A Bookmarked Death

by Judi Culbertson

  “They’re supposed to call and tell us.” The metal tracking device burned hot against my palm.

  “It doesn’t make sense!” She was suddenly angry.

  Then my phone rang.

  The identification still came up as “Private Caller.”

  I pressed the button. “Yes?”

  “Follow the signs in the direction of Davis Beach until you get to the stairs that go up over the dunes. Don’t go up them! Just turn right and continue along the walkway.”

  “Okay. But—­”

  The phone clicked off.

  “We need to start walking.”

  We started up the sloping path past the office and general store. The walkway was a combination that changed back and forth from cement to wooden cross-­slats, raised slightly from the sand. There was a wooden rise like a shallow bridge, then we were on concrete again.

  “Elisa,” I said very low. “I’m going to give you something that you have to hide somewhere on yourself. I’m going to drop it on the cement. Bend down and retie your shoe, then pick it up.”

  I let the metal circle dribble out of my fingers and kept walking. She crouched down and fiddled with her shoelace.

  When she caught up with me, she whispered, “What is it?”

  “Some kind of tracking device, I think. The woman with the dog gave it to me.”

  “Really? How did you know she had it?”

  I looked around before saying any more, but we seemed to be truly alone. Still I kept my voice low. “I thought someone on the ferry had to be from the police. And she kept looking at me.”

  “Cute dog.”

  It was so incongruous given everything, we both laughed.

  Beyond the walkway the sand was covered in low green growth, beach plum, bayberry, and an evergreen vegetation I did not recognize. Where was Hannah right now? Was she waiting in a house in Davis Park? Out on the beach? She had been on my mind every moment, covering my thoughts like a deep gray sky. She had been there even when I was worrying about whether to use my phone to call Colin and whether my van would be safe in the parking lot in Patchogue. Just because I had done everything I was told didn’t mean they would spare her.

  After several minutes we came to the stairway that climbed to the beach. Though the dune was too tall to see the ocean on the other side, I could hear a continuous drone like lawn machinery several houses away.

  “Turn here,” I told Elisa.

  Where had the other ­people from the ferry gone? Although they should be walking ahead of us, they had disappeared into air. I looked behind me, but could see no one there either. Could they have all been from the police? No. Surely no parents, even police officers, would risk putting a small child in danger.

  We kept on walking, passing several shingled homes. This part of Fire Island was not exactly the Hamptons, though I knew that other areas like Cherry Grove and The Pines were fancier. Although it was nearly summer, this landscape felt empty. I shivered, imagining its desolation in January.

  “Where are the police now?” Elisa whispered.

  “They have to stay out of sight.”

  As we walked toward Davis Park, the smattering of houses and sheds vanished. Here there was only the same low growth. We might have been on some alien planet.

  My phone rang.

  “Hello?” I hated the shakiness of my voice.

  “Turn around and walk back to the stairs over the dune, then go up them to the beach.”

  This time I clicked off.

  “We have to turn around.”

  “They’re playing with us!” The whites of Elisa’s eyes flashed like a frightened colt’s. “This is crazy!”

  And then I finally felt like her mother. Her mother, her protector. This was my child. I had known it intellectually, of course, from the moment I saw her on St. Brennan’s campus, but I was finally viscerally feeling it. The momentary stabbing pain I had felt when the ferry was unloading was now steady and unbearable. I grasped her upper arm. “When I saw those children getting off the boat with their parents I couldn’t stand it. All I could think of was the time I had missed with you. A whole lifetime we can never get back.”

  “Did you think about me a lot?” Her blue eyes searched mine.

  “All the time. But thinking about you as if you were dead. I had to stop myself just to get up in the morning and do what I had to for the rest of the family. It was worse around the holidays and your birthday, I’d picture what it would have been like, you and Hannah.”

  “But she said you never talked about me.”

