Roger was sweating, his pupils looked very small. Sigmund put his arm under Roger’s. “Don’t pass out on me, son.”
“He’s had a rough patch the last few days,” I said, wondered if he was having a delayed reaction to the truth serum or if he really cared that much about Miss Dingbat.
“Darcy’s a diagnosed schizophrenic,” Roger said. “She takes a couple of medications to keep her rational. We have reason to believe she was given truth serum just before her disappearance.”
The doctor looked stunned. “What fool did that? The drug interaction could have caused her memory loss and illogical behavior.” He studied Roger as if appraising him. “Are you sure you can handle her? She’s a zaftig lady. It took three orderlies to pin her to the bed.”
Roger shot him a disgusted look. Sigmund caught it.
“We can release her to you since you say she has no family and you are her close friend. When I told… Darcy – and may I ask her last name?”
“Bone. Darcy Bone.”
“When I told Miss Bone you were coming, she seemed to brighten at your name, but she still doesn’t know her own.”
We followed Sigmund into a room at the end of the hall. It was painted a soft shade of blue. The bed linens were the same color, as were the gauzy curtains on the windows. Even the air in the room felt blue. Spa-like meditation music was playing in the background.
Darcy, wearing a sky blue robe with the edge of a nightie showing at her kneecaps, sat in a chair by the window. She looked rested and happy as she flashed a brilliant smile at Roger. “I knew you’d find me!” she said as she stood and wobble-walked into his arms. Her mane of shoulder length hair was in perfect blow-dry style, her nails manicured. I wondered if the asylum had a beauty salon.
“I remember!” she said into his shoulder. “I’m Darcy Bone! I’m a brilliant archaeologist!”
That’s when I knew the rat was hiding in the bag. I just needed to shake it.
I leaned on the edge of the nightstand to steady myself. It was a tender moment, enough to piss anyone off.
I locked eyes with Darcy. She stuck her tongue out at me.
Looking uncomfortable, Roger pulled away from her. He glanced at me. I gave him the blankest look I could muster.
Sigmund tugged on Roger’s sleeve. “Dr. Jolley, come to my office. There are some forms you must sign to take custody of Miss Bone.”
“I’ll stay here with Darcy. Help her get ready to leave,” I said.
Roger shot me a quizzical look. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I smiled.
As soon as the door closed behind Roger and Sigmund, Darcy plotzed down into her chair.
It was time to lure the rat out of the bag. “It will be lovely to have you stay with us. The guest room is all yours.” I grinned as I lied. “We’ll put a television in your room. Maybe get you a hospital bed. Of course, you’ll be confined to the flat, so we’ll put your all clothes in storage. Perhaps get you some comfy pajamas. Ooo! I’d love to help you bleach your hair.”
Darcy’s blue eyes turned green as they bent into a hellacious glare. She had the mien of an angry elephant prodded with a bull hook. One more button to push and she was going down.
“I apologize in advance for the noises you’ll hear. Roger and I have been having wild monkey-sex, and I know it’s going to continue,” I lied a tiny bit more.
Darcy’s eyes went into a spin, much as they had that first day we met. She growled and leaped forward, coming at me with her red-nailed hands aimed for my neck. I yanked open the door and ran into the corridor. She chased after me, her bare feet making an obscene slapping sound on the tile floor.
I howled as she jumped on my back bringing me down. She pulled my hair while I struggled to scratch some part of her. Roger and Dr. Sigmund came running. Two male nurses appeared and dragged her off me. I oomphed as I struggled to get the air back in my lungs.
Dr. Sigmund shook his head. “I can’t release Miss Bone in this condition. Perhaps being off the medicine for her schizophrenia has unhinged her.”
Roger looked relieved. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for her actions.”
I bit the inside of my lip to keep from grinning.
As we exited the hospital hand in hand, I felt the first few drops of cooling rain.
Chapter 46
We had an early dinner at the George and Dragon. As we exited the pub, I couldn’t help but smile remembering Treanna’s concern that I would be eaten by a dragon while I was in England.
