“It was on a hill set back from the road and had a big maple tree near the entrance to our driveway. It was so beautiful that people always stopped and took pictures of the colorful leaves in the fall. Even a magazine put it on its cover. Across the street was a running brook that the wildlife people stocked with fish every year. A lot of deer also came to the brook for water and my father put out salt blocks for them. He never hunted the deer; we just liked to look at them, but he did fish in the brook.
“We were very happy living there until my sister was kidnapped.”
The women had been listening attentively, enjoying the images her story evoked until her last comment, which shocked all three. Although a barrage of questions popped into their minds, they sat perfectly still and looked deep into her eyes as they waited for her to continue. These three friends knew Meg to be a well-grounded individual who exuded self-confidence and well-being, a successful professional business woman who had every right to be proud of her accomplishments. What they saw before them now was a sad, long-suffering woman lost in the memory of a personal tragedy that time had not erased. To learn that her family suffered the nightmare of a child abduction was almost incomprehensible.
“There were three girls in our family, two years apart in ages,” Meg continued. “Eileen was the youngest, then me, and Patty was the oldest. Dad called us his little princesses. He and my mother worked at an insurance company in Hartford; Dad was a salesman and Mom worked in accounting. She stayed at home with us all until we were old enough to go to school, then she went back to work, but only while we were in class. They permitted her to share a job with another woman, so she worked from nine o’clock until one, and was always there when we got home from school. The other woman worked from one o’clock until five, which meant someone was on the job eight hours a day. It worked out well for both women for many years.
“We all loved ballet and Mom took us to classes, dance recitals and pageants. The three of us always performed together and we loved it. So did Mom. She bought us pretty ballerina costumes and slippers and always kept our things separated and clean. And that was no easy job. There were slippers, leotards, tutus, body suits, and so many different holiday costumes with long sleeves, short sleeves, no sleeves, and she kept all our outfits properly arranged. She knew what belonged to each of us and kept everything neat in our closets.
“We all began taking ballet lessons at age five. When Eileen was five, I was seven, and Patty was nine and we all went to the studio together, but were in different classes. It was great, because at home I helped Eileen with her practice routines because I was more advanced than she was, and Patty helped me because she was more advanced than I was. That helped Eileen and me to learn fast because we knew what the new routines would be and could practice them even before the instructor taught them in class. We practiced together a lot in the family room downstairs. Many times Dad and Mom came to watch.”
As Meg spoke, her listeners envisioned scenes of a loving family with three pretty little ballerinas flashing through their minds, bringing weak smiles to their faces. Weak, because they knew there was more to come, unfolding a story that did not have a happy ending.
“When Patty was ten, she became interested in beauty contests and begged Mom to let her compete in them. She was a natural. She’d been dancing and performing on stage in front of audiences for five years, and it seemed a natural progression for her to go from ballerina to beauty contestant – which she did very successfully. She began by entering the pre-teen pageant, competing in it for two years and winning second place the second year. Then she went on to win the National Teenager Pageant and received a $5,000 bond as her prize. She loved appearing at events throughout the state — beauty pageants, festivals, parades, and always in the Nutcracker at the community theater every Christmas.
“She was pretty and very popular and drew attention wherever she went. We didn’t realize it at the time, but that turned out to be not a good thing. She was being stalked at these events and we didn’t know it. People were always taking her picture when she won a contest or rode on a float or appeared in a pageant. She got used to it. She never went out of her way to get attention, but her personality and her good looks and the event itself just drew people to her. She had a beautiful smile; her eyes seemed to sparkle when she smiled. Like Mother, we all had auburn hair. Eileen looked more like her than I did, I think.
“The man who took her evidently was obsessed with her, and had been stalking her for a while. At the time of the kidnapping she was seventeen, would have been eighteen in September. She’d just graduated from high school and was getting ready to go to college at UConn.”
Meg had been speaking softly, almost in a monotone, as she relived the tragedy. Now she hesitated, as if the long-ago memories were too painful to continue. She lowered her eyes and looked at her hands, clasped together on the table in front of her. Then, in a voice that was almost a whisper, she forced herself to go on.
“It happened so long ago,” she said, “But I remember as if it were yesterday. I was sixteen, Eileen was fourteen and we were still Daddy’s little princesses. Patty had her own car, a small lime-colored Rambler. She had a date that Saturday night with a boy she’d been seeing in high school, and that afternoon she said she needed some makeup and was going to the drugstore. She asked if anyone wanted to go with her, or if we needed anything, like she always did. But the answer was no to both questions, so she went alone, something we’ve all always regretted.”
By now everyone at the table sat motionless. Those happy scenes of dancing ballerinas in leotards and tutus tip-toeing gracefully across the stage were now gone, replaced by compassion and shared grief.
