by Alice Walsh
The shop’s interior was spacious and bright. Reproductions of Anne Geddes’s photographs added to the cheerful atmosphere. A handful of customers were browsing the racks and display tables. Lauren picked up a couple of play outfits and a pair of denim overalls for Bailey. She would ask the clerk to hold them until she could return. She then headed to the dress section. Dylan’s birthday was in a couple of weeks, and Bailey could use a new dress for the party.
Lauren was looking through a rack of dresses when Patrick Shaw came out of the toy section, his arms loaded with puzzles, books, and other toys.
“Still picking up things for your preschool, Patrick?”
“Oh. Hi, Lauren,” Patrick said. “I didn’t notice you standing there.”
“Looks like your school is going to be well-equipped.”
“I still have more things to buy. The place needs a sandbox, easels, tables and chairs. I’m going to have to buy bicycles and other riding toys.” He shook his head. “It never ends.”
As Patrick was walking away, Daisy Flynn, the salesclerk, approached Lauren; she had met Daisy on numerous occasions. “Patrick is opening his own school,” Lauren said.
“Yes, I heard,” Daisy said. “A good investment of his inheritance, I’d say. Most young people would just waste the money on booze and God knows what.”
“Inheritance?”
Daisy nodded. “Patrick’s father left him a large sum of money.”
Lauren stared at her in disbelief. “Wayne Shaw?”
“Oh, no, my dear. Not Wayne.”
Lauren squinted in confusion.
“Patrick’s father was Tom Chandler. Patrick only found that out recently.”
Annabelle’s father?
“We were all shocked.” Daisy lowered her voice. “They say Josephine was pregnant with Patrick when she married Wayne.” She paused. “Imagine now, letting the youngster grow up not knowing who his father was.”
Lauren was too stunned to say anything.
“Patrick only learned the truth after poor Tom got sick,” Daisy continued. “I imagine he wanted to acknowledge his son before he passed on. God rest his soul. In the end he did right by the boy. Left him half his estate.”
“Oh, my,” Lauren managed.
“Must’ve got a pretty penny when he sold his house and business,” said Daisy.
“I can only imagine,” Lauren said. Tom Chandler had owned Mops and Brooms, a large hardware store on Main Street.
“They say the daughter was right pleased to find out she had a brother,” Daisy continued.
Just then, a customer came into the store and Daisy excused herself to go greet her.
Mystery solved, Lauren thought as she continued to look through the rack of dresses. After some time she came across a pink dress with red hearts. Puzzled, she lifted it from the rack. It was identical to the dress Ariel had been wearing in the photographs that had fallen out of Bram’s pocket at Claire’s apartment. For the longest time, Lauren stood staring at it, the hearts standing out with stark clarity.
Understanding suddenly shot through her. How could she have missed this? Her knees went weak and she felt the need to sit down. There was a bench nearby and she lowered herself onto it. Pieces were falling into place now, making a disturbing kind of sense. She felt a chill run up her back. “Oh, dear God!”
“You okay, my love?” Daisy asked, giving her a curious look.
Lauren barely heard. She got up from the bench, placed the clothes on the counter, and bolted out the door. She raced down the street, heedless of the pouring rain.
Chapter 37
Lauren stood in the kitchen, dripping wet. Her heart was hammering as she picked up the phone and called Claire. A recorded voice cut in almost immediately, prompting her to leave a message.
“Claire,” she said, her words rushing out, “I know what happened to Ariel and Cara. I’ll call back later when I know more.”
She hung up the phone and went upstairs to change. Numbly, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a baggy sweater, all the while shivering so hard her teeth chattered. She stood for a moment, debating her next move. She was putting herself at risk, but she had no choice. She called Rebecca and took a deep breath as the phone rang. No luck. Rebecca was in a meeting, she was told, and couldn’t be reached. “Please have her call Lauren LaVallee as soon as she gets out,” Lauren said. “Tell her I was mistaken about Erika Jansen, but I now have new information regarding the case.” She left her cellphone number.