Back at the flat, Roger slipped under the sheets and into bed. I was already waiting. This had been so long in coming, I now felt shy, too much expectation riding on one sexual encounter that might lead to more, if I liked it.
Hildy poked her head onto the pillow giving me that beady “I’m watching you” look. It would be impossible to get passionate with two fowls waiting for a strike. Holly stood beside her partner, ready to back her play.
“Girls, I’m safe. This is okay. Trust me.”
Holly waddled closer and tilted her head. “You heard me. Now get out of here. Scoot.” I heard Roger groaning under his pillow.
“They grow on you, don’t they?” I pulled the pillow from his head.
“No, they don’t. But other things do.” He slipped his arm under my neck pulling me close. “Alone at last,” he said, his left arm gliding over my stomach. We exchanged a gentle kiss and then stared into each other’s eyes enjoying the moment.
The sound of the Pink Panther broke the spell.
“Don’t get it,” he said.
“I have to. It might be my lonely child.” I stretched to the night table and grabbed my cell phone.
It was Matty. “Come home, quick!” Her voice was breaking up – bad connection or hysteria. “Treanna’s missing!”
I sat upright in bed, pushing Roger away. My heart beat like a trip-hammer and guilt flooded my veins.
“Matty, have you called the police?”
She mumbled what sounded like “not yet.”
“Call them now! I’ll be there as soon as I can catch a plane. Stay calm.” I clicked off wondering if Mr. Smith was somehow involved.
Roger must have followed my conversation. He stood next to the bed trying to pull on his slacks while Hildy was fighting him for one pant leg. She honked an order at him. She was definitely the alpha goose in our flock.
“Treanna’s missing!” I could feel hot tears. My eyes deserved to burn. I should have been with her and not shacked up with my archaeologist.
“I’m coming with you. I’ll book our flights while you throw some things in a bag.”
“Don’t need a bag. I’ll leave my things here. Just call a taxi. We’ll get the tickets at Gatwick.” Although the child wasn’t mine, I was a mother lion racing to protect a baby. “What about the girls? Can we take them?”
Roger shook his head. “Geese? On a plane? It’s illegal to import them in the US.”
“You’ve imported geese before?” I asked as I looked at their forlorn fowl faces.
“I’ll run next door and ask my neighbor to pet sit.”
Roger returned in five minutes. “Heck of a way to meet your neighbor. ‘Would you watch my geese while I dash to the States?’”
We stood in front of the apartment waiting for the cab. Roger held me in a gentle squeeze until our taxi arrived – within minutes, but it seemed hours.
As we got in, Roger asked, “Passport?”
“Yes, of course.” I snapped. My nerves were violin strings – strung tight beyond measure. We were last-minute flyers with no luggage.
Traffic out of London was heavy and frustrated the ride to Gatwick Airport. Roger asked me questions about Treanna. I knew he was trying to distract me, but I found it impossible not to ride the fear wheel.
“She’s the kind of naïve child who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it. That’s what scares me most.” I massaged my brows with icy fingers as I told him about Mr. Smith.
; Roger hit the side of the cab with his fist. “Bastards!” My story must have carried him back to his childhood. Needing to blame someone for his pain, he said, “Smith has to be behind it.”
“Smith knows I’m on to him. He has nothing to gain from taking Treanna… but who else could have her? Was she snatched or did she wander along the beach and stumble under a wave? It had to be Smith. He could gain access from the beachside coming in around the pool.
I slid back in the seat and stared out the window in silence. It took us over an hour to get to the airport. An imaginary clock lodged in my head and was counting down. Nine hours trapped in a plane before we got to Miami, plus the travel time to my condo. A lot could happen to a six year old in half a day.
***
A comfortable business class seat and the white noise of jet engines slowed my racing mind. I tried to bury the very worst thoughts as I covered myself with a blanket to hide my vibrating body. I refused a cocktail. I didn’t deserve to hide behind alcohol.
Mid-flight, I finally brought myself to peek at Roger. His brown eyes looked past me. I was sure he was reliving the kidnapping of his little brother. I squeezed his hand.