“When she didn’t come home at a reasonable time, we became concerned. She needed to shower and change for her date that night, which always took her at least an hour. When she wasn’t home at six o’clock, Dad and Eileen went looking for her. They found the Rambler in the parking lot at the drugstore with her pocketbook and purchases in the front seat. They immediately called the police and, although it had only been a matter of hours, contrary to what we hear and see on TV, they responded immediately. It was a small town with not any serious crime, just traffic tickets mostly, not like big cities. The police knew everybody and were always helpful with any problems anyone had.
“At that time there was no Amber Alert, and even if there were, they didn’t have the description or license plate number of a car, or even know if someone had abducted her in a car. They just didn’t know what happened to her. So all they could do was start searching the area, which they did. Even before it got dark, people started looking for her. At first just our family, her boyfriend’s family and friends. It appeared on the late news that night with her picture, and the next morning many more people joined in the search.
“Mom stayed home with two law enforcement officials in the hopes that there’d be a ransom call and we’d get her back. But it never came. Not that weekend and not in the week that followed. By then, the whole town was out combing the woods, ponds and deserted buildings. The local police, state police and FBI were all doing all they could. They were kind, friendly and very professional. They all had families and wanted to find Patty alive, but the longer it went on, the more we worried about getting her back alive. But it was not meant to be . . .”
Here, Meg’s voice trailed off into a few moments of silence.
Claire reached across the table and covered her hands with both her own. But she was not able to put into words what she and the other two women were thinking and feeling. So she kept silent. After a short time, Meg continued.
“They say in most cases when someone, especially a child, is abducted, the end comes within a matter of hours. This was not true in Patty’s case. In fact, it was very bizarre. The man who took her fancied himself in love with her. He had been stalking her for a long time, and that Saturday afternoon when she went to the drugstore alone gave him the opportunity he’d been looking for.
<
br /> “We learned later his name was Henry Reid, a 37-year-old loner with emotional problems. When he snatched her at the drugstore, he took her to an isolated farmhouse in Agawam, just across the state line in Massachusetts and kept her locked in his bedroom with the windows boarded up.
“The whole thing was so bizarre,” she repeated. “He evidently thought he could make her love him by keeping her prisoner until she agreed to marry him. But we’ll always be thankful about one thing. He never violated her, never even touched her. At least she didn’t have to go through that. We know that because he let her keep a daily journal which revealed everything that happened to her during the ten days she was his prisoner. How he pulled his station wagon up next to hers in the side parking lot at the drugstore and forced her into it at gunpoint when she was getting into her car.
“He took her directly to his farm in Agawam and locked her in his bedroom. He bought her clothes, including a nightgown and even a wedding dress, and allowed her privacy to go the bathroom and take showers, which showed how much he loved and respected her. He prepared meals for her, which she ate on a tray in the bedroom, and gave her women’s magazines to read. All the while he was admiring her beauty and telling her he loved her and insisting she marry him when she turned eighteen. He evidently knew her age, along with everything else about her, by reading about her in the newspapers when she won contests. He said he would not make love to her until they were married, and that’s the only good thing I can say about him. The autopsy showed he never did.
“The notes started on Sunday, the day after she was kidnapped, and continued right up until the night she died ten days later. They were held by the police for many years, but finally they were given to Mom and Dad. We were assured that no copies were allowed to be made so they had the originals, which meant a great deal to them. When Mom died, Dad asked me to keep them, and I plan to destroy them someday, but I’m not sure when. It’s such a private thing. Patty must have known that she was not going to get out of it alive, so she poured her heart and soul into that journal. It’s much too private to be made public.
“She obviously had a lot of time to think about her life, about us, about what might happen to her. Every day she told us how much she loved us; I guess maybe thinking that might be her last day. She told us to be strong and go on without her if she didn’t come home. She thanked Mom and Dad for being such good parents and giving her a happy childhood.
“She also talked about God and what it might be like to die. I’m sure she prayed a lot during that time because we’ve been a family that believes strongly in prayer. Some might say our prayers weren’t answered, and where was God at a time when we needed Him. I don’t for a minute think it was God’s plan for her to be taken like that. Free will has a lot to do with what people do to each other in this world. And I strongly believe that God is with us during tragedies like this, helping us through the healing process. At least, that’s been my personal experience.”
All three women nodded their agreement. Rosemary was still mourning the loss of her husband and knew the comfort of prayer. Claire and Anne were life-long believers and never doubted the reality of God’s presence in their lives.
“His sister found them on a Wednesday night a week after he took her,” Meg continued. “She hadn’t heard from him in two weeks and went to check on him. She said he had a “twisted mind,” and she had always been uneasy about his living alone on the isolated farm. After their parents died, she married and moved to Springfield and he continued to live there alone. The farm had been in the family for generations. It had been a produce farm when the parents were alive, and I understand it was the place to go for asparagus every summer. But it was pretty run down at the time of the kidnapping.
“When the sister found them, they were fully clothed lying on his bed side by side, as if they were just sleeping. The autopsy showed they died of arsenic poisoning. We think when she kept refusing to marry him, he decided if he couldn’t have her, no one else could and they would die together. Since he’d been cooking meals for her all that time, she probably didn’t even suspect he’d poison her.”
