As soon as he saw it, he was pissed at himself for not having noticed before. He was the cop. He should have seen the blinking light on the telephone message machine.
She looked at it like a lighthouse in a storm.
“He’s left five messages, five. It’s OK, it’s all going to be OK.” She pressed the “Play” button. “Get back!” she shouted at him and Billy when they came up to her. “I need to listen. Get back!” They both moved forward to hear.
“Message Number One received at 9:42 a.m.: ‘Jack—I can’t get you on your cell. If you’re home, please pick up. I need to talk to you. Right away. Call me. Please. I need you.’ ”
Click.
“Message Number Two received at 10:01 a.m.: ‘Mrs. Dane, this is Southeast Telephone. We have a special offer on long distance—’ ”
She swore, pushed “Skip.”
“Message Number Three received at 10:15 a.m.: ‘Holly?’ ”
“Jack!”
‘Holly, if you’re in, pick up . . . OK. You’re not.’ ”
Click.
“Don’t—don’t hang—”
“Message Number Four received at 10:26 a.m.: ‘Holly? . . . Pick up if you’re there.’ ”
Click.
“Jack! Jack! You see—he’s calling. It’s going to be OK. It’s all a big mis—”
“Message Number Five received at 10:30 a.m.: ‘Holly. I heard sirens before. I have to think they’ve gone to Henry’s house, don’t I? You see, the thing is, I was going to tell you before that Katy and I will be out for a while. Not to worry about us. We’re having fun. But I’m guessing that now, well now, you’re not there because you’ve been over to Henry’s. How’d that happen so quickly, I wonder? Well, it has, so it has. Nothing we can do about that, is there? Anyway, I don’t want you to worry. Katy is now my traveling companion. And you know I’m a good traveling companion. I might even sing to her. You never heard me sing, did you? I’m not bad. I’m pretty bloody good, to tell you the truth.’ ”
There was a pause. Walter could hear him inhaling a cigarette. The upbeat tone he’d just been using in that English accent of his suddenly changing.
‘Holly. Listen to me. Believe me. None of what happened was supposed to happen. You have to believe me. He was going to make me tell you. I couldn’t. I couldn’t stand the look I knew I’d see in your eyes.
‘I don’t want to use up all your tape and I’m about to throw my cellphone away so I have to say goodbye now. I really do love you, Holly Barrett Dane, but the salient—good word, right?—the salient point here is that you can take care of yourself, I know you can. You’re much stronger than you believe. Katy can’t, though. She’s a child. Katy needs me.’ ”
Click.
“We need to put out an APB,” Walter stated. “What’s your license plate number, Mrs. Dane?” He checked his watch. “That call came in ten minutes ago. He said he heard the siren so he can’t have gotten too far.”
She stumbled to the sofa, fell onto it, her body shaking, her eyes closed, whispering, “No,” over and over and over again. Shut down. She’d shut down, cracked. Billy Madison went and sat down beside her, looked up at Walter.
“3786. It’s one of those old family plates; they’ve had it forever,” he said. “Holly?” He put his hand on her knee, but she didn’t open her eyes; instead she sat there, crumpled up in a ball, still saying, “No,” like a mantra.
“She’s in a state of shock. I should get someone medical here.”
“No—I’ll deal with it. You have to find Jack, the car. I’ll get her out of this somehow.”
Walter called Galloway, gave him a quick rundown, told him the license number, watching Holly as he spoke. Her expression set off a weird chain of thought, making him remember an old toy from his childhood. A wooden box with little wooden pins standing in it and a keyhole at the front. You wound up a wooden peg with string, placed it into the keyhole, twirled the string to set the peg loose. It spun wildly around the box, careening off the walls, knocking down the pins.
He could see that’s what was happening in Holly Dane’s head now. It was spinning wildly, knocking into walls, unwound, unhinged.
“Right.” He flipped the phone shut. “Lieutenant Galloway is putting out an APB. We’ll find him, Mrs. Dane, and your daughter.”
Her body was shaking so much she looked as if she were sitting naked in a deep freezer. And still that “No, no, no . . .”
