by Diane Hoh
You’re making a terrible mistake, her brain said as she turned away from the phone. You’re not a cop. And there’s one right outside. What’s the matter with you? Why aren’t you calling him?
Because both Reardon and Mindy could end up getting killed! Nora shouted silently. Not to mention me. Can’t you see that?
You’re crazy, her brain replied.
“Right,” she muttered, and ran to the back of the house and out the door.
Chapter 20
MINDY BONNER’S KIDNAPPER STOOD in the bathroom doorway, leaning casually against the frame, and said, “I want you to stay in here for a while. Since you’re busy anyway, that shouldn’t be a problem. We’re about to have company.”
The little girl, her arms covered with suds, her hands diligently scrubbing away with an old, thin, yellow washcloth, looked up with interest. “I like comp’ny. Why can’t I come out?” Her lower lip thrust forward. “My daddy lets me see comp’ny. He even lets me stay up late when comp’ny comes.”
“I’m not your daddy. You stay here. I’ll call you when you can come out.”
“You’re stinky.”
“Yeah, well, things are tough all over, kid. You haven’t had it so bad, am I right? Anyway, I’m going to lock the door now. You’ll be fine in there. I’ll unlock it in a few minutes, I promise. I have to prepare to greet my guest. But first, there’s something very important I have to do. Be right back. Don’t go away.”
The door closed.
“Stinky!” The little girl went back to scrubbing and wasn’t distracted by the sound of the door closing.
Nora did as she’d been told. She ran into the back yard and headed straight for the woods.
Something stopped her, just for a second. As she left the porch, the clothesline caught her eye. The animals were gone. All of them. Not a single stuffed, crocheted animal remained.
Nora swallowed hard. It was a message, she knew that. She just didn’t know what it meant.
Shaking her head in dismissal, because the missing animals didn’t matter now, she cut through the woods behind Nightingale Hall under a sky rapidly darkening from a combination of nightfall and thick, gray clouds.
But it wasn’t completely dark yet. She could see, and she knew exactly how to get from the back of the house to the back of the garage with the best chance of not being seen by Reardon.
Once there, though, going up the stairs would be another matter. The staircase was at the side of the garage facing the house. She couldn’t be sure if he had a view of those stairs from where he sat. She didn’t think so. The car might be parked too far back. She’d just have to hope, and dart up the stairs as quickly as she could.
Her heart was pounding fiercely in her chest, her head throbbing. This is foolish, this is crazy, she told herself as she pushed through a final clump of underbrush and came out of the woods just a few feet from the garage stairs. I should not be doing this.
But she kept going. Mindy, she thought frantically, Mindy, are you in there?
Glancing quickly to her left, she was relieved to see no sign of Reardon’s car. Nightingale Hall blocked her view of it, and therefore, his view of her.
When she reached the foot of the staircase, the house on her right now, she dared another glance toward where the car was parked. If he saw her heading up the stairs …
All she could see of the car from her vantage point was the front license plate and the right front tire.
Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, Nora started up the stairs.
And stopped.
There was something on the narrow, un-painted wooden steps. Small chunks and wedges of something beige in color, rubbery-looking, scattered randomly, like a trail of bread crumbs leading upward.
Nora bent to pick up one of the larger chunks.
And knew immediately what it was.
Shredded foam rubber. Her mother had stuffed the crocheted animals with it. Nora knew that, because holding the rubbery wedge in her hand brought back a sharp memory of when she’d first been given one of the toys. A fat yellow duck, if she remembered correctly. With typical childish curiosity, she had surreptitiously sliced into its round tummy with a nail file to see what was inside that made it so soft. She had been properly scolded and hadn’t repeated the act on any subsequent gift.
But she remembered the stuffing material well enough now that she was certain the trail of foam rubber was intended as a message for her.
He had taken the animals from the line and destroyed them? And left the evidence on the steps for her to see?
Why?
Nora hesitated at the foot of the stairs. This is crazy, you can’t do this, go back and get Reardon, her brain ordered.
