Sarah laughed. “Tell me about it,” she said; then, “I’m going to start breakfast.”
“Sounds great. I’ll take a quick shower and be down in ten minutes.”
Alex kissed her on the cheek, then went into the master bedroom. As Sarah reached the head of the stairs, she heard the phone ringing. She heard it in stereo—from the stairwell in front of her and from Alex’s den to her right. She answered in the den.
It was Frank O’Hara.
“I hope I’m not calling you too early,” he said. “I dialed your number before I thought about the two-hour time difference.”
“It’s okay. Is … there something wrong?” Sarah guessed that he wasn’t calling just to be sociable.
“Yes.” His voice sounded hollow in the receiver. “Perhaps I should talk to your husband first.”
“He’s in the shower. Please. What is it?”
O’Hara paused before he spoke.
“A friend of mine with the Albany police just called me. He said they’ve now compared the dental charts of Christine Helstrum with the body found in the woods near the hospital.”
Sarah held her breath, afraid of what he might say.
“The body was not Christine’s,” O’Hara said.
Sarah’s breath came out in a rush, as if she’d been slammed against a wall.
“Are you—I mean, are they certain?”
“I’m afraid so. When the dental charts didn’t match, the police ran a computer check of missing persons. They found a very close match, a housewife from Glens Falls who’d been missing for over two weeks. They brought the husband in early this morning, and he positively identified the body by a birthmark on her back. Her name was Patricia Ann Green.”
“Green,” Sarah muttered. “Mrs. Green.”
“The autopsy revealed that she’d been strangled. The police believe that Christine murdered her, exchanged clothes with the corpse, then took Mrs. Green’s car.”
O’Hara continued to talk—something about the Colorado Springs police and an APB on the car—but Sarah heard only a jumble of words. All she could think about was that Christine was alive and somewhere nearby. And she’d murdered a woman to get here.
It’s Alex she wants, Sarah thought. She could’ve murdered me in the shop, but she was just playing …
“Mrs. Whitaker? Are you still there?”
“I’m … yes. Please, hold on. I’ll get my husband.”
Sarah hurried down the hall to the master bedroom. Alex was coming out of the bathroom with one towel wrapped around his waist and another draped around his neck. He stopped abruptly when he saw the look on Sarah’s face.
“Christine is alive,” she said. “It’s been her all along.”
“How ….?”
“Frank O’Hara. He’s on the phone.”
Alex held her eyes a moment longer, then brushed past her. Sarah followed slowly and slumped in a chair in the den. She wondered what she and Alex and Brian should do. Should they move out of their house? Should they try to hide until Christine was caught? Could they hide?
Alex said good-bye and hung up the phone.
“Where will we go?”
Alex turned to face her. “What do you mean?” Then he seemed to notice for the first time that he was draped only in towels. He folded his arms across his chest for warmth.
“I mean, we’ve got to get out of here,” she said.
“We’re not going to run away, Sarah. This is our home.”
“But, Alex—”
“We’re staying,” he said firmly, then gently pulled Sarah to her feet and held her. “Look, the police are watching the house around the clock. We’re safe here …” He paused. When he spoke again, his voice was weak. “That is, you and Brian are safe. It’s me she’s after. Maybe I should leave, draw her away from you two until—”
“No,” Sarah said, “absolutely not.” She stood up and put her arms around his waist. “We’re a family, Alex, and leave or stay, we do it together.”
He started to protest, but Sarah put her finger to his lips.
“We stay together, Alex, and that’s that.”
He smiled briefly.
“Now I’ll go down and get breakfast started.”
Alex went to the bedroom to get dressed, and Sarah walked down the stairs. She passed through the foyer and the short hallway to the kitchen. Sunlight was streaming in at an angle from the window. It fell across the counter-top and the floor, and it just barely touched the corner of the kitchen table.
Sarah stopped dead still.
There was something lying in the center of the table, something that shouldn’t have been there, something that Sarah didn’t recognize. At least for a moment. But when the realization finally struck her, she felt her stomach twist, and she nearly vomited.
The table was smeared with blood. The ropelike thing lying in the center was about a foot long, orange and white. And furry.
It was the tail of the cat.
Sarah clamped her jaws and forced back the bile in her throat. She remembered what Brian had told her this morning—his “dream” about a woman coming into his room and taking Patches. She yelled for Alex.
Seconds later he was behind her, his hands on her shoulders.
“What’s the matter? What—”
His eyes followed her shaky finger to the table.
“Oh, my God.”
He let her go and stepped around her to the table. She saw that he’d had time to put on a shirt and pants, but not socks. He stared at the severed tail, then reached down, but did not quite touch it. When he lifted his head to look at Sarah, his face was twisted in pain.
“Brian told me he had a dream last night,” Sarah said. “A woman came into his room and took Patches. Alex, she was up there while we were asleep. She could have—”
“Keep Brian out of here,” he said, his voice trembling with rage. He started to walk past her, then stopped and held her by the shoulders. “I swear to you, Sarah, this is where it ends.”
