Stolen in the Night

by MacDonald, Patricia

  “How did he get injured?”

  Tess sighed. “My brother was supposed to be keeping an eye on him, but he was busy working. Erny decided to fish from the branch of a tree and he fell off when the wind blew up. He got a bit shaken up, but he’s okay.”

  “Kids,” he said. “They can be a handful.”

  His words surprised her. It was as if he were offering her a little opening into his private world. “You say that like you know,” Tess observed carefully.

  “Not from personal experience. I…just remember my own reckless youth.”

  She was reluctant to pursue the topic of children since it would surely remind him of his late wife and marriage—a subject that, he had made clear earlier in the day, was off limits. She was casting about in her mind for another less personal conversational topic when he said, “I always wanted them, though. Kids.”

  Tess felt herself blushing, despite the fact that his statement had nothing to do with her. “Really,” she said.

  “My wife and I used to talk about it but we never got around to it.”

  All right, Tess thought. You brought it up. “Do you wish you had?” she asked.

  “No,” he said abruptly. Then he softened his tone. “No. I don’t think I could have managed it on my own. I mean, I admire you for going it alone but…for me, it’s probably better this way.”

  “Well, it’s not like you couldn’t still have kids. You’re still young.”

  “Ah, the silver fox look didn’t fool you?” he said.

  Tess smiled. “The gray is obviously…premature.”

  There was a hesitation at the other end of the line. “Well, I was one of those people you hear about who go gray…almost overnight.”

  “They say it can be caused by a shock,” Tess said.

  “It’s true,” he said. “Mine was.”

  “Your wife’s death?” Tess ventured.

  “Yes,” he said. There was a steely note in his voice that forestalled another question. But she was left wondering about his marriage. She felt suddenly, absurdly jealous of a wife whose death was so traumatic that it turned a young man’s hair to gray. Clearly it was a subject he couldn’t bear to think about. A subject that was now, definitely, closed.

  “So,” he said, “did you, um, give any more thought to what we talked about this afternoon? About Nelson Abbott.”

  The mention of Nelson Abbott reminded Tess of the call she was waiting for. Would her suspicion be borne out by the facts, she wondered? She considered telling Ben about it, but then decided against it. Even though he seemed sympathetic, she still wasn’t quite ready to tell him what she’d done. He had made it clear this afternoon that he would not approve.

  “I have been thinking about it,” she said.

  “And…?”

  “And…I am certainly…on the trail of something,” she said. “We’ll see where it leads.”

  “Do you have time to…follow a trail? What about your job?”

  Tess smiled ruefully. “I’m trying to keep my job from coming to me.”

  “What does that mean?” Ben asked.

  “I work for a documentary film team in Washington. I’m a cinematographer. My partners think this whole…situation would make a great film.”

  “Isn’t it a little late? The main event already occurred when the DNA results were announced,” Ben observed.

  “Oh, that’s no problem. There is footage galore of that event. What they want is the personal perspective on the whole thing. You know, interviews with the people involved, as well as footage from both past and present.”

  “You don’t sound enthused,” said Ben.

  “This isn’t something I can be objective about,” said Tess. “That kind of intrusive attention could drive any reluctant witnesses even further underground. Besides, I need to be objective when I work on a film. I mean, it’s good to be passionate about your subject, but I’m just too close to this. For me, this is not about making a movie. This is about finding out what really happened.”

  “It seems like you have your priorities straight,” he said.

  “I hope so,” she said.

  A silence fell between them. “Well, I’d better let you go,” he said. “Get some sleep.”

  “Right,” said Tess. “Thanks for asking about Erny.”

  “I’m glad he’s all right,” Ben said. “Good night.”

  “’Night.” Tess put the receiver carefully back in the cradle, but her heart was feeling anything but careful. She hadn’t felt that excited about a man in a long while. She gazed into the fire, but she did not see the flames. She was picturing him, wondering about him.

  The front door of the inn opened and Dawn called out, “I’m back.”

  Tess looked up as her mother came to the doorway. “Hey, Mom. Come and sit.”

