The Passions of Chelsea Kane

by Barbara Delinsky

  Had Cydra seen Chelsea basking there with a glowing smile and a sense of contentment, she would have called it a sign that she had found her niche in life. Chelsea didn’t go quite that far, but she was confident enough with what she’d found that she didn’t think twice about taking one of those other mothers up on her offer to watch Abby when Margaret came hurrying down.

  Margaret was filling in for Fern, who was visiting her sister in West Virginia for the week. It seemed that Hunter had called, wanting Chelsea to join him at Huckins Ravine, a piece of land that Plum Granite was considering buying.

  Liz Willis, the woman who offered to watch Abby while Chelsea drove out, was the innkeeper’s daughter-in-law. Chelsea had met her when she had first come to the Notch and stayed at the inn, but it wasn’t until Abby had been born that the two had become friends. Liz had a toddler playing on the grass and claimed it would be a treat to watch a baby again. Since Abby had just nursed and would be falling asleep, Chelsea guessed that she could make the twenty-minute ride to and from the ravine with time to spare.

  She drove with the windows down and the radio tuned to soft rock. Judd liked soft rock. So did Abby, or so Chelsea imagined because she laughed when Chelsea held her hands and clapped. It didn’t matter that the clapping wasn’t in time with the music, or that when Chelsea sang along, she sang off key. For all Chelsea knew, Abby was as tone deaf as she was, but if so, it didn’t spoil her delight any.

  Chelsea sang now. It was that kind of day. She was feeling on top of the world.

  She drove up the narrow, winding road to the head of the ravine, where previous meetings had been held, but the place was deserted. She drove back down and around the base road, thinking Hunter might be waiting for her at another spot, but she saw no sign of either the Kawasaki or a gray-and-white Plum Granite truck.

  Assuming she’d misunderstood Margaret’s message, she drove to Pequod, the nearest of the quarries to the ravine, and used the phone in the site office to call into town.

  Fern’s voice answered. “You have reached the Plum Granite Company. We are unable to take your call at the present time. . . .”

  Strange, she mused, and for a minute stood with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. Leaving the tin hut, she sought out the site foreman, but he hadn’t seen Hunter since early that morning.

  With an eye on her watch, she got back into the Pathfinder and drove to Moss Ridge. Judd was there. If anyone knew what was going on, he would.

  She related Margaret’s message.

  He ran a forearm across his brow, leaving a smudge of dust in the dampness he’d meant to erase.

  “He was here a little while ago, but he got a phone call and took off. Didn’t say anything about going to the ravine.”

  “Strange,” she mused. “I’m sure that was what Margaret said. Maybe she was confused.”

  Leaving Judd to keep an eye out for Hunter while he finished up at Moss Ridge, she drove back into town, parked behind the office, and went to retrieve Abby. Liz was right where Chelsea had left her on the green, but Abby’s carriage was nowhere in sight.

  Liz was surprised to see her. “Hunter was just here. He said you wanted Abby back at Boulderbrook.”

  Chelsea felt a ripple of unease. “I didn’t speak with Hunter. I haven’t been able to find him.”

  Liz frowned and sought the nods of the two other mothers by way of corroboration. “He was driving Judd’s car. He put the baby in the car seat, folded up the carriage, and took off.” She grew uneasy herself. “I didn’t have any reason to question what he was doing. You and he are so close.”

  Chelsea forced a smile. “No problem, Liz. I’m sure there’s an explanation. I’ll take a ride home and see what Hunter’s up to.”

  She couldn’t get home fast enough. Where Abby was concerned, she didn’t like strange things happening, and she didn’t care if it was Hunter. If this was his idea of a joke, he was in for a piece of her mind.

  There was no sign of the Blazer at Boulderbrook. She ran inside, ran from room to room, ran back outside and around the house. The Blazer wasn’t there. Hunter wasn’t there. Abby wasn’t there.

  Running back inside, she phoned Judd at Moss Ridge and, doing her best to talk slowly and calmly, explained what had happened. Only at the end did her emotions break through in the higher-than-normal pitch of her voice. “I want to know where he’s taken my daughter!”

