Hidden

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  ‘They are perfect, just not together. It suddenly came to me as I was lying here. I bet they’re staying together because of me.’

  Mavis scrambled out from under the piano. ‘I’m getting out from under here, before I imagine Prince Harry is going to join me for the concert today.’ She went to the bedroom to change, muttering to herself. ‘Note to self: a life of crime brings madness.’

  Deborah lay where she was for a moment, lost in thought, then scrambled up, found her phone and dialled. Nothing happened. She was puzzled.

  Mavis popped out of the bedroom, heading for the shower down the hall, and saw the puzzled look on her room-mate’s face. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘First Dad calls in the middle of the night, sounding weird. And now Mom’s phone is dead. When I left for London, she told me she’d never turn her phone off; that I could reach her day or night.’

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘I’m not thinking, I know. Something is very wrong at home.’

  Nineteen

  Claire woke to the sound of angels singing. At least, that’s how it sounded to her. She wasn’t sure exactly what music it was, but she knew it was some sort of heavenly choral piece – a hymn, maybe.

  Deborah would know. She’d name the composer, the time period in which it had been written, and would probably be able to sing along with the Sisters who were somewhere in this vast building, celebrating Mass. The very sound of the music seemed to wash away some of the pain in Claire’s body and mind.

  She had no idea what time it was and she didn’t care. It was hard to imagine that the events of the previous day and night had happened to her, and were not something she had dreamed. It had been real, she knew. Her friends had actually arranged for her to be kidnapped and brought to a convent on Long Island Sound. And she had told a complete stranger – a pink nun, for heaven’s sake – the story of her life; hers and Walker’s. For the very first time since Deborah had been born, she had told someone how her dear, dear daughter had come by her musical talent. And she felt better for having done it.

  Claire had kept that story, and those deep feelings, bottled up inside for so long that they had become little more than a constant ache, like a nagging back pain. Now that she’d spoken the words, she felt free to remember the sheer joy of it. The way it felt to be madly, giddily happy and in love. She smiled at the memory; smiling with real happiness felt strange, like a skill she must learn again.

  She got out of bed and looked out of the high little window at the Sound. The water was churning under grey skies, yet the world shone to her – the way London had looked that first night with Walker. She vowed she would say his name aloud sometimes, just to hear the music of it. Claire laughed out loud. Twelve hours in a convent and she was already taking a vow. Suddenly she was hungry. She quickly pulled on her clothes, which someone had cleaned and then placed neatly on the chair. She opened the door to go in search of Sister Margaret, and there was Sister Mary Theresa floating down the corridor, carrying a small tray.

  The meal was simple. Bread, homemade, of course; freshly churned butter, and a bowl of fresh sliced peaches. Not just any peach – the juiciest, most delicious that Claire had ever tasted.

  ‘We have our own orchard, but it’s too early in the season for our crop. If I can keep the other sisters from eating them all before they leave the tree, we freeze them and enjoy them year-round.’

  ‘I had no idea you could freeze a peach. But then I’ve learned quite a bit in the past twenty-four hours.’

  ‘Have you?’ The Sister was kind, but she had those eyes that seemed to bore into you. ‘Tell me about that.’

  ‘It’s hard to explain … but I think I was putting so much energy into keeping secrets, I was unable to see what is real in my own life, and what isn’t.’

  ‘But now you do?’

  ‘I see enough to know that I need to stop lying to myself about Mark. It’s not the pressure of his job and it’s not my fault that he hits me. He can’t control his temper.’

  ‘You’ve learned all that in one night? I must say that – in my experience – wisdom does not come suddenly; rather it comes gradually, over time.’

  ‘That’s just it, Sister. It has come over time. I’ve known where this would end since the first time Mark raised a hand to me. However, I wouldn’t let myself know it, if that makes sense. I couldn’t have the life I wanted, the one with Walker, so I made up a perfect life with Mark, and I clung to it even when I knew it was over. I played my part to the full. So did he, until he just couldn’t do it any more.’

  ‘If you are excusing him again, then you’ve learned nothing.’