  “Honey, I’m beat,” said Dawn. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” said Tess. “How was the meeting?”

  “Grueling,” said Dawn. “They always are. But somehow, afterwards, you feel better. Tired. But better. How’s our boy?”

  “Asleep,” said Tess.

  “Good. I’m going to do the same,” said Dawn. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Tess looked at the phone. The results were not going to be coming in tonight. “Me, too,” said Tess. She set her unread book on the table and picked up her sherry glass, which she set on the tray.

  “That goes…” said Dawn.

  “I know, into the kitchen,” said Tess, kissing her mother’s cheek. “Go to bed. I’ll close the place up.”

  Tess carried the tray back into the kitchen and rinsed out the used glasses. Then she turned down the kitchen lights, leaving the light on over the sink. She walked back out and down the hallway, checking the library to be sure that she was not turning out the lights on a guest. The library was empty now. Tess left one lamp burning on the library table. She made sure the fire in the sitting room was banked and then she went to the front door to turn out the outside lanterns and the gaslights that illuminated the parking area. As she glanced out, she heard an engine idling and saw a plume of smoke rising in the air. She thought it must be a car’s exhaust. Then she looked again. The smoke was drifting from the half-open window of a fawn-colored sedan, which was facing the inn. All of a sudden, Tess realized that it was smoke, not from the exhaust, but from the driver’s cigarette. Tess strained to see the driver’s face, but all she could make out was his head, which looked skull-like in the dark, his eyes sunken. He flicked his cigarette out the window onto the gravel of the driveway and Tess saw his extended arm. He was wearing a gray parka.

  Tess backed up into the vestibule, slammed the front door, and flipped the switch. All the lights in the parking area went out at once. Then she looked through the door light. Now the car was bleached colorless in the moonlight. The car idled for a moment more and then slowly turned and pulled away.

  Tess’s heart was beating hard. It’s nothing, she told herself. A gray parka. A million people could own a gray parka. It doesn’t mean anything. It could be anyone, she thought. An inn is a public place. And then she remembered the front door. She turned the lock and the bolt snapped into place. She looked through the door light again, but the car was gone.

  CHAPTER 18

  While Tess’s mother dusted the sitting room the next day, Tess was cleaning out the ashes in the sitting-room fireplace just to have something to do other than wait for the DNA results on Nelson Abbott. Shortly after noon, both turned and looked toward the front door where Julie came squeaking in on her rubber-soled shoes, dressed in her nurse’s scrubs and her coat, and carrying an XMen action figure, still in its plastic packaging.

  “Hey,” said Tess.

  “It’s my lunch hour. I figured I’d come see how my nephew is doing. Jake told me about his fall.”

  “He’s doing okay,” said Tess. “I let him take Leo out for a short walk.”

  Julie handed Tess the packaged action figure. “Well, I picked this
up for him. I guess I’ll leave it with you.”

  Tess smiled at the gift and then gave her sister-in-law a hug. “Thanks. That was sweet of you.”

  “Least I could do,” said Julie, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe if my husband had been watching him like he was supposed to…he told me you were plenty mad at him.”

  Tess shrugged and avoided Julie’s gaze. “I’m sure he also told you I was being an overbearing worrywart.”

  “He didn’t use those exact words,” said Julie.

  All of a sudden the phone on the table by the door rang. Tess jumped. “I’m sorry. I have to get that,” she said.

  “Go ahead,” said Julie.

  Tess rushed over to the table and picked up the phone with a trembling hand. “Hello.”

  “Tess?”

  Instantly she recognized Aldous Fuller’s thready voice. Tess’s heart thudded and she felt light-headed. Calm down. He’s probably just calling to say he won’t know anything until tomorrow, she told herself. “Chief Fuller,” she said.

  “I have the results,” he said.

  Tess felt as if someone was grabbing her throat. Squeezing it. “And?” she managed to squeak.

  “Looks like a match,” he said.

  Tess’s knees buckled and, for a moment, she actually saw spots in front of her eyes. She took a deep breath. “A match?”

