by Diane Hoh
“What does he want from me?” she cried in frustration born of fear and confusion. “It can’t be the kidnapper. He couldn’t be running around watching me, torturing me. He has to stay with Mindy. Where would she be while he was at the day care center and the barn and at the top of the stairs in this house? She’s only three years old. He couldn’t be leaving her alone all this time.”
“If he drugged her, he could,” the older policeman said.
Nora gazed at him in alarm. “Drugged?”
“Wouldn’t take much, a little kid like that. Kidnappers sometimes use sedatives to keep the kids quiet. Trouble is, they don’t always know how much of a sedative is safe for a little kid. Sometimes …”
Reardon interrupted hastily. “He could just have her locked in a room somewhere that he knows she can’t get out of. In an empty building somewhere, maybe. That way, he’d feel free to leave, knowing there wasn’t anyone to hear her if she yelled.”
“Yeah, could be.”
But Nora saw the look that passed among the other two officers, and an icy finger touched her spine. They hadn’t accepted Reardon’s explanation. Which meant that they had a different one …
She didn’t want to hear what that was.
Reardon called headquarters then, and got an okay to stay at Nightingale Hall with Nora, and the other officers left.
The two sat on the bottom step, Nora cradling the stuffed animals in her arms. “You don’t think she’s dead, do you?” she couldn’t help asking when they were alone.
He didn’t hesitate even for a second. “Nope. Not for a minute. I think she’s just fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”
Nora reached behind her to gently touch her bruised, scraped backbone. It hurt. “Me? I’m not the one who was kidnapped.”
“No, but you’re the one someone is making a target.” Reardon swiveled on the step to face her. “Got any idea why?”
“I thought at first that it was someone who thinks I took Mindy. But I guess that doesn’t make any sense. Because fracturing my skull with a swing or stabbing me with a pitchfork or sending me flying down a flight of stairs is a pretty stupid way to find out where I’ve hidden Mindy. I mean you were right about Harry here,” gesturing with the stuffed hippo. “If I hadn’t landed on him, I think I would have split my skull open.” Nora forced a brief laugh. “Which means that I wouldn’t even have been able to say my own name, never mind confessing where I had hidden my victim. Makes no sense at all. But if it’s not someone trying to get a confession out of me, then I don’t know who it could be.”
“Anyone at the day care center jealous of you?”
The question surprised Nora. “Jealous? Why would someone be jealous of me?”
“Oh, gee, I don’t know, Nora,” Reardon said sarcastically. “Could it be because you’re very easy to look at, the brain you almost splintered a few minutes ago seems to be a pretty good one, and you must be a pretty terrific person or that little three-year-old wouldn’t have let you get so close to her. Three-year-olds are very fussy about who they associate with. I know because I have two nieces. One is three and one is five. The five-year-old is pretty friendly, but the little one spends a lot of time sizing people up before she gives them so much as a smile.”
“If that’s true,” Nora said thoughtfully, ignoring the compliments paid her, “that just reinforces my theory that Mindy wouldn’t have left her backyard with anyone she didn’t know well.”
Reardon sighed in mock exasperation. “I keep trying to talk about you, and the danger you’re in here, and you keep changing the subject back to Mindy Donner. Look, I’m concerned about her, too, but she’s got plenty of people concentrating on her. You, on the other hand, only have me, so far, so you ought to be paying attention to what I’m saying here. There isn’t someone at the center who resented you, for whatever reason?”
Nora thought of Marjorie Dumas. There had been times at the center when Marjorie had become really incensed because Nora was occupying Mindy’s time. She had once called Nora “selfish” in front of everyone, accusing her heatedly of “monopolizing” Mindy.
Childish. Childish and silly. But Marjorie had meant her words.
Nora debated silently. Should she tell Reardon about Marjorie’s resentment? She didn’t want to get an innocent person in trouble, especially now that she knew how horrible it was to be suspected of something you hadn’t done.