  ‘Understanding, not excusing. Those are two very different things. My friends are right. He is a danger to me and I cannot stay with him. I lay in this wonderful little bed this morning, realising that Mark has scarred more than my body. He’s torn away so many little pieces of me that I hardly recognise myself.’

  ‘Then stay here. Take some time to find yourself again.’

  ‘He will find me, no matter where I hide. Sister, you cannot comprehend the power he has, what he is capable of. He will never let me go willingly, I know that. So I must find a way to force him to. And I must do it now. If I don’t take charge of my life right now, I may never again have the strength or the opportunity.’

  The wise nun looked at Claire for a long moment. ‘I think I’m beginning to see signs of the woman your friends described to me. The woman you once were, before this all began. All the same I’m worried. If he is the man you say he is—’

  ‘Oh, he is, Sister. But I have one advantage. I know Mark better than he knows himself. I know how he thinks. And I believe I know a way to make him set me free. You have to trust me.’

  ‘Oh, I do trust you, Claire. It’s Mark Saunders I don’t trust.’

  Twenty

  St Mary’s by the Sea in Bridgeport was named after a tiny, long demolished chapel that perched on the edge of Long Island Sound in an area known as Black Rock. Benches dot the path that winds for several miles along the shoreline, and on a fine day they are filled with lovers and bird-watchers and fishermen. Today, with the wind whipping, the area was deserted, except for a lone man wearing a baseball cap.

  Mark was slouched on a bench staring at the Sound. He pulled up the hood of his North Face fleece, not to shield him from the wind, but to hide his very recognizable face from passers-by.

  He watched a jogger coming from the north, running easily. As he drew closer, the man slowed to a walk, checking his pulse, and finally came to a stop near Mark’s bench. He leaned on the bench to stretch – first one leg, then the other – as he scanned the horizon for watching eyes.

  ‘What did you find out?’ Mark asked, still looking at the water.

  The man had short-cropped dark hair, green eyes, and spoke English with no accent. Mark had worked with him on other continents, where he had also spoken the native language with no accent. His country of origin, his age, his real name were all unknowable. Today he was Bill.

  ‘Her phone was purposely destroyed. I found a fragment in the car park behind the dry-cleaner’s.’

  ‘The car?’

  ‘The tracking sytem was helpful. It’s inside a structure near a little pond in New Hartford, Connecticut, owned by Christopher and Paulina Redford. No sign of a struggle or foul play of any sort.’

  ‘I knew those harpies were involved.’ Mark was on his feet. ‘I’ll crush them for this! What else?’

  ‘I grabbed a sandwich and a beer at your wife’s hang-out, Martel. I met a chatty barman there by the name of Keith. He’s the owner’s brother and he’s neither smart nor discreet. He couldn’t resist telling me about a job he had Saturday. He made a hundred bucks driving some lady to a convent. Description fits.’

  ‘A convent? Where?’

  ‘I’m sure he would have drawn me a map, but the owner of the place called him into the kitchen. Anyway, he didn’t come back, and Marty took over the bar. He tried
to find out who I was, and got nothing from me except my all-American smile.’

  ‘Why a convent?’

  ‘Maybe she decided to take the veil.’

  ‘Damn it! That’s enough smart remarks. You need to find the place now!’

  ‘And you need to back off. You hired me to do a job and the job will be done. There are one hundred and twenty-two convents and monasteries in the state of Connecticut. If she’s in one of them, I’ll find her. The real question is: what do you want me to do with her when I do?’

  Mark got up and started walking away. ‘I’ll think about that. By the time you find her, I’ll know.’

  Twenty-One

  The waiting list for Martel’s famous Sunday brunch was long, and those waiting to be seated were packed into the side porch drinking Bloody Marys. But Marty didn’t notice the fraying nerves of the would-be diners as he huddled in the back room with Sasha, Paulina and Julia.

  ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘Dark hair, about six feet, athletic, sort of ordinary at first glance. But when you really looked at him, dangerous.’