  “It’s not perfect, Tess,” said the chief. “The sample from the original crime is so deteriorated. But they do these things by points. Apparently…”

  Tess was hearing his voice, but not actually listening as he detailed the test results. She kept picturing Nelson Abbott’s face, his cruel little eyes, as he confronted her at his house. Demanding to know what she was doing there. Menacing her. Gloating over his lawsuit and piously proclaiming his desire to have justice for Lazarus. And all the while, he was the one who had killed Phoebe. Defiled her. Tess’s stomach twisted and she stifled the urge to gag.

  “So…a pretty good hunch on your part,” said the chief.

  Tess tried to speak calmly. “What happens now?”

  “I called Rusty and explained the results to him. He was steamed. Said it wouldn’t stand up in court, but I threatened to take the results to Chan Morris and the rest of the news vultures if he didn’t do something about it. So he did agree to send two of his men to pick up Nelson and bring him in for questioning down at the station.”

  “Why do they have to question him? Doesn’t this prove it?” Tess demanded.

  “Well, it certainly implicates him.”

  “What else do they need?” Tess cried.

  “That depends,” said Aldous vaguely.

  “Never mind,” said Tess. “Thank you, Chief. Thank you so much.”

  “You just sit tight, Tess. If there’s any news you’ll hear about it.”

  Tess set the receiver back down in the cradle and turned around.

  Julie, who was chatting amiably with Dawn, frowned at her. “Tess, what’s the matter? You’re red as a beet.”

  “That was Chief Fuller,” she said.

  “What did he want?” Julie asked.

  “They know who did it.”

  “Who did what?” Julie asked.

  Dawn was peering at her. “What are you talking about, honey?”

  “The police. They know who killed Phoebe,” said Tess. “It was Nelson Abbott.”

  Julie let out a cry. “What? No. Why would they think that?”

  Tess nodded. “It was him. His DNA matched the old evidence.”

  “Oh my God,” Julie cried. “Oh Tess. Oh my God. Wait until Jake hears this. Nelson Abbott. That lying hypocrite. I just…I can’t believe it. Oh my God. I have to catch Jake at lunch. I want to be the one to tell him. I don’t want him to hear it on the TV or something. He will be wild when he hears this. Just out of his mind. I’d better go. I’ll see you both later.” Julie hurried toward the front door.

  Tess picked up the phone again. “I have to call Ben,” she said. She called information for the number of Ben Ramsey’s office and had it dialed automatically. As the phone rang, Tess looked at her mother. Dawn was dead white except for the gray smudges under her eyes. Even her lips looked livid. “Mom, are you okay?”

  Dawn shook her head and walked into the sitting room.

  “Cottrell and Wayne,” said the receptionist.

  “Mr. Ramsey,” said Tess. “I need to speak to him. It’s very important.”

  “Mr. Ramsey is unavailable,” the receptionist said firmly. “Can I take a message?”

  Tess looked worriedly at the door through which her mother had disappeared. “Tell him to call Tess please. As soon as he’s free. Thank you,” she said. She hung up the phone and went into the sitting room.

  Dawn sat on the sofa, blinking, as if she had been struck in the face and was still stunned by the blow. She was shivering from head to toe. Tess came and sat beside her mother, draping an arm protectively around her shoulders.

  Dawn looked into Tess’s eyes with a bewildered expression on her face. “I don’t understand any of this, Tess.” Dawn shook her head. “Nelson Abbott? How could it be?” Then she looked at Tess. “You don’t seem…surprised.”

  “I was the one who…first suspected him. I got a sample of Nelson’s DNA and Chief Fuller sent it to the lab…” Tess admitted.

  “You got it?” said Dawn. “How? What made you think of Nelson?”

  Tess started to explain her thinking that had led to the unmasking of Nelson Abbott but as she talked she could see the distracted suffering in her mother’s eyes. All Dawn could think about was her daughter Phoebe, set upon by two depraved men, father and son. Tess cut short her explanation.

