Stolen in the Night

by MacDonald, Patricia

  It had seemed that he would never get over Melanie. His hair had turned gray. He had left everything behind that had been familiar. Three years later he was still bitter and stunned by Melanie’s betrayal. She had told him she was going on a weekend trip to Florida with a college girlfriend. He had learned the truth when he was contacted by the Miami police and found out that she was staying in a luxury hotel suite in Coral Gables with a junior associate in his own law firm. It was there that Melanie had died of a burst aneurysm while her lover lay passed out in bed beside her.

  Even now, when he thought about it, his face flamed and his heart felt like a heap of ash, incinerated by shame and fury. He had quit his firm, abandoned the city, and tried to forget, but you could never forget. He’d thought he’d known his wife. And he had never known her at all. It seemed impossible that he would ever trust someone again. And then, something in Tess’s beautiful sad eyes, when she looked at him, made him think he might want to try. He could see that she was cautious, that he would have to go slow with her. And he wanted to, more than he cared to admit. If only he had the chance.

  “Where are you, Tess?” he whispered aloud as he drove. “What’s happened to you?” He reached the Abbotts’ driveway and drove slowly up toward the house. There were several cars parked beside the house and it was alight in a way it had never been on previous visits. Ben always had the impression that Nelson was penurious and probably insisted they turn off each light as they left a room. But tonight, light spilled from every window. Ben parked behind an old Chevy station wagon, walked up the steps, and knocked on the door.

  A small, round woman with gray hair and flushed cheeks pulled the door open and smiled at him. “Hello,” she said, glancing admiringly at his suit and tie. There was the sound of voices and tinkling glasses coming from the kitchen.

  “I’m looking for Edith,” he said. “I’m her attorney. Ben Ramsey.”

  “Oh, of course,” said the woman. “I’ll call her. Come on in.”

  “I hope this isn’t a bad time,” he said. “I know she’s been through so much.”

  The woman shook her head. “Not a bad time. She’s doing all right. We’re just having a little bottle of wine and relaxing a bit. I’m her friend, Jo, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jo,” he said.

  Ben walked into the spartan living room and waited as the woman at the door yodeled for Edith. After a moment, Edith came into the living room. Her normally colorless skin was an unfamiliar shade of pink, everywhere but around her eyes, which were decidedly not red-rimmed behind her glasses. “Oh Mr. Ramsey,” she said. “Aren’t you nice to come.” She walked unsteadily to Ben, raised herself up on her tiptoes, and kissed him on the cheek.

  Ben tried not to betray his surprise at the gesture, which was completely out of character with the severe, taciturn woman he knew. “How are you doing, Edith?”

  Edith gave an abrupt nod of her head. “I’m doing well. A few people are here with me. You met Jo.”

  Ben nodded.

  “Come on in. Have a glass of wine with us. My friend Sara brought a cake that’s delicious.”

  The expression on her face was placid, almost…relieved. The loss of her husband did not seem to be weighing on her heart this evening. Ben noted, from the sounds of laughter in the other room, that the atmosphere was closer to that of a party than a wake. “I can’t stay, Edith. I do have an important question for you, though. Could you spare a minute?”

  “For you. Of course,” said Edith. She indicated one of the straight-back chairs in the living room and she sat down on the other and looked at him expectantly.

  “This is about Nelson. His death.”

  “What about it?” Edith asked.

  “It appears that Nelson may have been killed by someone related to him.”

  Edith seemed unfazed by this information. “I know. Rusty told me that. I told him it wasn’t me.” She smiled at her own pleasantry.

  “I mean a blood relation,” said Ben. “Because of the DNA evidence. As far as blood relations went, he had only one sister and his nephew, right? No other children, or siblings…? No skeletons in the family closet, if you know what I mean?”

  Edith rocked back in the chair, pursing her lips and raising her eyebrows.

  “Edith?” he said.

  “The police have already asked me all this stuff,” she said bluntly. “Earlier today. I told them all I knew.”