  ‘How much did Keith tell him?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I probably shouldn’t have hit him so hard. He was carrying on about his broken nose, and wouldn’t tell me anything. He just ran off, out of the back door. It’s my fault. I never should have trusted him with something so important.’

  ‘You didn’t have many choices, Marty. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine,’ Sasha said, filled with worry. ‘I missed something. I still can’t work out how they found her car. Paulie, did your neighbour up at the lake say what the guy she saw looked like?’

  ‘He had a hat pulled down and the collar of his jacket was up.’

  ‘Was there a car parked anywhere on the road?’ Julia was so nervous she had eaten an entire bowl of olives.

  ‘No, he must have walked in, like I did. She didn’t think anything of it at first. What struck her later was that it was odd seeing a stranger up there at this time of year. So she called me.’

  ‘I think we have to assume it’s the same guy,’ Marty said, cursing under his breath.

  ‘Agreed. But how did he find the car?’ Sasha was nearly beside herself. ‘What did we miss?’

  Julia jumped up, almost knocking the table over. ‘Tracking system!’

  ‘Of course! He tracked the car by its GPS. Stupid, stupid!’

  ‘Look, we’re not professionals,’ Paulina said, although it was clear that she, too, was blaming herself.

  ‘This guy seems like a pro.’ Marty looked worried. ‘He’s gotta be one of Mark’s people.’

  ‘If he found the car, he can find Claire. Any-thing yet?’ Julia asked Paulina, who had been dialling on her phone all the time they had been talking.

  ‘Nothing. No answering machine, no answer.’

  ‘It’s a convent. I don’t think they have answering machines,’ Julia said.

  ‘We’ve got to get her out of there before this guy finds her.’ Sasha headed for the front door, saw the crowd waiting for tables and called the others to follow her. They went into the kitchen and through the back door. She called back to Marty, ‘Find your brother. We need to know what he told this guy. Paulina, you drive.’

  ‘With pleasure.’

  They crammed into Paulina’s Ferrari Four and she roared out of the car park.

  Sasha’s phone rang, causing the three women to jump. ‘Hello?’ She froze, mouthing the name, Claire. ‘Where are you?’ She listened carefully. ‘I know exactly where you mean. Stay out of sight, we’re on the way.’

  ‘What happened?’ Julia asked.

  ‘Paulina, head towards the Merritt. Someone, a man, called the convent saying he was from the fire department and needed to make an emergency inspection.’

  ‘So fast. This guy is good.’

  ‘He may be a professional, but your Aunt Mary hasn’t spent all those nights watching repeats of Law and Order with her patients for nothing. She didn’t fall for it. She told the guy some nonsense and got Claire out of there.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Claire didn’t want to say on a phone line, but I know. Remember that place we went hiking, and had too much wine? We all ended up skinny-dipping in the Aspetuck Reservoir. In the middle of November.’

  ‘How could I forget?’ Julia shouted. ‘It took me a month to get rid of my cold.’

  Paulina put her foot down, and in seconds they were speeding north.

  Twenty-Two

  Sister Mary Theresa followed the man called Bill out of the convent, chatting in a friendly way. ‘Now you’re sure the carbon-dioxide level is all right? You certainly gave me a fright when you called. Some of our patients are very ill.’

  Bill had a CO2 detector slung over his shoulder. His manner was polite and professional. ‘Someone must have sent in a false report, Sister. I’m very sorry to have violated this holy space.’

  ‘God allows rules to be broken when there is a real need.’ Sister Mary Theresa looked up towards heaven, and silently prayed for forgiveness.

  ‘That’s good to know. I will leave you to your good works.’

  ‘Thank you. Oh, and I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. We’ve had a guest staying here and I had to drop her off.’

  Bill didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘I hope you didn’t rush back because of me.’

  ‘I didn’t have to go far. She likes to run and there’s a wonderful trail that runs along the reservoir up in Easton. I’ll go back to pick her up in a few hours.’

  ‘Easton? There’s some pretty wild country up there.’

