Vanished

by Danielle Steel

  It was the following day when Thomas Armour, the attorney for the defense, arrived, shortly after noon. He had called and asked to see her earlier that morning. She had called John and asked him if it was something she wasn't supposed to do, and he told her honestly that he thought it unwise, but it was not illegal. But she was curious about the man, and she wanted a little warning of what she would be facing.

  Malcolm had gone to Boston for a few days, and she was alone when she met him. She was wearing a black dress, which was all she seemed to wear these days, as though she were already in some kind of mourning. He was wearing a dark blue suit, and he had dark blond hair which must have been even lighter in his childhood. He had warm brown eyes that, at first, seemed very gentle. But his tone was not gentle when he spoke to her. He was polite and firm, and he didn't pull any punches. And his eyes seemed to bore into her, looking for answers.

  Haverford brought him into the library, and after the initial niceties, he looked her straight in the eye and asked her a very pointed question. “I'd like to have some idea, before the trial, of what you're going to say about my client.” He hadn't wanted the case, he had expected Charles to be a spoiled brat at first. But he'd grown to like him and now that he'd taken it all his loyalties were with Charles Delauney.

  “What exactly do you mean, Mr. Armour?” She knew from the newspapers that he had gone to Harvard, was the youngest partner of a very important firm, and was somewhere in his late thirties. Charles had hired the best, and he had every right to. But more than just his reputation, there was something very quiet and compelling about Tom Armour. He was handsome but it wasn't something Marielle noticed about him. She was more impressed by the intelligence in his face and an aura of determination.

  “Mr. Delauney gave me some idea of what happened …several years ago. I think we both know of what I'm speaking.” He meant when Andre died, but she appreciated the fact that he didn't just say it. “He admits that he behaved abominably, and that his behavior could be badly misconstrued now. You're the only person now who can testify as to exactly what he did, and why. Just how exactly do you view it?”

  “I think he went mad with grief. So did I. We both did foolish things. It was a long time ago.” She looked sad as she thought of it, and he watched her. She was a beautiful woman, but he thought she had the saddest eyes he'd ever seen, and she intrigued him. It had been clear to him all along that Charles Delauney was still in love with her, and he wondered just how much his sentiments were reciprocated, but Delauney had insisted ardently that they hadn't been involved before the kidnapping. In fact, because of Malcolm, she had refused to see him. Tom Armour was mildly impressed by that, but it was going to take a lot more than that to seriously impress him.

  “Do you think my client is a dangerous man?” That was a loaded question, and she thought about it for a long time.

  “No. I think he's foolish. Impetuous. Even stupid sometimes.” She smiled but Tom Armour did not smile back. “But I don't think he's dangerous.”

  “Do you think he took your child?”

  She hesitated for a long, long time, trying to be truthful. “I don't know.” She looked him squarely in the eye, and she liked what she saw there. He looked like an honest man, someone you could trust. And had she met him in other circumstances, she knew that she would have liked him. And she thought that Charles was very lucky to have him as an attorney. “I don't know. I think he did. The evidence was there. But when I think of him, as he was … as I knew him … I don't see how he could do it.”

  “Do you think that if he took your child, he would harm him?”

  “Somehow …” She thought about it and then looked at him again. “…Somehow I just can't let myself believe that.” Because if she did … it would destroy her.

  “Why do you think he might have taken him? Out of revenge for the child you lost? Anger at you because you wouldn't see him? …because he still loves you?”

  “I'm not sure.” She wished herself that she had the answers.

  “Do you think someone could have framed him?” It was what Charles had insisted to him from the beginning. And Tom Armour had finally come to believe it.

  “Possibly. But who? And how would he have gotten Teddy's pajamas and bear, if he'd never had him?” The defense had thought of that too, and they were difficult questions to answer, unless the people who had actually taken the child had framed Charles, but that was a long shot. And how would they even know him? It was the weakest spot in their case. But the strongest one was that the child's mother herself wasn't totally convinced that Charles Delauney would do it. Armour had a feeling she could be swayed either way, which was dangerous for Charles.