  Ben looked at her keenly. The wine had loosened her normally rigid manner. He had the impression that she was suppressing something that she wanted to say. “You and I have always been able to speak very frankly, Edith. It’s important to me that we speak frankly now. In fact, it’s a matter of life and death. For someone I care deeply about. And I promise, I would keep any confidence. This would fall under attorney-client privilege. You know you can trust me. Is there something else? Something you didn’t tell the police?”

  To Ben’s amazement, tears came to the old woman’s eyes. He had never seen tears in those steely eyes, even when she’d learned that Lazarus was vindicated. Perhaps he had misjudged the depth of her feeling for Nelson. “I’m sorry,” Ben said. “I didn’t mean to imply that Nelson…well, that there was any…wrongdoing on his part.”

  Edith shook her head. “No.” She gazed at Ben with an almost tender expression on her face. Then she said, “You were the only one. The only one who helped me. The only one who believed me about Lazarus. If it weren’t for you…”

  Ben raised his hands as if to ward off her praise. “It’s okay. Really,” he said.

  Edith frowned and seemed to be considering what to do. Finally, she said, “I don’t know of anything, for a fact. Not for a fact.”

  Ben stared at her. “Idle speculation will do. Anything.”

  Edith raised her eyebrows. “This is just a…suspicion I once had.”

  Ben held his breath.

  Edith twisted her worn, scratched wedding band on her ring finger. “When we were married a few years, I’m pretty sure Nelson cheated on me. She was young and pretty and…bored, I guess. I don’t know for the life of me why else she would have lowered herself. He thought I didn’t know about it, but I did. Wives have a way of knowing. I just didn’t say anything. I hoped it would blow over and it did. She left town, and it seemed like that was that. But then, when he was a teenager, her son came back. The minute I saw that kid, I knew. He’s the image of Nelson as a young man. I don’t think Nelson even realized it. We never do see ourselves as we really are, do we? Anyway, I’m not saying he’s the one who killed Nelson. I mean, why would he? But if you want to know…”

  Ben stared at her. “Nelson had a son?” he said. “Who?”

  CHAPTER 33

  Chan rummaged around, first in the trunk of the Mercedes and then under the hood of Kelli’s car. Then he returned to the driver’s seat. Using a screwdriver and a pair of pliers, he fiddled with wires under the steering wheel until the engine suddenly roared to life. He sat back with a look of satisfaction on his face. “There we go,” he said. “Hey, I’m pretty good.” He turned the car in a K-turn so that it bumped off the road and came to rest, idling on the edge of the pond’s bank.

  Tess looked over at him. Chan was gazing across the water. Tess followed his gaze, which scanned the pond, quiet but for the call of the marsh birds that wheeled out over its surface. “You know, I should have thrown Nelson in there,” he said. “None of this would have happened. I mean, this business with you and your kid. But I panicked. He came to the paper and confronted me. I said I couldn’t talk there and that I would meet him here, where it was more private. But after I killed him, I didn’t want to bury him here on my property. I was afraid someone would find him.” Chan shook his head. “So I tried to bury him at the campground. That was stupid. I wasn’t thinking clearly.

  “There’s no excuse for it except that he took me by surprise, telling me how I was his son, and how he knew it was me, not Lazarus, who had killed your sister. He said that Lazaru
s had always tried to blame me, but he never believed him. He threatened Lazarus for even daring to breathe such an outrage, but, what do you know, it turned out to be true.” Chan chuckled, but without pleasure. “Nelson offered to protect me. Hah,” Chan barked. “Another father to protect me. That’s rich. I wonder what this one’s protection would have cost me. He’d probably want to get paid in money rather than blow jobs. But you never know. I wasn’t about to find out.”

  Chan sighed. He turned to Tess and spoke earnestly, with something resembling regret in his cold, gray eyes. “I want you to know that I have nothing against you personally,” he explained. “I just don’t have a lot of options. If your son hadn’t looked in my car and seen Nelson…if I hadn’t panicked…I don’t know. The day I found your sister in that gardener’s shed…I should have walked away from her. I should have.” Chan shook his head. “But when I saw that it was her, the desire for revenge just got the better of me.”

