Guardian Angel

by Andrew Neiderman

  “Let them look, forcrissakes,” Scott said. “The faster I get cleared of this, the sooner they’ll get serious about my daughter’s kidnapping.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Taylor Stewart said, rising.

  Everyone but Scott and his father left the interrogation room. The moment the door was closed, his father turned to him.

  “You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you, Scott? There’s nothing you’re not telling me, is there?”

  “Are you out of your mind, Dad?”

  “You’ve been behaving strangely since this whole thing began.”

  “In your eyes, maybe. I’ve been having second thoughts. I’m not purely innocent here.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “I haven’t been the husband and father I could be, should be. Unfortunately, I’ve been too much like you.”

  “What the…? You’re just like your mother, not like me. You’re in this situation because you didn’t stay firm with Megan. Why’d you carry on like some embarrassed cuckolded husband, and in front of witnesses? Why’d you go and hire and fire that detective when I told you I’d handle it? And why’d you have to go and cry in your booze at some joint that night? If you would have just come home with me and—”

  They looked up as all four men returned.

  “That was quick,” Gordon Lester said, figuring the blind alley would end it all, but he didn’t see glee in Taylor Stewart’s face.

  “Can you account for why this was in your car on the floor in the rear?” Detective Foto asked, and held up Jennifer’s rag doll.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  From the expression on Emily Lloyd’s face when she entered the hospital room, Megan knew something terrible had happened. She was eating some soft food. Clare was standing by the window looking out, but turned when she heard footsteps.

  “This is my attorney, Clare,” Megan said. “Emily Lloyd.”

  “How do you do,” Clare said softly.

  Emily took a deep breath.

  “What?”

  “Scott was formally arrested an hour ago, Megan.”

  “Oh, my God,” Clare said.

  “And Jennifer?”

  “No news yet about her, but it can’t be far behind,” Emily said, settling into the chair by the bed as if she might faint if she didn’t. “I like winning, but not this way. I’m sorry.”

  “How? Did he confess?”

  “No. As I understand it, they found Jennifer’s rag doll in his car and you had told the police it was missing with Jennifer. Aside from her, the doll and her blanket in fact, nothing else was missing.”

  Megan lowered her head.

  “There’s more,” Emily said. Megan looked up. “Apparently, Scott’s secretary received a call from a woman who sounded terribly frantic. She had a message for her to give to Scott. That was how the police located the rag doll.”

  “What message?”

  Emily hesitated.

  “What message!”

  “She said Jennifer wanted her rag doll. Scott had left it in the car and, according to the caller, Jennifer was getting sick over it.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “I’m sorry, Megan,” Emily said. “You would have heard it soon enough. It will be on the news shortly, I’m sure. I got the call on my way up here to see you.”

  “Was it enough for the police to locate Jennifer?” Clare asked.

  “They’re on it. Perhaps Scott has told them by now,” Emily Lloyd said. “Thank goodness he had someone working with him who was not a professional kidnapper. Have you any idea who she could be?”

  Megan shook her head. Her eyes filled with tears. She took a deep breath and sat back. Clare stroked her arm and then put an arm around her shoulders.

  “How can you live with someone so long and not know him?” Megan asked.

  “I wish I had a dollar for every time I heard a woman say that to me,” Emily replied. “Are you married, Clare?”

  “Yes. Twenty-eight years,” Clare said. “Happily, I might add.”

  “Some women are simply lucky,” Emily said. “I’ll be speaking with Scott’s attorney later this afternoon, Megan. I suspect most, if not every, barrier for delay or whatever will be dropped rather quickly. All of it will end soon. Now, how are you? What does the doctor say?”

  “I can leave tomorrow if I promise to behave. Fortunately, no damage inside my dumb head beside the concussion. Clare is staying with me for a while,” she added, smiling at her sister.

  “I’d like to be here when Jennifer is returned, too,” Clare said.

  “I’ll call the moment I hear anything more. I have good contacts with the police. Unfortunately, some of my other divorce cases have involved them.

  “But nothing like this,” she quickly added. “Threats, some property damages, that sort of childish nonsense.”

  She rose.

  “Thanks, Emily.”

  “Don’t worry. Years from now you’ll look back at all this and think, What a miserable time.”

  Clare laughed. Megan tried to smile, but the ache in her heart wouldn’t cooperate with her face. She just nodded. Emily squeezed her hand gently and then started out.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Clare offered. “I need some air. You don’t mind, do you, hon?”

  “No, no, go ahead,” Megan said. “I’ll still be here when you return.”

  She watched them leave, imagining how heavy the conversation about her would be, how hard it was going to be for her later and what a shock to the system this conclusion would bring. Then, there was all that rehabilitation to be done with Jennifer. Here they were, one of the wealthiest families in Beverly Hills, ironically suffering far more than some of the poorest in Los Angeles—or anywhere, for that matter. What did money troubles have over this?

  She closed her eyes. How do I gather the strength? Where will it come from? Clare, Tricia, her other girlfriends would all be supportive, but they couldn’t be with her night and day. They wouldn’t be there for the lonely hours, the dark hours. They wouldn’t be reliving the happier memories, early memories of a time that had held so much promise. What was left to believe in?