  Judd swore but was otherwise calm. “Don’t worry. Abby’s fine. Hunter wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

  “Where’s he taken her?” Chelsea asked. She felt as though a chunk of her insides had been suddenly removed, and much as she told herself that it was part of motherhood, that there were bound to be times when she didn’t know Abby’s whereabouts, that she’d better toughen up a little, it didn’t help. Abby was a baby. She was totally helpless, totally vulnerable. She would be wanting to eat soon. Chelsea could feel the milk gathering in her breasts.

  “You stay there,” Judd instructed. “Murphy’ll check all the sites. I’ll take a ride to Hunter’s place—’

  “I’ll go there,” Chelsea interrupted. “I’ll leave a sign here in case he comes, but I can’t sit still.”

  “I’ll make some calls. If you don’t have any luck at Hunter’s, go back home. I’ll meet you there in half an hour.”

  Chelsea flew out the door. She flew over the roads to Hunter’s place, flew home when she didn’t find him there. But Boulderbrook was silent. Tucking her hands under her arms, as much to staunch the flow of milk as to comfort herself, she paced the front porch. She was oblivious now to the sun, or the scent of spring in the air, or the never-ending songs of the birds.

  She wanted Abby.

  Twenty-four

  At the time when Abby should have been suckling contentedly at Chelsea’s breast, Chelsea was pacing the floor at Boulderbrook in a panic. Judd was there, making phone calls in search of Hunter. Nolan and his deputy were doing their part on the road.

  Shortly after one, Donna arrived. “They’ll find her,” she signed. “Hunter would never let her be hurt. He loves her, too.”

  “I thought so,” Chelsea said shakily, “but this doesn’t make sense. He knows I’m nursing her. She must be starved by now. She must be soaking wet. She must be screaming. Why hasn’t he brought her back? Why did he take her in the first place? And in the Blazer? It’d be just like Hunter to take her for a ride on the cycle—except that it’s at Moss Ridge, he doesn’t know how to strap her onto his back, and he hates holding her. So what was he doing?” She barely paused for a breath. “What if there was an accident?” The highway department was out looking for that.

  “They’ll show up,” Donna signed, with determination this time.

  It struck Chelsea then that there was a new strength in Donna. She supposed it had been building for a while, in increments too small to be noticed until now. Gone was the meek woman who scurried about to the tune of Matthew’s commands. This woman stood straighter, dressed more stylishly, wore her hair loose and wavy, and although a haunted cast remained in her eyes, she was a comfort to Chelsea.

  “How did you get away from the store?” Chelsea asked a bit more calmly.

  Donna grinned. Her hands had a defiant lilt to them when she signed, “I told Matthew I was leaving.”

  “Did he give you trouble?”

  “I left anyway.”

  “He’ll be angry.”

  “I don’t care. I want to be here with you.”

  Chelsea was grateful, more and more so as the minutes passed and there was sign of neither Hunter nor Abby. By midafternoon half the town was out looking. Quarrymen left work early to help, going in one direction while their wives went in another. Chelsea stayed close by the phone in case Hunter tried to reach her.

  No one called it a kidnapping. No one wanted to believe Hunter capable of that.

  As the afternoon wore on, though, there were grumblings that Nolan, who returned to the farmhouse to brainstorm with Chelsea and
Judd, couldn’t ignore.

  “He could’ve done most of those other things,” he pointed out. They were in the kitchen with Donna, away from the crowd of well-meaning friends in the living room. “Don’t get me wrong. I like Hunter a lot. But the fact is that he’s missing, and so’s your baby.”

  “That doesn’t mean he intended anything evil,” Chelsea argued. Her fingers were entwined with Judd’s. She took what silent strength from him she could. “This has to be an innocent mix-up.”

  Nolan ticked off the case against innocence. “You were nearly run off the road by a company truck—he drives company trucks all the time. Your phone lines were cut—he knows about wiring, and he wears damn near a size twelve boot. Your silver key was stolen with no sign of breaking and entering—he has a key to your house. Your barn went up in smoke—he’s an expert on fires.”