  Why were we talking about this now, her existence threatened again. My existence, Hannah’s as well. Pushed to the edge, we finally could.

  “Why didn’t you ever talk about me?”

  I sighed. “Colin thought—­we thought it would be too sad for the children to grow up with your death always there. But we should have. If we had, we might have picked up more clues from ­people and found you earlier.”

  “But you didn’t.” I couldn’t tell from her soft voice if she was sorry that hadn’t happened. She had only known one life, after all.

  Then the pain, the knifing, was so intense that I had to stop walking and press my arms against my belly. The deep agony that I had never allowed myself to feel was finally overwhelming me. All the sick regret, the if onlys, all the unfathomable things I could not take in. The idea that my bright and enchanting baby would never grow up to experience life, I had had to push it aside. I had been about to give birth, then I had a new baby, other little children with constant demands, If I had given in to the terrible loss that was there, I would not have been able to move from my bed.

  Excuses, excuses.

  “I don’t blame you for loving them more than me,” Elisa was saying bravely.

  That was so far from what I was feeling that I could only stop and stare at her. “Is that what you’re thinking? Because it’s not true. You were the tragedy of my life! Now that I’ve found you how could I love you any less?”

  And saying it, I realized I didn’t. But I said, “We have to go.”

  I did not want to be having this conversation. There was too much finality to it, too much a sense of summing up to say good-­bye. As if we would never see each other again.

  I began to walk quickly.

  And then the wooden stairs came into sight. The way they loomed looked for a moment like the steps to a gallows. Whatever was going to happen would happen on the other side.

  Chapter Thirty-­Five

  WE STOOD AT the bottom of the steps without moving, as if gathering the strength we would need for what was to come. I was anxious to see Hannah, desperately anxious, but I reached out and pressed Elisa against me, holding her as if we had all the time in the world. She hugged me back hard. “It’s going to be fine,” I whispered. “You and Hannah and I will be together in a few minutes. It’s going to be fine.”

  I wanted to believe it.

  My daughter gave a soft laugh.

  And then we were climbing slowly, the gritty sand from other ­people’s sandals against our soles. The sound of the Atlantic slapping the shore was louder now, the afternoon sun making us squint. I thought about my sister, Patience, perhaps staring at this same ocean right now, and realized she didn’t even know about Hannah. The most terrible event in recent history, even worse than Colin’s arrest, and it hadn’t occurred to me to call her. My daughters were ready to risk their lives for each other because of an unbreachable bond. Would Pat and I be willing to give up our lives for each other now that we were grown?

  I batted a black fly away from my eyes, already on an emotional overload. Don’t think about it now. Patience and I would never let each other come to harm. Neither of us would ever find herself hungry and on the street. Leave it there.

  I could feel Elisa beside me, hear the scuff of her sneakers
on the wood. We stopped at the top of the stairs as the beach spread out before us. Sugary sand, the ocean the deep sea green that Winslow Homer favored. Small waves like the ruffles on a toddler’s dress. Here the noise of the Atlantic blended with the shrieks of gulls, the whir of a helicopter in the soft blue sky. There were no lifeguard stands in this section of the beach. Two women with a flock of children were stationed under an umbrella near the water. Two men were lying on a blue plaid blanket. One of them stood up slowly, lifting his arms to the fading sun. He did not lie back down. The second man was starting to push up too. I had the sense they had seen us come.

  But I did not see Hannah. Where was Hannah? Had we been tricked? Would we get to the bottom and be told to turn around and climb back up?

  I looked at Elisa and she gave an uncertain shrug. We started down the steps, some thirty or forty of them.

  My phone did not ring.

  At the bottom we stepped onto the sand and looked around uncertainly.

  Then from under the shadow of the stairs a few feet behind us, there was a sense of motion. And a familiar figure stepped out. I pulled back as if I could not believe Sheila Crosley was real. I had pictured her blackened body so often that it did not seem possible that Sheila was standing here in white slacks and a navy shirt, her black hair tied back with a red-­printed scarf. And Elisa had said she had died. Was this some kind of elaborate trap?

