by Sharon Potts
Through all Diana’s ups and downs, her battles with vertigo and taunting demons, Aubrey, unlike her father and brother, had never deserted her.
Reluctantly, Diana released her grip and took a step back to examine her. “Oh, my poor sweetheart. You’re exhausted.” She pushed a strand of hair away from Aubrey’s pale face. There were dark shadows beneath her large brown eyes, like smudged charcoal. “You shouldn’t have come. Not with everything you have going on. Classes starting this week. Jackson.”
“Of course I had to come,” Aubrey said. “You know I’ll always be here for you.” She paused. “And for Kevin. Have you seen him? Is he holding up?”
“Yes. They were all at the house earlier.” She couldn’t tell Aubrey how shattered he’d been this morning—a broken zombie. And Diana had broken him. “His in-laws have been taking charge of everything. Taking some of the burden off Kevin.”
“That’s our job, Mama.”
“Kevin doesn’t want us, Aubrey.”
“Yes, he does. He needs both of us.” Her daughter squeezed her hand. “But tell me how you’re doing.” Aubrey’s eyes seemed to do a quick assessment of Diana’s face and clothes, which she hadn’t thought to change since yesterday. “Have you eaten anything?”
“I’ve grabbed a bite here and there.”
Her daughter looked skeptical, then led her to sit on the edge of the bed. “They told me the FBI was interviewing you.”
“They’re talking to everyone in the family. Kevin, Kim, the Simmers.”
“I heard the Simmers are bringing in their own investigators,” Aubrey said. “The more people looking for Ethan, the better.”
Diana reached for the mail strewn over the quilt and jogged the envelopes into alignment. “They blame me,” she said. “Everyone does. And they’re right. I should never have let go of his hand.”
“Mama, stop it. It’s impossible to watch a child one hundred percent of the time. You were not negligent.”
“I’m hearing those words a little too often.”
“Then let’s just say beating yourself up is counterproductive. It doesn’t help you, and it doesn’t help Ethan.”
She set the mail back down on the bed. “Okay, sweetheart. No more self-flagellation.”
“Good.” Aubrey ran her finger over a crimson satin square on the old patchwork quilt. A few stitches holding it in place had come out. “You’ve had this for as long as I can remember. Since Dad lived with us.”
“It’s a perfectly good quilt. I wasn’t going to throw it away just because—” Diana stopped. She hadn’t thrown him away. He threw her away.
“He’s downstairs, you know,” Aubrey said. “Sitting in the backyard.”
“Who is? Your father? How did he get here so quickly?”
“I guess he took the red-eye.”
Larry. There had been a time when they had faced terrible things together, but they were no longer the impregnable entity they had once been. “I’d rather not see him.”
“I’m sure he understands that, but Ethan’s his grandson, too. It was the right thing for him to come.”
“Yes. Of course. I wish . . .” Diana shook her head. She was having a hard time holding on to her thoughts.
There was a soft knock on the doorjamb. “Excuse me, Dr. Lynd. I hate to intrude.” Gonzalez, the woman detective, stood in the doorway. “I wanted to give you a quick update. Kevin and Kimberly will be making a statement to the press at five at their hotel. I understand the Simmers will be offering a sizable reward.”
“We should go to support them, Mama,” Aubrey said. “I want to see Kevin.”
“Actually,” the detective said, “the Simmers asked that you not be present. They don’t want your mother distracting the press.”
“What?” Aubrey said. “That’s outrageous.”
“She’s right, Aubrey,” Diana said, ashamed in front of the detective and her daughter. “The attention needs to be on finding Ethan, not on the one who lost him.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Aubrey said. “I think the entire family should be together to show solidarity.”
“I’m afraid it’s the Simmers’ show,” Gonzalez said. “They’ve arranged the press conference and can handle it as they choose.”
A sense of helplessness settled over Diana. The Simmers were controlling her family, and there was nothing she could do about it.
