Stolen in the Night

by MacDonald, Patricia

  “A Sprite?” he said.

  Tess smiled at him, feeling absurdly relieved by his simple request. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll be back.”

  The boy nodded. “Thanks, Ma.”

  “You rest.” She backed out of the curtained cubicle and then walked down the hall and through the double doors to the waiting room.

  Jake, who was sitting beside Dawn, looked up when she walked in. He and Dawn both rose to their feet and approached her.

  “How’s he doing?” Dawn asked.

  “He’s going to be all right.”

  “Thank God,” said Dawn with a sigh.

  “Yeah, he’s asking for a Sprite. And his fishing pole.”

  “I saw a soda machine down the hall,” said Dawn. “Let me get him one.”

  “Would you, Mom?” Tess asked. “Thank you.”

  “Sure.” Dawn hurried off.

  Jake chuckled. “He couldn’t wait. He had to go fishing. Made his own pole. That’s what I would’ve done at his age.”

  Tess turned on her brother. “Where were you when this happened?”

  Jake raised his hands helplessly. “I was just finishing my work. He and the dog were out playing. I told them not to go too far. The dog came back by himself. So I went looking for him.”

  Tess looked at him balefully.

  Jake scratched his head. “It was one of those things, Tess. The kid just wanted to try something…”

  “He could have been seriously hurt!” she said, her voice louder. “Or killed.”

  “Well, he could have been, but he wasn’t,” Jake said.

  “No big deal, right?” said Tess.

  “Hey, he’s gonna be fine. And I’m sorry, okay? But it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know he was gonna do something crazy. Fishing from a tree branch,” Jake said, shaking his head but with a slight smile. “I better go back and get that pole or I’m going to lose my most-favored-uncle status.”

  Tess was in no mood to be distracted by jokes. “So the fact that he fell is his own fault,” she said sarcastically.

  “Ahhh…boys are like that. It’s…the way they are. They do crazy things.”

  “Yes, but you’re the adult. You were supposed to be watching him!”

  “What? He never hurt himself before? You gotta let the kid take his lumps. You’ll turn him into a sissy. He’s all right. That’s what matters.”

  “No matter what happens, you’ve got an excuse,” Tess said disgustedly.

  “I’m not making excuses, Tess. It was an accident. The kid will live.”

  “I should have known better than to trust you,” she fumed.

  Jake looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Oh. So now I can’t be trusted?”

  “Could you ever?” Tess snapped.

  Jake’s gaze was venomous. “What do you mean by that?”

  Tess opened her arms indicating the hospital waiting room. “Look where we end up!” Tess’s heart was hammering in her chest, knowing she would regret reopening old wounds but she couldn’t help herself. “Why am I the only one who feels guilty, Jake? It’s never your fault. How do you skate away with no guilt at all? It must be nice.”

  Jake’s expression was cold and closed. “If it makes you feel any better, Tess, I was scared half to death. All right?”

  “Well, I should hope so,” she snapped.

  “Tell Erny I’ll see him later.” Jake turned and stalked out of the waiting room, slamming through the double doors that led out to the parking lot. Tess watched him go, her eyes blazing. It was the first time she could remember, since they were kids, that she had ever gotten angry at her brother. But it felt as if that anger had been coiled within her for a long time—back to the time when he had deserted her and Phoebe, with disastrous consequences. Her parents had always told her it was wrong to blame Jake, wrong to blame herself. But was it wrong? she wondered. She already blamed herself. She always had. Wasn’t Jake even more to blame than she was?

  Dawn came back holding a can of Sprite. She glanced around the waiting room and then asked, in a soft voice, “Where’s your brother?”

  “Gone,” said Tess. “Where else would he be? Gone.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Three hours later, Erny was released and Tess was able to get him back to the inn, where she tucked him into his bed and then went into the kitchen to heat up some soup for him. By the time she returned to their room, he was sprawled out on his stomach fast asleep. Tess closed the door to the room gently, leaving her son to sleep, and carried the soup bowl and spoon back to the kitchen.