  Dawn shook her head and looked away from her daughter. “He always seemed…normal. A regular man. Not a monster. I mean, I should have known better. I remember the stories of how he used to treat Lazarus. I thought they were exaggerating how bad it was, to save Lazarus. But I never dreamed…to think that Nelson stood here, right in this very room, just days ago, and told us that he thought Lazarus was guilty…”

  “I know…” said Tess. “Mom, I want to be there when they arrest him. I have to go down to the police station. Will you be all right if I leave you alone here?”

  “I’m all right, Tess,” Dawn said vaguely.

  “If Mr. Ramsey calls, tell him…tell him I’m heading to the police station. Give him my cell phone number.”

  “I will. You go on. Be my brave girl.”

  Tess kissed her mother’s dry cheek and hurried to get her jacket.

  The word was already out. The assemblage of reporters had vacated the parking area outside the inn and reassembled at the police station. There were officers coming and going through the front doors of the station house, refusing requests for comments from the reporters who waited in the cold, their clouds of breath visible against the blue sky.

  Tess saw a pretty young woman being videotaped as she spoke to the camera with the station house as a backdrop. The nearby van had the call letters of a local TV station. Although she strained to listen, Tess could not hear what the reporter was saying. Tess jammed her hands in her pockets and hunched her shoulders, hoping no one would recognize her. She wasn’t ready to make any public comment on Nelson’s arrest. Even though it was her own purloining of the John Deere hat, her own suspicion of Nelson’s guilt that had brought this moment about, Tess still felt too shaky to talk publicly about her feelings.

  Tess jumped as someone tapped her on the shoulder from behind. She turned around. Channing Morris, wearing an olive green field coat, was standing beside her. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said.

  Tess shrank from his curious gaze.

  “I heard they’ve arrested someone for your sister’s murder,” said Chan, absently pushing back his shiny black hair.

  Tess hesitated. “Arrested?” she asked.

  “Well, they have a suspect they’re questioning.” Chan shook his head and his black locks fell into his eyes again. “It’s just hard
to believe that after all these years, all that’s happened, they could find the real killer so quickly.”

  Tess avoided looking at him. “It is amazing.”

  “We could be waiting here for quite a while. Can I buy you a cup of coffee while we wait?” he asked.

  “I suppose so,” said Tess.

  Chan pointed to the Dunkin’ Donuts across the street, which was doing a brisk business thanks to the assembled newspeople. People were streaming out of the store carrying paper trays of steaming coffee cups and bags of food. “Let’s go over there. At least we can sit down.”

  “All right,” said Tess. He must have been a beautiful child, she thought, glancing at his square jaw and his long black eyelashes, and then, inevitably, her thoughts returned to her own child. “I guess my son created a little excitement over at your house yesterday,” Tess said as they hurried along the sidewalk to the store.

  Chan looked puzzled. “I’m sorry. What do you mean?”

  “Oh, I figured you knew.”

  “Knew what?” Chan asked.

  “My son, Erny, was…fooling around and he fell out of a tree on your property. Jake had to take him to the emergency room.”

  “Really? You’re kidding.”

  “Fortunately, he wasn’t hurt. Just bruised and shook up,” said Tess, although Chan hadn’t asked.

  “Well, that’s good. No, I didn’t know anything about it,” Chan said. He reached out to open the door and ushered Tess into the bubble gum pink-and-white interior of the donut shop. Most of the TV people were collecting their orders and leaving, unwilling to miss a moment of recordable action or a sound bite, so the tables and booths in the store were mostly empty. Chan chose a beige Formica-topped booth in the rear and brought back two steaming cups.

  Tess thanked him. She did not want to be recognized, so she sat with her back to the counter activity. Chan, on the other hand, wanted to keep an eye on the station house, just in case someone emerged to give a statement, so he sat facing the door. He shrugged off his field coat. Beneath it, he was wearing a striped broadcloth shirt with rolled-up sleeves. “I hope we’ll find out what’s going on soon. I have to put the paper to bed this afternoon and if there is an arrest I’d like to get it on the front page.” Chan blew on his coffee. “Do you have any idea who the suspect is?” he asked.