“And we can use your help here,” Gonzalez said to Aubrey. “Special Agent Smolleck would like to have a word with you.”
“With me?”
“FBI is speaking to all family members.”
Aubrey gave Diana a hug. “I’ll be back with something for you to eat.” She got up and followed the detective out of the room.
Diana leaned back against the throw pillows. Her phone was on the bed next to the pile of mail she had brought up. She’d been ready to call Jonathan, but maybe she would wait. Aubrey was here now, taking charge of things. And did she want to bring him into this mess with Larry here and the Simmers asserting themselves? Maybe it would be best for things to settle a bit.
She hoisted herself up on one elbow and spread out the mail on the quilt, hoping a mindless task would calm her growing fears for Ethan. The open envelopes contained bills—credit cards, FPL, DishNET. There were also some advertisements, a medical journal, and a square sealed envelope that looked like a greeting card or an invitation to something. No return address, and the stamp hadn’t been postmarked. That was odd. It was hand-addressed to “Di Lynd.” But Diana had stopped using her nickname when she had married Larry in her sophomore year of college.
At that point, Di Hartfeld no longer existed.
Why hadn’t the FBI opened this envelope?
She slipped a finger under the flap and pulled out a greeting card for a child. There was a cartoon depiction of a smiling little boy on a red tricycle, and above him the printed words, TODAY IS YOUR SPECIAL DAY.
A chill ran down her back. No one she knew would send her a card like this. Her hands began to shake uncontrollably as she struggled to open the card. A small piece of paper drifted onto the bed. Inside the card was the same grinning boy, waving from the tricycle, and the words, BECAUSE YOU ARE SPECIAL!
She picked up the paper that had fallen out, trying to hold it steady. The words blurred, then came into petrifying focus.
WE HAVE ETHAN. HE IS SAFE.
WE WILL RETURN HIM UNHARMED IF YOU DO ONE THING.
KILL JONATHAN WOODWARD.
CHAPTER 6
The door to her mother’s office was open. Aubrey peered into the small, cluttered room with its large, low window that overlooked the jungle in the backyard.
Special Agent Smolleck’s back was to her, something in his outstretched arms. He took up too much space as he sat stiffly in Mama’s rickety wood swivel chair at the scratched oak desk that faced the window. Except for this man, the office was like it had always been, with piles of paid and unpaid bills on the desk, and stacks of medical journals on top of the wooden file cabinets.
Beside the desk were shelves with dozens of old photos of Aubrey and Kevin, a few of Aubrey and Mama, and several of Ethan that she had sent her mother over the years. On the top shelf was a gaping space between a childhood photo of Aubrey and Kevin and a recent one of Kevin and Kim.
She stepped into the room.
Smolleck was holding a picture frame. Aubrey could make out Ethan’s grinning face, and her first reaction was to grab it out of Smolleck’s big hands. Then she reminded herself that the agent was just doing his job.
The picture was the “Tooth” photo she had taken two weeks before in Manhattan. Aubrey had taken Ethan to a matinee to see The Lion King. Afterward, they went to Ellen’s Stardust Diner where Ethan had lost a front tooth and was proudly displaying it in the photo. It was the first baby tooth he’d lost.
“Detective Gonzalez said you wanted to see me.”
Smolleck glanced over his shoulder, startled, but quickly regained his composure. Hi
s face settled into a mask, making it difficult for her to read him, and he put the picture frame on the desk. “Yes, thank you, Ms. Lynd. I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes. Would you mind getting the door?”
She closed it and sat down on a ladder-back chair at the side of the desk, catty-corner to Smolleck. The chair belonged in the kitchen and had probably been brought in here for the interviews. On the desk was an iPad, a yellow legal pad covered with writing, and a machine the size of a cell phone that was likely a recorder.
“You can call me Aubrey,” she said, hoping to dispel some of the formality in the room.
“Aubrey, then.” His voice retained its coolness. He scrolled through his iPad.