But Mindy might have gone with Marjorie. She might have. She trusted everyone at the center, even Marjorie.
No. It wasn’t Marjorie. She loved Mindy. She would never have taken the little girl away from her home and family.
But … if she thought that Nora had, she might have decided to carry out her own brand of justice. She was certainly big enough and strong enough to heave a wooden swing, toss a pitchfork, and placing a child’s roller skate on a stair for Nora to trip over might appeal to her bizarre sense of humor. She had once, after being reprimanded by Helen for tardiness, tacked a large, crude drawing of the director on a tree on the commons and tossed stones at it until the drawing was thoroughly pock-marked with small holes and dents. She had chuckled with relish the whole time she was pitching rocks at Helen’s likeness.
Marjorie might very well chuckle at the sight of Nora Mulgrew taking a header down a flight of stairs. And she didn’t strike Nora as being all that bright. It might not occur to her that if she caused too much damage, Nora would never be able to reveal where she had hidden Mindy.
“Well, there is this one girl,” she began reluctantly, but before she could finish, the phone rang. Relieved, because she really loathed the idea of implicating someone without proof, Nora stood up and walked stiffly to the phone.
“Where are you hiding her?” a heated, angry voice demanded. “What have you done with that little girl? You’re not going to go unpunished, I’ll see to that!”
It wasn’t the same voice that Nora had heard in the earlier phone call. This was deeper, rougher. More threatening, it seemed to her, although she realized that her current state of mind might be making it seem that way.
She clapped a hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s a nasty phone call about Mindy,” she told Reardon in a loud whisper. “I got one before, but this guy sounds really mad.”
Reardon was at her side almost before she stopped speaking. He took the phone from her and barked into it, “This is Officer Jonah Reardon, Twin Falls Police Department. This line is being monitored. If you don’t want to be charged with harassment, I suggest you hang up. And don’t call this number again.”
Nora heard the hasty click. She looked at Reardon with undisguised admiration. “Whoa! Not bad. Could you teach me how to get that don’t-mess-around-with-me tone of voice? It’s pretty impressive.”
He didn’t laugh. “How many calls like that have you had? And why didn’t you report them? Or at least tell me?”
“This was only the second one.” Nora replaced the telephone and returned to the stair step. “And why would I report it? The person on the phone was only saying what everyone else is thinking.”
“Did he threaten you?” He didn’t join her on the step, but leaned against the wooden railing, looking down at her.
“I guess so. He said I wouldn’t go unpunished, or something like that.” She shrugged. “Maybe that’s why the roller skate was on the stair. A broken neck or back certainly seems like punishment to me.”
Reardon shook his head in doubt. “If this guy who just called had put the skate there, he’d have been surprised that you were able to answer the phone. Was he?”
“I was the only one surprised,” Nora answered grimly.
“Then it wasn’t him. Someone else put the skate there. And this was just a crank call.”
Nora wanted to believe him. If only because the thought of more than one person being violently angry with her was just too much. But the guy hadn’t sounded all that harmless. And now he’d be doubly mad at her because a policeman had threatened him on her behalf.
The sun continued to stream in through the door window, but the air in the foyer was cool as the pair fell silent, lost in thought.
The sound of tires crunching on the gravel driveway brought their heads up. Car doors slammed, feet ran up the steps, the front door opened.
Amy stood there, her face alight. “They’ve found her!” she cried, a broad smile on her tanned, oval face. “They know where Mindy is!”
Chapter 15
WHEN AMY SHOUTED, “THEY’VE found her!” Nora forgot all about her fall down the stairs, the taunting voice, the roller skate. As she stood up, all of her thoughts went to Mindy.
“Found her? Where? Is she okay? She’s not hurt, is she?”
“Don’t know,” Amy answered. “We were searching the area near the campus tower when Marjorie Dumas ran up and said the police had received a phone tip that the missing child was in a house on Fourth Street in Twin Falls. They’re on their way there now.”