Yes, yes, that was right, that was what she had to do. She’d been foolish to think she could do this by herself. She was not only putting herself in jeopardy, planning to tangle with someone who was clearly dangerous, she could be risking Mindy’s life, too.
Reardon was a police officer. He’d know what to do.
Turning away from the littered staircase, Nora had only taken one step forward when a figure appeared from around the corner of the house, just ahead of where Reardon’s car was parked, and began hurrying toward her.
Twilight had fallen, and with the dark clouds overhead, Nora had trouble seeing clearly. The figure was tall, like Reardon, swathed in a long, full raincoat, and walked with its head down.
Reardon hadn’t been wearing a raincoat. Had he had one in the car?
Nora took another step forward.
“Stay there, Nora!” a voice that wasn’t Reardon’s called out, waving her back to the staircase. “We have to go up there, to the apartment. Mindy’s up there.”
Nora knew the voice. It belonged to Sabra Nicks. And a moment later, she saw that it was indeed Sabra’s face above the collar of the yellow raincoat. Her dark hair blew in the wind as she hurried toward Nora. “Mindy? Up there? Are you serious?”
Sabra nodded. She reached Nora’s side. But the expression on her face wasn’t one of complete joy. “Yes, that’s what I came to tell you. But you’re not going to like it, Nora. I know how much you liked him.”
“Sabra, Mindy can’t be up there,” Nora argued, wishing that were so, but failing to see how it could be. “The police searched that apartment. There wasn’t anyone there.”
“That’s because he hid in the woods. With Mindy. He saw the police at Nightmare Hall and he put Mindy in a laundry bag, tossed her over his shoulder, and walked right out of the apartment. No one saw him, but even if they had, they would have thought you were letting him do his laundry at the house. Because he’s a friend of yours, Nora. Someone you trust. But he’s confessed. He told the police everything.”
“Who?” Nora breathed. She had so few friends. “Who took Mindy?”
“Fitz.”
“No …”
“He did, Nora. I don’t know the whole story yet, only what Reardon told me a few minutes ago, but it’s got something to do with Fitz’s sister dying when he was little. Remember, he told us? Mindy reminded him of the pictures of his sister, and I guess it sent him off the deep end. He never helped with the search, Nora. He just went and signed up and then left, came back here. There were so many people searching, he wasn’t missed. Anyway,” Sabra turned to glance up the stairs, “he told the police that Mindy is here, in this apartment. So, what are we waiting for? Let’s go get her. Man, is she going to be happy to see us!”
“Why isn’t Reardon coming with us?” Nora asked, trying to take in what Sabra had told her.
“He is. But he was on the radio to headquarters when I left. He’ll be right along. Come on, how can you stand to wait another second? Fitz is in jail, Nora, it’s all over. There’s nothing to be afraid of now. No more nasty phone calls, no more ropes around your neck …”
Nora jerked backward, against the wall of the garage. Her spine tingling, she stared at Sabra. Fitz wouldn’t have, she thought, he wouldn’t have. And Sabra hadn’t been wit
h Reardon and Amy when they came back to Nightingale Hall and saw the bruises on her neck. How did she know about the rope?
Fitz wouldn’t have. He adored Mindy.
“I think,” Nora said lightly, willing her voice not to shake, “that I’ll just go get Reardon, okay? We should have a cop with us when we go up there, really.” She took a step forward, would have made an end run around Sabra then, but the taller girl’s eyes narrowed and she moved to block Nora’s exit.
“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” she said smoothly. “You’re not going anywhere except upstairs, to that apartment. Mindy really is up there, Nora, I promise. She’s been there the whole time, except for once or twice when we were forced to leave temporarily.” Her eyes were cold and hard now, filled with hatred, her smile thin and angry.
She reached out, took Nora’s elbow in what proved to be a painfully firm grip, and said, “Now walk! Up the stairs, like a good girl. I’ll be right behind you, little sister, so if you stumble and fall, I can catch you. Isn’t that what big sisters are for?”
She began pushing Nora up the stairs to the apartment.
