They never were able to match those remains to any child who’d gone missing in that area—”

  “And what makes you think this might be my daughter?” she interrupted, cutting to the heart of his allegation.

  “As I understand it, nobody was looking for your husband down here, and yet here he was. In Linton. And that baby was found less than a hundred miles away.”

  “Downstream from the bridge?”

  That was her greatest fear. That the scenario Adams had painted that day at the river might somehow be what had happened. That Richard had removed Emma from the infant seat and then had been unable to make it to shore with her.

  But if the current had taken her out of his hands, why would he have gotten back into the car? It made no more sense now than it had then.

  “No, ma’am. Randolph’s due north of here.”

  She closed her eyes, breathing a prayer of thanks before she demanded an answer to what she’d asked before. “Then how do you explain how my daughter’s body could have ended up there?”

  The silence on the other end went on longer than before, but she didn’t interrupt it. Adams didn’t have an answer, and she wanted him to admit it.

  “Maybe the same thing that caused your husband to withdraw all the money from his accounts and come down here in the first place. I’m thinking maybe he decided he didn’t need the complication of a toddler.”

  He meant another woman, Susan realized.

  “So he just killed her? Is that what you’re suggesting? Richard decided Emma was an inconvenience, so he murdered his own baby and left her in a hole for some animal to dig up?”

  She could hear the hysteria building in her voice as she posed those ridiculous questions, but she didn’t try to do anything about it. Of all the things Adams had suggested to explain why Emma wasn’t in the car with her father, this was the most terrible. And the most inconceivable.

  “I expect you found it just as hard to believe your husband would take all your money and then disappear,” the sheriff said. “The fact is, despite whatever you think he was or wasn’t capable of, he certainly did that.”

  “He didn’t kill Emma.”

  But maybe whoever murdered Richard had…

  She didn’t want the thought in her head, but it was better than the other. Whatever else Richard was guilty of, she refused to believe he could have done anything to harm Emma.

  That was something she had denied from the beginning of this nightmare. A denial that had insured the authorities had never made finding Emma a top priority. For Adams to suggest now that she’d been wrong about that—

  “We may never know what really happened,” the sheriff began, his tone more conciliatory.

  “I know damn well that didn’t.”

  “Nevertheless,” he said, effectively negating her objections, “that Baby Doe is something we have to investigate.”

  As much as she wanted to disagree, she knew he was right. If that unidentified body was a match in age and sex, the authorities would have to consider the possibility it was Emma.

  “So how do I go about proving that isn’t my daughter?”

  Another beat of silence.

  “I can give you the name of the coroner up there. Actually, why don’t I set up an appointment for you. You tell me when it’s convenient for you to go up, and I’ll arrange it.”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “If he can see me.”

  “I’ll talk to him, and then I’ll call you back.”

  “Thank you,” Susan said, following the polite conventions she had been taught all her life.

  In reality, the information the sheriff had just provided was nothing she was grateful for. Not the autopsy report or the news about the Baby Doe. Neither fit into the almost comforting scenario she had devised to explain what had happened here. And neither seemed to indicate that she would ever find Emma alive.

  “YOU CAN’T POSSIBLY GO up there alone,” Charlotte said. “Even if that baby isn’t Emma…”

  The sentence trailed, but Susan knew what her sister meant. At this point, even if she was certain the unidentified body wasn’t her daughter’s, it would still be an emotionally wrenching experience. That baby had belonged to someone. Any living creature deserved a better fate.

  “I’m sending Dave down there tomorrow,” Charlotte went on. “Don’t you do a thing until he gets there.”

  Susan deliberately hadn’t called her sister tonight because she didn’t want anything to upset Charlotte during these last few difficult days of her pregnancy. Yet when she had picked up her cell and heard the concern in Charlotte’s voice, she’d been unable to keep the news to herself. She desperately needed someone to confide in. Maybe if Jeb had been here…

  Jeb.

  “No, you aren’t,” she said briskly, wiping the emotion from her voice. “We’ve been through that already. Dave isn’t going to be anywhere but with you.”

  “Suz, you can’t possibly go up there and try to identify that baby’s body. Not by yourself.”

  “I don’t think it will come to that. As I understand it, the town raised funds and buried her. They put up a monument and everything. No one’s mentioned exhuming the body.”

  She had found all that out at the local library this afternoon. She’d fed the information the sheriff had given her into the computer and found a couple of references to the Baby Doe story immediately. Then, with the help of the librarian, she had read on microfiche the back copies of the Randolph County Ledger, which had carried many more details.

  One of those had been the measurements of the skeleton. According to the coroner’s report, Baby Doe had been almost an inch shorter than Emma at her last checkup.