  He asked her a few more questions then, made a few notes, and thanked her for her time, as he snapped shut his briefcase. And as she stood up, she looked at him, and decided to be honest.

  “I was told that I shouldn't speak to you today. That it was 'unwise, but not illegal.'” She quoted John, and she knew that Malcolm and the U.S. Attorney would have been livid.

  “Then why did you?” He was fascinated by her, not by her looks as much as her quiet ways, and her inner peace. This did not appear to be a woman who had ever been in a mental hospital or gone crazy. Maybe she had just given up and wanted to die, as Charles had explained. But now she was definitely back again, and beneath the cool surface, there was a lot of fire, and a sharp brain. He had enjoyed talking to her.

  “Mr. Armour, all I want is the truth. That's all I want. Even more than justice. If Teddy is dead, I want to know it …and yes, I want to know who killed him, and why …but if he's alive, I want him found. … I just want to know where he is, so he can come home.”

  Tom Armour nodded. He understood. And for his own reasons, he wanted that too. “I hope we find out, Mrs. Patterson … for his sake as much as yours …and Mr. Delauney's.”

  “Thank you.”

  Haverford saw him out, and Marielle watched as he went down the stairs. He looked like a man who was in control of everything he touched. And she envied him his confidence. But beneath the confident air, she had sensed something more. Something warm and strong and very caring. And as she walked back to the library, she realized again how fortunate Charles was to have him as an attorney.

  The trial opened on a bleak wintry afternoon in March, with a bitter wind and a chill rain that went right to the bone, as the jurors, the public, and the press filed into the courtroom. It was the same week that Hitler swept into Prague, and announced to the world that Czechoslovakia was his now. But even Malcolm was less concerned with world news than usual. All they could think of was The U.S. v. Charles Delauney.

  The trial was being held at the U.S. District Courthouse and at exactly one o'clock, Malcolm and Marielle arrived in the Pierce-Arrow limousine, driven by two policemen and accompanied by four FBI men, among them John Taylor. He was glad he could be there to give her strength. She felt his presence close to her, and it made her feel braver. Malcolm had said not a single word to her since they left the house. His silent accusations had begun to wear her down in the past months. She looked as gray as her dress when they got out of the car, and Malcolm assisted her silently up the steps of the courthouse. She was wearing a pale gray coat and matching hat, and the wind nearly swept it off, just as the press descended on them in a wave, and the FBI men had to fight to make a path for them. And as they entered the courtroom, Marielle realized again how painful this was all going to be, and how pointless. At the end of it, they would not get Teddy back. What purpose did it serve? He was gone, and after three months their hopes of having him returned alive had grown dim now. All this was was an exercise in accusation.

  The Pattersons took their seats in the front row behind the U.S. Attorney. John Taylor sat next to Marielle, and one of his assistants was next to Malcolm. There were two more FBI men just behind them, and two uniformed policemen on either side of them, and just ahead, so they were surrounded by more than adequate protection. And Brigitte was alre
ady in the courtroom waiting for them when they arrived. She glanced warmly at Marielle, and nodded politely at Malcolm. A few moments later the bailiff appeared and demanded that all rise as the judge entered in his black robes, and gazed around the courtroom. He was a tall man with a rugged face, and a shock of white hair, not unlike Malcolm's. In fact, the two men were vague friends, but he was known to be a harsh judge, and Malcolm had made no objection when he'd been selected.

  Judge Abraham Morrison took his seat, and scowled at everyone as he looked around his courtroom. There was a long silence and people began to squirm in their seats, particularly the press, whom he seemed to scrutinize, and then the jurors, the Pattersons, the defendant, and the attorneys.