Chapter 47
About an hour before our scheduled arrival time, I snapped out of my inertia. Normal airport procedures would take way too long, including getting off this mammoth flying machine. Hoping for a sympathetic ear, I eyeballed the attendants working our part of the Virgin plane as they walked the aisles offering the final service of the flight. I mentally rejected two male attendants, and then I spotted a thirtyish female with a kindly face.
Luck was with me. She was the one who came to my aisle seat and said, “We’ll be landing shortly. Is there anything I can get you?”
“We desperately need help. We’re making an emergency return to Miami because my six-year-old daughter is missing. The police are waiting at my home.” I didn’t have to manufacture the tears on my cheeks. Talking about it opened the floodgates again.
Her eyes misted over. “You poor dears. How can I help you?”
“We have to get home as quickly as possible. Is there any way we can exit first?”
“I’m certain we can accomplish that. I’ll talk to the captain. And I’ll see about a tram to speed you to Customs.”
“Wonderful. Is it possible to alert Customs of our situation? We must expedite matters there. That can be a glacial process.”
She nodded. “Can’t say how cooperative they’ll be, but we’ll alert them.” Her look of concern tugged at my heart and replenished my tears.
“One last thing.” I dug in my purse and pulled out my Enterprise card. “If you can arrange for a mid-size rental and ask them if they can have it near the exit so we don’t have to traipse all around the airport.” I swiped at my tears. “We have to find her.”
Tears spilled out of her eyes, too. She took the card. “I’ll be back presently.”
Ten minutes later she returned and handed me my Enterprise card. Her eyes were still teary, but she was smiling. “It’s all arranged, including a pledge from Customs to help you. I’ll come for you to de-plane.”
We landed in Miami on a sunny Saturday afternoon. The sound of the pilot’s voice made me jump. “Welcome to Miami International Airport. Local time is ten minutes after one. Please remain seated until the fasten seat belt sign goes off.”
The plane rolled to a complete stop, but the fasten seatbelt sign stayed on. The flight attendant tapped me on the shoulder. “Come ahead.” She walked us to the exit, then I heard the ding of the fasten seatbelt sign going off.
We raced down the carpeted tunnel. A motorized cart was waiting at the gate. “Jump on!” the driver said, tipping his porter’s hat.
Pedestrians parted as the cart beeped its way to Customs. We jumped off into the arms of a mustached Homeland Security woman. She all but lifted Roger and me and stood us in the corner. The more I tried to explain, the angrier she became. “No luggage? No carryon? No way!” she bellowed.
Roger tried the British method, swamping the woman with words. “My friend’s child is missing. We left everything in London and took the first plane out. Police are waiting for us!” His voice cracked, but he kept on talking. “Call the police! They’ll confirm!”
A Customs officer ran toward us. “We’ve been expecting these folks.”
We scurried to his desk. He checked our immigration cards and stamped our passports. “I hope you find your child, safe and sound.”
Roger and I clambered over tourists, fighting our way to the rental car level. “Miss Darlin?” A young man in a white shirt with a green Enterprise logo popped out of nowhere. “Follow me. I’ve got your car ready to go.” The three of us ran out the ground transportation exit. The rental agent handed me the keys to a white sedan waiting at the curb. “Sign here, initial there. Good luck!” he said.
Roger moved me to the passenger side. “I got it.”
I slipped into the seat and put my hands on my knees to stop them from shaking.
A Miami Police Department detective and a snake-mean woman in a navy skirt and white blouse with a badge reading Child Protective Services met us at the door when we arrived at my place.
Tinkerbelle came flying at me. I staggered back on impact, picked her up, endured her slurpy kisses, then dropped her to floor.
Matty sat on the sofa looking distraught and hugging a pillow, her usual cheerful face covered in tears and worry lines. She motioned to come close. I hugged her chunky shoulders as she wept. “Tre said she was going out to pick up Tinkerbelle’s poop. She took the scooper and a little bag. I dozed off for a minute. When I got up, she wasn’t here. I looked at the clock. It was almost an hour later. If I’d been awake, the child would be safe.”
