“Sit down for a minute, Claudia.”
With some hesitance, she sat.
“You’re a good mother. I respect you.” I sensed her constricting, pulling back, shutting down. “I know what you did.” Her hands found a grip on the tea glass. “I’ve known what you did. I just didn’t know why, until yesterday.”
Her face went perfectly expressionless, reflecting mine, I supposed. Her tremored grip on the glass tightened, the ice rattled. She was close to bolting, but both of us knew she had no place to run. I continued softly, carefully, and slowly.
“I know you can’t tell me, so just listen and I will tell you, and then it will be all right. No more bad things will happen. I give you my word. You trust me?”
She nodded and stared blankly at the table. “He warned you not to tell, and you told. And that person, the one you loved best, died. And he told you over and over that it was your fault, and that if you ever told anyone ever again, someone else would die.”
She brought the rattling tea glass to her lips and just managed to wet them without taking a swallow. “You didn’t tell me. So nothing bad will happen. I promise you. I know how these things work. You were very good at not telling me anything. Someone else did.”
Her eyes grew wide with panic. “Nobody knew. Who told you?”
My gaze fell to Bungee, in his usual place by her side, regarding me warily. “He did. He didn’t bark. Nobody gets in or out of this apartment, or comes to the door, without him making a racket. So, I concluded that no one had.” She frowned, puzzled. “No one had come to the apartment to take the baby. So, if she was missing, as she clearly was, she hadn’t been taken from here.”
Claudia let go of the tea and dropped her hands to her lap. Her eyes closed, in resignation or relief. I couldn’t tell which.
“Everything after that just confirmed my theory. You said you put the buggy in the closet because you couldn’t bear to look at it. But everything else that was Charlotte’s was still out. That nursery is like a shrine, a memorial to your lost child. When I saw the buggy I knew why. You didn’t want the police to see it and get any ideas. It’s the old fashioned kind, with the top that rolls halfway over the bed to keep it shaded. Keeping a child in shadow. You left with a baby and returned with a doll. A lifelike baby doll. I saw it in the nursery. Victor had no reason to look closely or be suspicious. You returned the doll to the nursery. Waited forty-five minutes and called the doorman first, just to make sure he was clueless.”
“Just the buggy?” she uttered in a near whisper.
“When I left you on Wednesday, I walked around the block and found the Heartwood Buddhist Center. They have signs all over their gates, but one sign on the door at the west end of the portico I found particularly interesting. SAFE HAVEN. There’s a turnstile inside that second door. You place the baby in the basket, and turn it and ring the bell—a system as old as monasteries and convents everywhere in the world. And in New York the Safe Haven law guarantees that there are no questions asked. It was your only chance to save her, to make sure she was out of his reach. Then, that night, Lance told me a story.”
“Lance?”
“One of my alters. He communicates mostly in stories.”
“What story?”
“The story of Moses. Which is really the story of a mother who saves her infant by giving him up. The first time I met you, you were grieving—that was no lie—but not in the same way as Miriam. You weren’t in shock. You were not confused. You had no anxiety. Just profound and simple grief. Charlotte was in a good, safe place, just not yours anymore. Then I had to ask, why would you feel so desperate that you would give away your baby? I knew it wasn’t that you felt you couldn’t take care of another child without your husband. You have financial resources to get all the help you need. When I asked you if your uncle or your father had ever abused you, you didn’t say ‘no.’ You said, ‘They never laid a hand on me.’ Until yesterday morning, I was confused by that, because I knew you were telling me the truth, but I also knew what you had done. And I felt the presence of another person with us there, and I assumed it was your husband. I assumed his memory would have been strong in your bedroom. But it wasn’t him, was it? It was your father, commanding your silence. I understand now. We found the Web site. You heard about that? He didn’t molest you, did he? He gave you to other men. That’s why you have nothing in your closet the color of flowers. He used to dress you up in flower colors. Even back then, the network had its code. Before the Internet, they still styled themselves as a garden club.”
