by Karen Leabo
“A crooked lawyer who’s falsifying legal documents, an anonymous phone call...” Caro added. “Is it enough? If we could definitely tie Beaman or the Krills to Marcy Phelps...”
“It’s enough.”
“In that case...” Caro drew a deep breath. “Is it time to bring in SIU?” The Special Investigations Unit was a group of detectives within CAPERS that specialized in handling high-profile cases—serial killings, police shootings, or any investigation that required lots of manpower and money.
Austin made a face. “Surely you jest.”
“I’m not wild about the idea, but multiple kidnappings and stolen babies and black-market adoptions are right up SIU’s alley.”
“Kidnappings? Maybe those girls disappeared voluntarily. We don’t have any ransom notes, no hard evidence of foul play—”
“What about Amanda’s car?”
“In the letter she explained that she’d abandoned it.”
“Wiped clean of fingerprints? What about the fingernail and the blood?”
“Women break fingernails all the time. And the blood was microscopic. As for the fingerprints, that guy the joyriders saw was probably a car thief who lost his nerve, unconnected to Amanda. The way I see it, someone at the clinic could be influencing these girls, convincing them to go off someplace and have their babies in peace. Nothing illegal about that.”
Caro was disturbed by his attitude. “Austin, you don’t really believe that, do you?”
“No. I’m just trying to show you that we have some leeway as far as handing this over to SIU. We’re making good progress on our own. Why spoil it?”
“We let Travis Beaman get away from us.”
“Then we’ll just have to catch up with the Krills. They know as much as their lawyer.”
“Maybe.”
“Do you want to call in Special Investigations?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t want to screw something up and get Amanda Arkin or Julie Yates killed.”
“Like the SIU has never screwed anything up.”
True enough, Caro conceded silently.
“Let’s see what we can accomplish over the weekend,” Austin said. “Monday we can call a meeting with Chief Raines and let him make the decision.”
“All right,” Caro agreed. If the truth be known, she wasn’t quite ready to let go of this case. And that worried her.
* * *
Since Amanda wasn’t as far along in her pregnancy as most of the girls at the Good Shepherd Home, she’d been drafted along with a couple of others to rake leaves in the front yard. She would have enjoyed the exercise, except for the bitter north wind that had started to blow. The thin jacket Odell had given her offered little protection. She wondered what had happened to the nice winter coat she’d been wearing when she’d been kidnapped.
Henry was watching from the front porch with Phoebe the bloodhound at his side. Amanda could feel his eyes on her. She could sense their predatory gleam; she had deliberately interested him in her as a woman, and he was responding. The prospect of taking her flirtation any further filled her with revulsion, and yet she knew Henry might be her only salvation.
And she didn’t have much time to lose. She was worried about Terri, who had spent the last couple of days in her room in bed. Amanda had seen her only once, when their paths had crossed in the bathroom, and Terri had looked pale and drawn.
Via the water pipe and Morse code, Terri had assured Amanda that she still had more than a month before her baby was due. But as big as Terri was, it wouldn’t be surprising if she went into labor any minute. They had to get help before that baby was born...before Odell sold the baby and something awful happened to the mother.
When Amanda had accumulated a huge pile of leaves, Henry appeared with a bushel basket. “Here, put them in here,” he said. “Then take them around to the back and dump them in the compost cage.” In a lower voice, he added, “Odell says you have to stay.”
“You talked to her?” Amanda was surprised Henry had found the courage to confront his aunt. He was obviously devoted to her, but he was also a bit afraid of her—understandably.
Henry nodded. “She says it’s too late for you to repent.”
“The Bible says it’s never too late. God will always forgive those who are truly sorry for their sins. Remember the story of the Prodigal Son?”
Henry nodded uncertainly. “Yeah, I remember. C’mon, Amanda, keep working. Heather and Mary are way ahead of you. And, anyway, Aunt Odell says I shouldn’t listen to you just because you’re different from the other girls.”
Amanda made a show of piling leaves into her basket and stomping them down. “I understand why Odell feels the way she does,” she said. “She has to be firm. She can’t bend the rules for me or the other girls might give her trouble.”
“That’s right,” Henry said.
“But that doesn’t mean you couldn’t help me.” She picked up her basket and followed the other girls around the side of the house, where a locked gate prevented them from continuing.
Henry unlocked the gate and ushered them through—all but Amanda. He held her back. “How could I help?”
“You could let me out. You can unlock anything around here,” she said, pointing to the wad of keys hanging from his belt. “The next time Odell leaves, you could unlock the front gate. And then...and then I could meet you somewhere,” she continued hurriedly. “If you helped me, Henry, you’d be my friend for life. Maybe even more than a friend.” Careful that the other girls didn’t observe her, she squeezed his hand. Then she grabbed the basket and headed for the compost cage. Let him chew on that awhile.
She made two more trips to the compost heap, her bushel basket piled high with crispy brown leaves. Henry helped the other two girls, so it wouldn’t appear that he was playing favorites, but he continued to watch Amanda at every opportunity.
