by Thomas Perry
“Yes,” Special Agent Herrera said. “What we’ve come to talk with her about was her most recent misfortune. As I’m sure you understand, one aspect of the case falls within our area of responsibility.”
“What most recent misfortune?”
Herrera looked at her, incredulous. “She hasn’t told you?”
“No. What misfortune? What’s happened to her?” Sally was terribly agitated now, and her hands were trembling so much that they felt useless, limp and fluttering. “Is she hurt?”
Herrera looked solemnly at McNally, who took a breath and said, “She was allegedly given a drug known for short as GHB. It’s a common date-rape drug. While she was unconscious, she was allegedly sexually assaulted.”
“Oh, no!” She put her hand over her mouth and a second later the two agents blurred and she knew she was crying. “Oh no no no no. Not Chelsea.”
“I’m afraid so, ma’am,” said Herrera. “Our agency was contacted because GHB is an illegal substance. In this case it entered the country from Mexico.”
“But the man. Who?”
“A suspect has been arrested. His name is Daniel Crane, and he had been dating your daughter recently.”
“That can’t be. She just saw her boyfriend killed. She’s been in a state of mourning. She wasn’t ready to date anybody yet.”
McNally spoke. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We understand your surprise, and the precise nature of the relationship will be a matter for the court, no doubt. Our specific task concerns the possession and use of illegal substances. In this case, the drug was GHB, which has a very strong but transitory effect on the victim. By the time she was tested at the hospital, the GHB had been metabolized and the tests weren’t conclusive. That’s why we need her cooperation.”
Herrera said, “In cases that aren’t mostly about narcotics offenses, we’re usually a secondary resource, a source of expert consulting. But because of the kind of drug it was, the local police don’t have much to charge the suspect with. So for the moment, we’re the lead agency in the case. Of course we’ve taken steps to stop the people who sold the drug, and Mr. Crane will be charged with possession of the drug. For the more serious offenses, they’ll need the help of the victim.”
“You’re telling me Chelsea has to be grilled and forced to relive a rape in front of a court?”
“It’s more complicated than that I’m afraid,” McNally said. “Stopping all illegal drugs from entering the country is impossible, but we stop some of them. This is about a victim, your daughter. She deserves some justice.”
“I don’t know,” Sally said. All of this was confusing. But Chelsea certainly had decided what to do—go away for a while, and stay out of sight. “What if she’s not up to this?”
“She might be subpoenaed to testify in a trial. No judge would be able to tell her what to say. But she would be reminded that if she doesn’t cooperate, the man who raped her will pay a fine and walk away. Someone has to stand up and say, ‘I did not consent to sex with this man, but the tests show he had sex with me.’ Otherwise, he’ll do this to other women. There will be other pointless investigations and trials until a victim has the courage to stand up.”
Sally Schnell could think of nothing to say. She knew that they were right. Letting him go on doing this was terrible, a sin.
Herrera said, “She’s not at her home in Avon, New York. Can you tell us why that is?”
“I can’t really tell you. She didn’t even tell me what had happened to her. She went away. Now I guess I know why she wanted to get away.”
“Mrs. Schnell, can you tell us where she is at present?”
“She wants time to get over this, to get her head straight. That’s what she said. It’s what she needs, and she made me promise not to tell anyone anything for any reason. Let her come home when she’s ready to face this.”
Herrera and McNally looked at each other, and their expressions turned grim. McNally said, “We appreciate your position. But I’m going to ask you again. There are two very good reasons to answer. The first and most important is that we happen to know Mr. Crane has been trying hard to find Chelsea. Probably she doesn’t want to hear him pleading with her not to testify. But we believe it’s more serious than that. He knows that he’s about to be charged with a crime that could result in a very long prison sentence.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Think about it. If she testifies he could spend the rest of his life in prison. If she doesn’t, he’ll pay a small fine and the case will be closed.”
“Oh,” said Sally. “I’ve got to call her.”
“We have to ask you not to do that,” said McNally.
“Why not?”
“Chelsea has a choice about whether to cooperate with the investigation—not legally, of course, but in practical terms. She has no choice about whether or not to submit to an interview. We—or our colleagues—must speak with her. And these interviews have to be conducted in person, not over the phone. Please give us her current address, and we can be on our way.”
Sally hesitated. “All right. Do you carry a pad or something? I’ll write it down for you.”
McNally produced a small spiral notebook and a pen. She wrote and handed it back. He read aloud, “Thirteen sixty-four North Chambers Street, Hanover, New Hampshire. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
McNally looked down again at his small spiral notebook, then put it into his pocket. “Thank you, ma’am. We may be in touch later. If you get any other information, call us. Here’s my card.” They headed to the door.
She looked at the card and said, “What was the other reason?”
“Ma’am?”
“The other reason why I should give you her address.”
Herrera said, “We’re federal officers. Lying to us or not answering our questions is a crime. Both you and she could have been charged with obstruction of justice. It would be a terrible thing if the rapist went free and the rape victim and her mother went to a federal prison.”