“His little daisy.”She almost choked on the word.“He would never have molested me. Incest is so…aesthetically repugnant. But he had no qualms about—” Her hands clasped together, formed a single fist that she pressed against her forehead as if to keep it from blowing apart.
Then she rose, trembling from head to foot, picked up her chair and carried it across the room. Lifting the chair by the back and swinging it like a bat, she smashed the china hutch causing an explosion of blue-and-white porcelain.
Bungee leapt straight up in the air, yelping. I grabbed his collar and scooped him out of harm’s way. I stepped back ready to duck if anything came our way. What pieces weren’t demolished by the impact of the chair, she began smashing individually. Once in my arms, the terrier stopped barking. I was afraid to let him down because of the broken china, so I carried him to the family room and shut him in. When I came back, I found Claudia on her knees, bent over, her head almost in the rubble of shattered Delft, crying with two fists held over her heart.
I knew there was no comfort in sympathy. I squatted in front of her at a little distance. “We can get her back and put him away for the rest of his life.” I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket. “Your hand is bleeding.”
She let her hand bleed and used the handkerchief to blow her nose. She sat back against the counter. “Sleepovers...he took me on business trips and left me with—friends. When I told him bad things happened to me at night, he said I was just having nightmares.
“When I got older, I knew I wasn’t dreaming. The things that were happening to me at these sleepovers were horrible, but real. So I told my mother. He’d told me not to ever tell anyone, but I told my mother. Two days later, she was dead. It was my fault. And if I ever told again, someone else would die. Just like you said. He told me over and over. And after awhile, he didn’t have to tell me. I never got his voice out of my head.”
“You’ve never told Vin. I’ll bet you never told Dan.”
She shook her head.
“None of this is your fault. Not then, and not now. You wanted someone to find out. You hoped I would find out. I did. But now, you will have to tell. You won’t be telling, really. I’ve already done that. Gianetti knows. He is downstairs right now, telling Vin. But you will have to confirm it. Can you do that? You must do that.”
“They can’t arrest him without—”
“Yes, they can, but telling them is for you. If the secret is out, he has no more power over you. You’ll be free, Claudia.”
Except for a brief time when her husband was alive, terror and helplessness had been her two constant companions. These were the members of HER company. I much preferred mine.
Limp as the Raggedy Ann in the nursery, she sagged against the hutch. “Why? Can you tell me why? Does he get money?”
It dawned on me then that her why was not existential. She did not know what her father got out of giving away his little girl, her nanny’s little girl. “He’s part of a ring of pedophiles. They provide children for each other. They have to provide a child every so often or they somehow get excluded from the ring. We haven’t worked out the details yet.”
She looked at me with a reservoir of horror I wouldn’t haven’t imagined she had. “You mean he does to children the things that they did to me?”
I nodded and she threw up a pool of bile in the rubble at her knees. She heaved and heaved till there was nothing to draw up. I soaked a towel in cold water,
wrung it out and handed it to her. She buried her face in it and slid back, away from the sticky mess.
I reached for the wall phone and called Leo’s cell. I told him what had happened and that Vin should be prepared for the state of the kitchen.
Claudia didn’t have the energy to move. I met them at the door and led them back to the kitchen. Leo surveyed the place and just shook his head.
Vin knelt gingerly beside her. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“Oh, Vinny. I gave away my baby!” She sobbed loudly, this time. He sat down beside her and drew her head onto his shoulder. “I know, honey, I know. We can get her back now.”
“What if she’s already gone? What if they—”
“I don’t think things happen that fast. We’ll get her back.” Vin looked at me, gripped by a sudden anxiety that he was wrong. I nodded a confirmation and he relaxed again, his arms encircling the weeping Claudia.
Leo was in the living room on his cell phone telling Feeney to bring Spencer Burke in for questioning.