  ‘Yes, too wild for me. We Sisters live quiet lives,’ she gave him an angelic smile. ‘However, I always say, to each her own. Claire will have her run and then be waiting for me at the head of the trail.’

  ‘You’ve had a busy day, so I’ll be on my way.’ He slid into his car and drove down the driveway. He was on his phone the moment he was out of sight. How stupid can a person be, he muttered?

  At the other end the phone was picked up instantly.

  ‘I know where she is.’

  ‘Good man!’

  ‘So it’s decision time. Do you want to handle this or should I?’

  ‘This is my job,’ Mark said, a decisive look on his face. ‘Pick me up at Stew Leonard’s, in the store’s car park. It’s busy there on Sunday. No one will notice an extra car. I want to be there to see her face when you grab her. After that you will take us back to our lovely home, where we will work out our differences privately.’

  ‘I’ll be there soon. Be ready.’

  Sister Mary Theresa watched as Bill drove slowly down the driveway, as if he were in no hurry. The LA Law fan knew better. She pulled a phone from the pocket of her habit and dialled a number.

  Claire, dressed now in newly bought running clothes, picked up the equally new phone on the first ring. ‘Did he come?’

  ‘He was here trying to get in when I got back. He wanted to inspect the place and I encouraged it.’

  ‘So, what do you think?’

  ‘I think your idea is insane. I think we should call the police.’

  ‘And say what? That Mark Saunders, one of the President’s best men, is using every tool at his disposal to find his dear wife, who disappeared without a trace? He could talk his way out of that in thirty seconds. He’d say he was worried, suspected foul play.’

  ‘I see your point,’ Sister Mary Theresa murmured.

  ‘So did the guy believe what you told him?’

  ‘I think the gentleman who called himself Bill had no trouble believing I was a doddering old nun, too out of touch to know a con when she saw it. You should be expecting him within the hour.’

  ‘I’ll be ready.’

  ‘You’ve been through a lot, Claire. Are you sure you’re up to this? It’s dangerous.’

  ‘No more dangerous than spending the rest of my life wondering when Mark is going to come for me.’

  She looked at her three friends who were huddled ar
ound her, with frightened looks on their faces. ‘I know him, Sister. He’s not going to have someone shoot me or throw me in the reservoir. Whatever he has planned for me, he will want to do it himself.’

  ‘I’ll be praying.’

  ‘Me too. I don’t know how to thank you for—’

  But Sister Mary Theresa had rung off, and was already working the rosary beads in her hands.

  The women were sitting round a picnic table, heads together. ‘We can’t let you do this, Claire,’ Julia said.

  ‘It’s okay for you all to have me kidnapped, but not for me to try and save myself? I’m doing it,’ Claire said with quiet determination. ‘If you guys don’t feel you can help, I will understand. I think I can do it alone.’

  ‘Like hell you can,’ Sasha said, hopping off the bench. ‘I’m in.’

  ‘Me, too,’ Paulina cried, heading for her car. ‘Julia?’

  ‘Did we have lunch? I don’t think we had lunch.’ The other two dragged her towards Paulina’s car. ‘Of course I’m in! I just don’t see why we have to starve to death in the process.’

  ‘How long do you need, Sash?’

  ‘Three days. But I’ll swing it in an hour. You stall; give this guy a run for his money.’

  ‘That you can count on. Good luck.’

  Claire’s words were lost in the wind as the car sped away, leaving her alone. It was bleak and cold. She began the wait. If this worked, she would be free. If not …

  She shook off the dark thoughts. She would not allow herself to think of failure. She must do this for herself and for her daughter. Sasha was right. Sister was right. For now, she was the object of Mark’s fury. How long would it be before he turned that anger on Deborah?

  She could do this. She would think only happy thoughts. She’d think of Walker.

  Claire heard the car before she saw it. She crouched down, pretending to tie her running shoe. She forced herself not to notice as the car did a sharp turn into the little car park.

  Only after she heard the doors being thrown open, did she allow herself to look up. She barely saw the dark-haired man heading towards her at a trot. All she saw was Mark, standing by the car, looking at her with a little smile on his face.