  Even in the midst of her revulsion, her fear, Tess noted the strangeness of the word he chose. Not lust. Or frenzy. Revenge. On Phoebe? Chan didn’t even know Phoebe. Why would he take revenge on her?

  “I figured Lazarus would be blamed,” Chan went on. “The pervert. He did take her in the first place. Probably meant to kill her. Anyway, I should never have come back to this town,” he said. “And now…” His voice trailed off. Then he looked at her. “I need to get rid of you and this car. Even if your kid gets away, they’ll think he’s lying. That pond just seems like the best solution.”

  Tess followed his gaze back to the placid surface of the pond.

  “It’s called a pond, but it’s pretty deep,” he observed.

  The terror in Tess’s eyes was more eloquent than words. Her heart shriveled in her chest. She started trying to plead, to protest, but all that came out from behind the tape were muffled noises.

  “No use dragging this out,” said Chan. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t believe that, but I am. I’m really sorry.” He did not look at her when he said it.

  He released the parking brake and put the car into park. Then he reached his hands toward Tess’s neck. She thought he was about to strangle her and she pressed herself up into the space where the seat met the car door. Chan smiled and shook his head at the misunderstanding. He untied the woolen scarf at her neck and tugged it free. Then he rolled the scarf up from the narrow end, until he had a roll about the size of a coffee can. He leaned over and shoved the rolled scarf under the brake pedal. “There,” he said. “We don’t want you to halt the march of progress,” he said. He rolled the windows up tight and opened the driver’s-side door. “It won’t take too long to sink,” he said, throwing the gearshift into neutral. “Just let it take you,” he advised.

  Then he slid from the driver’s seat and slammed the car door behind him. Slowly, Kelli’s Honda began to roll forward, down the bank. Tess tried to scream, but the only sound she could make was a gargled moan. She rubbed her wrists together frantically behind her back, trying to get free. Her chest was heaving and even though the car was still aboveground, she felt as if all the air around her had been sucked away. She pressed herself back against the seat, planting her feet under the dash, as if she could somehow halt the forward motion, but the front of the car was angled down and it was rolling. Rolling down into the water as Chan applied his shoulder to the task, pushing the car from behind. She saw the top of the hood start to descend toward the water. NO, she tried to scream. Oh please God, NO. But the car was tilting now, and there was no sound inside the car except for the sucking of the water as Kelli’s Honda floated out onto the water’s surface and hung there. And then slowly began to sink.

  Erny crouched in a huge, black knothole that formed a hollow in a tree trunk, made himself as small as he possibly could, and wished with all his might that Leo was here. If Leo was here he would jump on that Chan guy and bite him with his big sharp teeth until the guy was begging Erny to call Leo off. But he could beg all he wanted. Erny would not call him off. He’d make that guy let his mother go and then he’d tell Leo to keep on biting him and biting him until the cops came. With Leo by his side, everything would be all right, and his mother would be safe and they would all go home. But Leo wasn’t by his side. Erny was alone.

  Although he hadn’t been able to hear her voice, he understood the words his mother had said when she’d spotted him hiding in the trees. Run. Get away. And he’d recognized the look she was giving him. It was that look she always gave him when she was really serious about something. That look that said she really meant it. He knew enough to obey.

  But he didn’t know where to run to, and he didn’t want to leave her behind. What if that guy hurt her or…he couldn’t think about the rest. You have to run, he thought. Ma said to get away. Erny’s stomach churned as he thought about plunging into the woods, not having any idea where he was going. It was getting dark and there might be wild animals or vampires or…

  He took a deep breath and reminded himself of something important. If he could find his way back to the road, maybe he could get help. There might be somebody there who could help him and his mother. The thought of that possibility made him feel a little less shaky. He knew he had to do it. He peeked around the tree’s huge trunk but he could no longer see them.

  Erny did not know why the man was doing all these things, but he did know that this was the same bad man who had locked him away in that dark, stinky shed. And now, after his mother found him and got him out, the guy had his mother as a prisoner. You have to run now, Erny thought. Do it now. You have to go!

