“Your information may provide some insight into the murder, and it may not,” he said quietly. “But in my professional opinion, we have a much better chance of finding Rose by working it hard from our end.” He stopped and took a sip of his coffee.
“What about hiring a detective?”
“Good idea,” he said. “I know an ex-cop—Williams. Used him before.”
“Please call him.”
“I’ll fill him in and we’ll go from there.” He pulled his worn notepad out of his breast pocket and scribbled a few words. “But we still don’t have the identity of the killer. Although he may have been Dutch, we can’t even say that with certainty. It could be that he routed his trip through the Netherlands as a way to get into the U.S. Besides, anyone can buy a fake passport on the black market in any country in the world.”
He paused and shook his head. “Even if we take what you found in the attic as true—that it is evidence of some link to what has happened—it still doesn’t explain why the killer’s accomplice would take Rose and not ask for a ransom. Why would he want to keep her?”
Nora brushed her hair back from her eyes and set the wineglass back onto the coffee table—hard. She had to keep her voice modulated, although her anger threatened to destroy the composure she had maintained so far. “Surely they must know something about the judgment out of The Hague condemning my father to death for killing this Abram Rosen.”
“Again, they are looking into it. It seems that the bureaucracy over there is even slower than ours. I’m sorry, but this is going to take more time. You’re going to have to be patient while we run all the traps. I know how you feel, but—”
She pointed a shaking finger at him and felt herself lose control. “Don’t tell me how I feel! It isn’t your daughter who was taken by some maniac almost a week ago! You aren’t sitting here day after day, only to be told that the police—and the goddamned F-B-I—haven’t found a single lead about who murdered your mother or whether your daughter is dead or alive!”
Marijke sat down next to Nora and patted her arm. “Shh,” she whispered. “You have to stay calm. It won’t help to get angry. We’re all trying to help.” She tried to take Nora’s hand.
Nora shook it off. “No! I won’t stay calm. I’ve been calm for almost six days! We finally have some connection to this nightmare and I want something done about it—now!”
Richards shook his head. Nora could tell her words had affected him, because both of his eyes were twitching madly. His voice, however, was smooth and low. “Nora, every possible line has been thrown into the water. We’re doing the best we can. It’s still far too early to write off the possibility of a ransom call. I’ve seen other cases where the kidnapper has let time pass to increase the panic and terror of the family in order to demand more money.”
Nora stalked to the corner of the room. She took a deep breath, turned and then fixed on Richards. Her voice was deadly. “You know as well as I do that if we were going to get a ransom call, the son of a bitch would have contacted us before now. I told you that at my mother’s funeral.” Her throat felt thick and dry as she said her next words. “Every day that passes means it is more likely that Rose is gone for good—or dead.”
“I can’t tell you whether Rose is alive or not,” he said softly. “What I can tell you is that we’re following established police protocol for the murder and kidnapping. Everything has been done by the book. The course you want us to follow in the Netherlands will take a long time, if it turns up anything at all.”
Nora sagged in her chair. He actually had said it. I can’t tell you if Rose is alive. She could barely breathe. Oh, God, now they’re losing hope. Otherwise, he would never say that. She forced herself to go on.
“That’s exactly my point! This man—whoever he was—obviously went to a lot of trouble to falsify his passport, fly here and kill my mother. Don’t you find it the least bit relevant that my parents lied about who they were, that my mother seems to have been a Dutch Nazi, and that my father apparently killed this Abram Rosen? Can you honestly sit there and tell me you don’t believe that connecting those dots must be pursued?”
“I don’t know, Nora. But the gist of your questions relates to the distant past. Even if we find your answers, it still doesn’t get us any farther down the road to finding out why Rose was kidnapped. With the killer dead and no way to question him or to know his motive, can you understand how very tough it is for us to identify the kidnapper?”
Nora fell silent. What he said made sense. Her heart just didn’t—wouldn’t—hear it. “But how could the kidnapper manage to be in the house and leave absolutely no trace?” she asked. “Surely there are fibers, fingerprints—something you can go on.”
“As I told you before, the only fingerprints we found are your mother’s and yours. And as I also told you, the killer’s accomplice probably wore gloves.” He sighed. “The latents haven’t panned out. With respect to the fibers, there’s nothing unusual. Carpet, clothing—nothing foreign.”
Nora put her head in her hands. Every hour without hope exhausted her. She forced herself to meet Richards’s eyes. He looked like Nora felt when she lost her first patient.
“As for your theory that the killer was an assassin or that your parents were the target of a revenge killing...”
“Go on.”
Richards shook his head in a sad way. “Nora, it’s too far-fetched. It’s thirty years after the war. Who would wait that long?”
He paused, as if waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, he went on. “And if the killer was an assassin, why would a war crimes organization bother with one Dutchman who killed one Jew? I know it sounds harsh, but it isn’t like your father was Eichmann or Goebbels.”
Nora shook her head and stared at the wall. She knew that her connections were woven with the slimmest of reeds, but it was all she had. And now he was telling her that she was crazy. She felt tears fill her eyes.
