Night Moves (60th Anniversary)

by Heather Graham

  “Barb?” Bryn called softly.

  There was no reply. Tentatively Bryn stepped into the house and tiptoed over to the sofa. Barbara was lying there, apparently comfortable as she stretched out. But she appeared to be a little pale, and she had to be sleeping soundly not to have heard Bryn yet.

  “Barb?” Bryn shook her friend’s shoulder. Barbara groaned and winced, but her eyes didn’t open. Anxiously, Bryn shook her friend with more force. “Barb!”

  Barbara groaned again; her eyelids began to flutter, and then they opened. She stared up at Bryn blankly.

  “Barb, it’s Bryn. What’s the matter? Are you all right?”

  Recognition registered in Barbara’s eyes. She blinked again, as if bewildered. “Bryn…” She started to move, then groaned, clutching her head.

  “Barbara! What’s wrong?” Bryn demanded again, truly anxious now.

  “I…I don’t know…” Barbara murmured. “I must have fallen asleep, but oh, God! My head. I feel like I’ve been hit by a ton of bricks. I…remember sitting here. I was watching that new miniseries. And I…I don’t remember anything after!”

  “Can you sit up, Barb?”

  “Yes…I think so.”

  Bryn moved quickly to sit beside Barbara. She grasped Barbara’s hands, pulling them from her head, and gingerly worked over her friend’s scalp. Rivers of ice seemed to congeal her blood as she found a knot the size of a walnut near Barbara’s nape.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus, Barb! It feels like you have been hit with a ton of bricks. I’m going to get an ice pack. Sit tight.”

  Bryn sped into the kitchen, dropped ice all over the floor in her desperate effort to hurry, then rushed back to Barbara.

  “Lie back down on your side, Barb, and let me get the ice on this. Think Barb. Something must have happened.”

  Barbara sank gratefully back to the couch. “I swear to you, honey, I haven’t lost my mind—just bruised it. I was sitting here watching television. I did not get up and trip and forget all about it or anything. I—”

  Barbara’s eyes flew open, filled with horror. She stared at Bryn; then her eyes nervously scanned the room, and then she stared at Bryn again.

  “Bryn!” Her voice was a terrified whisper. “Someone must have been in here! Someone had to hit me from behind!”

  Bryn swallowed as the terror washed over her again. Yes, it was obvious. Someone had been in the house. They had struck Barbara on the head. Then they had left—or had they?

  “Oh, God!” Bryn whispered.

  Barbara started to rise. “We’ve got to call the police right away.”

  “No!” Bryn almost screamed the word. As Barbara stared at her as if she had gone crazy, Bryn lowered her voice to a whisper again. “No…wait. Let’s…let’s check out the house. The boys…”

  “I think we should get on the phone right away—”

  “No, Barb, please! I just… Wait. Wait and I’ll try to explain. Just first…”

  She stood up and started for the stairs, walking backward as she kept a pleading eye on Barbara. “The boys…I can’t call the police. Oh, God, I know how this sounds. I realize you’ve just been criminally attacked and that we should call the police, but—”

  “Wait up, Bryn! Where are you going?” Barbara asked.

  “I have to check on the boys!” Bryn whispered, tears forming in her eyes. If she was lucky, her mysterious caller had knocked Barbara out, then destroyed her room. And another phone call would come. If she wasn’t lucky…

  “Wait for me, Bryn Keller!” Barbara called softly. “You’re not going up there alone!”

  “Get the broom!”

  “The broom?”

  “It’s my best weapon.”

  “A knife—”

  “We’d wind up dead!”

  Apparently Barbara saw the sense of it. She hurried into the kitchen and brought back the broom and the mop—a lance for each of them.

  Their eyes turned simultaneously up the stairway. It was dark; the bathroom light wasn’t on. Bryn had never felt greater terror in her life than when she looked up into that realm of shadow that promised nothing but a never-ending nightmare.

  “Go!” Barbara whispered.

  Bryn took a step. Barbara followed. Another step. Barbara coughed softly, and Bryn almost screamed. Her heart pounded painfully and seemed to lodge in her throat.