Nora whirled, faced Reardon. “You can find out which house,” she said urgently. “Call in on your radio and ask, okay? I want to go down there.”
He shook his head. “No way. You’re not going near that place. If the kidnapper’s there, all hell could break loose. If he’s the one targeting you, he could go for your throat the minute he sees you.”
“I don’t care. I want to be there when they find her. She’ll be scared by all those cops. She’ll need to see a friendly face.”
“I’ll go,” Amy volunteered. “She knows me, Nora. And I was part of the search party, so no one will be surprised that I know where the house is. But you weren’t. If you show up down there before the address is released to the public, everyone will think you knew all along where Mindy was. Because you put her there. Or helped someone else do it.”
“Mindy will tell them it wasn’t me.”
“If she saw the kidnapper’s face,” Reardon said. “What if she didn’t? Most kidnappers who don’t intend to kill …” Seeing the look on her face, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Who intend to let their victims go eventually, disguise themselves so they can’t be identified. He probably disguised his voice, too. Anyway, she’s only three, Nora. How good can she be at distinguishing one voice from another?”
“He’s right,” Amy agreed, nodding.
Nora’s heart sank. She had been counting on Mindy to clear her, when the little girl was found. Was Reardon right? Would Mindy not be able to say for certain that her captor hadn’t been Nora Mulgrew?
She didn’t think the police still considered her a suspect, not after everything that had happened. But the whole town and everyone on campus probably still did. If Mindy was alone in the house, with no sign of the kidnapper, Mindy’s father would be bitterly disappointed that the criminal responsible for his daughter’s disappearance hadn’t been apprehended. So if Nora showed up on the scene, he might turn on her again, in front of a crowd of people.
She couldn’t deal with that. Not now. She was still too shaky from the voice at the top of the stairs, and her fall.
“Okay,” she said, sighing in defeat. “You’re right. I’ll stay here. But you call me the very second that Mindy is safe, Amy. Promise!”
“I promise.”
Reardon pursed his lips in concentration. “You can’t stay here alone,” he said to Nora. “When is your housemother due back?”
“I’m not sure. Sometimes she spends Sunday with friends. She could be gone all day.”
“You could go to the day care center,” Amy suggested. “We’re all meeting back there to celebrate. You could wait for us there.”
Nora remembered the painful thwack of the swing against her temple, and winced. “I don’t think so. Actually, I think I’m safer here right now than anywhere else.” Turning to Reardon, she clarified, “The house and the barn and garage have all been searched, right? And you didn’t find anything, did you?”
“No. No sign of anyone and no recording device, either. But I know it’s here. I’m sure that’s what it was.” He moved to the telephone to call headquarters.
“Then I’ll stay here,” Nora told Amy. “I’ll lock the doors and I’ll wait for all of you here. If the kidnapper is caught at that house, you can pick me up on your way back to the day care center and I’ll celebrate with you. This horrible nightmare will be over and I’ll be able to relax like everyone else.”
“And if he’s not caught?” Amy asked quietly. “If he’s not there, at the house with Mindy?”
“He will be,” Reardon answered, replacing the telephone. “And even if he isn’t, at least Nora’s not a suspect anymore. Captain Dwyer says it’s too obvious that someone is trying to implicate her. Exactly what I’ve been saying all along. And she’s been attacked too many times. Don’t know what that’s all about, but it puts her out of the running as a suspect.”
“Well, that’s great!” Amy said heartily. “I’ll spread the word. Not that any of us ever thought she was involved.”
“Actually,” Reardon said, his voice uneasy, “you can’t do that, Amy. Dwyer says if the kidnapper isn’t at the Fourth Street house, Nora is our best bet to catch the guy.” He glanced apologetically at Nora. “Not that we’d ever let anything happen to you.”
“Something already did,” Nora said quietly. “Several somethings.”
“My fault. I should have stayed with you while the other guys searched the property. And I’m not going to make the same mistake again. I’m staying here with you. Amy, you and the others go ahead, okay? Just call us and tell us what happened.”
