Stolen in the Night

by MacDonald, Patricia

  Tess saw the blush which moved up his neck to his cheeks.

  “Because it’s you,” he said. “It’s your son.” He turned and looked her directly in the eyes. “Because it seems like you are all I think about these days.”

  Tess looked at him in amazement. Before she could form a reply, a white truck came rumbling down the gravel driveway and pulled up in front of the inn. Jake jumped out of the driver’s seat. He opened the van doors, pulled out a long stick, and came walking toward Tess and Ben.

  “Hey, Tess,” Jake said with a forced heartiness. “Are you speaking to me yet? Tell Erny I’m here. I brought back his fishing pole.” Jake looked fondly, and with a certain pride, at the pole he was holding. “He did a good job. Clever little guy. Look how he made it. He used a garden stake, a piece of twine. He even put a lure on it,” said Jake, plinking his thumb and forefinger against the piece of metal tied to the end of the line.

  Tess stood up and stared at her brother. All her anger at him melted away at the sight of his familiar face. “Jake, where have you been? You don’t know what happened?” she asked.

  Jake stood the pole up carefully against the lattice behind the bench and looked at Tess warily. “No. After I picked up the fishing pole I had to drive to North Conway for supplies. Why? What happened?”

  Ben stood up also and put a protective hand on Tess’s shoulder. “Erny has…disappeared,” he said. “We think he was abducted by Nelson Abbott’s killer.”

  “What?” Jake yelped. “Killer…? Wait a minute. Nelson was killed? Who did it? How did they get ahold of Erny?”

  Tess saw the genuine bewilderment in her brother’s eyes. She needed to back up and explain. “This morning, we took a canoe ride to the beach at the campground. Erny and me. Someone had dumped Nelson’s body there. He was getting ready to bury it, we think. Anyway, Erny went into the woods, looking for twigs…and he must have seen…” Tess dissolved into tears. She shook her head, unable to continue.

  “Jesus, Tess…” Jake rushed to his sister, wrapping his arms around her. Tess huddled against her brother’s broad familiar shoulder. She felt his empathy, his support, as he enfolded her. He only wanted to comfort her. Not, she thought ruefully, to berate her for letting Erny out of her sight, the way she had berated him for the same sin only a day earlier. It would never have occurred to him to do that, she realized, as a sob escaped from her throat.

  Before Tess could regain her composure and tell him she was sorry, there was the sound of a siren’s wail and the roar of a car engine. A black-and-white police car, its roof light flashing, rounded the curve of the driveway and sped into the circle in front of the inn. It squealed to a stop behind Jake’s truck, spraying gravel to the sides of its wheels. Another siren could already be heard coming toward them down the driveway. The front door of the inn opened and the plainclothes officers who had been in the hallway came outside, with Dawn following hard on their heels.

  Two officers jumped from the first car, guns drawn and approaching cautiously.

  “Jake DeGraff?” said the first uniformed officer who had emerged from the car.

  Jake let go of Tess and looked at the police, perplexed. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m Jake DeGraff.”

  A second police car roared up beside the first and stopped short. Two more policemen got out and waited by their car.

  “What the hell?” said Jake.

  “Your truck was spotted on the road into town heading in this direction. Do you have the boy?” the second cop from the squad car asked.

  “What boy?” Jake asked, incredulous.

  “Your nephew. Erny.”

  “Of course I don’t have him. I just found out he’s been kidnapped!”

  “We have orders to bring you in for questioning, sir, in the murder of Nelson Abbott,” said the first uniformed officer.

  “I didn’t kill that son of a bitch,” Jake protested.

  Chuck Virgilio, the plainclothes cop with the mustache, said, “You’ll have to go with them, Mr. DeGraff.”

  Jake looked at Tess. “Tess, tell them. I didn’t even know Abbott was dead…”

  Tess appealed to Officer Virgilio. “My brother couldn’t have done this. He wouldn’t have taken Erny. It’s Erny you should be looking for. Every minute that goes by, my son’s life is in danger.”