  “No. He only set one.” She looked pleadingly at Judd. “There’s no motive here. There’s no logical reason why he would have called Margaret and sent me on a wild goose chase. There’s no logical reason why he would have abducted Abby. Something’s screwed up.” To Nolan she said, “What does Margaret say?”

  “Nothing yet. She’s in Peterborough visiting a friend. Won’t be back for another hour, Oliver says.”

  Chelsea made an anguished sound. She didn’t want to be without Abby for another hour. “Something’s happened, I know it has. There’s no logical reason why Hunter would keep Abby away this long.”

  Nolan had one. “There’s a history of madness in his family.”

  Donna waved a frantic hand in the negative at the same time that Chelsea cried, “Hunter isn’t mad.”

  “He heard children’s voices in this place.”

  “He imagined them. Those children were his playmates. The townspeople were the ones who took a five-year-old’s stories and made them real. He just didn’t deny it.”

  Close to tears, she turned to Judd. “Where are they?”

  He took her face in gentle hands and said, “She’ll be all right.”

  “I want her.”

  “I know.”

  “If anything happens, I’ll die.”

  “She’ll be all right.”

  “I’ll die, Judd. She means so much to me.”

  His eyes were dark and worried, and although she might have wished he could put on a confident face for her sake, the fact that he couldn’t said something about his feelings for Abby. He was as distraught as Chelsea was.

  “Why doesn’t he call? He must know I’m frantic. Is he playing a game?” She pressed one arm over her breasts, which were heavy and aching, and pushed a hand into her hair. She racked her brain as she’d been doing for hours, it seemed, trying to think of something Hunter might have said when she had seen him early that morning, something she might have said to him. She didn’t think she had offended him. She didn’t remember his being angry. They had been getting along well. She couldn’t think of a single logical reason why he would have lied to Margaret, lied to Liz Willis, then vanished with Abby.

  “That boy’s no good,” Oliver announced from the door.

  Chelsea glared. “Oh, stop saying that.”

  “I did my best with him. God knows it. Gave him’s much as any man in my position could give.”

  Short on patience, she lashed out. “Maybe he needed affection. Or encouragement. Maybe he needed an affirmation of who he is.” She turned away. Judd reached out to stay her, but she couldn’t bear Oliver’s self-serving rhetoric. “I have to walk around,” she said, expelling a tense breath.

  She went through the living room, up the stairs, then from room to room on the second floor. She kept thinking she would open a door and find Hunter and Abby playing. The nursery was devastatingly empty. So were the other rooms. She even checked the passageway from the closet down, behind the fireplace, to the living room, but it was empty and silent, which made perfect sense, Chelsea knew. If Abby were anywhere in the house, she’d have long since let her presence be heard.

  But Chelsea had to do something. She couldn’t stand idly by while her baby was hungry and wet and tired and very possibly hurt or in danger. Knowing it was foolish, but lacking anything better to do, she checked the second secret spot Hunter had found, the storage room behind the kitchen pantry. When it proved to be as empty as the fireplace passage had been, she went down to the basement, flipping lights on along the way, and opened the trapdoor in the wall that led to the underground tunnel. For as far as she could see, it, too, was empty—empty, dark, depressing.

  With a helpless cry, she sat down on its lip and covered her eyes with her hands. “Where are you, baby? Where are you?”

  Her voice echoed in the tunnel, growing more and more distant, but when it should have been gone, it went on. She raised her head and peered into the tunnel again. There were voices. She heard them. She was sure.

  Heart pounding, she came to her feet. Voices. Not her own echo. Other voices. She ducked into the tunnel. There were two voices, one high, one low, one female, one male. She crept in on all fours. The voices were muted, but not even the distance they came could mask the ill will between the parties involved. She held her breath and listened.

  “What in the fucking hell did you expect—’

  “ ‘Twasn’t supposed to happen—’

  “—tunnel, for Christ’s sake, which is why it’s been closed off all these years—’

  “—supposed to be outside—’

  “—loony old lady—’

  “—not my fault—’

  “—been you all along—’

  Chelsea was trembling, unable to go forward, unable to go back, paralyzed by the voices until another sound came. A cry. A baby’s cry. It was Abby. She would recognize Abby’s cry anywhere.