  I jerked my head around to Elisa. She gave hers a small shake. I’ll explain later.

  Where was Hannah?

  Sheila stepped closer. “You‘ve always done what you were told, haven’t you, Delhi. “Never an original idea in your head. I could have predicted the life you’d lead, the way Elisa would have been if she’d stayed with you.”

  “Where’s Hannah?”

  “A perfect example of what I’m talking about.” She gave her red mouth a small twist, the scorn I remembered all these years later. “You claimed that money couldn’t buy happiness. I’ve spent my life proving you wrong.”

  “Where’s my daughter?” I was ready to cross the sand between us and grab her throat. Choke her. Why didn’t you burn to death?

  A mock sigh. “You really want that fat slug back. You didn’t do a great job with her. We did much better with her twin.”

  I realized that she was stalling. But why?

  “Where is Hannah?” I repeated.

  Elisa stepped away from me. “Where is she, Mom?”

  “Now I’m ‘Mom’ again?” Sheila taunted.

  Then I felt the vibration in the air, a subtle change, before I heard the clattering.

  I felt as if I were vibrating as well. I took a step toward Sheila, my foot sinking lower in the sand than I expected, momentarily startling me.

  Sheila gave a quick glance toward the water, then back under the stairs. “For God’s sake, get over here. Now.”

  She stretched out her hand like a magician impatient with a slow assistant, and Hannah lurched into view, landing against Sheila for balance. “Oh, good Lord, help me.” Sheila moved away and positioned Hannah upright on the sand. Hannah looked at me, looked at Elisa then. She did not seem to recognize us.

  Over the noise of the ocean and wind, I heard a sound like slats falling, the whine of an engine, and whirled to stare. Beyond the corner of the beach to my left something large and white was settling down on the sand, halfway in the water.

  Sheila Crosley was the first to react, grabbing Hannah’s shoulders and giving her a shove toward me, then reaching out her hand. “C’mon, Liss! The boat’s waiting for us.”

  Elisa seemed to move closer to her, but turned to make sure I had Hannah in my grasp. Then she veered away in the direction of the helicopter. She was running toward it even as a door opened and several metal stairs dropped down. The official-­looking white helicopter had a string of official numbers and “SUFFOLK COUNTY POLICE” in large blue letters on its nose.

  Thank God, thank God. I hadn’t imagined them doing it this way, but Elisa would be safe with the police. Unless Sheila pulled out a gun, Hannah and I would be safe too.

  But Sheila began running after Elisa instead, as if she were trying to reach her and tackle her to the sand. Elisa was athletic and faster. She got to the metal steps and was up them seconds before Sheila was close enough to touch her. I thought Sheila would turn and run then, run for her boat, but momentum carried her up the steps too and into the plane. Did she still believe she could pull Elisa out?

  The two men who had been on the blanket were streaking across the sand and had almost reached the helicopter.

  Then like a snake’s tongue retracting, the stairs disappeared and the door slid closed. A moment later, the helicopter lifted noisily toward the sky.

  I turned my attention to Hannah. “See, Hani,” I crooned, “everything’s all right. Elisa’s safe. The police have her.”

  Hannah stared at me, dazed. “Mom”

  I looked back into her blue eyes, as blank and empty as a doll’s. They must have drugged her. Sheila couldn’t take the chance that Hannah would break and run. I prayed they hadn’t caused permanent damage.

  “Hannah, you’re safe now,” I cooed, as if she were three years old again. “Elisa’s safe. Nobody’s going to hurt you now.”

  “You okay?” It was one of the two men from the blanket. The second was here now too, turned away from us and speaking urgently into a cell phone. I saw that they were older than the boys I had imagined them to be. Police, of course.