Lauren didn’t know how long Rebecca would be, and she couldn’t wait. After scribbling a note for Daniel, she grabbed her car keys.
She turned the heater on high, hoping the hot air would help stop her shivering. Raindrops exploded against the windshield. Thunder rumbled, and from time to time lightning streaked the dark sky. She drove steadily, her attention fixed on the road ahead. Even with the wipers at full speed, she could barely make out the road. She passed large open fields and drove through tiny outports where fishing boats, tied to their moorings, tossed and pitched.
After some time, Lauren came to a sign that said Duffy’s Mountain with an arrow pointing to the left. The car shook as it climbed a twisting, narrow road. She drove past summer homes and cottages perched on cliffs that dropped steeply toward the ocean. After a few minutes, the pavement gave way to a narrow dirt road that wound through thick woods. She’d only been in this area once before—a New Year’s Eve party a couple of years ago—and she had been struck by the isolation. Following the road for some time, she came to a clearing that offered a view of the ocean. She could see a house in the distance, built of cedar and set among tall maples. A sun porch ran the length of the house with a wall of windows facing the ocean. A sleek blue sports car was parked in the driveway.
Lauren parked a fair distance from the house. She took her phone from her purse and checked for any missed calls. Rebecca was taking a long time getting back to her. Lauren decided to check in with Daniel. Before she even dialled his number, she realized there was no signal. Rebecca would not be able to reach her. I should have emailed her, she thought. Too late now. Lauren got out of the car and, with a stir of apprehension, walked toward the house. The rain had let up, but the sky was a tumult of black clouds.
The woman who answered the door looked to be in her late sixties, tall with short grey hair. She gave Lauren a curious look.
“I’m a friend of Anya’s,” Lauren said.
“Anya,” the woman repeated, and then said something in Russian.
“May I come in?” Lauren asked, gesturing with her hands.
The woman stepped aside to let her enter.
The sun porch was filled with comfortable sofas, armchairs, and rockers. Tables were set up with a chess set and various board games. A squeal of delight came from somewhere in the house. “Beibi,” the woman said, and hurried down a wide hallway. Lauren followed after her until they came to a bright family room. A baby dressed in a pink sleeper was bouncing wildly in a Jolly Jumper.
Lauren’s heart leapt to her throat. In one quick stride, she crossed the room and picked the baby up. “Ariel,” she said, hugging her close. The baby smiled, showing two tiny bottom teeth. All the while, the old woman hovered protectively. “Oh, Ariel, your momma is going to be so happy to know you’re alive and safe.”
The baby gurgled happily.
“I’m going to take you home,” Lauren whispered against Ariel’s silken hair. She felt a rush of happiness. How in the world did Bram and Anya pull this off? she wondered.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?”
Lauren stepped back, startled. Anya stood in the doorway, her face twisted in anger.
Lauren tightened her grip on the infant. “I’m taking Ariel home to her mother.”
Anya’s eyes hardened. “Like hell.”
“She belongs with Claire. She—”
<
br /> “Shut up!” Anya held out her hand, and Lauren saw the glint of metal. Ariel trembled in her arms.
Anya shouted something in Russian before turning to look at Lauren, her eyes filled with hatred. “Give the baby to Olga.”
The older woman’s eyes grew wide with alarm as she reached for Ariel.
Lauren clutched the baby tighter.
Anya pointed the gun at Lauren. “Give the baby to Olga,” she repeated, her voice harsh. The crazed look in her eyes made Lauren tremble.
Reluctantly, Lauren handed the baby to a terrified Olga, her heart racing. Forcing herself to keep calm, she looked for a way out. There was a side door, but she knew if she tried to escape Anya would shoot her. I am trapped with a crazy person, she realized.
“Why did you come here?” Anya asked.
“I knew you had Ariel,” Lauren said. “I figured it out this morning.”
“Anya, put the gun away.” The voice came from the doorway. Lauren turned to see Bram. He had entered the room so quietly she hadn’t noticed.
Olga held the baby against her chest, her face pale.
