“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Newark? La Guardia?”
“La Guardia?”
“I’ll do my best.”
The airport sat thirty minutes from Jersey City, and then she had security to deal with. She looked out the window, her stomach one giant knot. She couldn’t do anything more than she’d done.
Except pray.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Janey had to wait for another plane to leave the gate before hers could pull in. She had to wait for all those in front of her to disembark. She had to wait for a cab despite calling one the moment she landed.
Darkness had covered everything, and Janey couldn’t see. She hated not being able to see.
After forty-six years of life, some of which had not been all that kind to her, Janey had learned an inkling of patience. It had abandoned her today, and by the time the elderly man driving her cab turned onto the lane where the cottage sat, Janey’s scream sat in the back of her throat, a centimeter from her vocal cords.
“Oh, dear,” he said in a voice that indicated he’d smoked heavily for a lot of years. “I don’t think I can get down there.”
No less than six police vehicles crowded the street, each with their spotlights on, blue and red lights flashing in the darkness. One had been parked in front of each house on the street, with probably three in front of the little blue cottage Janey had been visiting her whole life.
“It’s okay,” Janey said, reaching for her purse. “I can get out here.” Even as she spoke, an officer approached the vehicle. He held up his hand as she opened the door.
“Ma’am,” he said. “Get back in the car.”
“I live here,” she said, ignoring his instructions. “That’s my—”
“You can’t go into any of these houses. This area of the beach is closed.”
“My sister has been taken,” she said, and that got the officer to cock his head. “From the blue cottage on the end there. Sean Masterson called the police, because I was on the phone with my sister when Bobbie and Riggs Friedman abducted her.”
“Come with me,” the officer said, starting to turn away from the cab.
“I need my luggage.”
He moved to the trunk, and the driver opened it for him.
The trunk.
Lightbulbs flashed in Janey’s mind. Little snatches of conversation she’d heard on the phone while Tessa had been passed out or on the way there.
You come back here and start looking for that trunk.
I really don’t think Lydia kept stacks of hundreds in a trunk here at the cottage.
Her heart pounding, Janey looked down the lane to the cottage. Men and women in uniform moved up and down the sidewalk, casting shadows through the bright spotlights. They went up to the porch and inside. She didn’t see anyone going toward the garage, which sat in darkness, where Tessa had assumedly parked their mother’s dark green Mercedes.
Janey hadn’t gone through the car. It had been in pristine condition, save for a bit of dust on the dashboard and a heavy layer on the exterior. They’d driven it through a carwash downtown and called it good.
To her knowledge, neither she nor Tessa had opened the trunk. They’d hardly bought any groceries while they’d been here, and when they’d left the cottage a few days ago to stay downtown for a bit, they’d tossed their bags in the oversized back seat.
“Ma’am?” the officer barked, causing Janey to jump. A gasp flew from her mouth, and she pressed one hand over her heartbeat as it accelerated. Tears flew into her eyes, and she looked at the taller man next to her. “What’s your name?” he asked in a much gentler voice. “I’m Officer Flint West.”
“Janey,” she said, swallowing back her emotion and pressing against the hot liquid burning her eyes. “Forsythe. Tessa Simmons is my sister. We own that blue cottage at the end of the lane there.” She didn’t even stumble over the word sister.
Tessa was her sister. She had been for decades, and a paternity test and a single sheet of paper—no matter how fancy it was—couldn’t change that.
He nodded, his dark eyes kinder now but still full of edges that allowed him to stay sharp amidst chaos. “Come with me. The Deputy Chief will have some questions for you.”
Janey saw Nantucket Police painted on the sides of SUVs and cars, but also a couple with Nantucket Sheriff on them. She honestly didn’t know the difference, but she did know the Sheriff was higher up on the scale.
She remembered attending a bicycle safety fair the Nantucket Sheriff’s department had put on years ago, and she and Tessa had each gotten a new bike that summer. They’d thrown away those very bicycles when they’d cleaned out the garage. There had been so much junk in that garage. Everything from home improvement supplies to bins of beach toys, lockers full of moldy chairs and life jackets, and—
Another cry flew from Janey’s mouth as she remembered the grimy trunk full of Mom’s smaller gardening tools. Handheld shovels and rakes, nozzles for the hose, sprinklers, and even a half-used bag of fertilizer. They’d thrown that away, but Tessa had wanted to keep the other things despite the rust and cobwebs on them.
“They’re Mom’s,” she’d said. “And they’re not in terrible condition.”
They weren’t, because the trunk rested inside the garage, in a corner where the roof didn’t leak. Not the shed, where all the other gardening and lawn tools were. Janey hadn’t found the location of it odd last week. She did now.
Why didn’t Mom put the trunk in the shed with everything else? There had been room. Could it have something valuable in it, buried beneath the mundane?
“Are you okay?” Officer West asked, and Janey moved her eyes to him. Everything seemed to be moving so fast and yet so slowly at the same time. She needed all of these people to leave so she could figure out what to do next. So she could go through the trunk of the car and the trunk of handheld tools she and Tessa had not moved into the shed yet.
Would Riggs think to look in the garage? How much time had he had before the police had arrived?