  She took another step, and another; Barbara was with her, a shadow glued to her back.

  “Do you see anything?” Barbara demanded.

  “No!”

  “Keep moving.”

  Bryn took another step. They had almost reached the landing when suddenly a figure loomed before them.

  Bryn and Barbara screamed together, knocking each other with the broom and the mop as they tried to raise them.

  The reply to their scream was a terrified little echo, and then the sound of a child crying.

  Bryn stood dead still. “Adam?” she queried softly.

  “No, it’s Keith. You scared me, Aunt Bryn!” An accusing hiccup and sob followed his words. “The light is out. I have to go, and I can’t find the bathroom.”

  Bryn raced on up the stairs, breathing a sigh of relief. She fumbled her way into the bathroom and turned on the light. The hallway no longer appeared ominous, and if Keith was fine, so were Brian and Adam. “Here, honey. Barb and I won’t forget to put it on again.”

  Barbara—white and shaky, but poised—managed a smile that was only slightly sick. But as soon as the little boy had closed the door behind him, she whispered to Bryn, “I had that light on, Bryn Keller! You know I always leave the bathroom light on for the boys.”

  “I know, I know!” Bryn wailed. “Just let’s finish checking the house, and I’ll try to explain.”

  “This is one you’re going to have to explain, Bryn! I still have a lump the size of an egg on my head! And the way I see it, we’re going to have to call the police.”

  “Just wait till you hear everything, please?”

  “Let’s check out your bedroom.”

  They both poised with their household lances before her closet door, but when they had glanced at each other and nervously thrown it open, they found nothing but Bryn’s clothing.

  And nothing had been done to her room. Not a thing was out of place.

  “I don’t think there’s anywhere else anyone could be hiding. We were running all around the kitchen. And the parlor. The bathroom is certainly too small to hide anything but a gremlin.”

  “I think you’re right. Except for the darkroom,” Bryn murmured, chewing on her lip.

  “We’ll go and check.”

  Bryn nodded. “Just let me tuck Keith back into bed.”

  Keith was rubbing his eyes and heading for the stairs rather than his bedroom. Bryn caught his shoulders and propelled him in the right direction. “Get back in bed. Good night now, sweetheart.”

  He kissed her dutifully and crawled into his bed. Unease suddenly pricked Bryn’s spine and she spun to stare at the boy’s closet. But the door was open, and she could see that the closet wasn’t harboring anything more sinister than clothing, Castle Grayskull and an assortment of Star Wars figures.

  The intruder was not in the house.

  Bryn turned back to tuck in Keith’s covers. He was already sound asleep again. She walked over to the bunk and adjusted Brian’s covers, then bent to do the same for Adam.

  Except that there was no Adam in the bottom bunk.

  For a moment she didn’t believe it; she was sure she just hadn’t looked in the right place. But it was the right place, and no matter how she ran her hands over the sheets, she couldn’t find a little boy.

  Bryn rushed over to the wall and turned on the light. She stared about frantically, then raced to the closet, tearing apart the clothing, throwing toys around haphazardly. She lowered herself to the floor and checked under the beds.

  There was no Adam. Anywhere.

  “Aunt Bryn! The light hurts!”

  It was Brian, sta
rting to stir.

  “Brian,” Bryn began, desperately trying to sound calm. “Honey, did you hear anything tonight? Did you see anything? Do you know where your brother—”

  She didn’t finish her sentence, because the phone began to ring. “Go back to sleep, Brian,” she said, her tone faint as a feeling of sickness clutched at her abdomen and almost doubled her over. “I’ll turn out the light.”

  She hurried to do so, then gathered her failing strength and rushed back into the hall to race down the stairs.

  Barbara was ready to reach for the phone.

  “Don’t answer it!” Bryn shrilled out.

  Barbara paused as she took a look at her friend’s panicked face. Bryn swept by her, half sobbing. “Barb, we have to do it my way! They’ve got Adam!”

  She picked up the phone, shaking too badly to speak for a moment. The caller wasn’t deterred.

  “Miss Keller? Answer me—quickly.”