Nora heard the regret in his voice. Jonah Reardon was a cop. He’d been involved with the effort to find Mindy Donner from the beginning. He wanted to be there for the happy conclusion, and Nora didn’t blame him. He should be there.
“Thanks, that’s really nice of you,” she told him. “But the truth is, I feel another migraine coming on.” There was no migraine, but her head did hurt. Not such a big lie, and it was for a good reason, wasn’t it? “Not only can you not do anything to help, but if you’re here, moving around the house, making even the tiniest bit of noise, it’ll make me scream. If you so much as turn on a faucet to get a drink, my head will feel like it’s going to explode. An empty, totally silent house is the best treatment for a migraine. And like I said, there’s no one here, nothing here to hurt me. You and the other officers made sure of that.”
“I’m not going,” he said stubbornly.
“Yeah, you are. I need you out of here.” She could see by the expression on his face that he wasn’t giving in. So she took a deep breath and added casually, “Anyway, it’s not like it’s done me so much good having you around in the past, right?”
Amy gasped, and Reardon’s handsome face flushed scarlet. “You don’t think I can hack it here?” he asked stiffly.
She couldn’t back down now. He deserved to be at that house on Fourth Street when Mindy was found. Besides, it wasn’t as if she was being noble or anything. They had searched the property. If she thought evil was lurking somewhere in the shadows, she’d never have urged him to go, not even if he begged.
“But …” Reardon began.
Nora waved a hand in dismissal. “Just go, okay? I’ll be fine. All I need to do is go to bed. Amy, call me! The minute Mindy is safe. Migraine or no migraine, I want that phone call! Don’t wait until you get back here to let me in on the good news.”
Amy nodded. “I won’t. You’ll know a second after we know, I promise.”
She left.
Reardon hesitated, then, when Nora gave no hint that she would rather have him stay, he moved toward the door. “Lock this!” he commanded sharply as he pulled it closed. He didn’t look at Nora when he said it and she knew he was deeply hurt.
He’d get over it. Maybe he’d even thank her some day. Maybe not.
She couldn’t worry about that now. It would ruin her excitement over Mindy being found. As it was, she was going to have a hard time sitting still until that phone call came.
W
hen she had locked the front door, Nora scooped up the stuffed animals scattered at the foot of the stairs. If the kidnapper was caught, Professor Donner would apologize to her for his accusations, and he’d let Mindy have her animals back again. In the meantime, they were in serious need of a bath. It was something to do, something to keep her busy until she heard the jangle of a telephone ringing.
Keeping busy would make the time go faster. She’d wash the animals out by hand and dry them on the clothesline near the barn, where the sun would dry them quickly. When she returned them to Mindy, they’d smell fresh and clean.
She was up to her elbows in suds, standing at the kitchen sink gazing out the window overlooking the sunny, wooded back yard, when a memory hit her that was so clear and vivid, it took her breath away.
A woman … tall, pretty, pale, curly hair like Nora’s … her mother again … was standing at a kitchen sink just like this one, looking out a similar window into a somewhat larger, more level back lawn. She was crying. Crying hard, almost sobbing, not even bothering to wipe the tears from her face. Crying in what seemed to Nora like hopeless despair.
A small child stood at her side, tugging on her arm. “Mommy, mommy,” the child whispered anxiously, “what’s wrong? Why are you crying? Was I bad?”
“Nell,” the woman sobbed, ignoring the child tugging on her arm, “oh, Nell, I miss you!”
The memory disappeared then, as if someone had switched off a television program Nora was watching.
She leaned against the sink, thoroughly shaken. The images had been so clear. She remembered different details. A stained-glass bird in brilliant blues and green had hung in the kitchen window, its colors made even more vibrant by the sun’s rays. A red-checked apron tied around the woman’s waist, over her jeans. A blue plastic dishpan sitting in the sink, overflowing with foamy suds. A heavy wooden playscape in the yard outside the window, the empty swings stirred gently by a light breeze.