  “Besides, I told you,” she continued, “the description doesn’t fit.”

  The resulting silence reminded her of those awkward pauses during her conversation with the sheriff. Enough so that she felt betrayed by her sister’s willingness to even entertain the idea that the body could be Emma’s.

  “Even if they aren’t asking you to view the body, you can’t go up there alone. It’s crazy to even think about doing that.”

  “I’ll get somebody to go with me.”

  “The sheriff?”

  Asking Adams to accompany her was something that had never crossed her mind. She couldn’t imagine making that kind of journey, with its emotional pitfalls, with someone who would describe the discovery of that baby in the way he had to the person he believed might be her mother.

  “Not the sheriff. A friend. I think I told you about him. Jeb Bedford. He’s the great-nephew of the woman I’m boarding with. He’s already been very helpful.”

  “Well, that’s good. Do you think he’ll go?”

  Jeb wasn’t due back from his evaluation until the day after tomorrow. She could call the sheriff in the morni
ng and ask him to rearrange the appointment. The coroner wouldn’t mind a change in plans. And one more day couldn’t make any difference.

  Maybe the children would be back on the playground tomorrow. Maybe she’d see something in one of them to prove—if only to herself—that what Adams was suggesting wasn’t true.

  He hadn’t been able to come up with a credible explanation for how Emma might have come to be separated from her father by a hundred miles. Nor could she. None of it made sense. Which was all the more reason that the delay of one day in going up to Randolph County wouldn’t make any difference.

  “I think he will.”

  “I want you to promise me you won’t do this alone. That you won’t go to that grave by yourself. Swear to me, Suz. You take your friend with you or you take the sheriff, but you don’t do that alone.”

  Susan could hear the agitation in her sister’s voice. And that was something Charlotte didn’t need right now. Besides, she was right. The journey to that grave was one Susan knew she couldn’t afford to make alone, no matter the outcome.

  “I won’t, Char. I swear to you I won’t go up there alone.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  AT FIRST SUSAN TRIED to make the ringing phone part of her dream. Eventually its persistence pulled her from the depths of sleep she had achieved after hours of tossing and turning.

  The hands of her small travel clock indicated it was almost 2:00 a.m. Her first sleep-drugged thought was that Dave must be calling to tell her she had a nephew. The second, more rational one sent her scrambling across the mattress to grab the phone. Surely her brother-in-law wouldn’t call at this time of the morning unless something had gone wrong.

  She flipped open its case as she brought the phone to her ear. “What’s wrong?”

  “I hear you want to find out about your daughter?”

  Certainly not Dave. This was not even a man’s voice.

  “Who is this?” She was still brain-fogged from being awakened too quickly after too little sleep. Despite the question, her heart rate had slowed from that first panic-driven gallop.

  “Someone who can tell you where she is. If you’re interested.”

  “Are you saying that you know something about Emma?”

  “Meet me at the school playground. You do know where that is, don’t you?”

  “When?”

  “Now or never.”

  “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “And the only time this is gonna be safe. Like I said, now or never.”

  Before Susan had time to frame another question, the connection was broken, leaving her holding a dead phone, the caller’s words echoing in her head. And the only time this is gonna be safe…

  That sounded as if the woman feared for her own safety, yet the question about the playground had been mocking. Someone who had seen her repeated visits? Mrs. Perkins? Or one of the parents, trying to scare her away with a prank call?

  If so, there should have been some threat involved. A warning to stay away from the children. There hadn’t been. There had been enticement instead. Someone who can tell you where she is…

  Hoax, Susan thought, determinedly tamping down her immediate flare of excitement. There was always someone out there who thought it was amusing to play with people’s emotions.

  She had heard of this kind of thing before. One man had spent years calling the mother of a missing girl, claiming to be in contact with her daughter. Then finally, after years of taunting, claimed to be her murderer. Susan couldn’t remember if he had been, but she certainly had been able to empathize with the victim of that cruel prank and all she’d gone through.

  That’s all this is, she told herself, punching up the number of the previous caller on her cell. It wasn’t one she recognized, but she hit redial anyhow. The phone rang and rang, but no one picked it up.

  Wide awake now, she sat up, turning on the bedside lamp so she could copy down the number. She would give it to Adams in the morning. Maybe he wouldn’t pursue it, but she intended to make as much trouble as possible for whoever had called her.

  Someone who can tell you where she is. If you’re interested…

  As she wrote down the number on one of the receipts she’d crammed into the drawer of the bedside table, the words repeated over and over in her brain. Despite her belief that the person who’d said them knew nothing about Emma’s whereabouts, she couldn’t get them out of her head.

  She had handed out her business card with her cell phone number on it to everyone she had talked to in this town. She tried to remember the timbre of the caller’s voice to see if it reminded her of any of those people.