Chapter 21
“AND DON’T WORRY ABOUT that cute cop who’s been hanging around you,” Sabra added, her fingers tightening on Nora’s elbow. “I took care of him. The police can be such an awful nuisance, can’t they?”
Speechless with confusion created by the hateful look on Sabra’s face and the things she was saying, Nora tried to pull away from the iron like grip. In vain. The fingers maintained their grip.
“You wanted to see Mindy? You shall see Mindy. Right this way, Madam,” Sabra said in an affected voice. “Please accompany me to my temporary residence.” And she whipped a key from her raincoat pocket and opened the apartment door, shoving Nora inside before turning to close and lock the door again. She slid the key into a jeans pocket and moved out into the middle of the room, and began pulling Nora up the staircase.
“Sabra, what’s going on?” Nora asked, staying near the door, her back to it. She glanced anxiously around the one-room apartment. “Where is Mindy? And why isn’t Reardon here yet?”
Sabra smirked. “Supposed to be watching out for you, is he? Then he shouldn’t be so friendly to people he thinks are friends of yours. Rolled that window down easy as pie, he did, when I tapped on the window. Even smiled at me. He really is cute, sister dear. I wouldn’t let that one get away if I were you.” They were at the top of the stairs. Sabra giggled. “Oh, sorry, I forgot. Silly me. You’re not going to be around to pursue a relationship with anyone, little sister.”
“Sabra, what are you doing?” For one confused second, Nora wondered if Sabra thought of them as being in a “sisterhood” of some kind, as if they were members of the same sorority. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
“She is here, you know,” Sabra said, walking over to the far side of the room, turning to lean against a squat, black cookstove. “Mindy. She’s been here the whole time.”
“With you? Not Fitz? You?”
“I never hurt her, Nora. I took good care of her.”
Nora struggled to understand what was going on. Sabra had taken Mindy? Had had her all this time? “When you were telling me what Fitz did … you were talking about you?”
“Yep.” Sabra’s expression changed to one of smugness. “I knew you wouldn’t buy that story about Fitz. You like him too much. But it was worth a shot.”
“Mindy?” Nora called then, glancing around the large, blue-walled room. “Mindy, are you here?” A sofabed, extended fully and made up with rumpled sheets and a blanket, stood against one wall. There was a recliner next to it facing a television set in a squat, dark cabinet, a blue wooden table and two chairs in the kitchen area and other, smaller pieces of furniture scattered about the area. But there was no sign of a little girl with curly hair.
“Norrie? Norrie, this door is locked!”
Nora gasped, her gaze flying to the only door in the room, off to her left. “Mindy, is that you?”
“Norrie, let me out. Saber won’t let me. You do it, Norrie.”
Nora lunged forward, but Sabra shouted,” Stay where you are! In fact, take a seat. We’ll be here a while.”
Nora sat, worried about Mindy’s safety if Sabra became too angry.
“She can stay in there a little while longer. It won’t kill her. Besides, you don’t owe her anything, Nora.” A sly smile crossed her face. “It’s not like you’re related to her. Not like you are to me, sister dearest.”
“Just a minute, honey,” Nora called to Mindy. “I’ll get you out, I promise.” To Sabra, she said, “That’s the third time you’ve called me that. Your sister.” Nora glanced at the bathroom door. The key to it was probably on Sabra’s person somewhere. “We’re not sisters.”
“Oh, but we are.” Contempt filled Sabra’s face. “Oh, jeez, Nora, you’re not going to play the innocent on me, are you? That would just be too disgusting.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m an only child, Sabra. And you said you came from a really big family. I don’t come from a really big family. How could we be sisters?”
“Oh, for crying out loud, I made up that stupid story. I even added a father who drank so that my family life wouldn’t sound too perfect to be true. I couldn’t tell the truth about the way I’d been raised. Everyone would have thought I was really weird. Because it was weird, Nora. Not like the way you were raised, in a nice, big house with two loving, happy parents. And I should have been there, too. I belonged there.” Sabra lifted her head. “My real name, something I just learned recently, is Nell Mulgrew. And I am your sister, older by two years. I was kidnapped when I was five and you were three.”