  “Yes! Yes, I’m here!” Bryn screamed. “And I want him back! I want Adam back right now. You bring him back, or so help me God I’ll call the police! I’ll kill you with my bare hands—”

  “Shut up, and don’t get carried away. Yes, we have Adam. And do you know what? He’s just fine right now, Miss Keller. He just had a nice fudge sundae and curled up to sleep. We’ll continue to take real, real good care of him, Miss Keller. But you don’t get him back. Not until I get the pictures. You messed up tonight. I knew you would. You weren’t taking me seriously enough. Now you’ll take me seriously—and maybe you’ll do it right.”

  “Oh, God! Don’t you understand! I can’t get the damned pictures! Condor won’t—”

  “You are going to get them back from Condor.”

  “I tried….”

  The whispered voice suddenly turned to a growl. “You didn’t try hard enough. You ran away. You see, Miss Keller, I know your type. I know what you did. I even know how you think. I see everything. So don’t mess with me, eh? And keep your mouth shut, you understand? I wouldn’t want to have to return your little boy in bits and pieces.”

  “I tried!” Bryn pleaded again. “I would have done anything—”

  “Like I said, Miss Keller, try harder. It’s rumored that Condor has a real thing for you. And I have faith, Miss Keller. A woman with your obvious assets can get a man where she wants him. Do it. And soon.”

  “You knocked out my friend,” Bryn charged the caller bitterly. “She wants me to call the police—”

  “If she’s your friend, she won’t.”

  “But—”

  “Get the pictures, Miss Keller. Quickly. You’re running out of time.”

  The phone went dead in Bryn’s hand. Dead. What a word. Oh, God, what was she going to do?

  She felt a hand on her shoulder and she almost jumped through the roof. It was just Barb. Bryn covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

  Barbara put an arm around her and led her to sit at the kitchen table. “Where’s the brandy?”

  “Under the sink.”

  Barbara stuck a snifter full of the fiery liquid beneath Bryn’s nose. “Drink it all down at once. All of it.”

  Bryn did as she was told. She choked, and her throat burned, but she managed to stop crying.

  “Okay, now. Let me hear this whole story.”

  In a dull monotone Bryn told Barbara everything, starting with the strange man who had appeared on her porch offering her five thousand dollars for the photos. She told her about the darkroom, and about all the phone calls—and about her catastrophic efforts to win back the proofs that night.

  “It’s simple,” Barbara said. “You’ve got to tell Lee.”

  “No!” Bryn wailed. “I can’t! That’s one of the main things this person keeps telling me! Not to tell Lee.”

  “Because he’s probably afraid of Lee. Honey, when he’s got Adam, he has you by the nose. But if you just tell Lee, he’ll give you the pictures back. He’d never jeopardize the life of a little boy.”

  “But he might try! He might be furious about all this and determined to catch these people. Oh, Barbara. I can’t take the chance. Not now! They have Adam!”

  “Lee’s no fool, Bryn. He’d handle things discreetly.”

  “I just can’t risk it, Barbara! Someone managed to break into my darkroom in broad daylight and rip it to shreds. Tonight, he or she broke in here, knocked you out and abducted Adam—all without a sound! Barb, look. The lock was picked. It seems this person can come and go at will. And I think he knows where I am and where I go. I just can’t take a chance, Barbara. Oh, please! You’ve got to help me! We’ve just got to do this my way!”

  Barbara lowered her lashes, then looked at Bryn squarely. “You’re taking another risk, you know.”

  Bryn swallowed. She knew what Barbara meant, but she had to ask. “What are you talking about?”

  “If these people are that ruthless, Adam is in danger no matter what you do.”

  Bryn shook her head. “All they want is the pictures, I can’t let myself believe that they would hurt Adam.”

  “What are you going to tell his brothers?”

  “That…that…he went to stay with your sister.”

  “I don’t have a sister.”

  “You do now.”

  Barbara sighed. “All right, Bryn. Adam is your nephew; I can’t make you do what would terrify you, even if I do think that the police should be called in. But what are you going to do?”

  “I’ve tried charm, now I’m going to try robbery.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to break into his house tomorrow night.”