Then they were out the door. She was relieved that they had not told her the second reason until after she had decided. She would always have had to wonder if she’d done it to save her child or to save herself. This way she knew.
As the two men walked away from the house, the tall blond one turned toward his companion. “You drive. I’ll make the call.”
They got into their rental car and the shorter, darker man drove away from the house. The blond one dialed and waited, and then said, “Hello. This is Al Galbano, calling for Mr. Salamone.”
He waited for a few seconds, watching his companion maneuver into the traffic heading for Denver.
“This is Salamone.”
“Mr. Salamone, I’m calling you from Denver. Ron Pozzo and I found the cousin’s house, but Chelsea never came to Denver. We talked to her mother, and got another address for her.”
“You think this is the right one?”
“Yes, I do. Pozzo and I do this routine where we’re special agents in the DEA. We use it to confiscate drugs and money. We usually let the drug dealer go, and charge him a fee for protection. We’ve got ID and badges, and we’ve convinced everybody so far.”
Salamone laughed. “You pulled that on the girl’s mother?”
“Yes. We said we were involved in her case because of the drugs. We said the guy who raped her daughter would walk away with a small fine for possession of the drug if she didn’t get the girl to cooperate with us and prove he used it on her.”
“Brilliant. Absolute genius. Can you give me the address?”
McNally took out the small notebook, read the address to Salamone, and then tore the sheet out of the notebook, crumpled it, and let it fly out the window. There was no sense in leaving an address like that in his notebook. Pret
ty soon it would be a dangerous thing to have.
26
Jane drove the Volkswagen Passat up New Hampshire Route 120 to the town of Lebanon, continued to Hanover, and turned on Wheelock Street to North Chambers Street. She drifted past the apartment at 1364, looking at the doors and in the windows. She couldn’t see Jimmy, Mattie, or Chelsea, but there seemed to be no damage to glass, locks, or latches, and no signs of anyone watching the house.
She had driven for several hours, and she had been extremely careful. She had brought two people here in separate trips over a period of a few weeks and sent a third by plane. There had never been any sign of a problem, but three was a lot of trips. All the way here she watched to be sure that no other car stayed in her rearview mirror for long enough to be following her. When she left her hotel in Niagara Falls she had looked under the car with a makeup mirror to be sure nothing had been stuck to the undercarriage or in the engine compartment, and checked again after she’d made a stop in Albany. On the way she had taken exits from the thruway four times to see who came off the ramp after her, and then gotten back on. Nobody had followed.
Now Jane drove along the streets in the vicinity of the apartment. She studied the cars parked within sight of the apartment building, looking for heads inside. She searched for any van that could hold a surveillance team, and for any SUV that reminded her of the ones that had pursued her in Ohio and on the reservation, or the one that had brought the cooler to the storage facility outside Akron. She saw high school students and their parents who had come during summer to look at Dartmouth, a number of earnest-looking graduate students, and another group, mostly young men, wearing shorts, backpacks, and hiking boots, many of them carrying hiking staffs. There was an entrance to the Appalachian Trail between a store and a restaurant on Main Street, and Hanover was a good place to stop and get a good meal on the long walk from Maine to Georgia.
When Jane was satisfied, she parked on a street parallel to Chambers so she could come out the back door of the apartment and get to her car if she needed to. As she walked to the apartment she never stopped watching for any sign that she might have missed while she was in the car.
When she reached the apartment building she looked even more carefully to see if any window held a human silhouette or the glint of a lens. She saw nothing. She rang the bell and Mattie opened the door. Mattie took Jane’s hand, pulled her inside, and hugged her for a moment. “It’s so good to see you,” she said.
Jane looked over Mattie’s shoulder. Jimmy and Chelsea came out of another room together, and Jimmy was carrying the remote control from the television set. “Jane,” he said. When the two stopped a few feet away, Jane noticed their shoulders were touching, and that they stayed that way.
Jane released Mattie. “Hi, everybody.” She slung her backpack off her shoulder and set it by the couch, then sat down. “I made the trip again because I’ve done all I can back there for the moment. It’s safer for all of us if I’m here.”
“What does that mean?” Mattie asked.
“I’ve learned some things about our troubles. I’ve managed to get what I’ve found out into the hands of a state police sergeant who’s been searching for Jimmy all this time. He’s been in the hospital but he’s sane and honest, so he’ll get the information to the people who are now running the investigation of the murder.”
“The state trooper we saw in the woods?” asked Jimmy. “The runner?”
“Yes. I did him a favor, so he owed me.”
“He let you tell him all this stuff and walk away without having you followed or anything?” said Jimmy.
“I didn’t say it was a small favor.”
Chelsea said, “So where are we now?”
“I’ve set the dogs after the people who are responsible for this mess. Now we stay out of sight for a while and give the dogs time to work.”
Mattie said, “I’ll get you something to eat.”
Jane said, “Thank you, Mattie.” She knew that refusing food would be foolish and insulting. Jane was a traveler who had genuinely just come off the trail, and Mattie was the older woman, the hostess, so she would bring out food.