  Dawn was preparing a tea tray with cookies to set out in the sitting room for the guests. The afternoon was completely gray now and cold rain spattered the kitchen windows. Dawn looked up when Tess entered the room. “How’s our boy doing?” she asked.

  “Sound asleep,” said Tess.

  “He’s had quite a day,” said Dawn. “Your brother felt terrible about what happened. These things do happen with kids.”

  Tess evaded a conversation about Jake. “I’ll never get used to the worry. How did you ever manage with four of us?” Tess asked.

  Dawn’s gaze was far away. “Oh, you do get used to it. All your father and I ever wanted was a big family,” she said. Then she sighed.

  Tess averted her eyes from the pain in her mother’s face. It had been a simple enough wish, Tess thought. Not a greedy plan. Just a desire to love and be loved. And it had been very successful, too. Until a maniac had destroyed their peaceful life.

  Dawn put the last of the cookies on a plate along with a steaming flowered teapot, a sugar bowl, and a matching pitcher. Tess was constantly amazed by her mother, who never shirked her duties to her family, to her job at the inn, even when she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Who could ever have imagined, Tess thought, on that sunny, holiday afternoon when they first met the Phalens, the owners of the Stone Hill Inn, that they would all end up so enmeshed in this place.

  “Mom, you know, I wanted to ask you something,” said Tess.

  “Hmmm…?” said Dawn.

  “Do you remember the people who used to own this place? The Phalens.”

  Dawn nodded. “Yes. Of course. What about them?”

  “How well did you know them?” Tess asked.

  “Not…too well. They were…they seemed like good people,” said Dawn. “They were very kind to us.”

  “Didn’t their daughter commit suicide?” Tess asked.

  Dawn’s expression was wary. “Yes, she did. Why?”

  “No real reason,” said Tess. “But…suicide at fourteen. It makes you wonder…”

  “Wonder what?” said Dawn.

  “It’s just…unusual,” said Tess.

  “You mean you wonder if it was their fault? Her parents’?”

  “I’m just thinking about everything and every…one in a new light,” she said. “Now that we know the DNA results.”

  Dawn frowned at her. “I don’t follow you.”

  “Well, I mean, we didn’t really know Kenneth Phalen. He lived right near the campground. And his daughter killed herself when she was fourteen. Just a year older than Phoebe was. Is it possible he might have…had a side we didn’t see?”

  “Tess, for heaven’s sake,” said Dawn. “How can you even think of slandering innocent people with speculation like that?”

  “I’m not slandering anyone,” said Tess. “The Phalens aren’t even around here anymore. I was just…thinking out loud.”

  “Well, don’t,” Dawn insisted. “Just stop it.”

  Tess winced at her mother’s angry response. She thought about the photo of Ken Phalen that she had altered with her black pen. It didn’t really look that much like Lazarus. Besides, it was just a photo. In real life, she doubted if they looked anything alike. “You’re right. I’m grasping at straws.”

  Dawn was still simmering. “Why do people always blame the parents? The ones who suffered the most?”

  Tess thought of Rusty Bosworth, suggesting that Rob DeGr
aff might have killed Phoebe. “I don’t know why people do that,” Tess said. “You’re right. It’s cruel.”

  Dawn picked up the heavy tray. “I have to take this out,” she said.

  “I’ll take it out for you,” said Tess.

  Dawn’s shoulders seemed to slump. She set the tray back down. “Thank you. I’m tired,” said Dawn. “I think I’ll sit down.”

  “Why don’t you?” said Tess. “Sit down and rest.” Dawn turned her back on Tess and sat down in the breakfast nook. Tess carried the heavy tray carefully out through the dining room and into the comfortable sitting room where the afternoon tea was always served. A couple was seated in front of the fire and both of them looked up as Tess walked in.

  “Oh good,” said the woman, setting down her magazine and getting up. “I could use a pick-me-up.”

  Her husband, who was wearing well-worn corduroys and an expensive golf sweater, said to Tess, “Do you spike that stuff?”