Claudia had stopped crying, and Vin scanned the kitchen with a big grin on his face. “Look at this MESS!”
“Can we move in with you?” Claudia asked, blowing her nose on the towel.
“You want to live in my old rat trap?”
“It’s not here.”
He considered that for just a moment. “Well, sure. Why the hell not? At least till we find a bigger place. But,” he said, his gleeful eyes surveying the room, “you’re going to have to learn to clean house, girlfriend, and I’m gonna need to get a real job.”
Chapter 26
Spencer entered the station with the air of the invited guest, smiling like a VIP, looking spiffy in a blue suit, sparkle-white shirt and navy bow tie. He walked with his usual forward sloping posture, his head bobbing a greeting to all he passed like one of those plastic dogs in a rear car window. I have to say this for the NYPD: they are not much impressed by very important people, and less so by self-important ones. Whether or not Spencer even noticed that no one genuflected or even smiled back, I couldn’t tell.
Leo rose from his seat at the back of the room as the officer led Spencer through the obstacle course of chairs and desks. “Thank you for coming in, Mr. Burke.” Leo did not offer his hand.
“Anything to help, Lieutenant.” Spencer bobbed in my direction and Feeney’s. He got no response from either of us.
Leo said, “Let’s go somewhere we can talk. Would you like some coffee?”
Spencer held up a hand, “No, no thanks.”
Leo led him back to the main interview room. Spencer was still acting like he was here to discuss a new business deal instead of as the prime suspect. Leo would make that clear soon enough. I declined to follow. I didn’t want to reprise any of my walks down flashback lane. But I didn’t leave the station either.
“Aren’t you going?” I asked Feeney.
“No. Leo likes to work alone at this stage. The captain and a couple other detectives will be watching if he needs anything. He never does. He’ll crack him if anybody can.”
“If anybody can.”
“You don’t think he’ll do it?”
“I don’t know. Did Leo tell you to keep an eye on me in case I do a Linda Blair?”
He was apparently familiar with The Exorcist because he laughed with some embarrassment. “Not in so many words. He means well, you know. You…you’re important to him. I don’t mean as just a—”
“I know.”
“You want some coffee? Not the crap we have here. I’ll send out for some. We have plenty of time. I don’t think this guy is going to fold as easily as the dentist.”
“Light, with cream.”
Does the word cholesterol mean nothing to you?
Hester, for God’s sake!
For once, the bickering of the divas was reassuring. All was normal in my weird world.
Feeney picked up the phone and spoke to Rudy downstairs. In ten minutes a clerk brought us our coffee and a bag of rolls. Feeney paid him, then made himself comfortable at Leo’s desk. Between bites of his Danish, he asked, “Are you a mind-reader?”
“Who said that?”
“Nobody, exactly.”
“I don’t read minds in the way you’re afraid I might. I don’t read thoughts. I often read intentions. Sometimes feelings. Right now, I can tell that you don’t really want to be here. You’d rather be in there watching Leo. But you don’t want to leave me either. You are still trying to prove yourself to Leo. That’s very important to you, and you will do as you’re told, and you are also very curious about me, because you can’t quite believe what Leo has told you, and you can’t quite believe your own eyes. So you want to try to figure me out on your own, but at the same time you really want to be in there observing Leo, because you want to be as good as he is.”
He flushed but didn’t say anything.
“I can often tell when someone is lying but not always why they are lying.”
“How do you do it?”
“To me it’s just obvious. I read body language. I pick up what people are feeling. Ray says there’s not a word for me. I’m not really an empath.”
Feeney took another huge bite and chewed hungrily, keeping his eyes on me. “A real empath takes on another’s feeling like a chameleon takes on a color. I don’t feel the feeling. I just know what it is. For me, it’s like reading a book. Or looking at numbers. They either add up or they don’t.”
Feeney swallowed. “Whatever it is, it works. That’s the main thing.”
