by Diane Weiner
The principal climbed up the steps to the front porch and let herself in. Susan took a deep breath and assessed the surroundings. She was standing in front of an old, wooden farmhouse framed by evergreens and bare maple trees. There was a covered, above the ground pool on one side of the house. Also an iron swing set. And an enormous back yard. Susan pulled her scarf more tightly to shield herself from the cold air, and crept around to the back yard. What do you think you’re going to find? Do you think you’ll find Sophie out here tied to that red and white doghouse over there? Susan crept over to the tiny doghouse, expecting to see Sophie tied up and shoved inside with a gag in her mouth, but when she was close enough to peek inside, she could see that neither Sophie nor some Cujo-like guard dog was in there. She looked up at the second story windows, half expecting to see Sophie standing there like Rapunzel awaiting her prince. Nope. Sophie wasn’t up there either.
Then she saw it. Outside doors that pulled up and led to a cellar. The house Susan grew up in had had a cellar like that. It had made it easy for her Dad to take tools out to the backyard, but you could also access it through the kitchen via a staircase. Her mom used to store mason jars full of canned tomato sauce and stewed apples down there. This door was closed with a large branch running through the handles. What a great place to hide a kidnapping victim. And how easy would it be to pull out the branch and do a bit of searching? She really had no choice but to explore this possibility.
Susan carefully tugged one end of the branch. After a bit of maneuvering, she worked it through the handles and at that moment the door was free. Susan took another deep breath, drank in the smell of the backyard evergreens, and hesitated. Come on now, Susan. You’ve got this. There are no monsters in that basement; remember, you came to find Sophie. She tugged open one of the double doors. A short wooden ladder led into the musty, cave-like basement. The basement smelled like over ripe fruit. With the door open, Susan could see well enough to work her way down the rungs. One rung creaked beneath her shoe. She froze for a moment, held her breath until she was convinced that she was still alone. Then another step. Soon she was standing on a concrete floor. There were some old tools on a workbench, a pool net, a plastic gasoline can, and some firewood. She jumped when she felt something scurry over her feet. And screamed. Please God, don’t let there be mice down here.
She waded farther into the basement. Perhaps Sophie was being kept prisoner in a secret alcove of this tomb. Her feet were killing her. Her hand reached unsuccessfully into her coat pocket for the security of her phone. Darn it, Susan. Why did you leave it in the car? She took another step and then she heard it. The cellar door slammed shut from the outside and Susan was swallowed by blackness.
Chapter 13
“Lynette, your mom should have been home hours ago,” said Mike. “She was playing the organ for the choir but the last mass should have been over by noon.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. Maybe she decided to stop at Walmart, or the mall. She could have run into a friend and got talking. You know how Mom loves to talk.”
“She would have called. And her phone keeps going straight to voicemail. I know something’s wrong. And I know you know it too.” Mike paced back and forth as he spoke.
“Jackson went over to the church and talked to Father Anthony. Father said he saw Mom at both masses, but she wasn’t accompanying any choir. She was sitting in the pews just like the rest of the congregation.”
“And her car? Was it still in the parking lot?” asked Mike.
“No, the parking lot was empty. Dad, I know you’re thinking what I’m thinking. Mom probably went there to get some information about Sophie’s disappearance. She just can’t resist. Otherwise, why would she lie to you about playing for the services? As a matter of fact, why would she even attend one mass––let alone two? The last time I know of her being in a church was at grandma’s funeral. What would she be looking for at the church? Better yet, who would she be looking for at the church?”
“No idea. I told her not to get mixed up in this. I warned her to keep away from trouble.”
“When has that ever stopped Mom?” asked Lynette. “She’s going to get hurt one of these days.” She paced back and forth across the carpet just as her father had been doing.
“Every time she starts with this new hobby of hers,” said Mike, “I’m afraid she’ll wind up dead, just like the victims she’s trying to help.”
“I think I know who she’s looking for,” said Lynette. “I’ll bet she had a hunch that the former middle school principal would be at church and then she could pump her for information. I told her that Jackson and I’d spoken to her and found nothing suspicious, but I knew Mom wasn’t going to leave it alone.” Lynette took her cell phone out of her pocket and called Father Anthony. Just as she’d suspected. The principal attended 11:00 mass like clockwork, every Sunday. Lynette tried her best to keep a poker face, which she was usually quite good at, but her father saw right through her expression.
“Lynette, I know you just found out something from that phone call. Tell me. I can see it in your eyes. You’re terrified about Mom.”
“I think we have a lead. I need to swing by the station and pick up Jackson.”
“Not without me you’re not.”
Chapter 14
Susan felt her heart beating like a metronome set to presto. Despite the freezing air, she felt the clamminess of cold perspiration on her brow and in her palms. How am I ever going to get out of here? Think, Susan, think. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark, but still she could barely see her hand in front of her face. Afraid of bumping into something, she sat down on the frigid concrete floor and tried to formulate a plan. She’d seen a small window but it was near the ceiling and out of her reach. It certainly wasn’t letting any light through, probably because it was caked with dust and dirt. She could try throwing something at it, but it would literally be a shot in the dark. Visions of dying cold and alone in this basement swirled in her head. She crept along the floor, not knowing what she was hoping to find. The dust made her sneeze and she could feel torn nylon from her pantyhose on both of her legs.