  “Oh, God in heaven! Now you really have gone crazy!”

  “No, no, Barbara! I was in the house tonight, remember? There’s a little alcove off the living room with his desk and business papers and the like. And a file cabinet. The proofs have to be there somewhere.”

  “Marvelous. What if he has a burglar alarm?”

  “He doesn’t…at least, I’m almost certain he doesn’t. And I went through the house. There’s a den window that was open tonight. I’m sure I can slip through it.”

  “This is insane.”

  “I’m desperate, Barbara!”

  Barbara shook her head. “I still say it’s insane. You’re going to wind up in jail, and then what will happen?”

  “I won’t wind up in jail,” Bryn said with far more confidence than she felt.

  Barbara sighed. “Pass the brandy, will you please? This is going to be a long night. And somehow we’re both going to have to show up for work tomorrow morning.”

  Bryn poured Barbara a stiff brandy, then poured another one for herself. God bless Barbara! she thought in sudden meditation. She’d been knocked unconscious, dragged into terror and now showed no signs of deserting the ship. At least Bryn now had a sympathetic shoulder to lean on….

  “How many brandies to you think it will take us to get to sleep?”

  Bryn grimaced. “The bottle.”

  But ten bottles of brandy wouldn’t have allowed her to sleep that night. All she could think about was Adam. If she could only hold him now, she would promise him that he could shoot peas across any restaurant that he wanted for the rest of his life….

  Oh, Adam! Please come home. Dear God, please let him come home….

  * * *

  Before Andrew neared the door of the Fulton place, he could hear the drums. A heavy rock beat was being pounded out, and he pictured Lee before he saw him; face set in a grim mask, biceps and pectorals straining and bulging with the muscular force needed to create such driving thunder from the drums.

  He was right. But as soon as he opened the door, Lee stopped pounding. He was either angry, brooding or puzzled, Andrew knew, but no matter what his state, he wouldn’t abuse a friend.

  The cymbals crashed together as Lee rose and came to the balcony railing to wave at him. “Hey, Andrew. You’re early.”

  “I’ve been trying to call you all morning.”

  Lee shr
ugged. “I’ve been here. Why? Has something happened?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Lee left the railing and came pelting down the stairs. “Coffee is on. Let’s get some, and you tell me what you mean.”

  A few minutes later, Andrew had already gulped down one cup of coffee and had begun on another, leaning against the table in the den.

  “Last night, as you know, was my turn to watch Bryn’s house again. I had a few errands to run first, but I didn’t worry about time too much because you had told me Bryn would be coming over to your house. I figured the earliest she could get home would be about ten, so I planned to get there about nine-thirty. But she was already home—at least her van was in the drive—when I got there.”

  “She left early,” Lee said dryly. “Please, Andrew, go on. What happened?”

  “Well, nothing, really. Nothing happened, I mean. It was just strange. The lights never went off. Barbara didn’t leave, and the television stayed on all night.”

  Lee frowned, and then shrugged. “Maybe they stayed up talking and fell asleep with the TV and the lights on.”

  “Maybe,” Andrew said, but his look was dubious. “I have a feeling, and intuition, that something did happen before I got there.”

  Lee was silent for a minute; then he said, “Andrew, don’t worry about it, there’s probably nothing wrong.”

  “I should have been there earlier.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It sure as hell isn’t your fault that Bryn left my place early.”

  Andrew still appeared unhappy, but he asked, “What about your place last night?”

  “No one came in last night; they waited until I left this morning.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “‘Cause Maria just called. And she knows my habits like she knows the Psalms. She’s been keeping that place for five years now. She wanted to know why there was a file on my desk. She knows I always keep them in the cabinets.”

  “And you didn’t leave a file on your desk?”

  “No.”

  “You know, Lee, maybe we can’t handle this thing. Maybe we need to get some security men in or something.”

  Lee shook his head. “I still don’t know for what. The police would laugh me out of their office and tell me I’m a paranoid ‘star.’ I could hire private detectives, but something tells me not to right now. Nothing has really happened—that I know about. I don’t want to just catch some flunky prowling around my house. I want to know what’s going on.”