  “They gave my daughter something. She’s out of it.” I tried to keep my voice from quavering. Sheila was vicious enough to have permanently destroyed her mind.

  “We’ll have her checked out.” He smiled at Hannah.

  Someone was clattering down the stairs. Frank Marselli and Ruth Carew.

  All I could think was that Carew would have to believe us now, believe that Colin had never been involved. We were all safe now.

  Frank, dressed informally in a light blue shirt and chinos, gave us a quick, appraising look. “This is Hannah?”

  “They drugged her.” I squeezed her shoulder tighter against me. Hannah, say hello to the nice policeman. “But I think it’s wearing off.”

  “Where’s the other girl? Elisa?”

  “She’s safe too, thank God. The police helicopter picked her up.”

  Frank turned to Ruth, who shook her head, then gave me an odd look. “What police helicopter?”

  Chapter Thirty-­Six

  HADN’T THEY TOLD him? “The police helicopter that landed on the beach by the water. Elisa ran to it and they picked her up. Sheila got on board too; I think she wanted to pull Elisa off. But they closed the doors before she could.”

  “How did you know it was a police helicopter?” Ruth demanded. Her face looked flushed against her white blouse, her eyes glittery.

  Well, duh. “It said Suffolk County Police in big blue letters on the side. There were a lot of official numbers on the tail.”

  “But was the undercarriage dark blue?”

  What was she talking about? “It said Suffolk County Police,” I repeated.

  She turned to Frank as if I was too stupid to live.

  “What are you saying, that it wasn’t from the police?”

  Frank turned back from the other two men. “We have four units in Suffolk County, used mostly for medevac. None of them were deployed.”

  “But whose was it then?” I was too stupid to live. No wonder Sheila had scrambled aboard. “You mean the police don’t have Elisa?”

  Nobody seemed to hear me.

  “We’ve contacted MacArthur-­Islip,” the shorter, swarthier cop was telling Frank and Carew. “We’ve put out an alert for anything trying to land in a public strip. Does the device work in the air?”

  “I don’t know.” Frank turned to me then. “Do you remember any of the numbers on the helic
opter?”

  I closed my eyes to conjure up the copter but saw no numbers. “Ethan has some kind of plane,” I added dully. “Elisa said she used to skydive from it.”

  Ruth scowled at me. Her excitement had faded; now she looked like a disgruntled raccoon. You need to get more sleep. “A plane is not a helicopter. Unless he had one of those too and the girl was in on it.”

  I pressed my hand against my waist to keep from giving her an angry shove. How dare she? “Of course she wasn’t ‘in on it’! She saw that the copter said Suffolk County Police. What else was she to think? You promised to protect her and you didn’t!”

  Carew gave me a black look and turned her back deliberately, making the huddle of police a closed circle.

  The catastrophe of what had happened made me want to collapse on the sand and wail. The unthinkable had happened; they had Elisa. How would we ever get her back? I was holding on to Hannah as if I were the one unable to stand, but I said, “How are you feeling now?”

  “Uhh.” She turned to me like a patient waking from ether. “They kept making me take stuff, they had a gun.Where are Elisa and the police?”

  “We’re trying to find that out.” I suddenly remembered Will, probably waiting back at the ferry terminal, hanging on to Elisa’s promise that she would see him for dinner tonight. He would kill me.

  Frank moved back to us and gestured toward the steps. “Let’s go.”

  But I didn’t want to leave this contained place. It made no sense, but once we did it meant that we had abandoned Elisa, that she could be anywhere in the world.

  Ruth Carew turned to us too. “How’s she doing?” she asked, eyeing Hannah with concern. “She was drugged?”

  “She says they gave her stuff. But it seems to be wearing off. A little.”

  She nodded. “We’ll have her looked at as soon as we get back.”

  I sighed. Just when I was ready to write Ruth off completely she did something human.

  Then she was business again. “Who else was on the beach?”

  “Sheila Crosley.” I told you.