  Erny screwed his courage up and inched away from the shelter of the gaping knothole. Then, with a burst of crazy, fear-driven energy, he took off at a run. He didn’t know where he was heading. He heard strange noises as he ran in a zigzag path around the trees, scuffling through a carpet of dead leaves as he plunged on into the woods. Several times he tripped over ropy roots and nearly went down, but then he caught himself and kept running. He didn’t know where he was running to, or when he was supposed to stop, but he kept going anyway. It seemed as if he went up one rocky slope and down another, over and over, the trees a chainlike blur of stinging branches and gray bark. Erny ran until he was out of breath and his heart felt ready to burst and he felt like he was completely lost.

  And then, just when he was sure that he would die right here in these woods, he saw a light up on the embankment ahead of him. He thought it might be the moon, but it was brighter than the moon, and besides, he thought he recognized the sound of a car engine passing by. He clambered up the embankment and through a row of trees he saw that the light, which he had spotted and followed like a star, hung from a pole over the front gate of the farm. The road! He had managed to make it all the way to the road. Yes! He pumped his fist in the air. He had found his way out.

  But now what? He leaned out over the shoulder of the macadam and looked up and down. There were no lights, no houses as far as he could see. Now, which way to run? From somewhere deep in the Whitman farm, he heard the sound of a car’s engine roar. It’s him. He’s coming after me! Erny’s head swiveled as he looked both ways, trying to pick which way to run. Then, randomly, he decided, and tore off along the edge of the road to the right, away from the gate, his elbows pumping as he gasped for breath.

  Suddenly, up ahead, coming down the road in his direction, he saw a car. A car with a driver. Someone who could help him. Erny could see nothing but headlights, but headlights were enough. He darted out into the street, waving his arms over his head. “Help,” he cried. “Help me! Please help me!” Too late he realized that he had startled the driver. That he shouldn’t have jumped out into the car’s path.

  There was a horrible screeching of brakes. Erny was frozen in the headlights, too paralyzed by his own fear to jump out of the way. The car swerved toward the shoulder of the road and then bumped and jounced to a stop, narrowly missing a tree.

  Erny approached the tan-colored car cautiously, afraid the driver was going
to scold him for sending him off the road. Part of him wanted to run away, but then he remembered his mother, still with that man. He knew he had to be brave. The driver, a thin man in a gray coat, opened the car door, got out of the car, and stood up. He put one bony hand on the roof of his sedan and looked around. Then he spotted Erny, crouched by the side of the road, shivering.

  “Mister, I need help,” Erny said to the driver. “It’s an emergency.”

  “Come over here where I can see you,” said the stranger.

  CHAPTER 34

  Chan Morris, Ben thought, as he pulled out of the Abbotts’ driveway and headed in the direction of the Whitman farm. It didn’t seem possible. He had spoken with the publisher many times in the last two years. Chan was nice-looking in a kind of cold, preppy way and he seemed…shallow, but personable. He struck Ben as an intellectual lightweight but, all in all, he seemed to be a decent person. He had that pretty wife with the muscle disease. He was always so solicitous of her. Chan Morris?

  Ben didn’t doubt that Edith was right about Nelson’s having had an affair with Chan’s mother. Women seemed better at detecting that kind of thing than men, Ben thought ruefully. But had Edith meant that Chan was Nelson’s son? Did that connection make Chan Morris a killer? Did it mean that Chan was Erny’s captor?

  Ben was suddenly struck by the possibility that if he were, Ben might be the one to deliver Erny back to his mother’s arms. He could picture Tess’s dimpled smile, the joy that would light up her sad eyes. She would never be able to stop thanking him.

  Ben forced himself to stop fantasizing and think rationally. He could call in the police, but what real evidence did he have to blame these horrible crimes on Chan Morris? Besides, he knew he was in particular disfavor with the Stone Hill Police Department right now, thanks to his role in the exoneration of Lazarus Abbott. What chance was there that the police would even listen to him, much less believe him? And why should they? Ben thought. It wasn’t as if this was anything more than speculation.