I squatted next to her and put my hand on her arm, not finding the words to comfort her. Matty ran her hand across her forehead. “I went looking for Treanna, but she was gone. I called and called her name a bunch of times, but my baby had vanished.”
The detective said, “The guard at the gatehouse advised us that a child fitting the little girl’s description was standing within a few yards of his booth when a silver car pulled up. The child got in and they drove away. He didn’t see who was in the car. Four agencies in cooperation with Miami Beach PD canvassed the residents of these condos. My department canvassed Mrs. Madison’s neighborhood, and officers are checking her house every hour. No sign of Treanna and no leads. We’re canvassing these condos again.”
The woman from Child Protective Services spoke. “I need clarification on why the child and her grandmother were staying here. Was there some domestic problem?”
“Not domestic. You can check her records with Big Brothers. I’m cleared to act as her Big Sister. I have all the necessary paperwork to keep Treanna for sleepovers. I have medical authorization, travel permits… you name it. Call Elana, our match support specialist.”
She lifted her eyebrow. “Why weren’t you here with the child?”
Roger stepped forward. “I needed Ms. Darlin’s urgent assistance in England.”
“I’m sure you did,” she sniffed.
Even though guilt hung over me like a shroud, I snapped, “Treanna was in Matty’s capable hands, the same person who does a great job of caring for her twenty-four seven. I was merely providing them a more comfortable and safer place to stay for a while.”
“Safer in what way?” The woman had a tone in her voice that made me want to bitch-slap her.
Avoiding mention of the bolita business, I talked about Mr. Smith and his pal Ox. I concluded with, “I considered him an annoying financial threat to Matty. He’s a very aggressive mortgage broker who’s been much too aggressive in his efforts to get a mortgage on her property.”
“Tell me about Treanna,” Miss Broom-Up-Her-Butt asked. I knew this was a test. How well did I know my little ward and did I deserve to be her Big Sister?
“She’s very smart, loves chocolate, her fingers are always sticky, she’s quite ticklish, she
sings off-key, and makes a mess with the toothpaste. She gives great hugs. She’s adores Audrey Hepburn.”
Miss Broom-Up-Her-Butt put her hand up in a stop motion. I shut up.
“Mrs. Madison, we’ll take you home as you requested,” the detective said. “Do you have someone you can call to stay with you?”
“I’ll go with Matty,” Roger said. You keep the rental car and stay here in case she comes back.”
I hugged Matty and gave Roger a kiss on the cheek. Treanna had become his kidnapped baby brother. Determination flashed in his dark eyes as he left with Matty, the detective, and the bitch.
I tried to think like a six year old. I was scared to death that she’d been grabbed, but I couldn’t completely dismiss the thought that she’d engineered this for attention, my attention. She was a resourceful little bugger.
Tinkerbelle was whining to go out. I grabbed a bottle of water, a pink poop bag, and her leash. We walked the doggie path, guilt and I and the little pup.
The kidnap option began to win my mental tug-of-war. Treanna would never have left her dog. Someone had to have snatched her. I looked up at the windows of the high-rise. Law enforcement officers were re-canvassing the one hundred and eighty apartments in my tower and the other one hundred and eighty doors in the north tower, trying to sniff out a lowlife who might harm a child.
Chapter 48
Once Tink was emptied, I wrangled her reluctant white butt home, my mental tug-of-war now inching toward Treanna being responsible for her own disappearance. When I was a kid, I ran away from home regularly. I always packed a bag, even if it only contained my toothbrush and a candy bar. Had they looked for Treanna’s purple backpack?
I checked the bedroom, the closet, the living room, the DVD cabinet, the kitchen, and the pantry – even looking inside the washer dryer. No backpack. Treanna had it with her, which meant she knew when she stepped out of the condo that she was headed somewhere. She had a plan. I thought of one of our last transatlantic conversations, “What if I were in trouble, would you come home then?” she had asked.
Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 02 - London Broil Page 14