Nora stared at her, her mouth agape. “That’s crazy! I’d know if I’d had a sister! I would know that, Sabra!”
“You do know it!” Sabra shouted, “You do! You have to. Quit pretending, Nora. You’re not a very good actress.”
“I’m not acting, Sabra. I never had an older sister. Never!” But even as she said it, little bits and pieces of images began to swirl around in Nora’s brain … none of them complete, none of them as vivid as her other, recent memories. She heard a distant, unfamiliar voice, the voice of a child, calling her name, saw herself playing in the bathtub along with the shadowy figure of another child, felt the softness of a pillow whacking her in the head and saw a pair of thin arms opposite her reaching up to throw another pillow. All of it was vague, shadowy, and oddly painful.
“No,” Nora whispered, “no, I’d remember …”
“I’ll prove it to you,” Sabra said hotly. She strode over to the bathroom door, pulled a key from her pocket, and unlocked the door.
Mindy stood behind it, her hair tousled, her chin dotted with suds. She was holding something fat and brown and so heavy with water that she was having trouble handling it.
Sabra snatched the wet thing from Mindy’s arms as the child ran to Nora, and held it up. “Do you see this?” she shouted at Nora. “Do you?”
Nora folded Mindy into her arms, then pulled her up on her lap. “What is it? It’s so wet, I can’t tell what it is.”
Sabra thrust it under her nose. “It’s Barney the bear. Don’t you recognize it? Mama gave it to me, the same time she gave you Harry the hippo. I wanted to trade, because I liked Harry better, but you wouldn’t. Selfish. You were always selfish.”
Nora stared at the thing Sabra was holding in front of her. When she saw the stitching, the crocheted loops, the dark brown fake glass eyes, she realized what she was looking at. Her mind spun, her senses reeled. Barney the bear? Barney the bear?
“Trade with me, Norrie, I’m the oldest, I should get my pick, and I like Harry the hippo the best. Come on, Norrie, don’t be stingy!” The smaller girl clung stubbornly to the fat, gray hippo. The older girl, tall and spindly, with dark hair unlike the mother’s and the other child’s fair, wispy hair, said angrily, “Oh, Norrie, you are the most spoildest sister anyone ever had. I hate you!”
Sabra ran to the kitchen counter and snatched up a sheaf of yellowed newspapers. Brought them back to Nora, shoved them at her. “Here, read! Read, and then tell me I’m not Nell Mulgrew.”
Feeling dizzy, as if the words Sabra had spoken were hammers that had been striking at her skull, Nora read.
When she had finished, her face was completely drained of color. The clippings in her hand shook violently as she tried to regain control of her thoughts and her emotions. But the words she had read had triggered an onslaught of scraps and bits of memory long forgotten.
A girl, wearing a bright red jacket and red rubber boots, playing in the snow behind a huge, white house, laughing, throwing snowballs, teasing, “Norrie, Norrie, you don’t know how to throw at all. Mommy should teach you.”
The same girl, standing at the top of the slide on a summer day yellow and hot with sunshine, calling, “You can’t climb up that way, Norrie, Mommy don’t let us.”
Another day, cold and rainy, sitting on a window seat in the living room while someone read a children’s book in a soft, sweet voice, and an arm not much larger than Nora’s was around her shoulders, warm and friendly. Not her mother’s arm, too small. And a voice saying, “We didn’t like that story, did we, Norrie? You better read us another one, Mommy, one we like better.”
Her mother crying out, “Nell, oh, Nell, I miss you so!”
Nell. Not the grandmother named Nell. The child named Nell.
Nora leaned back in the chair, her head resting against the worn upholstery. “I can’t believe I forgot,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “How could I have forgotten? I remember now, everyone was crying all the time and then they went on television and begged to get their little girl back and it didn’t work, she didn’t come back, and Mama never stopped crying and then she got sick …”
“Do you remember the woman coming out of the woods that winter day when I was only five years old?” Sabra asked harshly. “Do you remember that you didn’t lift a finger to help me as she snatched me up and carried me away? Do you remember that you didn’t call for help or run to get our mother?”