Richards walked toward her slowly, as if approaching a deer that might take flight. She did not move as he walked behind her and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. His voice was even softer than before, a silken thread she felt a sudden urge to snap.
“Even if everything in those documents is true,” he said quietly. “Even if someone came back thirty years later to kill your mother, which sounds crazy to everyone but you, it still doesn’t explain why, or who would take your daughter and keep her.”
Nora turned and looked at him squarely. “You think she’s dead already.”
Richards dropped his hands and shook his head. “I’m not ready to say that.”
“That’s precisely what you’re saying! We keep coming back to the same place. What other leads do you have? None! If you’re telling me that I’m supposed to sit here by the telephone for weeks waiting for some idiotic ransom call and for all of those bullshit agencies to get their heads out of their asses, then you’ve got another think coming.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. “I won’t do it.”
Richards stood where he was, his mouth slightly open. Nora whirled around and tried to compose herself. As her fury subsided, a plan suddenly bloomed. She took a breath. Damn! Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner?
She turned back to Richards and heard the words shoot from her mouth. “You can all go to hell. I’m going to handle this myself.”
12
As soon as Richards left, Nora marched into her bedroom and began pulling clothes from her drawers and throwing them wildly into a suitcase. She pushed aside her dresses and retrieved a heavy leather jacket. She yanked it off the hanger and threw it onto the bed.
Marijke appeared, her eyes wide with surprise. “What are you doing?”
Nora held up a pair of winter pants. “I wonder if these will be warm enough.”
“Nora! Are you out of your mind? You know you have
to stay here. There’s nothing to be done. You heard Richards.”
Nora folded the pants and stuffed them into her bag. “And I told both of you that I’m going to handle this myself.” She saw the hurt in Marijke’s eyes and then sat on the bed, patting the place next to her. Marijke sat and crossed her arms. “I know you think I’m insane, too,” said Nora. “But I had a brainstorm while we were talking.”
Marijke pointed at Nora’s suitcase. “And what does that have to do with getting on an airplane?”
Nora smiled. She felt calmer than she had since that first hellish day. “I have a plan. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it days ago.” She paused. “I’m going to Amsterdam—to RIOD.”
“RIOD?”
Nora nodded. RIOD was the Rijksinstituut voor Oorlogsdocumentatie, the Dutch Institute for War Documentation. It was where Nico worked. “If there are any answers to be found, that’s where they’ll be.”
Marijke sat silently. Nora noted her furrowed brow, but ignored it as she walked into the bathroom and gathered her toiletries. She walked to the bed and threw them into her bag. She wouldn’t meet Marijke’s eyes. She couldn’t let anyone or anything deter her. Glancing now at the contents of her suitcase, she spoke quickly. “Thanks to Nico, I know every nook and cranny of that place, how it’s organized, how to do the research—”
Marijke stood, put her hand on Nora’s arm and held it fast. “What about your job?”
“I’ve got one week left of the two Bates promised me. I’ll ask for another. That should give me enough time.”
“Nora, I have something I must say.” Marijke’s voice was firm, laced with impatience. “I’m trying to help you get through this. Please know I can’t even imagine how horrible this is for you, but you’re completely losing control.” She paused. “You’re heading off on a wild-goose chase because you’re terrified that if you don’t do something—anything—you may have to accept that Rose may not be coming back.”
“That’s not true!”
Marijke shook her head. “At this point I have to agree with the lieutenant. You have to let him do his job. Regardless of what you now discover about your parents, how will any of that be either relevant or discovered in time to do Rose any good? We need to focus completely on the kidnapper right now—nothing else.” Marijke sat on the bed and stared at Nora, waiting for a response.
Nora felt bitterly disappointed. It was one thing for Richards to think she was crazy, but if Marijke believed she was completely off base, then was she? Her mind spun. Yes, she knew what she was proposing was a long shot, but how could she accept that the solution was to sit and do nothing? If the ransom call came, they could contact her in Amsterdam as quickly as in Houston. She had given Richards her bank information the first day in the event a ransom demand was made and she wasn’t available. Now she would further instruct the bank in writing that he was authorized to withdraw up to twenty thousand dollars. It was almost everything she had as a young doctor, but once her mother’s estate was probated, there would be more. For Rose, she would beg, borrow or steal.
No, she had to go with her gut. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I hoped that at least you would believe in me.”
Marijke shook her head. “Of course I believe in you! I believe that you’re a wonderful mother who is grasping at anything that might, but won’t, help her deal with a terrible situation.”
“Marijke, you don’t have children. You have no idea what this is like.”
“You’re right, and that is precisely my point. I bring a different, more logical perspective to bear on this. And I believe that the lieutenant is correct.” She paused. “But let’s put that aside. Tell me what you hope to accomplish with this plan of yours.”
Nora zipped up her suitcase. She knew now what Marijke’s real question was. “Yes, I’m going to call him.”
“Who?”
“You know very well who.” Nora reached under the bed and retrieved a long pair of boots.
“Nico?”