  “My name is Abraham Morrison.” His words rang out sonorously. “And I'm not going to tolerate any nonsense in this courtroom. If anyone here misbehaves, I'm going to throw you out of here so fast your head will spin. Any contempt of court, I'll put you in jail. Any press gets out of hand, you're banned from here, for good. Anyone attempt to coerce a juror, unduly influence a juror, or even talk to a juror, I'll prosecute. Is that clear to everyone in this room?” There were nodding heads and a murmur of voices. “We're here for a serious matter. A capital offense. A man's life is at stake, and a child's life may have been taken. These are not matters I take lightly.” He looked straight at the press section then. “And if you hound anyone here, either the jurors, the defendant, or the witnesses,” he looked pointedly at the Pattersons, “you'll be out the door faster than my bailiff can throw you. Does everyone understand the rules here?” There was a long silence as everyone sat in awe of him. “Do you?” His voice boomed again, and there was a chorus of “Yes, sirs.” “Good. Then maybe we can get started. I won't tolerate a circus in my court. Let's get that clear right from the beginning.” More nodded heads, and he put on his glasses and carefully perused some papers. Marielle looked over at the defendant's table then, and she noticed that Charles was looking thinner and pale, and the hair at his temples seemed to have become grayer than when she last saw him. He was wearing a dark blue suit, a white shirt and dark tie, and he looked more respectable than most people in the room, but that wasn't the issue. Tom Armour looked extremely serious too, in a pin-striped suit with a vest. And he seemed suddenly younger than he had when she had seen him in her own home. She had never told Malcolm about the meeting.

  Judge Morrison looked back up at the courtroom again, and his gaze swept the room. “I think we all know why we're here today. This is a kidnapping case. The kidnapping of Theodore Whitman Patterson, a four-year-old boy. His parents are here today.” He waved vaguely in the direction of Marielle and Malcolm, and she could feel her heart pound. It was difficult to believe that, after three months of constant press, there was a person alive who didn't know who they were, but it was as though Judge Morrison wanted to introduce them. He liked a great deal of decorum and respect, but he also liked a personal touch in his courtroom.

  “The defendant is a man named Charles Delauney. And the theory, ladies and gentlemen, and I am addressing prospective jurors here, is that Mr. Delauney is innocent until proven guilty. The burden of proof is on the prosecution. The prosecutor, Mr. William Palmer,” he waved at him then, “must convince you, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Mr. Delauney is guilty. It is then up to Mr. Armour,' he waved at Tom, “to convince you that he is not guilty. If Mr. Palmer does not make a convincing case, if you are unconvinced, if you do not believe beyond a reasonable doubt that Mr. Delauney kidnapped this child, then you must acquit him. You must listen very carefully, and you must take your responsibility seriously. And I will tell you now that I am going to sequester this jury. You will be put up in a hotel, at the government's expense, for the duration of this trial. And you will not be able to speak to anyone except your fellow jurors. You cannot call your children, chat with your husband, visit with a friend, go out to a movie. You must stay with the other jurors, in the hotel, until your duty is done, without prejudice or distraction. The press won't make that easy for you, newspapers, radio, it's all very tempting, and very confusing. But you must make every effort to keep yourself pure of all that until this is over. And if there is anyone here to whom being sequestered would present an undue hardship for the next several weeks, for reasons of health or family responsibility, please speak up when your name is called. We are going to need twelve jurors and two alternates. And ladies and gentlemen, we thank you for your assistance.” He turned to the bailiff then and told him to call the names of the prospective jurors.

  The first woman was so frightened she almost tripped on the way to her seat, and she was shaking so hard Marielle could see it as she watched her.

  The second juror was a woman too, an elderly black woman who had a hard time getting to her seat, she was so old and crippled. Then there were two men, both middle-aged, and a man about forty with one leg, a Chinese girl with incredibly long hair in braids, a good-looking young black man, two pretty young girls, and a middle-aged woman who kept staring at Malcolm and Marielle, two more men, and then two nondescript-looking women as alternates.