Her knees ached as she crept along, until she felt the corner of what was either a washing machine or a dryer. Disappointed that it wasn’t a door, she continued. Then bingo––an old fashioned fridge. She’d briefly noticed it when she first scanned the basement. Please God, let it be plugged in. The front was one solid piece, she ran her hand up the ceramic door until she felt the metal handle. Slow down, heart. Breathe through your nose, out through your mouth. One, two, three. She tugged on the door until it opened and light washed over the room. She felt her whole aching body relax as she was at last able to exhale. She was still in a quagmire, but at least she could see now. She reached again into her coat pocket for her phone, then remembered again that it was in her purse. In the car. Parked down the road under the trees.
Think, Susan, think. She climbed up the steps leading into the house but as suspected, the door was locked. By now Mike is worried and he would have called Lynette. They’re probably on their way. Susan had enough faith in Lynette to assume she’d somehow made the connection between mass, the former principal, and this address. Meanwhile, she had to see if Sophie was down here––drugged, gagged, or unconscious––because heaven knows she hadn’t heard anything but her own voice inside her head. She canvassed the basement, looking for a hidden door, or some other hiding place, but found none. Her stomach was rumbling from hunger since she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.
She noticed a mound of laundry on the floor and began rummaging through it. After a bit of searching, she found a navy sweatshirt with “Westbrook Wolverines” embroidered on the front. It looked too big for the former principal. It had to belong to Sophie.
Chapter 15
“Hurry, Lynette. I’ve seen you drive faster than this going to Shop Rite to pick up milk. Mom’s life is at stake,” said Mike.
“Dad, I’m going as fast as I can. You
know I want to find her too.” Lynette leaned on the gas pedal.
“Turn left here,” said Jackson. “The house should be coming up soon.”
Lynette slowed down. “Here’s the driveway. Look at those tire tracks. They continue and then turn into the bank of trees past the mailbox.” There was just enough snow left on the ground to allow the tracks to be visible.
They crawled along in the cruiser until Mike shouted, “That’s Mom’s car!”
Jackson ran out first, followed by Mike and Lynette. They tugged on the car door but it was locked. Mike kicked the door.
“Wait, I have a key,” he said. They saw Susan’s purse open on the seat with her phone tucked inside it. “She must be in the house.”
The trio made their way to the porch and knocked on the front door. Principal Talbot flung it open from the inside.
Susan heard knocking upstairs. Then she recognized familiar voices. I knew they’d find me. Minutes passed like hours. She yelled Mike’s name, but doubted he heard her. She screamed for Lynette. Please don’t leave. Come on. Check the basement.
“Oh, thank God you’re here,” said Principal Talbot. “There’s an intruder in my basement. I caught her snooping around in my back yard and managed to trap her downstairs. I was terrified and I couldn’t stop shaking. Thank God you came!”
“Where is she?” demanded Mike. “Where’s my wife?” The veins in his neck were bulging.
Principal Talbot pointed to the door leading down into the basement. Lynette insisted on going down first. They ran down the stairs and found Susan holding a sweatshirt in front of a pile of laundry.
“Thank God you’re okay,” said Mike. He grabbed her and held her tight.
“Thank God she’s okay? This woman was trespassing in my yard, up to who knows what and you’re worried that she’s okay? I’m pressing charges.”
“I hear sirens,” said Lynette.
“I called the station three times,” said Principal Talbot. “You all sure took your time getting here.
Two officers stormed down the basement steps.
“Ma’am are you okay?” He stood in front of Principal Talbot. “We got a call about an intruder in the house,” said one of the officers.
“Thank goodness you came. She’s right there,” said the principal. She pointed her finger at Susan.
“Officer, we have the situation under control,” said Lynette, showing her badge. “Everything is fine here.”
The principal threw up her hands and stopped protesting. The two officers left.
“Come on, Mom. Let’s get you home,” said Lynette.
“That sounds great, but there’s something I need to show you first.” Susan held up the sweatshirt. “I think I found proof that this woman abducted Sophie.”
Chapter 16
A hot shower and take-out pizza had never felt this good. Susan, snuggled into her fluffy bathrobe and pink slippers, relaxed on the sofa next to Mike. Sixty Minutes came on television.
“I can’t wait till Lynette runs tests on that sweatshirt and proves it belongs to Sophie,” said Susan.
“I hope it was worth risking your life over it. You know,” said Mike, “It could actually belong to the principal.”
“The size was all wrong. Besides, if you’d been recently evicted from your post at Westbrook Middle, would you be waltzing around in one of their sweatshirts? It was in a pile of laundry and must have been worn recently. It has to be Sophie’s.”
“If they can prove it, maybe they can lean on her and find out where Sophie is. She backed down pretty easily on pressing trespassing charges against you. I’d think it’d be a snap to break her,” said Mike.