“Nothing I do holds up in court.”
“Doesn’t have to. It points us in the right direction.”
I didn’t feel like talking anymore, and to his credit, Feeney read my body language as I leaned back, watched the comings and goings in this room, and sipped my coffee. He turned his attention to some paperwork on Leo’s desk. I closed my eyes.
Listening to all the sounds in the room,not filtering anything out, not giving one sound any more importance than any other, I could shut off my thoughts. The voices, raised or low, drawers closing, doors opening and shutting, phones ringing, chairs scraping, papers rustling. The Company was quiet. I listened to the room as if it were music.
Several times in the next couple of hours, Feeney got up and went somewhere, always coming back after a few minutes. Once he came back with fresh coffee. I accepted it with thanks and took the last pastry in the bag. Hester was there, disapproving, but she didn’t say anything. I ate the pastry and drank my creamy coffee with satisfaction. In the last few days I had consumed more coffee than I had in the previous six months. Hester would, when this case was over, enforce a strict detox regimen. I wasn’t looking forward to the organic brown rice, broccoli and green tea that I knew was coming.
Heavy footsteps coming directly toward me caused me to snap open my eyes. Leo was headed for his desk and he didn’t look happy. Feeney got up in a hurry. Even he could read Leo’s anger and frustration from several feet away. Leo collapsed heavily in his chair.
“He didn’t crack. He didn’t change his story. He never got defensive. He knows we don’t have anything on him, so there is no way he’s going to talk. That showroom crawls with customers, sales reps—cleaning staff. Everybody had access to his computer and he knows it. And plenty of people accessed that flower site who were only looking for flowers. He knows that too. Without evidence, all we have here is coincidence. And the Teflon sonofabitch isn’t going to be convicted based on the testimony of a daughter who looks like a grief-stricken widow with postpartum depression. And he knows that too. You know how confident he is? He never asked for his lawyer. He is very concerned for his daughter, by the way, very forgiving. He understands what strain she’s been under.”
“I’ll bet.” I had noticed that while Leo didn’t have his gun back, he was still in charge of the case. Feeney must have strings indeed.
“I’m going to let him stew in there for a while before I go back in. Besides I need to take a piss and have a cup of coffe
e. Want anything?” He asked me, not Feeney.
“No.” Leo thrust a hand into his pants pockets and brought out a handful of change. He studied it, and Feeney asked, “You need coffee money, boss?”
“Yeah, loan me a buck and I can get one of those apple things. I like those apple things they have in the machine.”
As Feeney handed him a dollar I said, “What you need from Burke—I’ll get.” I surprised myself. I hadn’t intended to be more than an observer going forward. But once it was out of my mouth, it sounded like a good idea.
“How? You can’t wear a wire. You can’t even wear a watch.”
“I don’t need to wear a wire in there.”
“You’ll fuck up our intercom.”
“There will only be one of us present at any given time.”
“Can you promise that?”
“I can’t guarantee it, but I predict it.”
“You can’t hurt him.”
“Do you care?”
“Not as much as I should. Goddamn it, Shiloh.You hurt him, it’ll all be there on tape. You know everything in interrogation rooms is recorded. That miserable piece of shit is not worth you getting into trouble. And if we have it on tape that you tortured a confession out of him, I won’t be able to smooth it over. And then they’ll throw the confession out anyway. We’ll get him another way.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, goddamn it. I don’t fucking know!” He picked up something at random on his desk and threw it down again. Feeney, for once, didn’t flinch. “I have to take a piss.”
Feeney and I watched him go.
Without a confession, Claudia will never be free. She’ll never get her daughter back.
Hester sounded serious for once, and for once, she was right.
Let Hester talk to him. She likes rats.
Olive was agreeing with Hester and giving her the stage? Maybe…
I got up and told Feeney I had to go to the ladies’ room.Which I did. It was also time for a Shiloh & Company meeting.
Command of Silence Page 20