When the chore was done to Henry’s satisfaction, he ordered them all to return the rakes and baskets to the toolshed, then to go inside and wash up for supper. Amanda lingered behind, hoping for a response from Henry, but all he said to her was, “Hurry up, you don’t want to be late for supper. Roast beef and mashed potatoes—and no green beans.”
Amanda smiled and headed for the bathroom. She supposed everyone here would remember her for the fit she threw over eating green beans.
She was beginning to think Henry was going to ignore her outrageous request. He studiously avoided her gaze during dinner, and when it came to passing around pumpkin pie for dessert, the slice he gave her was the same size as everyone else’s.
It was only later, when all the girls had been locked into their rooms for the night and the old house was settling down with its customary creaks and groans, that Amanda heard a soft knock.
She climbed out of bed and tiptoed to the door. “Who’s there?”
“It’s Henry. Can I come in?”
It seemed ludicrous that he would ask permission. After all, he was the one with the key, and no one’s privacy had ever been respected in this house that she was aware of. “Yes, of course,” she responded. She glanced at the exposed pipes in the corner, hoping Terri didn’t pick now to start clanging out a message.
The deadbolt scraped and the door opened. And then he was standing in the darkened room. She couldn’t see him, but she could sense his presence looming above her. And she could smell him. He always smelled faintly of something that reminded Amanda of a petting zoo. She quickly turned on the light.
He closed the door quietly behind him. “I’ve thought about it, and I can’t do what you want me to, Amanda,” he said. “I can’t go against Aunt Odell like that. And even if I could, she would know what I’d done. And she’d be mad, real mad. She would hate me.”
“Oh, no,” Amanda said, as if this would be a real tragedy. For Henry, she supposed it would be. Odell seemed to be the only person in his life. Not that she showed him any love that Amanda could discern. But she did give him approval, and that was very important to Henry
.
“Aunt Odell raised me,” he said. “My...my mother and father didn’t want me.”
“I’m so sorry,” Amanda said. “Of course. I wouldn’t want you to make Odell mad. She’s been good to you, hasn’t she?”
Henry nodded.
“All right, then, what if you could help me without Odell ever finding out? Would you do it?”
“I don’t know,” he said sullenly. “Would I have to lie?”
“No,” she assured him. “All you have to do is loosen the bars on my window, and then dig a little hole under the fence—behind the toolshed, where nobody can see. No one will ever know you helped me escape. And after I’m out, I’ll get a little apartment somewhere not too far. And you can come see me.”
He remained silent, but his face worked furiously as he considered her suggestion. Suddenly he smiled. “I could bring you a cherry pie,” he said, buying into the fantasy. “You could eat the whole thing yourself, and not have to share it with nobody.”
“Mmm, that would be wonderful. And you would have a friend, someone besides Odell. I know she’s a good lady, but don’t you sometimes wish you had someone closer to your age? I’ll still need you, Henry. If I’m going to start a new life, I’ll need a friend.” She touched him then, letting her hand glide up his arm to his shoulder.
He stood very still, neither responding to her touch nor moving away from it. She stood on her toes and moved her hand to his neck, gently guiding his head down toward her upturned face. She closed her eyes and called up a vivid image of Scott. If she could just pretend it was Scott she was kissing, maybe she wouldn’t give herself away by retching.
Their lips met clumsily, and at first nothing happened. Henry stood so still, Amanda might have been kissing a statue, and she wondered if he didn’t know how to respond. Maybe Odell had so sheltered him that he didn’t understand about man-woman things, except in the abstract. Then all at once he came to life, like an unconscious man who’d been doused with water. He threw his arms around her and pressed his mouth against hers, the kiss hard and wet and utterly repulsive.
She didn’t know how long she would be able to stand it. She had to fight every instinct to keep from pushing him away and crying out in disgust. But she managed to give some semblance of enthusiasm—until he grabbed her breast.
Instantly she pulled away. “No, no, we can’t do that, Henry,” she said, calling upon every ounce of her acting ability so that she sounded excited and regretful that they couldn’t go further.
“Why not?” Henry asked, breathing heavily. But he had stopped pawing her.
“It’s wrong.”
“You let your boyfriend touch you,” he said almost spitefully.
“But I was a sinner then,” she said, hanging her head. “I know better than that now. I’ve changed.”
“You’re a Jezebel,” Henry said, apparently having his own cache of Bible stories to draw from. With Odell having raised him, he would almost have to know the Bible.
“I’m not,” Amanda insisted. “I’ve changed.”
He touched the side of her face. “Come on, Amanda. Let me touch you. Isn’t that what you want?”
“I do want it,” she agreed, nearly choking on the words. “But it’s wrong.”
“I’ll help you escape. If you take off your clothes and let me touch you, I’ll help you get out of here. You’ll be able to keep your baby.”
She was almost tempted. She would do just about anything to get out of this place. But she decided right then and there that she would rather die than submit herself to sex with Henry.
She didn’t have to work very hard to summon tears. “I want to keep my baby more than anything in the world. But I won’t sin with you. And I’m very disappointed that you would ask that of me. I thought you were my friend.”