  Gladys Caffrey, maybe? If so, she could hardly be blamed for the innate cruelty of this call.

  Despite the similarity of the accents, however, the sarcasm didn’t fit. Besides, with that sadly deranged mind would Gladys be capable of putting the phone number on the card together with the significance of Susan’s visit that day? Would she even remember what they’d talked about?

  Unconsciously she shook her head, discarding the notion. Whoever had called tonight had been in total command of her faculties, as evidenced by the gibe about the schoolyard.

  An angry parent as she’d thought before? Or even one of the children? Except how would any of them have access to her cell phone number? Which left…

  The people she’d talked to. And those were all people who might have had some legitimate reason to come in contact with Richard. And with Emma.

  Or maybe this was someone one of them might have passed her card along to. Someone who…

  Someone who can tell you where she is. If you’re interested.

  This was why she was here. To talk to anyone who might have information about her daughter. If there was the remotest possibility this hadn’t been a prank, she had no choice but to do what the caller suggested.

  Go out in the middle of the night? To a deserted schoolyard? She would have to be incredibly stupid to even think about doing that. Incredibly stupid or a mother who had no other hope of finding her child.

  Rationally, she knew that following those instructions was not only foolish but dangerous. Emotionally, she knew that she had no choice. There was always a chance the person who had called her tonight really did have information. Not keeping that appointment was a risk she couldn’t take.

  SHE PULLED HER CAR into one of the empty spaces in the same row where she’d parked before. Her headlights shone across the hard-packed dirt of the playground.

  It appeared deserted, but the buildings in the school complex, as well as the playground equipment itself, cast long shadows over part of the yard. There were plenty of places for someone to hide, if that was their intent.

  She put her fingers over the door handle and opened it. The glare of the interior light was almost a shock in the darkness, making her feel exposed and vulnerable. She climbed out quickly and closed the door. The sound it made seemed to echo in the stillness.

  If they hadn’t known I’m here before, she thought, they do now.

  She had stepped away from the car before she remembered her phone. They’d chosen to communicate with her that way once. What was to say that they wouldn’t do that again?

  She reopened the door, retrieving the cell, again conscious of the illumination of the overhead light as she fumbled it out of her purse.

  She slipped the phone into the pocket of her jacket and closed the door, this time with an effort to make as little noise as possible. She locked the car with the key rather than the remote and then turned, once more looking out over the deserted playground.

  A light wind sent dust whirling across it, which disappeared into the shadows on the far side. Her eyes followed the movement, searching that blacker darkness with a sense of foreboding.

  Steeling herself, she began to move along the chain-link fence toward the gate on the far side. As she neared it, she became aware for the first time of the halogen light on the road that ran beside the school. Although the building
sat between the powerful street lamp and the playground, it provided enough light that she could see how to operate the latch.

  Surprised to find the gate wasn’t locked, something the caller had obviously known, she let herself in, pulling it closed behind her. Then she waited, listening to the absolute silence around her.

  After a long moment, she realized that the woman who’d called hadn’t suggested a particular part of the schoolyard for their meeting. If she were waiting in the shadows of the building, it was possible Susan couldn’t see her from here.

  She started forward, moving through the area mostly used by the younger children, the part that held the play equipment. She circled the raised seat of one of the teeter-totters, which she’d almost missed in the darkness.

  Ahead were the swing sets, the kind with metal chains and brightly colored plastic seats. As she neared them, she noticed that one swayed slightly. Despite the earlier dust devil, there didn’t seem to be enough wind now to have set it into motion.

  The hair on the back of her neck began to lift. Although she’d heard of the phenomenon all her life, she couldn’t ever remember experiencing that eerie prickling.

  Her instinct was to back away from the swing set, keeping her eyes on the shadowed area next to it as she did. Except she hadn’t come here to run away. She had come because it was possible that the woman who’d called did have knowledge of Emma. After all, someone in this town had to.

  “Hello?” Her voice was too soft, seeming to fade away into the shadows.

  She waited, listening for an answer. Listening for anything. And hearing nothing.

  “Is anyone here?”

  Off in the darkest area of the playground, where all light was blocked by the bulk of the school building itself, there was a faint clink, as if someone had touched glass to glass.

  “Is someone there?” Susan called again, walking past the swings and toward the sound.

  Again, there was no answer, but she thought she heard a rustle of movement. An animal, maybe? A stray dog who’d been sleeping in the shelter of one of the doorways?

  Like a fool, she hadn’t even thought to bring a flashlight. There might be one in the glove compartment of the Toyota, but she wasn’t sure enough of that to make a return trip to the car. Not if there really was someone here. Someone with information about Emma.