  “Sorry, ma’am,” said the uniformed cop from the patrol car. “We have orders to pick your brother up. He threatened the murder victim within earshot of a lot of people. So we are going to bring him in. Are you going to come with us voluntarily, Mr. DeGraff, or do I have to arrest you?”

  Dawn, who had been standing quietly by, watching with huge haunted eyes, suddenly approached the officer with raised fists and began to shout. “Stop this! Now! Leave my son alone. Why are you people persecuting us?”

  The officer turned on her. “You’d better calm down or you’ll find yourself down at the station, too.”

  “Watch how you talk to my mother,” Jake warned him.

  “No, Jake. Don’t. I’m all right,” said Dawn.

  Ben took a step toward Jake and spoke in a low quick voice. “Jake, go with the police,” said Ben. “Don’t make trouble. I’ll come with you.”

  “Who are you?” Jake demanded.

  “Ben Ramsey. I’m an attorney.”

  The light of recognition dawned in Jake’s eyes. “Ramsey. You’re the one who was working for…who got Lazarus…” Jake sputtered. “You were the one who was defending Nelson.”

  Tess grabbed her brother’s arm and spoke quickly into his angry suspicious face. “Let him help you, Jake.”

  “What are you talking about, Tess? This is the enemy.”

  “No, Jake, listen. He knows…what we’re up against.” Tess exchanged a serious glance with Ben. “Someone…could be looking for a scapegoat. Don’t let them use my brother, okay?”

  Ben nodded, unsmiling, understanding exactly what she meant. “Nothing will get by me,” he said. “I promise you.”

  “Mr. DeGraff,” said one of the uniformed cops. “You can go peacefully or we’ll put these cuffs on you. Your call.”

  “Jake, we’ll go down there with them and I’m sure in no time we can straighten this out,” said Ben. “There has to be someone who remembers seeing you in North Conway. Or a surveillance camera tape. Don’t worry. We’ll corroborate your alibi.”

  “Alibi? Why do I need an alibi?”

  “Mr. DeGraff,” the cop snapped.

  “Jake,” said Tess. “Let Ben help you. He’s the best at what he does. Who knows that better than us?”

  “All right. All right,” said Jake irritably. “But this is just crap.”

  “I’d come, too, but…Erny,” said Tess. “Someone might call.”

  “I’m going with him,” Dawn insisted. “I’m going with my son.”

  “No. Mom, stay with Tess,” said Jake. “I’ll be okay. I didn’t do anything wrong. Call Julie. She’s at work. Tell her about this. Go on, Mom. You call her. I’ll be fine.”

  As the uniformed officers led Jake to the squad car, Officer Virgilio opened the door of the inn for Dawn. Dawn marched past him without acknowledging his gesture.

  “Tess,” said Ben. “I’ll be back with your brother as soon as I can. You sit tight. Don’t worry. We’re going to get Erny back.”

  Tess nodded numbly and watched as the uniformed officers accompanied Jake and nudged him into the backseat of the patrol car. Ben quickly ducked into his car and fired up the engine.

  Tess watched them leave the driveway in a caravan, headed for the police station. Standing alone in the driveway, she began to shiver uncontrollably. She felt as if she were coming apart inside, fracturing into a thousand pieces. No, she told herself. NO. Keep it together. If Ben’s theory was right, the police could be working against her, covering up for their chief. One thing was for sure. She could not wait around here, hoping the police would rescue her son. Even if they weren’t in collusion with the chief, the last person they would ever treat a
s a suspect was Chief Bosworth. You have to do it, she thought. You have to do something.

  Tess’s heart was thudding and her insides were ajitter. Get a grip, she thought. This isn’t helping. She wanted to just collapse in a heap on the gravel driveway and hide her head in her arms. Stop it, she thought. Concentrate. She forced herself to think about the DNA results and Rusty Bosworth. Could the police chief have hidden her son somewhere? If he did, she thought, trying to find a shred of hope, maybe that gave her a little time. At least Erny might be safe for the moment. The chief would be in the public eye all day because of this high-profile murder of Nelson Abbott. If she could find his house, maybe she would find her son there. Tess fumbled in her jacket pocket and found her cell phone. She dialed information and asked for Chief Bosworth’s number. “It’s on…Maple Road,” she said, fabricating an address, hoping the operator would supply the correct address.