Meg’s three friends sat in stunned silence as the server approached to clear their table. All four simply shook their heads without speaking when he asked if they wanted anything else. Finally, Claire gave voice to the emotions she knew the others were feeling.
“Oh, Meg, how tragic, how sad. I’m so sorry.” She then asked about Eileen. She knew that her parents had both passed away, Mrs. Evans with ovarian cancer at age sixty-two, and Mr. Evans from a massive heart attack at seventy. She also knew that Eileen had been a teacher at an elementary school in Wakefield for years and had retired recently. She and her husband, an engineer, planned to travel the country in their RV when he, too, retired in two years.
“Eileen is fine. If you’re asking about how the family coped with Patty’s kidnapping, not very well. Understandably, Mom and Dad became overly protective of Eileen and me. We gave up ballet for the rest of the year, only dancing at home in the downstairs family room for family and friends. But even then, it took us awhile to put on our dancing shoes. Patty’s things were still in her closet. I had mixed feelings when I grew into them, but in a way, it made me feel closer to her. Then Eileen wore them, but both of us didn’t dance much after high school and Mom gave all our things away.”
Her words trailed off to a whisper, as the sad memories flooded her mind. Claire wanted to put her arms around her as she naturally did when someone was hurting, but instead again reached out and covered her friend’s trembling hands. That gesture alone said it all. Claire understood and shared her pain; she cared and was deeply sorry for the loss of Meg’s beloved sister and the suffering her family went through.
Meg raised her head and looked directly into Claire’s tear-filled eyes and nodded her appreciation for the love and concern she saw there. The other women, too, felt the same emotions as they sat quietly reflecting on the tragedy that had befallen this close-knit family.
“People speak of ‘closure,’ but I don’t think that ever happens in these situations. I can understand and accept death through illness as in Mom and Dad’s case, but never by deliberately taking a person’s life through selfishness or violence. It’s been more than forty years and I still think of Patty and wonder what it would be like to have her with us now. She’d be a wife, mother, grandmother and she’d be a wonderful sister to share my golden years with. No, there’ll never be closure for me. I don’t talk about it, but I still think about her and I really look forward to seeing her one day. And I know I will.”
For the first time since the conversation began, Anne spoke. Looking directly at Meg, she said, “Yes, you will, Meg. No doubt about it. As they say, and I truly believe it; the best is yet to come.”
Although the story had shocked her friends, Meg was glad she shared it with them. The four women were bonded by a deep and enduring love for each other. She had intended to share the tragedy with them on other occasions, but something else always interfered, and this evening it just flowed into her mind and she was comfortable talking about it. She was strong in her faith and knew her friends shared that faith. It was that faith that made Claire the person she was and had always been: loving, caring, generous, a remarkable woman of sound character and integrity. It was that faith that brought Rosemary through her childhood illness and the loss of her husband. And it was that faith that inspired Anne to pick up the pieces of her life after her divorce and go on to become a strong, independent woman and a successful author.
Now, as the four women sat together in the elegant Victorian dining car reflecting on the loss of the pretty teenage beauty queen, Meg’s next words brought forth another image, and with it a calming comfort.
“It was a long time ago, but I’ll always remember her as she was when we lost her. I take great comfort in envisioning her now as a ballerina dancing gracefully among the angels in heaven. It’s a thought that makes me happy, knowing she’s with my pa
rents. It was a long healing process, but I can talk about it without pain, and I’ve been wanting to share this with all of you for some time.”
Then, with a smile that seemed forced she said, “Tonight seemed like the right time. Please don’t let it spoil our weekend. As I said, it was a long time ago and time really does have a way of healing broken hearts.”
Chapter 17
Dusk had fallen when the dinner train pulled into the station in North Woodstock on that lovely fall Friday evening.
“That was absolutely divine, Claire,” said a relaxed and composed Meg as the women headed for her SUV. “Thanks so much for a wonderful evening.”
“So glad you enjoyed it. I knew you would. We’ll be out and about all day tomorrow, so let’s just go home, get into something comfortable, and relax with Anne’s trifle and a cup of coffee.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Rosemary.
“Me, too,” agreed Anne.
Darkness had settled on Woodbridge Notch when Meg pulled the Lincoln up to the entrance gate at Stone Brook thirty minutes later. With the help of the SUV’s bright headlights, Claire unlocked the gate and swung the iron panels back to allow entry. When the vehicle was safely through the stone pillars, she relocked the gate and returned to the passenger seat.
“Why don’t you get one of those automatic gate systems, Claire?” asked Meg. “Then you can just press a button and it’ll open and close without getting out of the car, especially in the dark or when it’s raining.”
“Ed and I have discussed it several times for that very reason, getting out in the pouring rain, and I’m sure he’ll decide to do it one day. But right now he doesn’t feel it’s necessary because we’re not here permanently.”
The Mystery Trip Page 9