  Tess forced herself to smile as she set down the tray. “We don’t, but you may.”

  The man turned to his wife. “Did you hear that? I told you I should bring my flask on this trip.”

  His wife shook her head, smiling. Tess excused herself and left the room. She started back toward the kitchen when the front door opened behind her and a man came in wearing an Irish tweed hat and a beige raincoat.

  “It’s gotten nasty out there, hasn’t it?” Tess asked.

  “Sure has,” said the man pleasantly. “I don’t want to mess up your rug.”

  “It’s all right. These rugs can take it. Can I help you?”

  The man opened his coat, reached into his pants pocket, and pulled out a handkerchief. He removed his glasses, gave them a quick swipe, and then put them back on. Then he began to fumble in the inner pocket of the raincoat.

  “I’m looking for Tessa DeGraff,” the man said.

  “That’s me,” said Tess.

  The man drew a manilla envelope out of the inside pocket of the coat and handed it to her.

  Tess reached out and took it, frowning.

  “You’ve been served,” the man said. Before Tess could reply, he turned, opened the front door again, and went out. “Have a nice day,” he said.

  “What…?” Tess tore open the envelope and pulled out the papers inside. She scanned the first few pages. It did not take her long to realize what the legal documents meant. The papers informed her that she was being sued for damages in civil court by Nelson and Edith Abbott for the wrongful death of their son, Lazarus.

  Wrongful death…Tess felt as if she had been punched in the gut. She thought about her encounter with Nelson on the street and the way he had maundered on about getting justice for Lazarus. Justice for Lazarus, indeed, Tess thought. What he really meant was that he saw an opportunity for a great big financial settlement for himself. What had begun as a vague feeling of dislike for Nelson Abbott was now cementing itself into emnity in her mind.

  Tess crushed the legal papers in her fist. “You bastard,” she muttered. But she wasn’t referring to Nelson Abbott. She was thinking of Ben Ramsey. It was pointless to deny to herself that she found him attractive. And despite their clash over the execution of Lazarus Abbott, she had felt a certain respect for his principles. But this…this was something else again. How could he have acted so sympathetically when all the while he was getting ready to file this lawsuit against her? It pained her to think that she had considered trusting him while he was planning to betray her. Tess looked at her watch and jammed the stapled sheaf of papers into her pocketbook, pulled an umbrella from the porcelain stand by the door, and checked to be sure she had the car keys. She walked back and poked her head into the kitchen. Dawn was still seated there, staring into the gloom.

  “Mom, I’m going out. Will you keep an eye on Erny for me?”

  Dawn looked around. “Where are you going?”

  Part of Tess wanted to pull the legal papers out and show her mother, but she could see the weariness, the sadness in Dawn’s eyes. It would be one more thing for her mother to worry about. One more thing she didn’t deserve to have on her mind.

  “I just have to take care of something,” said Tess.

  CHAPTER 15

  Even in the rain, it was easy to find the law offices of Cottrell and Wayne. Ben had pointed his office out to her only hours earlier when he drove her back to town, explaining that he was not yet a partner because he had only worked with the firm for a year. But he had the office pretty much to himself, for Cottrell now had emeritus status and Wayne divided his time between New Hampshire and his vacation home in Florida. The office was off the town square and the building must, at one time, have been a private home. Tess walked into the neatly tended building, through a carpeted vestibule and waiting area, and up to the desk of the middle-aged receptionist seated behind a bank of family photos and a dusty bowl of fake flowers. She was eating a snack cake and drinking a mug of coffee. “I’m here to see Mr. Ramsey,” Tess announced.

  “Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked pleasantly.

  “No, but please tell him that Miss DeGraff needs to see him right now.”

  The woman hesitated, as if taken aback by the irregularity of the request, but then, possibly in a desire to get back to her snack cake, she buzzed Ben Ramsey’s office and then told Tess to go in. “Third door down the hall on the left, dear,” she said.