  While Tess waited for the operator to respond, her thoughts raced. Could Rusty Bosworth have been the long-ago accomplice of Lazarus Abbott? They were cousins, close in age. Summers, they worked together, helping Nelson. In a way, it made sense.

  The operator came back on the line. “I’m sorry, that number is unlisted.”

  “Unlisted? No. It’s very important…”

  The operator clicked off, leaving Tess staring at her phone. Don’t panic, she told herself. Someone will know. Julie, she thought. Quickly she punched Jake’s number on her directory. In a moment, she heard Julie’s voice sounding frantic.

  “What is going on, Tess? I’m talking to your mother on the other line. Dawn said that Jake has been arrested! For taking Erny? That’s insane. How could they possibly think that Jake would do that? To his own nephew?”

  Tess couldn’t take the time to speculate. “Jake will be all right. He has an attorney with him. Listen, I need your help.”

  “I’ve got to get to the police station, Tess.”

  “Julie, listen to me. I need you to help me. Where does Chief Bosworth live?”

  “Rusty Bosworth? What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Julie, you know everybody in this town. Where does he live?”

  “I don’t know. He and Charmaine had a house but they separated and he moved out. I don’t know where he lives now. Look in the phone book.”

  “I tried information. He’s unlisted.”

  “Tess, what is this all about?”

  “Julie, can you help me or not?” Tess demanded.

  “I don’t know,” said Julie. “Ask Charmaine. She has a place on Main Street. A massage place. She’ll know.”

  Immediately Tess realized why the unusual name sounded familiar. She remembered Jake pointing out the massage parlor to her and making a joke about Rusty Bosworth’s wife. “Right,” said Tess. “They’re divorced. Right?”

  “Separated,” said Julie. “I have to go, Tess.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Julie.” Charmaine would know where her estranged husband lived, Tess thought. She would also know if Rusty had any other blood relations who might fit the DNA profile. “What’s her place called?”

  “Stressless,” said Julie. “It’s called Stressless.”

  CHAPTER 25

  A flutelike bell tinkled as Tess opened the door to Stressless.

  Water burbled and circulated over shiny stones in a round fountain in the window and the walls of the small space, painted a soothing celadon green, were decorated with framed Zen koans, photos of dew-laden blossoms on a branch against an out-of-focus background, and Japanese drawings of cranes, snowcapped mountains, and high-rising ocean waves with red Japanese characters running down the sides of each picture. A CD of tuneless music plunked on a stringed instrument played softly in the background. A square woven basket full of pamphlets about yoga classes, AIDS, and women’s health issues sat on the blond wood counter, which was obviously the reception desk, though it was unmanned at the moment. A light fixture and a fan hung from a stained, dropped ceiling, marring the otherwise clean and soothing effect of the space.

  There were no customers seated in the ergonomically correct chairs arrayed around a tatami mat in the waiting area, but Tess could see shadows moving behind a wood-framed standing paper screen at the back of the room. “Hello?” Tess called out.

  A trim woman with finely lined skin, Western features, and a skinned-back, dyed blonde bun anchored by a chopstick came out from behind the screen and bowed. Then she smiled benignly at Tess. She was barefoot and wearing a kimono-style jacket and cropped black pants. “Take a seat, why don’t you, and just breathe for a while. I’ll be with you shortly.”

  Before Tess could reply, she slipped back behind the screen. “Excuse me,” Tess called out. “Are you Charmaine Bosworth?”

  “Yes,” the woman’s voice trilled, at once pleasant and reproving.

  Tess could tell that she was clearly disturbing the vibe. “I’m sorry, but I need to talk to you right now.”

  The woman folded back one panel of the screen. Tess could see that there was someone lying facedown on the table, wrapped in a bathsheet-size towel. At first glance, Tess thought it was an adolescent boy whose bruised limbs were flaccid, lacking in muscle tone. Then Tess realized that it had to be a female. A boy would only be wrapped to the waist.

  “I am unable to help you right now,” said Charmaine firmly.

  “It’s very important,” said Tess. “I wouldn’t interrupt otherwise.”