“Put the gun down,” Bram repeated. “Enough people are dead and injured. This has gone on long enough.”
Anya fixed him with a hostile stare. It was the same look she had given him at the hospital when Bram suggested that Lauren and Anya leave. Had he been scared then that Anya might do something to harm Andrew?
Anya turned her attention back to Lauren. “So, you figured it all out,” she said.
Lauren nodded. “The photographs Bram brought to Claire’s apartment gave it away.”
Anya shifted her gaze from Lauren to Bram.
“The day I saw you at Hansel and Gretel’s, you were looking at baby dresses,” Lauren reminded her. “You told me it was a gift for Elena. I thought nothing of it at the time—but Elena had a boy. And if you recall, the store manager said the dress was part of an exclusive line that had arrived that week. Hansel and Gretel’s was one of only a few stores to carry it. Ariel was wearing the same dress in the photographs Bram brought to Claire’s apartment. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this morning when I saw the dress on the rack in the store I remembered.” She met Anya’s dark eyes. “Ariel could only have worn that dress if she was alive after I saw you at Hansel and Gretel’s.”
Anya glared at Bram. “Fool,” she spat. “Why would you do such a foolish thing?”
Siggy would say it was because Bram felt guilty—because he wanted to get caught, Lauren mused. However, she kept that thought to herself. She looked from Anya to Bram. “It was Jade’s baby who was taken in the ambulance on February 12, not Ariel.” Lauren glanced defiantly at Anya. “Claire doesn’t remember calling the clinic because you gave her drugs that interfered with her memory.”
“You must think I’m cold-hearted,” Bram said, “to put Claire through so much emotional trauma.” Lauren heard sadness in his voice, but it was difficult to muster up any sympathy for him.
She shook her head in bewilderment. “I don’t know how the two of you cooked up this scheme or how you managed to pull it off.”
“Too bad you will never find out,” Anya said, pointing the gun at her.
She really is going to kill me, Lauren thought. She would never see Bailey again. Why had she acted so rash? She should have waited for Rebecca to call her. “Don’t do this, Anya,” she pleaded.
“You know too much,” Anya said. “You should have kept your nose out of this.”
Before Lauren could say anything else, a deafening explosion filled her ears. She closed her eyes.
—
Claire was no sooner in the door than the phone rang. “Hello?” she said, holding the receiver while shrugging off her coat.
“Professor Ste Denis?”
“Yes, this is she.”
“It’s Tara Regan. I spoke with Angie Hayes. Sorry it took me so long to get back to you. You said you wanted to know where the baby carrier came from.”
“Actually, it was Lauren LaVallee who wanted to know, but I can pass along the information.”
“Tell her it was among the things dropped off at the fire station.”
“I see,” Claire said. There had been a number of places designated for dropping off items for the fair. The fire station was in the Shore Road area. Anyone could have dropped it off.
“Thanks, Tara. I’ll give Lauren the message.”
It wasn’t until Claire hung up that that she noticed the blinking red light. She dialled her voice mail; there were two new messages. The first was from Mitch inviting her to supper. The second was from Lauren; she sounded out of breath. “I know what happened to Ariel and Cara,” she said. “I’ll call later when I know more.”
Claire went still. What was Lauren talking about? Had she come across new information? Claire had not heard anything from the police. Lauren’s message was from nearly three hours ago.
She sounds distressed, Claire thought. Something is not right.
—
Lauren sat up, dazed, and looked around. The acrid odour of gunpowder filled the room. The blast had startled her, knocking her backward. Ariel was crying. Olga was shouting in Russian. Bram was holding his arm, blood turning his white shirt red. It took a moment for Lauren to realize what had happened. Anya had pointed the gun at her. Bram had jumped in and tried to wrest it from her hands. The gun must have gone off in the struggle.
The gun, Lauren thought, where is the gun? Looking around, she spotted it on the floor, half hidden under the rocker. For a moment, she was too paralyzed to act. It was only after she saw Anya reach for it that Lauren sprang into action. Ariel’s Jolly Jumper was between them. She gave the frame a kick and it went crashing into Anya, knocking her sideways. Anya swore as she scrambled for the gun.