“Leo,” Officer West called, and Janey realized he’d asked her a question she hadn’t answered. She watched another tall man turn from a conversation with another officer, this one with a yellow lab at his side. The canine wore a police dog vest and seemed utterly unconcerned about the events unfolding around him.
“This is Janey Forsythe,” Officer West said. “She says she owns the cottage there, and it’s her sister who’s gone missing.” He looked at Janey and let go of her arm. She hadn’t realized how much she was using it to anchor herself until his touch was gone. “Janey, this is Deputy Chief Leo Trivett. He’s leading the investigation, alongside Sheriff Cochran.”
“Get Anne over here, would you?” Leo asked, his eyes locked on his officer. He then extended his hand toward Janey. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I understand you have a recording of the abduction?”
“How did you know that?” Janey asked, but she was already fishing through her purse to find her phone. And where had her suitcase gotten to? She caught sight of it near her feet, and she marveled at what her mind chose to think about in a crisis.
“Mister Masterson mentioned it.”
“Of course.” Some of Janey’s numbness wore down, getting replaced by the professional air she’d perfected over the years.
“I need to hear it,” Leo said.
“Have you found Tessa?” Janey asked, procuring her phone. Finally.
“No, ma’am,” Leo said. “She wasn’t in the cottage, nor next door, as Mister Masterson suggested she’d be. No one has seen her.”
Janey noticed little groups of people clustered in front of houses, the red and blue flashing lights painting everything in strange tones through the darkness. The world had been narrowed to only what the police vehicles could illuminate, and everything else didn’t seem to matter.
A woman a few inches taller than Janey joined her and Leo. “This is Anne Cochran,” Leo said. “She’s the Sheriff for Nantucket County.”
; Janey shook her hand, tired of the formalities and ready to give and get information. Tessa had been drugged over three hours ago. No one knew where she was. Every muscle in Janey’s body strained, and she held up her phone. “Have you found Bobbie or Riggs Friedman?”
“No, ma’am,” Anne said. “Their house was empty, same as yours.”
“No signs of a struggle?”
She and Leo exchanged a glance. “Definite signs of a struggle,” Anne finally said. “We found vomit in the cottage, but otherwise, everything seemed normal when police first arrived.”
“We have it all on video as well,” Leo said. “It’s part of our new initiative for crime scenes. Then we don’t miss anything. I have my photographers here too, and if there’s any clue—no matter how small—we’ll find it.”
He nodded to Janey and then down the lane. “I noticed you have security cameras on your cottage. Can we access that feed?”
Janey noticed that he did not assure her they’d find Tessa. She handed him her phone. “There’s an app that will show you the security tapes. It records any time there’s movement.” She took a deep breath, because she hadn’t thought to check that, as the cameras were still so new.
“I also have the recording of Tessa’s call. It took me a couple of seconds to figure out how to record, so I missed some of the beginning.”
“Do you remember it?” Anne asked, reaching for the pen she’d tucked behind her ear. She’d pulled her dark hair into a tight ponytail, and she wore more gear around her waist than Janey had ever seen. She must have an incredibly strong back and core to be able to hold the guns, radios, and pouches who who-knew-what in them around her waist.
She plucked a notebook from one of those pouches, just like detectives did on TV.
“Uh, let’s see where it started,” Janey said. She really didn’t want to listen to the conversation again, though she’d been tempted to do so on the flight here.
Her stomach shook, reminding her that she wasn’t a police officer. She was a saleswoman, and saleswomen didn’t deal with abductions and syringes and trunks full of cash.
She didn’t know the dirtier side of Nantucket, with its public lewdness or public drunkenness. All towns had their problems, but Nantucket was generally safe. Everyone loved coming here to visit, and things worked like a well-oiled machine.
Beach permits and fishing licenses could be obtained online. The miles of walking paths were maintained. The beaches never had trash on them.
She tore her attention away from the pristine life that existed in fairytales and to her current situation. She tapped on the recording she’d made and closed her eyes.
Chapter Fifty-Three
“…look a little gray,” Bobbie said.
“I haven’t eaten,” Tessa said. “I got really engrossed in this article Ryan sent me, and I went to Boston for some shopping today, and I’m not even sure what we have in the house.”
A pause, and Janey let Anne take the phone from her without opening her eyes. The whole world swayed in this sea of blackness, and Janey just wanted the tide to take her out, and push her back in once everything was settled. Once everything had gone back to normal.
“What are you and Riggs up to tonight?” Tessa asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Bobbie said. “I made fish stew. You should come next door and eat, Tessa. You don’t look good.”
Another pause, and Janey could only imagine the thoughts running through her sister’s mind in that few moments.
“I’m really tired,” Tessa finally said. “We stayed downtown last night, and the bed was terrible.”
“The beds here can’t be that great,” Bobbie said, and something switched in her voice. Janey cocked her head, listening harder.
“They’re not bad, actually.” The phone’s speaker rustled, indicating Tessa had moved.
Janey opened her eyes, and the world stilled. “She put the phone in her pocket,” she said. “That’s why there’s that scuffling. I think she moved at that point.”
Both Anne and Leo nodded, and the Deputy Chief stepped in closer, leaning his head down as if to hear better.