  The ringing of the phone jarred her, and for a moment she lost her breath. Then she reached for the receiver, imagining it would be either Tricia or one of her other girlfriends. The news was probably singeing ears like streaks of lightning. Before the day was over, it would be topic A of all conversations in Beverly Hills.

  “Hello,” she managed in a much smaller, weaker voice.

  “I blame myself for this,” he began.

  “Steve?”

  “I shouldn’t have left you that night. I should have planted myself outside your house and kept watch, at least. It was my responsibility, especially after I saw the anger in his face and how he was treating you.”

  “That’s silly, Steve. You had no obligation to—”

  “Yes, I did. I told you I would watch over you, protect you, be your guardian angel,” he said. “But I’ll make it up to you, Megan. I’m on this. If the police don’t find Jennifer immediately, I will,” he vowed.

  “But how can you—?”

  “You don’t think about it. I can do a lot more than you think.”

  “Don’t get yourself into any trouble, Steve. I seem to be bad luck for people.”

  “Not me,” he said. “For me you are only good luck. I’ll be in touch. Just hang in there and don’t get depressed. You have a family that will depend on you,” he added.

  She didn’t know what to say. Family?

  “I have a daughter,” she said. “I know I’ll have a lot to do with her. Where will I get the strength?”

  “I’ll be there,” he insisted. “You’ll get it from me.”

  The conversation was giving her a little headache. She was still not over the blow resulting from the news Emily Lloyd had brought.

  “I’ve got to rest now, Steve. Thanks for the call.”

  “You don’t have to thank me for anything,
ever,” he said.

  She heard him hang up and then she did. Her thoughts began whirling, making her dizzy. She felt a little nauseous again, too, and pushed the buzzer for the nurse.

  “Where will I get the strength?” she muttered to herself.

  She grimaced, reviewing Steve’s assurance. He’s just being nice, she thought.

  But how weird for someone to be so nice, so dedicated, so willing to sacrifice so quickly. Education, refinement, social graces and wealth did not guarantee the quality of anyone. In any line-up, without any further information about the men standing before her, she would most likely choose Scott over Steve.

  Men. I guess Emily’s right. We’ll never understand them.

  All this had taken much longer than he had anticipated. He didn’t want to risk getting a speeding ticket. He had seen and read enough detective stories to know how police could place a suspect at a scene when they had information like speeding tickets or parking tickets. He followed the line of traffic, taking great care not to attract any highway patrolmen. A yellow Corvette certainly stood out, but he was sincerely worried about Jennifer locked up in the boat. He had left her enough water and food, and she had a bathroom to use as well as a television set, but for a little girl to be in such a strange place alone was surely a frightening experience. He would make it up to her tenfold. In time she wouldn’t even think about it.

  When he reached La Jolla, he pulled off the freeway and searched for that quaint shop he had visited with his mother last year. It was one of those hard-to-describe stores that sold antiques, incense and candles, all sorts of old pictures, including framed needlework pictures, beautiful diaries and notepads, ribbons and, he remembered, old-fashioned dolls. He had to replace the rag doll.

  Unfortunately, as a side effect, his finding the store brought his mother to mind. When he had taken her here, it had been one of the happiest days that they had spent together in years, maybe the happiest day since his father’s death in fact. He’d taken her for a nice lunch and then a short ride on his boat to finish up the day. The only sour point occurred when she’d asked him where Julia had been on the boat when she fell off and drowned. He’d told her he hated thinking about it and asked her not to talk about it. That had worked, and they returned to enjoying each other and the wonderful weather.

  Now she was lying dead on her own kitchen floor. It was her own fault, though, he told himself. If she hadn’t poked around in his room, in his personal stuff, she would never had found that wallet. Of course, that was a blunder, one of his first. He should have tossed the wallet after he took the money, but he thought he might need the information later to prove things to Megan. Blunder, and now what? His mother was dead. Granny was gone.

  He wasn’t going to think about it. He would deal with it later, when everything else was accomplished. Surely he would find a way to handle it perfectly. Except for the wallet, he had done everything else perfectly, hadn’t he? Deep within him, he realized his mother might not have accepted it all anyway. This was probably for the best.

  He got out and went into the store to find a rag doll as close as possible to the one Jennifer had. He panicked when he saw none, but the teenage girl behind the counter said there were three and showed him where they were located. One did look close enough, so he bought it and some old-fashioned all-day suckers, too. She would be a happy little girl soon enough, he thought, and got back into his car to continue the journey to his boat.

  What he had done was taken the boat out a ways and anchored it so no one passing by on the dock would hear a little girl crying or screaming. It was only natural for her to do that until she realized what a better father he would be for her. He had a dinghy on the boat, so going back and forth was easy.

  The only one who knew him at all at the dock was a Mexican fisherman, Rosario Sanchez, who made his living mainly by taking gringos out to deep-sea fish. Their conversations were restricted mainly to the weather, the sea, the routes he liked into Mexican waters and equipment. Sanchez was even better than he was when it came to servicing and fixing engines.