  And as soon as they were seated, Judge Morrison introduced the attorney for the United States government, William Palmer, to the room. He turned, looked around the courtroom, and then turned again to smile at the jury. “Hello, my name is William Palmer. I am the attorney for the United States government in this case, and I am here to represent the People. I represent you in this case, and I will need your help to convict this man,” he waved vaguely at Charles, “whom we believe kidnapped a four-year-old boy, Teddy Patterson, twelve days before Christmas.” As though that somehow made it worse, but actually it had, for his parents. “If any of you know this man, or me, or the defendant's attorney, Mr. Armour, or the judge, or anyone associated with us, you must speak up now, or it will prejudice the case, and you will be excused. Just tell the judge, when he calls on you and asks your name and occupation.” He then sat down abruptly and Tom Armour stood up and introduced himself, and Marielle saw immediately that he had a far more winning way with the jury. He didn't talk down to them the way Bill Palmer had, and his manner was smooth, instead of grating, like the U.S. Attorney's. He explained that the case against Mr. Delauney was purely circumstantial, and there were two objects which connected his client to the case, but there was no proof that he had actually kidnapped the child, or had anything to do with it at all. And as he spoke, Marielle saw that several of the jurors nodded. He sat down again then, after thanking them for their help, with a warm smile that made the two young girls giggle, and the judge frowned as he watched them.

  “May I remind you, ladies,” he barked down at them, “this is not a social event, or an amusing matter. Now,” he looked over the rest of them, “does anyone here have a health problem that would hinder them from being sequestered?” The elderly black woman held up a hand, and Morrison looked down at her with a warm smile. “Yes? Your name please, ma'am?”

  “Ruby Freeman.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Freeman?”

  “It's my legs. I got terrible arthritis. It hurts me all the time.” She looked up at him sadly.

  “I can see that.” He nodded sympathetically.

  “Some nights, I can't hardly move. And my daughter … she takes care of me. … I help watch her baby while she works.” The woman started to cry as she said it …”If I don't go home to her …she can't go to work … we won't eat …her husband was killed at the factory where he worked …” The saga of despair seemed to go on forever.

  “We understand. Perhaps your daughter could find someone else to help her for a short time. But Mrs. Freeman, do you feel you might be in too much pain to do the trial justice?”

  “I think so, Your Honor. You don't know what a terrible suffering arthritis is until you have it. I'm eighty-two years old, and I've had it for twenty years, and it's almost killed me.”

  “I'm very sorry to hear that. And you may be excused. Thank you for coming here today,” he said courteously. No
one else raised their hand, so he continued. But the first juror was so nervous, she asked to be excused too. She said she had gallstones and her English wasn't so good, and her husband was very sick, and he needed her. She and her husband were citizens, but they were both German. And before she could tell him any more, Judge Morrison excused her. The Chinese girl with the braids spoke no English at all, and she was excused too. And the two young girls giggled through most of it, and the judge admonished them again. But then Bill Palmer stood up and began questioning the jurors, and after him Tom, and very quickly, the jurors began falling by the wayside.

  The two middle-aged men were both businessmen and they stayed. Both were married and had grandchildren of roughly the same age as Teddy. The man with only one leg said he was forty-two, had lost his leg in the Great War, and he sold insurance now for Travelers Insurance. The young black man worked for the post office in the day, and played trombone at Small's Paradise at night, and said he didn't have time to get married, and everyone laughed. And the two young girls were excused because the judge said they couldn't behave. Both were twenty-two, neither one was married and they seemed to think it was a game, and their removal served as a warning to the others. The middle-aged woman who kept staring at Malcolm and Marielle was a secretary and had never been married either. She lived in Queens, and it was impossible to read if she was sympathetic to Charles or not. All she could seem to do was stare at the Pattersons, and once the judge had to remind her to keep her attention on the proceedings. As a result, the defense excused her in the end, as well as the two men who'd come after her. But both sides kept the two alternate women. Which left them eight seats to fill, and it took the next four days to fill them. And in the end, it was a very interestingly mixed jury. The two middle-aged men with young grandchildren were still on, although Marielle had been sure that Tom would want to get rid of them, because they might be too sympathetic to the prosecution. It had become fascinating to second-guess the attorneys. And had it been a trial about anything else, it might actually have intrigued her. Both the veteran with one leg, and the young black musician were kept on. And the last man was of Chinese origin and a professor of economics at Columbia University. The rest of the jurors, as well as the two alternates, were all women.