Although she’d seen him in the foyer when she’d first arrived, she now had an opportunity to study him, to decide whether he was as self-important as he had initially appeared. He was probably in his early thirties but seemed older because of his rigid manner, which she guessed came from a stint in the military. His reserve was very different from Jackson’s charming and easygoing veneer. And unlike Jackson, who went in for the “grunge” look, the FBI agent was immaculate, from his perfectly knotted tie to his buffed fingernails.
“Okay, then.” Smolleck picked up an expensive-looking pen and leaned back in her mother’s chair, which creaked under his weight. “I would appreciate your help in sorting through a few things.”
“Whatever I can do, if it will help find Ethan more quickly.”
“Great.” He scratched his eyebrow with the push button of the pen. That’s when she noticed the tiny indentation and missing hairs, and realized that at some point in his life he had pierced his eyebrow. “Would you mind if I tape this?” His index finger hovered over the small recorder.
“That’s fine,” she said.
He pressed a button. “Special Agent Tom Smolleck interviewing Aubrey Lynd, aunt of Ethan Lynd. There are no others present in the room.”
She felt surprisingly unsettled. Did the FBI believe the family was somehow involved with Ethan’s disappearance? Of course they would. The family was always suspected first. Dad had said they’d given everyone lie detector tests. They would probably give her one, too. Well, she had nothing to hide.
“Tell me about your relationship with your nephew,” Smolleck said.
“I live in Rhode Island, and Ethan lives with his parents in Manhattan, so I don’t get to see him as often as I’d like.”
“How often do you see him?”
“Several times a year.”
“So you’ve never been estranged from your brother?”
It was a funny word—estranged. She and Kevin seemed like strangers these days, but that was more than she cared to share with Smolleck. She had worked hard to keep communication between them open, but Kevin deserved credit for allowing her in. Perhaps, on some level, he’d never stopped seeing her as his kid sister and childhood ally. Or maybe he hoped that someday she’d be the life raft that would bring him and Mama back together.
“No,” she said. “We’ve never been estranged.”
“Unlike your mother,” Smolleck said.
“That’s right,” she said softly.
Smolleck twirled the pen between his fingers like a baton. “You see, I’m confused by the family dynamics. Maybe you can straighten me out.” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “I understand your mother and brother weren’t speaking to each other until recently. Can you tell me what caused their estrangement?”
He had probably heard Mama’s and Kevin and Kim’s versions of what had happened, so why ask about it again? Unless Smolleck was looking for inconsistencies for some reason?
“My parents decided to get divorced eight years ago, right around the time of Kevin’s wedding. My mother got sick and wasn’t able to attend.”
“Was she seriously ill?”
“Serious enough for her to be hospitalized.” She tried to keep her anger at her father from rising up. His timing for telling Mama he was leaving her for another woman, just days before Kevin’s wedding, had been inexcusable. Mama had been shattered and barely able to function.
“I’m not quite following,” Smolleck said. “Why would your brother be angry about her being ill?”
“He believed she had faked it.”
“Why would he have thought that?”
Her eyes roamed over the photos on the shelves. None of Kevin and Mama.
“Our father told Kevin she was putting on an act. That she wasn’t really sick, but was trying to get sympathy or attention by not going to the wedding.” Aubrey had been stunned when Dad transferred blame away from himself to Mama, and then behaved so damn righteous about it. His self-serving lies had turned Kevin completely against Mama and—whether or not that had been her father’s intention—had been the cruelest part of his betrayal.
“And your brother chose to believe your father?” Smolleck asked. “I’m surprised he didn’t cut your mom some slack.”
Aubrey felt uneasy, as though she were being disloyal to her mother. “It wasn’t just about the wedding,” she said. “My brother had issues with my mom that went back a while.”
“What kind of issues?”
She didn’t like the direction his questions were taking. It was as though he were considering that Mama was behind Ethan’s kidnapping. She needed to make sure he understood that was impossible.