“Traveling companion. He said traveling companion.” Billy Madison turned to him again. “You need to check the buses too, the planes. The trains. Whatever. He’s taking her somewhere. Where would he take her? Think, Holly.” He put his hand on her arm, squeezed. “Think.”
Billy Madison had been the blond-haired blue-eyed boy wonder, great at sports, sure of himself. He would have been prom king if he’d gone to Shoreham High. Now that arrogance had drained out of him. The man was desperate, trying to find the kid he’d abandoned. Trying to get Holly Dane to surface from the dark hole she’d gone to—but she wasn’t coming up for air. She was catatonic.
“Mrs. Dane, we have the APB out.” He approached her, trying his most official voice. “Finding the car is the important thing now. Try to concentrate here if you can. You have any idea where he’d go?”
The “No, no, no” suddenly stopped, but she didn’t open her eyes, didn’t respond to his question. Walter looked at Billy. “Do you? Any idea at all?”
“We weren’t exactly friends. No, I don’t. Listen, I need time alone with Holly. I can snap her out of this, I know I can. And maybe I can get her to remember something. Figure out where Jack might have gone. She knows him.”
“Not that well, apparently.” Billy shot him a dark look; Walter ignored it, continued talking. “I’d get her a blanket. And something hot to drink. She’s shivering like crazy. Give me her cellphone number and the number here. And I’ll give you my number. There’s nothing either of you can do now except try to figure out where he’s gone. If you have any ideas at all, call me. And I’ll call you if I hear anything. OK?”
“OK.” Billy nodded.
“When she comes out of it, she’ll want to get out there and look for them herself. Which is not a good idea. She should be here in case he calls again. I’ll get a tap on the phone, OK? And if she doesn’t come out of it soon, you call me. She’ll need a doctor. She will need professional help. I’ll be back here as soon as I can.”
Walter looked at her, looked away. Holly Dane’s face was too painful a sight, too lost, as if she’d been standing on a pier and the whole structure had crumbled, every single thing she believed in falling away, taking her with it to the bottom of the sea.
His eyes landed on a photo on the table beside where she was sitting, a family photo, taken on the beach. Jack Dane was a handsome guy. A little older obviously than he was in the computer picture, but he’d been good-looking then and he was even better-looking now. And Katy—she was pretty with that blonde hair and shy smile. A really cute little kid.
Those twin girls on the computer had been really cute too.
What makes an eleven-year-old boy kill two little girls? he asked himself, knowing he didn’t have even the beginning of an answer. And what was Jack Dane doing with Katy now?
He’d take the photo with him so he’d have a description to send out.
If they didn’t find Jack Dane and the girl soon there probably wouldn’t be enough professional help in the world to make Holly Dane all right.
It was that “We’re having fun” comment of Dane’s, that and the “I might even sing to her” line. The way he’d said it, in that happy-go-lucky tone of voice with the Brit accent.
After Walter Farley had switched numbers with Billy Madison, told him to stay put whatever happened, reminded him about calling if Holly didn’t come around soon, he headed for the door, feeling a little guilty relief about getting out of there. He couldn’t stand to see her face. He didn’t want to hear that scream of hers, not ever again.
&n
bsp; And after that message, he was beginning to think he might have to hear it: because Jack Dane had sounded like a natural-born psychopath.
Chapter 30
Farley left the house and Billy was alone with Holly. Who wasn’t opening her eyes. Who wasn’t speaking. Who was sitting shivering, completely non-responsive. He had to figure out a way to reach her. Before, when she’d screamed at Henry’s, she’d been thinking of Katy; she’d been focused entirely on finding her, but Jack’s message had tipped Holly over the edge. It was a “fight or flight” response to threat, he realized. Her first reaction had been to fight, but once Jack had confessed, she’d flown to some form of unconsciousness.
That statement of Jack’s, the fact that he’d said, “I couldn’t stand to see the look in your eyes if you found out”—she must have understood then that her whole life with him had been a lie of gigantic proportions. He wasn’t confessing to an affair or a gambling problem. Or a stint in the Mafia. He’d admitted to killing two three-year-old girls and the grandfather who had been like a father to her.