In one movement, Lauren was on her feet. Grabbing the baby from a stunned Olga, she rushed for the side door. Once outside, she ran around the house to the front where her car was parked. She ran swiftly, knowing every second counted. Anya was behind her, muttering in Russian, her shoes swooshing in the wet grass. Lauren tried not to imagine a bullet in her back.
Please, Lauren thought, offering up a silent prayer. Please don’t let her harm me. Help me get Ariel home safe.
After what seemed like forever, Lauren reached the car and wrenched open the door. She put the baby on the seat beside her and with trembling hands started the engine. It sputtered once and died. She tried again. The car jerked forward. From the rear-view mirror, she saw Anya aim the gun. “No!” she cried, ducking her head.
A shot rang out. The car jerked to a halt, rocking forward. Ariel nearly rolled off the seat beside her. Anya, Lauren realized, had shot out one of her back tires. Another shot quickly followed, and a second tire blew out. I’m trapped, she told herself. There’s no way out.
Chapter 38
“I hope this trip isn’t a waste of time,” Rebecca told Kyle Harrison as the police cruiser veered down a winding, rutted road.
“We have to check out every lead.”
“Lauren needs to understand that this investigation is best left to the police,” Rebecca said. “She’s become much too involved.” That morning Lauren had sent an email implying that Erika Jansen may have had something to do with Cara Roberts’s disappearance. Rebecca and Kyle had gone to Erika’s house, only to learn that Lauren had been by earlier to question her. An hour later she had left another message, saying she was mistaken about Erika but had some new information. She’d left her number, but Rebecca had not been able to reach her.
“I understand her interest in the case,” Kyle said. “Claire is Lauren’s friend as well as her client.”
“Still, she needs to back off.” Rebecca frowned. She didn’t like this at all. Shortly after they’d come back from Erika Jansen’s house, they’d received a call from Claire Ste Denis. She’d told them about another strange
call from Lauren. Claire also informed them that a baby carrier donated to the fair—one that Lauren thought belonged to the Roberts baby—had come from donations dropped off at the fire department. When Rebecca couldn’t reach Lauren’s cell, she tried her home number. The man who answered the phone said Lauren had gone to Duffy’s Mountain. Rebecca had no idea who Lauren had gone to see, but there were no more than a dozen cottages in the area. Wherever Lauren was, her car wouldn’t be difficult to spot.
They came to an unexpected bend in the road, and Kyle braked suddenly, causing them to lurch forward. Tree branches clawed against the windshield.
“Must be hell in the winter,” Rebecca said.
Kyle shook his head. “I can’t imagine living in a place this isolated.”
The road stretched on for another two miles before widening into a clearing. Up ahead Rebecca could see a parked car. A person—no, two people—were standing near the vehicle.
“Looks like Lauren and Dr. Kaminsky,” Kyle said as they neared them.
Rebecca stared out the window in stunned disbelief. “God in heaven!” she gasped, taking in the scene before her. “What’s going on?”
“Call for backup.” Kyle stopped the car, his hand automatically going for his gun. He opened the door and practically flew from the cruiser.
Reeling from shock, Rebecca continued to stare at the drama outside the window. It was like a scene from a movie. Was Dr. Kaminsky really holding a gun on Lauren? Lauren looked stricken with fear, her face white. At the unexpected arrival of the police, Anya froze, panic on her face.
“Drop the weapon!” Kyle shouted.
Anya looked down at the gun in her hand, then back at Kyle. “Drop it!” Kyle ordered, moving toward her.
Rebecca held her breath. Slowly, Anya lowered her hands and let the gun fall to the ground.
Rebecca’s heart raced as she picked up the mic to her radio. By the time she got out of the car, Kyle had Dr. Kaminsky in handcuffs. Lauren was standing near her car looking pale and shaken. “Are you okay?” Rebecca asked, approaching her.