  Galvanized, she crawled backward, fairly tumbling out of the tunnel. She scrambled to her feet and was on the run and screaming Judd’s name before she even reached the stairs. She was just shy of the top when he came. Grabbing his hands, she pulled him down.

  “There are voices, Judd. I heard voices.”

  He descended only enough to wrap a restraining arm around her. “There aren’t any voices, Chels. That was Hunter’s imagination.”

  She freed herself, caught his hand again, and tugged. “I heard them! You will, too! You have to come!” She was pulling so hard on his hand, he had to either go with her or fall down the stairs. “They aren’t in the tunnel, but they’re somewhere.” Without mercy she dragged him on. “I heard Abby cry. It was her. I know it.” She stopped tugging only when they reached the trapdoor. “Crawl in,” she whispered.

  “Chelsea—’

  She scrambled along the dirt floor out of his reach, then sat with her arms around her knees and listened.

  “Come on, sweetheart,” Judd coaxed, but he was following, just as she had known he would.

  “Sit,” she whispered, and crushed his hand to her heart. “Listen.” The baby’s cry was distant, so distant. Its sound tore at her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out herself.

  “Get away from her,” the far-off male voice yelled. “Don’t you put one hand on her.”

  Over Abby’s cries, the female voice wailed, “ ‘Twasn’t supposed to be like this.”

  “I’ll take care of her. You stand over there where I can see you. Don’t come near us again.”

  The baby stopped crying. Chelsea gasped.

  “ ‘Twasn’t supposed to be like this.”

  “Yeah. It was supposed to be just me and her in here.”

  “You’d have gotten out fine. I packed everything you needed to stay alive.”

  “But you were gonna bolt us in. You’re nuts! Who in town would believe that I’d kidnap the baby and seal us both off from the world? How could I physically do it? How could I ask for ransom if I was stuck in here?”

  “ ‘Twasn’t supposed to be like this.”

  Judd turned to Chelsea. She could feel the emotion vibrating through him. “Hunter and Margaret?”

  “Where
are they?”

  He brought her hands to his mouth and, there in the dark, pressed her knuckles to his teeth while the faraway voices went on.

  “How’ll they find us?” Margaret asked more meekly.

  “Damn good question,” Hunter responded, “since you covered your tracks. I gotta hand it to you. You gave her a message, you gave me a message, you manipulated us perfectly because no one suspected you were capable of this. How’d you ever know about this tunnel?”

  “Old newspapers.”

  “Where in the hell did you get the gun?”

  “I meant no harm.”

  “No harm? What are you thinking, old lady? Kidnapping is harm! You kidnapped two people whose lives are now in danger because the goddamned tunnel collapsed.”

  Collapsed. The tunnel collapsed. They were alive but trapped. Chelsea tried to think of what tunnel he meant. There were three secret passages. Only three. She began to whimper. Judd held her hands tighter. She welcomed the pain.

  “I packed supplies,” came Margaret’s defensive voice.

  Hunter’s was filled with scorn. “Baby food and Pampers won’t be much good without oxygen, ’cause that’s what we’re gonna be needing before long.”

  “Jesus,” Judd said, then even louder, “Jesus.”

  Frantically, Chelsea looked overhead and to the sides. “Where are they?”

  Judd started backing out of the tunnel, pulling her along with him. Excitedly he said, “Remember last time he was drunk? When I had to go get him at Crocker’s? He was talking about Katie Love, about how she used to put him in a hole.”

  “Not a hole. A closet.”

  “A hole, he said. He said it was dark and long and made of dirt. There’s another tunnel. If Katie Love put him in it, it must have an entrance in the old shack.”

  “But the shack’s gone,” Chelsea cried.

  “Not the flooring,” Judd said as he made for the stairs, then he stopped, turned back, and grasped Chelsea’s shoulders. “Stay here. I’ll take a crew over while Nolan rounds up equipment. The first order of business is getting oxygen in there. Then we’ll shore up the tunnel and start digging through.”