“Yes, Nico. He’s the only one who can help me.” Nora felt Marijke’s eyes searching hers. “Listen, I haven’t told you the truth about some important things.”
Marijke stood, took Nora by the hand and led her into the living room. She pushed Nora gently onto the couch and walked to the small bar. She took two crystal jiggers, went to the freezer in the kitchen and brought back a bottle of Dutch genever. Nora felt she was back in another time, another life. Holland. Nico. Dinner and drinks with friends. She lost herself in that until Marijke put the ice-cold glass into her hand. Each raised a glass to the other. “Proost,” they said, and took the first bracing sip.
Marijke settled back into one corner of the couch, facing Nora. “So,” she said. “What don’t I know? You and Nico lived together for two years in Amsterdam. I know that—I introduced you.”
Nora felt the cold gin slide down her throat and send out waves of warmth to her body. “What else did you know?”
Marijke shrugged. “I didn’t see you two that often, you know. I was busy working on my thesis on the effect of European economics on the Netherlands so I could promoveren. All I knew was that you were doing an advanced fellowship in pediatric surgery and when the job in Houston opened up for you, you two broke up.”
Nora nodded. It still hurt to think back on those agonizing weeks. She had tried again and again to persuade Nico to investigate the possibility of moving to Houston. Like the stubborn Dutchman he was, he refused to even consider it. His life was in Amsterdam at RIOD. He was determined to become its director general. He believed that he had no serious prospects in the States.
Nora looked up at Marijke. “And,” she said slowly, “you knew that he wanted me to stay in Holland, get married and have babies.”
“I knew he wanted to marry you. It was obvious. He was so in love with you and, from what I could tell, you adored him. What I didn’t know was that children were an issue.”
Nora grabbed the genever and poured another shot. “Jezus, Marijke, I was so naive. As crazy as it sounds now, I thought I didn’t want marriage or children. If I had agreed to stay in Holland, it meant that I virtually had to do college and medical school all over again. Nine years! I felt I had no choice. I had to go back to the States. That was where my future lay.” She sipped at her drink, reliving those endless nights of arguing and pleading.
“So,” said Marijke. “You broke up.”
Nora nodded, the heartbreak fresher than she thought it could be. “We agreed to part. And we did.”
Marijke curled up on the couch and shook her head. “So what didn’t you tell me?”
Nora hesitated, her heart still heavy with the guilt of nondisclosure, particularly toward so wonderful a friend. “Do you remember when I called you from Houston a few months after I got back?”
“Of course. That’s when you told me you had gotten pregnant—a one-night stand with some resident at the hospital.”
Nora put her glass down. Her eyes met Marijke’s. “That was a lie.”
“What do you mean?”
“The baby,” Nora whispered, as Rose’s blue eyes and soft red curls filled her mind’s eye.
“Kom nou,” said Marijke. “What is it?”
Nora felt as if the world had dropped out beneath her feet. She took a long, ragged breath.
“Rose.” Her breath was a whisper on the wind. “She is Nico’s daughter.”
13
Marijke looked stunned. “I can’t believe you never told me this.”
Nora felt miserable at Marijke’s rebuke. “I’m sorry.”
“Then why?”
“Because it was too painful,” Nora blurted. “When Nico wouldn’t come to Houston with me, it broke my heart. Then to discover that I was pregnant with his baby—it was too much. I couldn’t bear to talk about it. Only my mother kn
ew.”
“That’s crazy! How could you have his baby and not even tell him?” Marijke stood up and paced. Finally she stopped. “Ach, Nora, he had the right to know. Then he could have made his own decision.”
Nora felt the same torment she always had when she reflected upon that fateful decision. “I thought about it, really I did. In fact, I thought of little else during those nine long months.” She turned her palms up. “Do you think it was an easy decision? But I finally came to the conclusion that it was better. To make a fresh start. To raise Rose on my own.”
“But Nora, I know him. He would have found a way for the two of you to be together.”
“No. I refused to have him come to America simply because I was going to have a baby. He had made his position crystal clear. He had no intention of ever living here, even though I had been offered the opportunity of a lifetime, what I had always strived for.” Just talking about it made her heart ache. “I had no other choice.” The bitterness in her stomach felt like burnt sticks. “And he was willing to let us break up, refusing to even check out what he might be able to do here so we could stay together.”
She gave Marijke a pleading look. “Please understand. I didn’t want to trap him with Rose. If he had decided to come here for me, that would have been different.” She stared across the room. “So when I left, I accepted that he was never going to be part of my life. I didn’t want Rose to grow up confused, shuttling back and forth to Holland, never having a normal home.”
Marijke sat back and crossed her arms. Nora saw the stubbornness in her eyes that she felt in herself. The Dutch, she thought, we are a hopeless breed.
“You were afraid. You wanted Rose all to yourself.”
“I—I don’t know.” She was so exhausted she didn’t know what to think.
Marijke slapped her hands on her thighs and then slid the phone across the coffee table to Nora. “Call him.” Her voice was unyielding. “Now.”
The Tulip Eaters Page 10