While Mattie went off to the kitchen and was out of hearing, Jane said, “Maybe I’ll go help her.”
“I’ll do it,” Chelsea said, and hurried after her.
“Okay.”
Jimmy took a step in that direction.
“Not you.”
Jimmy sat down in the chair across from where Jane sat on the couch.
Jane said, “Want to fill me in?”
“About what?”
“How long has she been here? A week?”
“A little longer.”
“Not much. You know that she’s been through a whole lot in the past couple of months. And you may recall that what the police want you for is killing her boyfriend.”
“But I didn’t,” he said. “She knows that.”
“I can see she does.”
“You don’t approve.”
Jane shrugged. “I’m offering you the benefit of my skepticism. You’ll both do what you decide to do. She’s lost somebody she cared about, and afterward learned that he was a thief. The next man in her life drugged and raped her, and now he seems to be trying to find her to keep her from testifying against him. It’s not hard to look good in that field.”
“Do I deserve this?”
“No,” Jane said. “You’re a good, honest, decent man she’s been cooped up with for over a week. You’re also a victim of the same scheme that has hurt her.” She smiled. “And I guess you’re not as ugly as you used to be. She’s undoubtedly missing her mother, and you’ve even been sharing yours with her. My point is that it wouldn’t be too strange if she turned to you on the rebound just because she needs somebody who’s not a monster. She doesn’t deserve to be hurt again, and I don’t want this to end badly for you, either.”
He sighed deeply. “You’re the objective observer.”
A voice from behind them said, “But do we need one of those?”
They both looked to see Chelsea standing in the kitchen doorway. “I’m okay now. I have all my faculties. I like Jimmy and I can tell he likes me. For the moment that’s all there is. You wanted us all to get along, and we do. Just what you wanted.”
Jane said, “That’s good. It’s just that whatever living together in hiding is, it’s not normal, and it’s not permanent.”
Mattie came in carrying a hot plate. Jane could see slices of roast beef, some asparagus, and a baked potato. “These are leftovers, I’m afraid, but it’s what we had for dinner and it’s pretty good.”
“It looks better than that,” Jane said. “I’ll eat at the kitchen table.”
While Jane ate, Mattie talked about Hanover, the stores where she had found the best food, and the way the region was in the summer, with farmers’ markets along the roads to the east, and over the Vermont border to the west. The others had little to add, because they had rarely been outdoors.
As the night wore on, first Mattie got tired and went off to bed. Then Jimmy brought out a blanket and pillow and lay down on the couch.
“I guess we’ll share a bed,” said Chelsea. “If you don’t mind.”
“No, it’s fine,” said Jane. She glanced at Jimmy. “I guess it’s time.”
They said good-night to Jimmy, and went into the remaining bedroom. In a few minutes they were in the dark and in bed.
Chelsea spoke in a whisper. “I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done. I was in danger, and you fought for me. I needed to get away, and I needed a rest from being sad or angry or scared, and you sent me here. It’s been good to be with normal people in a safe place. And I’ve had a lot of time to think.”
“I’m glad.”
“I said
that so you would understand what I’m going to tell you now. I don’t want to let you risk your life because of me, and then lie to you.”
“About Jimmy?”
“Yes.”
“You like him more than you’ve said.”
“Much more,” she said. “I heard what you said to him. Yes, I’ve been through a lot, and then been locked up with an attractive man, and knowing his mother makes me see what made him such a good man. But if I hadn’t been through anything, and I had met him some other way, I would still feel the same.”
“I’m only interested in keeping you safe. If you both remember why you’re here, then I’ll be satisfied. The rest is up to you.”
“Thanks,” said Chelsea. “I’ve taken your advice, and I’m not just letting some guy pick me. I’m doing the picking. It’s a good feeling.” She turned away from Jane, tugged the covers up to her chin, and closed her eyes.
Jane lay in the dark, staring up toward the ceiling, where the smoke detector’s tiny red light blinked once every ten seconds. There was as much to worry about as there had been when she had started. She had, for the moment, managed to keep Jimmy, Mattie, and Chelsea alive and hidden far away from the people who were hunting them. She had kept Ike Lloyd alive, barely. She had set the forces in motion, but all she could do now was wait and see if the forces accomplished what she wanted. Maybe what she’d done would be enough.
She was exhausted from the days and nights of stalking and hiding, and the long drive to New Hampshire. It was late. After a time the slow, rhythmic sound of Chelsea’s breathing put Jane to sleep. She slept peacefully in an empty place, without sight or sound or thought.
“Jane.” It was a whisper, but it wasn’t Chelsea’s voice, Mattie’s, or Jimmy’s. “Jane!” This time she thought she recognized it. In her dream she pulled aside the covers and got up, then put on her clothes. “Jane,” the whisper came again.
Jane opened the bedroom door, walked silently past Jimmy where he lay on the couch, out the front door, and closed the door behind her. There he was. She said, “Hi, Harry. I see I’m dreaming.”
