“In my purse.”
Determined that she’d fall asleep quickly, he retrieved the purse and handed it to her. Within minutes, a fire crackled in the fireplace, the lights were all but off, and Tina was tucked into the couch, William by her side on the floor. His hand rubbed her shoulder, but he didn’t talk. Instead, he watched the fire as she listened to whatever played on her playlist. It took less than five minutes for her to sink into a sound sleep.
With Tina settled, he went to grab her other pillow and another blanket from her bed. The floor looked too uncomfortable, so he took the other section of couch and tried to relax. Tomorrow. They’d find Ellie tomorrow. They’d find Geraldine tomorrow. She’d be the one responsible. Somehow, William just knew it.
Wednesday, January 21st
Sunlight streamed through her window, but Aggie pulled the covers over her head. A sudden need for the bathroom sent her flying in there, emerging quickly. She glanced out the window, the line of news vehicles still camped out front, but in different orders. Had any of them gone home? Surely, they had.
The red eyes of the clock told her it was almost six o’clock. Lately, Ian had been sleeping until nearly seven. If she hurried, she could get a shower. Her teeth felt fuzzy. A shower, tooth brushing, and flossing. Wow. No wonder she’d felt as if she let herself go lately. Aggie couldn’t remember the last time she’d done any of those things.
Her closet held an array of new clothes—some she’d not even worn yet. She snatched a brown corduroy skirt from a hanger and grabbed a green cowl-necked sweater. The sight of argyle leggings reminded her of Ellie’s and she grabbed them. It had seemed like something she’d never wear when she’d opened them, but now for Ellie, she would. Yes, she would.
Hot water pounded her body, better than any massage she could imagine. She wanted to stay there forever where the noise, the heat, the steam could all drown out the pain in her heart for as long as she stood there. Her mouth opened to sing, but the words wouldn’t come. “Give me back my comfort, Lord!” her heart cried out within her.
Her low flat boots covered the leggings, giving the outfit a much more polished appearance than she’d expected. The reflection in the mirror did not reflect her heart. Where her clothes were cheerful and comfortable, Aggie felt broken and irritated. She looked like a young woman just out of college but felt older than her mother.
Tina and William were asleep on the couches—their personalities shining in their body positions. Tina was sprawled awkwardly, one leg hanging over the back of the couch and a hand lying on the floor. It looked truly painful. William, on the other hand, was almost rigid, his arms crossed over his chest as if at his own memorial service sans the casket.
From the kitchen window, Aggie saw that Luke hadn’t left. She checked the guest room, but it was empty. After a glance around the first floor and a peek into the basement, she jogged back upstairs to see if he’d gone to check on Ian or help one of the others. She found him sleeping on Tavish’s bed, Ian curled up against his chest with the boy’s tiny hand wrapped around Luke’s thumb.
Instinctively, she looked for Tavish on Ellie’s bed, but the boy wasn’t there. Panic began to set in as she flung each door open, examined each bed, and then raced to the next. She ran upstairs, stared hard at her own bed, almost willing Tavish to be there, and then thundered back down again. Luke met her, Ian rubbing his eyes with his pudgy fists at the landing. “What—”
“Tavish is gone.”
“I know; he slept in Ellie’s bed. He said he wanted to feel closer to her.”
She shook her head wildly. “He’s not there, Luke. He’s not there! He’s not in my room; he’s not downstairs or in the basement.”
Ian reached for her, but Aggie didn’t notice. She was on the run again, hurrying outside, sans coat, shimmying up the tree house ladder. By the time she was back down and rounded the corner of the house, William and Tina were outside with coats on, calling for him. William grabbed her arm as she rushed past. “Where have you looked? Exactly, Aggie. Where?”
“Um…” Her mind seemed foggy. She stammered, searching for a coherent thought.
William’s hands cupped her face and forced her to meet his gaze. “Slow down. Breathe. Did you look in his room?”
“Yes.”