“Typical child-parent things,” Aubrey said, hoping to minimize the situation. “Kevin was a sensitive kid. He sometimes felt our mother wasn’t always there for him.”
“Did you feel that way?”
“Absolutely not. Our mother loves us. She always put us first.” At least that was Aubrey’s perception. But she knew from studies that children from the same family rarely viewed their parents in the same way.
“Okay,” Smolleck said. “Back to the wedding. Your mother was hospitalized and didn’t attend. Tell me about her illness.”
“She suffered from severe vertigo, from an old injury. It flares up when she’s under stress.”
He looked at something on the yellow pad. “An injury she got when she was in college, is that right? At Barnard. And your father was at Columbia University. That’s where they met, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know how she got injured?”
“Not really. She was in an accident. That’s all I know.” He was making her defensive. “Does this have something to do with Ethan?”
“Ah, sorry.” He scratched the indentation in his eyebrow with his pen. “You’re studying psychiatry, right? You’re probably busy analyzing me and my questions.”
“I’m working on my PhD in psychology,” she said. “I’m not in medical school.”
It seemed he gave her a little wink, but she must have imagined it. “Glad we cleared that up,” he said. “So, are you in a relationship with anyone?”
“Was.” She glanced at her bare hand. Jackson had never gotten around to getting her a ring, though he’d been hinting at it for years. She now knew he had never intended to take things to the next level. “I ended it with him a couple of days ago.”
“A couple of days ago,” he repeated, then pressed his lips together. “Had your boyfriend ever met Ethan? Did he know you were close to your nephew?”
“Well, yes, but . . .” Smolleck couldn’t be thinking Jackson was involved.
“Is it possible your boyfriend was angry enough over the breakup to try to get even with you?”
“By kidnapping Ethan?” She shook her head. “No. Definitely not. It isn’t in his nature.”
“I suppose you’re pretty good at knowing what people will and won’t do from your studies in psychology.”
“That’s right.” She sat up straighter. “In particular, I know Jackson.” She stopped herself. She had thought she knew him, but she had closed her eyes to the real person. “I, I think it’s very unlikely that he’s involved.”
“May I have Jackson’s contact info so we can rule him out?”
&nb
sp; She gave Smolleck his phone and e-mail address, feeling violated somehow. She had heard that Jackson had moved in with a graduate student in the English department, but didn’t know the specifics.
The agent jotted down what she told him on the yellow pad, then looked back up at her. “So tell me about your brother and his wife,” he said, changing direction so abruptly that Aubrey started. “Do they have a good marriage?”
“I guess.”
“Kevin’s a financial guy at BBM,” Smolleck said. “Baer Business Machines is a nice family business to marry into.”
“I suppose so. Is there some reason you’re bringing it up?”
“Does Kevin get along well with his in-laws?” he asked without answering her question.
This FBI agent was all over the place. First, he hinted at Mama’s involvement with the kidnapping, then Jackson’s, and now it seemed he was considering the Simmers, or maybe BBM. But, of course, anyone might be a suspect. Was she?
“I couldn’t say what his relationship is with the Simmers,” she replied. Or more accurately, it wasn’t her place to say.
A couple of years before, when she and her brother had been sharing a rare fraternal moment, Kevin had confided that he hated working at BBM. Ernest Simmer treated him like an errand boy, but Kevin felt trapped because his father-in-law was paying him so well. Kevin had told Kim he wanted to quit, but she was clearly not a fan of taking a hit to their comfortable lifestyle. Of course, it had been two years since that conversation. Maybe things had changed.
Smolleck leaned forward in her mother’s chair. It creaked. “So what happened with your mother?”
Back to Mama. Why was he playing this head game? “What do you mean?” she asked.
“For eight years Kevin and Kim cut her out of their life; then when Ethan is six, they welcome her back.” His voice had softened, no longer in attack mode. “Why’d they forgive her after all this time?”
It was a good question. One she’d given some thought to, but there had been no particular event or change that she knew of.