A squelching sound came through the recording, and Leo looked at her again.
“I think that was the refrigerator opening,” Janey whispered, because she knew what came next. Her hands shook no matter how hard she pressed her palms together.
Leo stopped the recording, but Janey had already heard the cry of pain that would come from her sister’s mouth in only a few seconds. Her near-perfect memory was a blessing and a curse. In times like these, Janey just wanted to forget. She’d give anything to be able to forget.
“She doesn’t need to hear this,” Leo said quietly. “Janey, I’m going to give you to my best sergeant. He’s going to ask you some questions while Anne and I listen to the rest of this, okay?”
“Do you remember what came before this recording begins?” Anne asked, shooting a look at Leo. He ignored her and lifted his hand in the air, as if indicating to a waiter he’d like his check now, please.
Janey closed her eyes again. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I was at home, working. Tessa called, and I almost didn’t answer it. See, we hadn’t left things on the best terms, but I’d spoken to her earlier that day.”
That day. It was still today. Her conversation with Tessa just after lunch felt like a lifetime ago.
“She’d gone to Boston, because she’d learned that Richard Friedman was dead. She went to his grave. She told me she was going to stay in Boston. I’m not sure why she came back here.” Janey frowned, so many questions piling on top of one another now.
You’ll ask Tessa when you see her, she told herself. She refused to believe she wouldn’t see, hug, and talk to her sister again. Clinging to that hope, she continued. “I answered, and Tessa was already whispering. She asked if I could hear her. I said yes and asked what was going on. She didn’t explain anything. She asked me if I could record the conversation and keep the line open. I said I’d figure it out, and she said ‘gotta go.’”
Janey opened her eyes and met Anne’s dark ones. They harbored fire, and Janey liked her spirit. “There was quite a bit of rustling, and I’m assuming she put the phone in her pocket. That’s what it sounded like. Her voice wasn’t as loud as before, but I could still hear her. She told someone she’d meant to call them back, but she’d been busy, and she had a headache.”
She nodded to the phone in Anne’s hand. “It was Bobbie Friedman, because she asked Tessa if she’d eaten, and that she looked gray. That’s where it starts.”
“So Bobbie Friedman called your sister.”
“I’m assuming so,” Janey said. “I left Nantucket yesterday afternoon.”
“You don’t know what Tessa was doing in Boston?”
“Yes,” Janey said, frustrated. “I do. She went there to see Richard Friedman’s grave. See, we thought Riggs Friedman—Bobbie’s husband—was Richard. But Tessa had found some documents at the library that said Richard had died in his twenties. She found the burial records, and she went to the cemetery.”
Anne’s eyebrows went up, but she didn’t ask another question. Janey honestly couldn’t explain this whole situation. It would take hours, and she currently stood out on the street in the middle of the night.
“Do you know where Sean Masterson is?” she asked, beyond exhausted. “I’m assuming I can’t stay at my cottage.”
“That’s an active crime scene,” Anne said. “So no, I’m afraid you can’t stay there.”
Janey nodded, pressing her lips together into a tight line.
Leo indicated an approaching man. “This is Sergeant Conway Rilleti. He’s going to take you to Sean, and the three of you will talk. Okay?”
“Okay,” Janey said, because what other choice did she have?
Leo nodded to James, and thankfully, there wasn’t any more hand-shaking Janey had to do. The sergeant led her down the street toward the cottage, but he veered down the side driveway of the last cottage on the right-
hand side of the lane, which sat only two houses down into the cul-de-sac. Janey’s house was three more down, on the other side of the road. But the beach embankment came right up against this driveway on this side of the road.
A man jumped to his feet, and out of the shadows, Sean said, “Janey. Thank God.” He strode toward her, and Janey’s tears overflowed at the simple sound of his voice. She let him gather her right into his arms, and she clung to him like he alone could save her from this nor’easter storm that would whip the waves into towers that would drown them both.
She cried into his shoulder for a few minutes, and then he stepped back without removing his hands from her waist. He reached up and stroked her hair back, and she finally got the assurance from someone.
“They’re going to find her,” he said kindly. “I just know it.” He didn’t smile, and Janey wasn’t sure how she ever could again.
She nodded, and Sergeant Rilleti said, “I hate to do this, but it’s best if we ask you all our questions as soon as possible after the incident. We usually get the best information that way.”
Sean slipped his fingers through Janey’s and tugged her gently down the driveway a bit further. “Come sit down. We’ll tell him everything we know, and they’ll find her, Janey.”
She followed him to a bench that had been placed right against the house.
“The Lowers aren’t here right now,” Sean said. “My mother knew theirs, and I called to see if we could use their cottage for a few days. They said yes, and I’m just waiting for their management company to bring me the key.”
“I can stay here tonight?” Her gaze slid to the right, where the Friedman’s cottage glowed under the spotlights of at least two police vehicles. “I don’t know about that.”
“I’ll stay with you,” he said, squeezing her hand.
“We’ll leave officers here with you too,” Sergeant Rilleti said. “They’ll be going through the two cottages for a while anyway.”
The Cottage on Nantucket Page 27