He stomped down the hall and across the foyer and threw open the front door. He stood for a moment, as if he couldn’t decide whether to shout for the police or go out and look for them. Then he slammed the door and stalked back to the kitchen to use the phone.
Sarah started up the stairs and met Brian coming down.
“Hi, baby. Let’s—”
She stopped herself from saying, “Let’s go in the family room and watch cartoons.” What if they walked in there and found Patches …?
“Let’s go back up to your room,” she said.
“Why?”
“Just because,” she said. “Because we’ll do something special today and have breakfast right in your room and, um, and we’ll bring in the TV set from your dad’s den and watch cartoons together. Okay?”
“Why, Mom?”
“Brian, please, let’s go upstairs.”
Sarah led him up to his room, sat him on the edge of the bed, then brought in the small color set from Alex’s den. She made room for it on Brian’s desk, plugged it in, and turned it on.
“Which channel?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light.
Brian was staring down at his shoes. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.
Sarah flipped the dial until she found what appeared to be a blurry Big Bird. She fiddled with the built-in antenna until the image was fairly sharp.
“There,” she said. “Now I’ll go down and get our breakfast, and you stay up here and wait for me, okay?”
“Mom?”
“What?”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Oh, no, baby.” She sat beside him on the bed. “We’re just going to have breakfast up here today, that’s all. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
She heard Alex talking loudly, almost shouting, even before she reached the stairs. She started down and saw him leading Officers Bauer and Eastly toward the kitchen.
“I already searched down here,” he shouted. “There’s no sign of her or th
e cat.”
When she got to the kitchen, she saw that Alex had covered the table with a large towel. He was standing in the laundry room with the two policemen.
“I found the back door open,” Alex said. Some of the volume was gone from his voice, but Sarah could tell that he was still very angry. At least he was displaying anger. She guessed that he probably felt as sick as she did. “And it was closed and locked when we went to bed last night. Where the hell were you guys?”
“There was a car out front all night,” Bauer said. “Whoever did this—”
“We know who the hell did it,” Alex said. “Christine Helstrum.”
“—probably slipped through one of the neighboring yards,” Bauer finished.
The men came into the kitchen. Eastly went to the table and began to lift the towel. Sarah turned her back, not wanting to see again what lay beneath it. She stared out the window over the sink, then gave a start.
“Alex!”
He rushed to her side and looked out the window.
There on the driveway was Patches. The big cat was curled up in the sun, hard against the garage door, dazedly licking his stub, which was all that remained of his tail.
Sarah and Alex hurried out the back door, leaving the two policemen in the kitchen.
They tried to approach Patches without startling him, but when the cat saw them, he moved weakly across the driveway toward the front of the house. Sarah and Alex followed, calling his name. The cat stopped several times, curling up to lick his wound. But each time they came near, Patches moved away.
Finally, after they’d nearly circled the house, Patches let Sarah touch him, then pick him up. She could see that only an inch or two remained of his tail. There was little blood. The fur around the end of the stub was matted, wet with saliva. The tip of the tailbone poked through the fur like a tiny white eye.
“We’ve got to get him to the vet,” Sarah said.
“I’ll do it. You stay here with Brian.”
They took Patches inside, where Bauer and Eastly were waiting patiently. Alex put some towels in the cat carrier, and Sarah laid the cat inside. She held open the back screen door and then the garage door as Alex carried the cat out to the car. He drove away, and Sarah went back inside.
“Cats are pretty tough,” Eastly said. “I’m sure he’s going to be okay.”
Sarah nodded a thank-you. Her eyes fell to the towel covering the table.
“Perhaps we can talk in another room,” Bauer said. “We just need to ask you a few questions.”
“Please,” Sarah said. “I have to fix breakfast for my son.”
They stood aside while she made up a tray for Brian—an apple turnover, milk, and orange juice—and carried it upstairs.
Brian was so engrossed in his cartoon that he hardly noticed her enter. Sarah saw that he’d changed the channel from Sesame Street—the TV screen was now filled by an ominous black figure waving a sword. Brian was holding his cardboard sword. He pointed it at the screen.
“Lord Doom,” Brian explained. “And that’s the Sword of Power.”
“I see,” Sarah said, wondering how she was going to explain about Patches. She handed him the glass of orange juice. “It’s sort of like yours.”
“Sort of,” Brian said.
Sarah remembered that his sword had been traced from her butcher knife. The missing butcher knife. She wondered if it had been used to butcher Patches. She set the tray on the bed next to Brian.
“Have you got everything you need?” she asked.
“Uh-huh.” His attention was on the TV set.
“I’m going downstairs for a while, but I’ll be back up in a little bit, okay?”
Brian nodded without moving his eyes.
Sarah sat in the living room with Bauer, while Eastly went outside to look around the house. Bauer squatted uncomfortably on the edge of a stuffed chair and used an end table for a writing surface. Sarah told him everything that had happened since last night—waking to a scream, hearing about Brian’s “dream,” getting the phone call from Frank O’Hara, and finding the cat’s tail on the kitchen table. She was interrupted by the phone ringing. She glanced at her watch. It had been nearly half an hour since Alex had left.