Susan’s eyes were drawn to the TV screen. They were doing a story about adoptees looking for their birth parents. She’d been unsuccessfully hunting for hers for over a year now and any mention of adoption blipped loudly on her personal radar.
“Turn it up, Mike. Those people they’re interviewing; they’re old––like me.”
“Stop it. Sixty-two isn’t old.”
“No, I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that most of the time when you hear about adoption stories they feature younger people. I guess by my age you’ve either found what you were looking for, or have given up. Turn it up.”
The story was about a doctor who lived in a small Georgia town back in the fifties. He was no longer alive, but all kinds of evidence had been cropping up implicating him in a baby-selling scheme involving hundreds of children who would now be in their fifties and sixties. According to the story, he was one of a handful of doctors willing to perform abortions as a service to desperate, pregnant women. When these women came to him, however, he managed to talk them into adoption instead, offering to financially support them during their pregnancies, and then place their babies with loving, Christian parents.
“Look, Mike. They’re saying this doctor falsified birth certificates and sold the babies to out-of-state couples. Do you think it’s possible…?”
“Don’t go jumping the gun here. You grew up in New York. How would your parents have even known about this doctor? They lived far from Georgia. And why wouldn’t they have gone the traditional route instead of looking at the black market?”
“Maybe they thought this was a traditional adoption. I don’t know. My mom was already in her forties when she adopted me. She was probably anxious. Maybe my parents didn’t do a whole lot of investigating beforehand.”
The reporter was now interviewing an older woman who’d been one of these Georgia Babes as they were being referred to. She’d found her birth mother through matching DNA and had formed an organization that traveled throughout the country offering DNA testing to adoptees who’ve been struggling to find their birth parents.
“Mike, I just remembered something. Mom had an older sister who got married and moved to Georgia. She died when I was still a kid, but I remember Mom mentioning her. It was my Aunt Karen.”
“I suppose somehow that could have been a connection but don’t you think the odds are slim?”
Sixty Minutes flashed a web address and toll-free phone number to contact for further information. Susan copied down the information.
“Chances may be slim but what do I have to lose? I’m going to find out if they’re coming anywhere near here with their testing service. It’s just a cheek swab. It’s painless and free. Why not?”
“And you’re sure you want to know? You keep going back and forth on this.”
Susan had certainly been struggling all year with whether or not to search for her birth parents. One day it seemed like a great idea. The next, she was afraid of what she might find. Maybe her mom was in jail or a drug addict. Worse yet, maybe her birth mother simply didn’t want her. What if she’d gone to Georgia hoping to get an abortion?
“Mike, I’ll always wonder who they are if I don’t find them. I’m not good at living with unsolved mysteries, you know that by now.”
“Go for it,” said Mike. “But know that you’re not doing this alone. I’ll be right at your side, whatever you decide.”
Chapter 17
The next morning, Susan once again questioned the wisdom of searching for her birth parents. A part of her felt as though she was betraying the parents who raised her. Her childhood was rich both in love and in experiences. The loss of her mom last year was still an open wound waiting for a scab to form. On the other hand, what if there was medical history that she should be aware of? And didn’t Annalise deserve to know about her true genealogy?
Although her hands were shaking, Susan called the toll free number she’d copied from Sixty Minutes. She learned DNA testing was going to be offered in Manhattan in a few weeks. She went ahead and made an appointment, knowing that she could count on Mike to make the trip with her. Blood rushed to her head in excitement as she marked the date on her calendar. She had a feeling this might lead to the answers she’d been seeking.
Meanwhile, it would take at least a few days to get test results back o
n Sophie’s sweatshirt. If the former principal turned out to be innocent, the next most logical suspect would be Adam’s brother, Caleb. Caleb thought Sophie had deliberately pushed Adam over the edge of the waterfall to collect the life insurance money. Caleb was still in Germany. He couldn’t have abducted Sophie, right?
Susan wondered how plausible it would have been for Sophie to kill Adam. She had benefitted financially from the situation, but why take such a risk? Besides, even if you hated your spouse, it would be quite a leap to commit murder.
Susan dug out the copies of the articles she’d gotten from the library––the accounts of the accident. She needed to see for herself how reasonable it may have been for Sophie to have murdered Caleb’s brother.
Maybe Annalise would like a little stroller ride around Lake Minnewaska. Susan knew Jason was at home with her on Mondays and gave him a call.
“Make sure you keep her hat on and the blanket pulled up,” said Jason. “I’m not sure Lynette would want her going out in the cold like this.”
“You know I’ll make sure my grandbaby stays warm,” said Susan. “It’s a beautiful day and the fresh air will be good for her.” Then she took Annalise from Jason’s arms and kissed the baby’s neck.
“We’re gonna have a nice little walk. Right Anabanana?” Annalisa squealed as if she’d understood every word. Susan packed up the stroller and strapped Annalise into her car seat. The sky was as blue as a tropical sea, and as Susan wound her way up the pine-laden mountain, she wondered if she should try painting landscapes. That’s a hobby she hadn’t tried. What a shame not to capture this scenery.