“What about Ellie’s room?”
“Yes. I looked in every bedroom—mine included. I was looking for Luke before I knew he was missing. I looked in the guest room, all over the downstairs, and in the basement.”
Her friend’s hands dropped as he rested them on his hips in his usual “I’m the lawman and I’m thinking right now” stance. His head dropped as if his shoes were of vital import to finding Tavish and then snapped up again. “The closet under the stairs. Did you—”
She never knew if he’d finished asking or not. She ran into the house, slipping on ice on the porch steps, but it hardly slowed her race to the closet. Aggie flung open the door, but Luke caught her in time to keep her from shaking the boy awake. “Shh… let him sleep.”
“But he—”
Luke pulled her away from the door, closing it gently, and led her down the hall to the laundry room. Once inside, he shut the door and pulled her into his arms. “Cry it out, Aggie.”
“I’m too angry to cry,” she argued. Despite her protest, Aggie rested her head under his chin and then sighed as a few rogue tears made a liar out of her. “I’m now relieved I don’t have time for things like mascara.”
“And why is that?”
“I hear the laughter that you’re trying to stifle. You’re failing.” She sounded confused as she muttered, “What was I—oh, right. Mascara. Can you picture me with black streaks down my face right about now?”
“You’d just look like one of those French clowns with the long black tears.” Her pain prompted another attempt at encouragement. “It’s going to be ok. It is. God knows what He’s doing even when we don’t understand it.”
“God may know what He’s doing, but that doesn’t mean I happen to agree with Him.”
“I thought you were going to say you didn’t have to agree. I was going to argue,” Luke said, attempting a smile.
She closed her eyes and ignored the prick in her spirit that told her she had the wrong attitude. “I have to go to Rockland. The restraining order.”
“Do you want me to take you?” Luke sounded anxious.
“Would you? I’d rather not have to do this, but William—”
Luke stepped back, turning the knob behind him. “I’ll shower and be ready in a few minutes. She stared at the empty doorway for several seconds as she wondered how she would have gotten through this without her friends, without Luke. His face appeared in her vision seemingly out of nowhere. “Oh, I forgot to tell you.”
Dread began to fill her heart. “What?”
“You look wonderful. I love you in that green.”
Aggie stared at the empty doorway for the second time in less than a minute. “He’s lost it. We’re all going crazy.”
~*~*~*~
A man carried three suitcases and an overnight bag past William as he stood in the foyer of Geraldine Stuart’s imposing home. “Do you remember the flight number?”
“Six thirty-seven. Continental.” She placed her purse on a small table and pulled out a wallet. From inside, she passed him her passport, printouts of internet tickets, and a receipt from a hotel in Willemstad.
“Willemstad?”
“Curacao. Beautiful Dutch island in the Caribbean. All the beauty of Dutch architecture in a tropical paradise and below the hurricane belt.”
“You sound like a travel agent.”
“I’ve heard those words a few dozen times over the years.” Geraldine laced her fingers together and faced William, her eyes cold. “Now, will you please tell me why you are here? I have not violated that restraining order.”
“I came to ask where you’ve been. We’ve tried to contact you for the last few days, but no one has answered the door.”
“I usually give George and Pilar a vacation while I’m out of the country.” She held out her hand for her passport and paperwork. “However, that does not answer my question, Deputy Markenson.”
William, not inclined to answer and give the woman fuel for her easily roused rage, reached for the door handle. “I think you should know that your husband misses you. He’s very confused, scared, and lonely.”
“What business is that of yours?”
“None whatsoever. Good afternoon, Mrs. Stuart.”
“But—”
He pulled the door shut behind him and ignored her irate demands for information as Geraldine Stuart stormed after him. Once inside his cruiser, he started the engine and slowly eased it away from her house until he was sure she wouldn’t get in its path. She was just the kind of woman who would allow herself to be injured to prove some sick point or another.