Farley was right: she needed a blanket and something hot to drink. Billy went into the kitchen, found some instant coffee, put the kettle on. He went upstairs while it was boiling, went into Holly’s bedroom, grabbed a crocheted blanket off the end of the bed. On his way back downstairs, he stopped outside Katy’s bedroom. Then entered it, looked around, and found a stuffed animal on top of her toy chest in the corner. Grabbing it, he went back downstairs, wrapped the blanket around the still-comatose Holly, put the stuffed animal on the sofa beside her, before going into the kitchen and fixing her and himself mugs of strong black coffee.
The fog was beginning to roll in; Billy waited for the kettle to boil and stared at its mist, feeling a malevolent force in it, as if it were here to take hold and envelop Birch Point forever, as if it would never clear.
“OK, Holl.” He sat down beside her, took a quick swig of his coffee. “Here.” He blew on the top of her mug to cool it down, put it up to her lips. “You have to swallow a little of this.” Forcing the mug between her lips, he tilted it a tiny bit. She swallowed. “OK. We’re getting somewhere.” She was still shivering, but not quite so much.
“Here.” He grabbed the stuffed dog, placed it in her lap, put her hands around it. “That’s Katy’s, Holly. Katy’s stuffed dog. I don’t know what she calls it. But I guess it reminds her of Bones. Does Katy love Bones? See, I don’t know. Katy might not like dogs. Maybe she doesn’t play with this one.” He made her swallow another sip of coffee. “When’s Katy’s birthday? I should know, but I don’t. Does Katy like birthday parties?”
Say it enough times. Say Katy’s name enough times and Holly might respond.
He leaned forward, spoke directly into her ear. “Katy needs you, Holl. Katy. Katy needs you. Katy.”
“Katy.” It was soft, but he heard it, drew back, took hold of her shoulders, gave them a small shake.
“Yes, Holl. Katy.”
“Oh, my God.” Her eyes flew open. “Oh, my God. I don’t know what—” She looked around the room, her eyes searching every corner. “What happened? Billy, where’s Katy? Have they found her? Where was I? What happened?”
“You shut down for a while. You short-circuited. After you heard Jack’s message.”
“No. Oh, God.” When she closed her eyes, Billy thought she’d gone back, was going to blank out again. But she opened them. “I killed Henry. Jack killed Henry because of me.”
“No, Holly. You’re wrong. Jack killed Henry because he was trying to save himself. We need to find out where he’s gone. Where he’s taken Katy. We have to think, Holly. You have to start thinking now. Have some coffee—it’s right there on the table. Take another whack of coffee and think, OK?”
She reached out for the mug.
“Where is the cop?”
“He’s gone back to Henry’s. He’s put an APB out on your car.”
“I have to go. I have to go look for her.” She started to stand up, but he pulled her down gently.
“No. Farley said that’s a bad idea and he’s right. They’re looking for the car, they’re the professionals. And Farley said Jack might call again—you should be here if he does. You have to try to think where he might have gone. You might remember something he said. Tell me again everything he said before he left.”
“He said . . . wait a second.” She took a big gulp of coffee, put the mug down, pulled the blanket tighter around her. “I’m sorry. I’m so cold. I can’t stop shivering. He said he was her traveling companion. That means he won’t hurt her, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it, Billy?”
“Probably, yeah.” He didn’t want to send her over the edge again. “But we have to find them.”
“I know.” She took a deep breath.
“So what did he say this morning?”
“He said he had good news, that we didn’t have to leave Shoreham, that—”
“Wait. I thought that was the whole point of yesterday—didn’t he decide yesterday that you didn’t have to leave?”
“No, he just said that to make everyone think we weren’t going. He didn’t trust you. Last night he was all excited about going.”
“Going where?”
“Oregon. He talked about finding a fishing village on the coast of Oregon. At first he said Indiana, but he switched to Oregon.”
“Jesus. Oregon.”
“He likes horizons, the sea.”
“So why Indiana?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “But then he switched, like I said. To Oregon.”
“Some fishing village? What’s that all about?”
“He likes fishing, being out in the boat. I told you—he likes the ocean, the endless horizons. He said . . . he said on our honeymoon that he wouldn’t mind dying, that he’d be happy to die, if he could see an endless horizon.”