  “This is a treatment session,” said Charmaine, raising her eyebrows and indicating, with an inclination of her head, the wheelchair that was folded against the wall. “Surely it can wait.”

  “It’s all right, Charmaine,” said a small raspy voice from the direction of the massage table. “I’m fine for a few minutes.” The client turned her head to face Charmaine and Tess recognized the tiny woman on the table. It was Sally Morris, the publisher’s wife. For one minute Tess felt fearful that maybe Sally would recognize her or her voice, but she reassured herself that it was unlikely. They had only met briefly at the airport and even though Sally had turned her head on the table, Tess was completely out of her line of sight.

  Tess winced at the sight of the woman’s wasted body with its assortment of bruises, some fresh and some faded to yellow. Probably from the kind of fall she had taken at the airport. Tess felt a pang of sympathy for the woman’s pitiable condition. A desire to speak a kind word to the woman on the table crossed her mind, but Tess instantly dismissed the impulse. It was critical to her plan that she not be recognized. She was relieved when Charmaine Bosworth sighed and adjusted the screen so that Sally was no longer in view. “What is the problem?” she asked.

  On the way over, Tess had imagined the possible scenarios of this visit. Already she realized with relief that she was over the most daunting hurdle. Charmaine’s cool gaze betrayed no sign that she recognized this intruder. Tess’s avoidance of interviews and photographers had proved valuable. Charmaine had no idea that it was Tess DeGraff she was talking to, despite all the media coverage. Besides, Tess thought, Charmaine probably avoided the news to maintain her calm aura. This made Tess’s mission that much easier. She knew that asking this woman for the home address of her estranged husband would arouse suspicion. And certainly, there was no normal way to inquire about Rusty Bosworth’s blood relations. Tess had thought it over carefully and figured out a way to proceed. Now she put her plan into action. She began with an effusive apology.

  Charmaine seemed somewhat appeased. “That’s all right. How can I help you?”

  “You are Mrs. Russell Bosworth?”

  “Well. Technically,” said Charmaine.

  “My name is…Terkel. June Terkel. I work for a brokerage house in Boston. We are trying to locate Russell Bosworth.”

  “What for?” Charmaine asked.

  “He, and any siblings or cousins he may have had, have been bequeathed a brokerage account at my firm from a distant relation who never actually knew the family.”

  “A brokerage account? You me
an like stocks and bonds?” Charmaine asked.

  “Exactly. We tried to reach him but found that he was no longer at your address.”

  “We’re separated,” said Charmaine. “But Rusty’s the chief of police. You can find him at the police station most likely.”

  “Yes, I know that he is. I’ve left several messages with his sergeant, but your husband has failed to return my calls.”

  “He’s been really busy,” said Charmaine.

  “I’m afraid he might be ignoring my calls because he thinks I’m trying to contact him about investing money or some such thing. That’s why I decided to seek you out. I would prefer to speak to him away from his place of employment. This is really a matter I need to discuss with him privately. Also, I need his address for purposes of correspondence.”

  Charmaine hesitated. “He doesn’t like people knowing where he lives.”

  “Well, I can understand that,” said Tess evenly, though her heart was thudding. This was the critical hurdle. “If you prefer, maybe you could contact him for me and tell him about our conversation.”

  Charmaine seemed to give the matter some thought. “No. I’d rather he thought I didn’t know about it. Is it a lot of money?”

  Tess suppressed a sigh of relief. It was going to work. She could see the calculations going on behind Charmaine’s eyes. She and Rusty Bosworth were not yet divorced. Community property had not yet been legally divided. Charmaine wanted to give her estranged husband enough rope to hang himself. When, in listing his assets, he failed to mention having this account, she would be able to catch him in a deception in front of the lawyers or the court. Obviously Charmaine was trying to achieve a higher spiritual plane, but when it came to Rusty, she could be as ruthless as any injured spouse.

  “It’s a considerable sum,” said Tess. “Of course, it may have to be divided among a number of people.”

  “Oh no,” said Charmaine. “Rusty has no other family. He had one cousin but he’s…deceased.”

  “I see. So Mr. Bosworth would be the sole heir.”