“Excuse me,” Sarah said to Bauer.
She went in the kitchen and answered the phone.
“I’m at the vet’s,” Alex said. “He says Patches will be okay.”
“Thank God.”
“He’s lost a lot of blood, but the vet says it’s not critical. He’s giving him a shot to fight infection and another one to help him build back his blood.”
“Does he have to stay there overnight?”
“I don’t know yet. In any case, it will take me an hour or so to get home. There’s something I … I have to do something first.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain later. Good-bye, hon.”
He hung up.
32
SARAH REPLACED THE RECEIVER just as Officer Eastly came in the back door.
“Where does that lead?” he asked, motioning with his head across the laundry room.
“The basement.”
“I’d like to take a look down there.”
“Please, go ahead.”
Eastly unbolted the basement door, and Sarah went back to the living room, where Bauer was waiting. She finished telling him about this morning, and then they sat and waited for Eastly. Bauer looked uncomfortable. He cleared his throat.
“You did a good job fixing the Christmas tree,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“It looks very nice.”
“Thanks. Oh, would you like some coffee? I didn’t even think to ask.”
“No, thanks.”
They sat in awkward silence until Eastly returned.
“Nothing down there,” he said. “Who nailed the windows shut?”
“My husband.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
He nodded. Bauer stood.
“I’m going to put in a call to Detective Yarrow,” Bauer said. “He may want to come out here today. In any case, we’re going to be right outside, at least until your husband gets home.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said. She walked them to the front door, then looked back toward the kitchen. “What should I do with … that?”
“You can dispose of it,” Officer Eastly said gently. “Or if you’d like, I’ll do it for you.”
“No,” Sarah said. “But thank you.”
After they’d left, Sarah stood at the kitchen table for a moment, then scooped up the towel and its contents and carried it out the back door. She stuffed the bundle in the trash barrel. Back in the kitchen she used a can of cleanser and a damp sponge to wash the dried blood from the table. She noticed a deep scratch in the table’s surface. She felt a brief wave of nausea, realizing that the gash must have been made as the cat’s tail was chopped off.
“Mom?”
Sarah turned to see Brian standing in the doorway.
“Can I go outside now and play?”
She went to him. “Honey, let’s wait until your dad gets home, okay?”
“Where did he go?”
Sarah searched for a lie.
Enough lying, she thought.
“Come into the living room with me,” she said gently.
They sat together on the couch, and for the first time this morning Sarah noticed the smell of the Christmas tree. She inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent of pine. It soothed her, at least momentarily. Then she saw the remnants of a shattered ornament dangling from a lower branch.
“I need to tell you something about Patches,” she said.
Brian looked up at her, worry on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Patches got hurt, and your dad took him to the cat hospital.”
Brian opened his mouth to cry out, but Sarah spoke before he could.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said. “He called me from the ho
spital to say that Patches is all right and they’ll both be coming home soon.”
“What happened to Patches?” Brian’s eyes were filled with tears.
“Someone … we don’t know exactly, Brian. His tail, part of his tail got cut off, but he’s—”
“No!”
“He’s going to be okay and he won’t feel any pain and he’ll play with you just like—”
She stopped because Brian had buried his face in her sweater and was sobbing. Sarah held him tightly and stroked his hair.
“It’s okay, baby. He’s okay now.”
“That woman did it,” Brian said between sobs, and Sarah felt herself stiffen. “She took Patches out of my room and cut off his tail.”
Sarah hugged Brian tighter. “She’ll never do anything like that again, baby. If she ever comes near this house again, I’ll … take care of her.”
What exactly would I do? Sarah wondered.
“Come on,” she said, “let’s wipe away those tears. When Patches gets home, he’ll need an extra lot of love.”
An hour later Sarah heard Alex’s car in the driveway.
She and Brian stood at the door as Alex carried in Patches. The cat looked drowsy, and he could barely manage to meow when Brian petted him. His stub of a tail was wrapped in a white bandage.
“There, there, Patches. You’ll be okay.” Brian looked up at Alex. “He will be okay, won’t he, Dad?”
“Sure he will. He’s just tired now.”
“Can he stay in my room?”
“Okay, but he needs to rest.”
“I won’t bother him, honest.”
“Sarah, would you?” Alex asked. “I have to get something from the car.”
Sarah took Patches upstairs, with Brian carefully monitoring her every move. When she went back down, Alex was going into the kitchen carrying a small, heavy-looking paper sack. He set it on the table with a thunking sound.
“We need this, Sarah,” he said, opening the sack.
She remembered now that a locksmith was supposed to come to the house today.
“Are those locks?”
“No,” he said, and pulled out a gun.
Sarah stared as if there were a live snake in his hand. Alex set the gun on the table.
“Where did you get that?” She did not hide her disgust.
Night of Reunion: A Novel Page 23