Frustrated, William sped toward Brant’s Corners. The road past Fairbury was slick with ice, forcing him to slow down while a truck salted the roads. His fingers tapped the steering wheel impatiently while his mind whirled miles ahead of his tires. She’d been gone. She wasn’t even in the country.
He punched a number on his phone and waited impatiently for the station to answer. “Markenson here. Got a question. Can you check Geraldine Stuart’s financials for the past few years. See if she goes to Curacao every winter? I just talked to her. Saw her passport, but it only goes back a couple of years. She’s been out of the country.”
Assured of the information as soon as it came in, William disconnected the call and began watching the clock, comparing it with the speedometer. Twenty-five miles per hour on a two-lane curvy highway was slow enough to ensure he’d be insane if he ever reached the turn off to Brant’s Corners. Thankfully, at the turnout half way there, the truck pulled in and turned back toward Fairbury, and William whizzed down the road.
The station was still abuzz. What few news vans weren’t camped out at Aggie’s place seemed anxious to hound the Sheriff and his deputies. Megan’s voice greeted him before he could shut the door behind him. “Got a call from Judge Vernelli about Aggie and her stalker-in-law.”
“Good one. What’d he want?”
“Agreement that the order should still stand and for all of them.”
William frowned. “There was doubt?”
“She let it lapse.”
There was no arguing with that. It did look bad. “What’d you say?”
“I reminded him that she hadn’t had the kids for a full year yet and without seeing the woman or having trouble with her thanks to the restraining order, it was probably the last thing on her mind what with educating them, planning a wedding, and feeding everyone. I also pointed out that with Ellie being missing, things could get very ugly with the woman and we don’t have the resources to search for a kid and fend off a dragon.”
“You’ve got spunk; I’ll give you that,” William said, shaking his head.
“Hey, it worked. She should be served before nightfall.”
“Good.” William glanced at the stack of papers on his desk. “Financials?”
“Yep. She goes every winter just like you asked.”
Dejected, he sat down and began reading. Just as everyone else had surmised, every year’s expenses seemed a carbon copy of the previous year’s. There was something horribly predictable about it until he realized that the same could be said of his. “Remind me to tell Tina I need more spontaneity,” he muttered to himself.
“What?”
William’s head jerked up. “Did you say something?”
“No, you did. Something about spontaneous.”
“Oh, nothing. I just noticed that everything seems terribly predictable here—nothing spontaneous about this trip. She goes every year. She does the same things in every month of—” He flipped the papers back, circling hotel dates on each year’s pages.
“What is it?”
“She went in January this year.”
“So.”
“So, she usually goes in early to mid-February. Look!”
Megan obliged by getting up to see his stunning discovery, but she seemed skeptical. “Ok, the woman doesn’t think she’ll feel much like a vacation the week of the first anniversary of her son’s death. Can you blame her?”
He dropped the sheets, frustrated. “I can’t shake the feeling that she’s involved. It makes no sense, everything points to something else, but…”
“I know. It was my first thought. I can’t shake it either, but I think that’s why. It’s logical and as the first thought, it’s had more time to grow.”
“I suppose.” William stared at the papers in front of him. “Do the Stuarts own a plane?”
“What! What would it matter? The guy who took Ellie was a man—not an elderly woman!”
“True. She could have hired him…”
“You’re reaching, Markenson. Why don’t you comb through the pile of tips we got today. The phone has been ringing off the hook, so John’s forwarding tips to the FBI and calls to us.”
“Any 9-1-1 calls?”
Megan shook her head as she grabbed her jacket from its peg. “Nope. Ian’s been a good baby. I’m going to get pizza. Want some?”
“Yeah. Get me a salad too, will you? I need something green.”
The door banged shut, but William hardly noticed. His mind was already on the tips. Setting aside the financial records, he pulled out the folder of tips they’d received. Most were obviously worthless. People who saw a blue truck in a parking lot, in front of a house, or driving down the freeway—all too old, young, light, or dark to be the one that took Ellie. One woman was convinced that Ellie was living next door—had been for six weeks.