  Tess marched down the hall and burst into Ben’s decorless, book-lined office. Ben, still in his tie but with his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up, was seated at his desk. He looked up at her, his eyes alight, and then his smile faded at the sight of her face.

  “You know,” she began without preamble, “you have a lot of nerve doing this to me. I guess it’s all about the money with you.”

  “What?” he cried. “Doing what?”

  “Don’t play dumb. This morning you were all about the ethics.”

  Ben stood up behind his desk and faced her squarely. “Hold it. What the hell are you talking about?”

  Tess was surprised by his reaction. She had to admit to herself that he looked clueless. “The lawsuit,” she said.

  Ben shook his head, as if to say that he still didn’t understand.

  “The lawsuit you filed against me for the Abbotts. The papers just arrived.”

  Ben picked up a pencil and tapped it on the desktop. “I didn’t file any lawsuit against you,” he said.

  “You didn’t,” she said skeptically.

  “No. I didn’t. Did you check the letterhead? Because it certainly wasn’t mine.” Tess hadn’t actually looked at the letterhead. She had simply assumed that the Abbotts would bring all their legal business to Ben.

  Tess’s indignation faltered. “No,” she admitted. “Just a minute. The papers are in my bag.” She put her purse down on his desktop and rummaged around in it. She pulled the papers from her bag and looked at the letterhead. Her cheeks flamed. She shook her head.

  “Can I see?” he asked.

  Mutely, Tess handed him the document. Ben looked at the letterhead and then scanned the document. She expected him to reproach her for jumping to a hasty conclusion. Instead, he shook his head. “Wrongful death? That’s a stretch.”

  “Why do you say that?” Tess asked.

  “For one thing, the statute of limitations has run out on a wrongful death claim.” Then he frowned. “They’re probably going to argue that the statute of limitations needs to be adjusted because of the DNA results. It’s…creative. I’ll give them that.”

  “How come they didn’t come to you for this?”

  Ben frowned. “I suspect this attorney approached them. This firm is from North Conway. They specialize in civil suits. The attorney probably followed the case on the news and called them to suggest the suit. These civil suit guys…there’s no end to their…creativity when it comes to blame.”

  “Sorry,” she murmured, humiliated.

  Ben handed the papers back to her, unsmiling. “Natural enough mistake,
I guess.”

  “Do they have a case?” she asked.

  Ben shook his head. “Against you? Well, civil suits are not my specialty. But no jury is going to see this as your fault.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she said.

  “Of course, a crafty attorney can keep one of these suits dragging on for years. And Nelson Abbott is just the kind of client they love. Self-righteous and mean-spirited.”

  Tess nodded, feeling both embarrassed and chastened. She wanted to retreat as hastily, if not gracefully, as possible. “I’m very sorry…Ben. I…I know you’re busy. I really am sorry…let me just get out of your hair.”

  Ben resumed his seat behind the desk. “You’re not in my hair. I’m glad you came. Especially since that has nothing to do with me,” he said, pointing his pencil at her pocketbook.

  Tess nodded.

  “You will need to get yourself an attorney, though,” he said. “To fight this.”

  Tess shrugged. “Interested?” she asked.

  Ben shook his head. “Not my area of expertise. And it could be a conflict of interest. But I can recommend my senior partner…”

  “I have an attorney at home. He handled my adoption of Erny. I’ll call him and send him the papers.”

  “You might want to have somebody here in town,” he said.

  “I’ll be fine,” she insisted stiffly. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time.” She pulled tight the belt on her coat. “Thanks,” she said, turning to leave.

  “Wait. Don’t go,” he said.

  Tess frowned at him. “Why not?”

  Tess thought she noticed his face color slightly. “The fact is,” he said, “I wanted to talk to you. I was thinking about what you said earlier.”

  “What I said?” Tess asked.

  “Yes. Do you have a minute?”

  Tess nodded.

  “Sit,” he said, pointing to the client’s chair. Tess hesitated and then sat down.

  “After I got back to the office, I was thinking about what you said about Lazarus having an accomplice.”