“I’m sorry, Amanda,” he said, immediately contrite. “But I had to know. I had to be sure you’d really changed, that you’d really repented.” He touched her hair with infinite tenderness, and for a split second Amanda actually felt guilty for manipulating him. “I knew you were different,” he said. “I just knew it. Aunt Odell is right about almost everything, but she’s wrong about you. I’ll help you leave here.”
Amanda’s heart hammered relentlessly inside her chest. He’d been trying to trick her, and she’d almost fallen for it! Thank God he was so repugnant, or she might have taken him up on his offer. “Thank you, Henry,” she said.
“It’s no good about those bars, though. They can’t be taken off—they’re too strong. I’ll have to think of something else.” He kissed her cheek before leaving.
Amanda lay on her cot, but she couldn’t sleep. If she depended on Henry to come up with an escape plan, she might be waiting a long time. She would have to devise another plan herself.
Chapter 12
It was bad enough to have to work on New Year’s Eve, Virginia Dreyfus thought, trying to quell the panic building up inside her. But it was much worse to get to work and find two police detectives waiting for her.
The moment Virginia had walked through the front door, Nancy Frieze had informed her that corporals Lomax and Triece were in her office. “They talked with the rest of us yesterday,” Nancy said self-importantly. “I would have warned you about this, but they asked us not to talk about it, so...”
Yeah, right, Virginia thought. That would be the day when Nancy Frieze called her at home to do her a favor.
“They’re really very nice,” Nancy said. “You don’t have to be afraid.”
“What about the patients’ confidentiality?” Virginia asked.
“Oh, the detectives have a subpoena, all nice and legal. Dr. Wayrick said we could tell them anything they wanted to know about...well, you’ll find out.”
As she headed for her office, Virginia wondered if the detectives would want to look at her notes, or if they would take her word for what went on during counseling sessions. At least her notes were in her own brand of shorthand. No outsider would be able to decipher them easily.
What did they already know? she asked herself. She was tempted to spill everything. The stress of the last few days, wondering, waiting for someone to make accusations, had taken its toll. She wished to God she’d never heard of Odell and her nasty little maternity home. She would give back all the money Odell had paid her—with interest—if only she could forget this whole thing.
Before rounding the corner and entering her office, she took several deep breaths and tried to imagine how she would act if she had nothing to hide. She would feel inconvenienced, perhaps, but she would want to do her civic duty. Yes, she would have to be cooperative, but not too friendly.
She wiped her palms on her wool skirt and walked crisply toward whatever fate awaited her. “Good morning, I’m Virginia Dreyfus,” she said, quickly taking in her two visitors. “I understand you want to speak with me?”
The man stood and introduced himself and his lady colleague, shaking Virginia’s hand. He smiled, which reassured her somewhat. “We’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”
She nodded as she sized up her opponents. She remembered the woman from her previous visit, when Amanda Arkin had first disappeared. Virginia would have thought the corporal too young to be anyone official, except for those eyes. There was a certain toughness reflected in their hazel depths; those eyes had seen a lot.
Virginia recalled how short-tempered she’d been with Carolyn Triece during their first interview. She wished now she had been more generous with her information. As it was, she could expect no sympathy from Corporal Triece’s corner. Those hard eyes showed no signs of softening.
The man was young, too, but he seemed more affable than his partner. Yeah, she figured she could handle these two. After all, she knew a thing or two about the interviewing process. She did it every day for a living—reading between the lines, watching body language and listening to voice intonation.
For once she was glad of how shabby her office was. Maybe it would engender sympathy
. Rather than moving behind her desk, she chose a chair near the small sofa where the detectives had settled. It seemed less adversarial that way.
“I suppose you know what we want to talk to you about,” Corporal Lomax said as he set a small tape recorder on the table a few feet from her. He pulled a pair of glasses from his jacket pocket and put them on.
“Well, I assume this is about Amanda Arkin.”
Lomax nodded and pulled out a notebook from his breast pocket. He appeared relaxed, but Virginia wasn’t fooled. It was all an act. “Amanda Arkin was at or near the Women’s Services Clinic at the time of her abduction.”
“Oh, then she really was kidnapped?”
“We have reason to believe she didn’t disappear of her own accord. We found her car. Inside it were signs of a struggle.”
Virginia didn’t have to fake her horror. Lately she had avoided reading the papers or watching the news, perhaps subconsciously unwilling to know any more about Amanda Arkin’s disappearance. “I’m truly sorry. She seemed like a nice girl. But I don’t know how I can help. I told Corporal, uh...” She looked helplessly at the other woman.
“Triece.”
“Yes, of course. I told her everything of relevance. I even went over my notes afterward just to be sure, but...” She shrugged.
Lomax referred to his own notes. “You told Corporal Triece that Amanda was ‘far from calm and rational.’ What led you to believe that?”
“Years of experience counseling disturbed young women. She was close to tears much of the time we talked, and she did a lot of fidgeting. I’m sure in your line of work you recognize the signs of distress as easily as I do.” She could only hope they weren’t as adept at spotting lies, because she’d just told one. Amanda had conducted herself in a calm, deliberate manner during their counseling session.
“She was distressed about the pregnancy?”
“Why, yes, what else?”
“You didn’t get the idea she might be upset about something else? Afraid of someone?”