“There are places everywhere where you can see an endless horizon. Give me your phone, I’ll tell Farley about Oregon.” She handed it to him and he dialed Farley’s number. “It’s Billy Madison. Any news? . . . OK—Holly—yeah, she’s talking now—she said he might be headed for Oregon. . . . No—no specific place in Oregon—somewhere on the coast.”
Lame. This sounds so lame. Some coastal town in Oregon, for fuck’s sake. Shit. But how would he get there—in Holly’s car or some other way? And wouldn’t he think twice about going there after he’d told Holly that’s where he wanted to go? Dane’s not dumb.
Think. I have to think.
“Right, call me the second you know something. Right. Thanks.”
“OK.” Billy stood up, began to pace. “There’s no news yet. Let’s come at this in a different way. What does he like?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what does he enjoy doing, besides fishing?”
“He likes the Lobster Pot. Mini golf.”
“I doubt he’s going to show up at the Lobster Pot with Katy and order fried clams. Or be putting his way around the Windmill.”
“I’m sorry, Billy.” He saw tears in her eyes. “It’s all my fault. This is all my fault. I believed him. I trusted him. With Katy. I trusted him with Katy. How could I have?”
“This is not your fault, Holl. Stop it. If we’re going there, I can say it’s all my fault for leaving you two in the first place. We don’t have time for this, OK?”
She nodded, wiped away the tears.
“Why?” Billy stopped pacing. “Why was he talking about dying on your honeymoon? That’s bizarre.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know why. We’d had that fight that afternoon. Just after the ceremony. You know. You saw us when we came in.”
“What was the fight about?”
“We’d been out in the Sunfish. He wanted to go to the Bad Boy’s Island, land there. I said I thought it was bad luck; you know, that old story about the Bad Boy. He hated that whole thing, that whole story. He said I was stupid and cruel for believing in it, being superstitious.”
“OK. And
then, later, he’s talking about dying. I don’t get it. That doesn’t link up. Forget that, anyway. Let’s go back to what he said this morning. He said you could stay here. Then what?”
“He was talking about Katy. How he was worried about her being a teenager and hanging out at the mall. He said children are innocent and then they get tainted by life. I don’t know. It was strange but it wasn’t. I mean, I know how much he loves Katy. He didn’t want her to get tainted. Wear too much make-up or get a tattoo or whatever. It was like he didn’t want . . .”
“He didn’t want what? Tell me.”
“He didn’t want her to grow up.”
The way they were looking at each other was the way they’d looked when they’d heard Bones whimper.
Her cellphone rang. He saw it was Farley’s number, answered it.
“Yes? . . . Right. OK. I guess that makes sense. Good. OK—I’ll tell her.” He pressed “End Call.” “They’ve found your car parked at the Mill Pond Diner. So it looks like they’ve taken a bus. Farley says it should be easy to track them from there. He must have taken Katy to Boston. En route to wherever, I guess. But they’ll be easy to track.”
“Thank God.” She began to cry again but different, relieved tears. “Thank God. I should have thought of that—it’s where we first met, on the bus.”
“Right.”
But this feels all wrong. He’s not that dumb. Jack’s not that dumb. He’d know how easy it would be to find them.
He walked over to the window, stared out into the trees.
“Billy?”
“He’s smart. He’s too smart to get on a bus.”
He doesn’t want her to grow up. Maybe he didn’t want those other little girls to grow up. Think. Put yourself in his shoes. Try. You park the car at the Mill Pond but you don’t get on a bus. So what do you do? Where do you go?
“Billy? What’s going on? You said that’s where the car is. And that’s where the bus stops.”
No car. No bus. No train anywhere near—the freight trains don’t come often enough to think of hopping on one and even if you wanted to, you have Katy to deal with. Harder. You can’t stand by a train track with her, waiting for a train that might not come for an hour. You could steal a car. That’s possible. That makes sense. But are you thinking of running away with her—or something else? Taking her into a forest? Too long a hike back to the woods here. You and your fucking endless horizons . . .
Tainted Page 29