William found it nearly impossible to concentrate on them. He checked item after item off the lists, with only one in twenty being the remotest possibility. Those he left alone. They’d get around to those tips eventually. The idea of an airplane interjected itself into nearly every tip until he thought he’d go crazy. It was a ridiculous idea. She’d still have to show and have her passport stamped, even from a small private plane. A smaller airport, however…
Frustrated, he jerked open his notebook and flipped to the page with the phone number of Geraldine’s hotel. He’d ask if they’d seen her every day. It wasn’t a solid alibi, but flying back and forth to Rockland in a day would mean she likely wouldn’t have been seen. He needed that assurance in order to concentrate on something that might actually help.
Getting a manager at the hotel was more difficult than he’d imagined. At last, a woman with a cultured tone of voice came on the line and asked if she could be of assistance. That she spoke English was a relief after Geraldine’s stressing of Dutch in her tour-guide description. “I need information about a guest of yours—she checked out early this morning—Geraldine Stuart?”
The woman seemed hesitant to divulge any information, but upon learning that he was using it to establish her whereabouts in connection to the kidnapping of a child, the hotel manager became eager to help. While she researched hotel charges for room service, and other amenities, he listened to her question several employees about having seen her on each of the days. From his end, it seemed as if she made herself as memorable as ever.
“Well, thank you for your help.” It hadn’t been helpful at doing anything but clearing the woman, but that wasn’t the manager’s fault. “I suppose you’ll see her next February, unless she decides that January is her new favorite time of the year.”
The woman in Curacao chattered about Geraldine Stuart’s plans, and William’s eyes grew wide, his pen scratching information as quickly as he could get it onto the paper. “Thank you again. You’ve been a great help.”
Megan stepped into the station in time to see him drop the phone in its cradle and stab the paper on his desk with his pen. “Gotcha.”
“Got what?”
“Geraldine Stuart had her trip scheduled for February eighth through the twentieth. She resched
uled this on the ninth.”
“Of this month? Why is that date familiar?”
William grinned. “That is the date that the restraining order expired.”
Aggie says: Are you there?
Milliken says: Yes.
Aggie says: Mom?
Milliken says: No, it’s Dad. Mom’s sleeping. I had to give her a sedative. She’s a bit overwrought.
Milliken says: Any news?
Aggie says: Maybe. William is sure it’s Geraldine Stuart.
Milliken says: But you said the guy looked like Luke.
Aggie says: Something about hiring someone… he’s plowing through financials looking for any regular withdrawals in the past year—particularly since the restraining order.
Milliken says: Well, as much as I’d like it to be her at this point, it seems a bit far-fetched.
Aggie says: He seems to have some kind of support, but he’s not telling me what.
Aggie says: Dad, the kids are falling apart. Tavish is scaring me, Vannie takes it all very personally, and the little girls are convinced that the TV crew will be taking them next. Cari even blames herself.
Milliken says: Cari blames herself?
Aggie says: Yep. She says if she wasn’t so “bad” that Ellie would be here. I know, it makes no sense, but to her it does.
Milliken says: That’s endearing in a sad little way.
Aggie says: Kenzie informed her that everything isn’t about her. According to Laird, she (Kenzie) was quoting him.
Milliken: We need to come, don’t we.
Aggie says: If we don’t find her tomorrow or the next day, yes.
Aggie says: I’m sorry, Dad. I’d say come now, but Mom…
Milliken says: We’ll be on our way first thing in the morning.
Aggie says: You don’t think the kids will think that means she’s not coming back, do you?
Milliken says: We’ll cross that bridge when I get there.
Aggie says: I’m sorry. I can’t help but think this was preventable, but with the Luke look-a-like and the same truck… I think it would have happened no matter what we did. Same thing, different place.
Here We Come (Aggie's Inheritance) Page 21