  When Steve arrived, he saw Sanchez setting up two men to go out with him. While the men settled themselves in, Sanchez walked over as Steve loaded the dinghy. He was a short, stocky man with thick black hair he kept tied in a ponytail. He had grown up in Cabo and came from a family of fishermen. He’d told Steve he had salt water in his veins instead of blood.

  “Hola, Steve,” he said. “I caught me two live ones this morning,” he added, nodding at the tourists on his boat.

  Steve looked and nodded, but kept loading his supplies into the dinghy.

  “You going out for a while, si?”

  “A while, but not right away,” he replied. “Any weather coming up?”

  “No, es perfecto right now, but maybe later. There’s a storm wants to visit from the south. So why you anchor out instead of in your slip?”

  “Checking some things,” Steve said.

  “Things? What things?”

  “Things,” he replied sharply. He nodded again at Sanchez’s boat. “You’d better attend to business.”

  “Oh. Si. Well, have a good day, Steve.”

  Steve grunted but turned his back on him.

  Sanchez shrugged to himself and returned to his boat and his tourists. The man was never much of a talker, he thought, and in his heart, he did not trust men who were so penurious with their words and thoughts. Sanchez watched him, however. Before he set out with his tourists, he saw Steve leave the dock and headed for his boat.

  Steve gave his Mexican neighbor little thought. His mind was solely focused on Jennifer now. He was convinced that once he was able to get her on deck and she saw how exciting it was to be out there, she would become one happy little girl. After all, this was how he wanted Megan and him to honeymoon—on his boat, touring the Mexican Riviera.

  Jennifer would love it as well. Maybe they would get a place in Cabo or even farther south and spend summers there. There were all sorts of new possibilities on the horizon. If Julia had agreed to have a family, he would have looked for such a getaway for them, too. What that woman lost she would never know, he concluded as the sea spray reached his face.

  It seemed to wash away all his troubles and open the sky above to wondrous sunshine and hope, but when he tied up at the boat and boarded, he was surprised not to hear a sound coming from where he had left Jennifer. He had at least expected to hear the television going. It would keep her company and he knew kids her age liked to watch television anyway. He loaded on the supplies as quickly as he could and then made his way to the master stateroom, in which he had left her.

  He listened for a moment and then unlocked the door. Jennifer was sprawled on the bed facedown, hugging one of the big pillows. When he had rescued her from the troubled house in Beverly Hills, he had kept his face masked. She had not seen enough of him to know who he was. He’d wrapped her in her blanket and tied it securely with the rope. He’d pulled off the pillowcase from her pillow and tied it gently around her face. He’d grabbed the rag doll. She was crying and screaming, of course, but he hadn’t tried to calm her down-there was no time for that. He had put her over his shoulder and made his way carefully down the stairs and out the door to the garage. He had been cautious and very careful about the way he carried her to the car. She’d flailed about, but he was able to secure her quickly and drive off.

  During the trip, he had played the radio loudly to drown out her screams and eventually she grew hoarse and exhausted and actually fell asleep. It had been easier then to get her onto the boat and into the stateroom. With his face still masked, he had untied her.

  She’d woken up and had been too frightened to cry or scream. She had just watched him move about, setting up her food and water. He’d handed her the television remote and, still without speaking, left the stateroom, locked the door and driven back to Los Angeles.

  Now he saw no more reason to be covering his face. He stood there looking at her sleeping peacefully
. Look at how safe and content she appears already, he thought. He cleaned up the dishes and replaced the food, including a nice chocolate cake this time. He checked the bathroom and then watched her slowly wake up. He smiled down at her and she stared, her recollection of him obviously returning.

  “How are you doing, Jen?” he asked. He knew Megan called her Jen.

  “Where’s my mother?” she asked.

  “She’ll be coming along soon.”

  “Did you bring me here?”

  “Yes, I did. Sorry if I frightened you.”

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  “It’s my boat and now it will be your boat too. We’re goin to go to lots of nice places and see wonderful things and you’ll learn how to fish and even steer the boat. How’s that?”

  “Where’s my mother?”

  “I told you. She’s coming. Meanwhile, do me a favor and put on this sweatshirt for a while. I need your pajama top.”

  “Why?”

  “Got to show your mother you’re okay, don’t we? Otherwise, she might not want to come—and you want her to come, don’t you?”

  “Why does she have to know I’m okay first?”

  “That’s what a mother always needs to know. Is my baby okay? When you’re a mother, you will have to know the same things. So will you let me have the pajama top?”

  Jennifer nodded.

  “Great. Here,” he said, offering the sweatshirt. “It’s a nice one. See? It says, ‘Sailor Girl.’ That’s who you are now—Sailor Girl. As I said, I’m going to show you how to steer this big boat and fish for huge fish. You can swim off the boat, especially when we go into nice lagoons, and we can fly kites off the deck. You’ll see, we’re going to do lots of great stuff.”

  “I don’t want to be on the boat. I wanna go home,” she said.

  “Now don’t say stupid things, Jennifer. You’re too old now to say dumb things like that. You know what’s been happening. You need a new home,” he said. “Too many bad things happened in that old home.