by Wendy Tyson
Allison sat on the bed, heavily. Her stomach broiled. “Oh, man. I’m sorry, Vaughn.”
He turned away and said, “No, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take this out on you. It’s just...well, I’ve spent a long time putting myself on the straight and narrow. But the past doesn’t just go away. And I’ve been racking my brains trying to figure out what the hell happened last Friday, but I keep coming up blank.” He buried his head in his hands. “This is a damn nightmare.”
Allison let him have a moment. As a kid, he did time in a juvenile delinquent center for everything from assault and battery to dealing drugs. When his twin brother took the bullet meant for him, Vaughn was snapped rudely into reality. But he, more than anyone, could not forgive his past transgressions. Allison put a hand on his broad shoulder and squeezed gently. He reached up and laid his hand over hers.
Allison stood. She whispered in his ear, “We will work this out.”
She pulled a pair of gray pants and a French blue sleeveless wrap blouse from her suitcase and disappeared into the bathroom. There, she tamed her hair into a ponytail, washed her face, brushed her teeth and got changed, concentrating on these everyday actions so she wouldn’t have to think about their predicament. When she came back into the hotel room, a different Vaughn was sitting on the edge of the bed, scratching notes on a yellow legal pad.
He said, “Let’s stick with our initial plan. Today the Benini estate. On the way back, we’ll stop by the police station.”
“Will they wait?”
“I called the detective who contacted me this morning and told him I couldn’t make it there until later today. He said as long as I show up by five that was fine. They want to show me some pictures.” He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. His dark eyes searched hers. “It doesn’t sound like I’m a suspect at this point.”
“Of course you’re not. I suppose it makes sense that they’ll wait until later.” But did it? Allison wondered. Wealthy Italian heiress disappears in their jurisdiction. Time may be of the essence. Wouldn’t they want to push things along? “We can go there first, Vaughn. If it will help the investigation.”
He shook his head. “It’s early. If we leave soon, we can be at the police station well before five.” He shrugged, his face back to an impassive mask, his shoulders squared in a posture of power. “Besides, I want to approach the Benini family now, before they have more time to come up with reasons and excuses. Catch them off guard.”
Allison packed her few belongings back in her bag. She slipped two silver bangles on her wrist and glanced in the mirror. Tired eyes stared back.
“Let’s go, then. Another trip to Ithaca. I like the Finger Lakes, but this is getting to be a bit much.”
As Allison and Vaughn made their way north, the constant drizzle stopped, giving way to heavy fog and impenetrable gloom. Shifting, morphing clouds cast an ominous feeling on the day. Nature’s melancholy was echoed in the interior of the Volvo.
Allison and Vaughn drove in silence, the quiet whir of the air conditioner and the occasional growl of distant thunder the only sounds. They grabbed breakfast from Dunkin’ Donuts—coffee and a sesame bagel for each, although both bagels sat nearly untouched in a bag in the center console. It was 8:48 when they arrived in Ithaca, and another thirty minutes to the Benini home. At the mouth of the driveway, Vaughn was the first to break the silence.
“Game plan?”
Allison shrugged. “Guess it depends what we find.”
Vaughn gave her a long look. “Chances are we’ll find nothing.”
“Ah, what happened to optimism?”
Vaughn smiled. “That was your word, not mine.” He checked his mobile.
“Anything else from Jamie?” Allison asked.
“Not yet.” He looked up, toward the house looming on the hill in the distance. “Ready?”
Allison said, “Sure.”
The winding driveway seemed friendlier today, despite the low-lying mist. The Volvo crawled along the path, rounding the switchbacks with only faint complaining. Allison watched for movement, anything that might suggest Maria was out there spying. But she saw only the browns, greens and grays of a stormy summer day in the country. They found the iron gate open. A single car—a cherry red Porsche—sat in the driveway in front of the double-doored entranceway. It was parked several feet from the curb, blocking anyone from leaving without backing down the circular driveway.
“Do you know whose car it is?”
“I assume the older brother, Dom. Arrogant bastard,” Vaughn mumbled. “Even parks arrogantly.”
Allison assumed it was Dom’s, too. Maybe she’d finally get to meet him.
Allison pulled up behind the Porsche, jammed on the emergency brake and killed the engine. The two climbed out, back into stifling humidity. Overhead, clouds gathered at an alarming rate, their watercolor edges a wash of angry black. She hoped the rain would hold off.
Vaughn followed Allison up the steps. They rang the bell and waited several minutes before the cook answered, her gray hair mostly hidden under a crisp white kerchief, eyes like dark hollows. A simple silver crucifix lay against her chest. She glanced down at the red suitcases, surprise and recognition registering on her sun-weathered features.
Allison introduced Vaughn. “We’d like to speak with Simone. We’re returning Francesca’s things and, well…we were hoping you’d heard from Francesca.”
“I’m afraid not.” Jackie kept a wary eye on Vaughn and said, “Last I saw Simone, she was headed out by the grotto. I suppose I could take you there.”
“We would appreciate that.”
Jackie glanced down at Allison’s shoes, strappy leather sandals not made for walking. “It’s a bit of a hike—”
“I have sneakers in the car.”
The cook nodded. She looked at the watch on her wrist, and then turned to look back in the direction of the kitchen. She seemed to be mulling something over. “Go outside and get your sneakers. I hope the rain waits, but I’ll grab some umbrellas just in case. I’ll meet you out there.”
The path turned out to be a hiking trail that started by the western corner of the house and hugged the edge of the flower gardens before leading into the woods. Allison and Vaughn followed Jackie, who managed the pathway like a pro, skipping over the roots and detritus that rose up like rocks in a creek bed. The morning air was still damp and hazy, and only the loud buzz of a chainsaw interrupted the silence.
They walked for fifteen minutes before the grotto came into view. Easily ten feet tall, it had been built with rough stones, and the rocks, worn smooth over time, were crisscrossed by green moss that traced intricate tracks across their surface. Statues of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph stood inside the grotto, near a half-buried wooden platform topped with a rusty iron ring. The statues were protected by a low wrought iron fence, its rails twisted into ornate pillars that ran along its width and served as the resting place for plastic flowers—Easter lilies, chrysanthemums, sunflowers and something that looked like a Poinsettia with petals washed to a splotchy pale pink.
The air smelled sharply of pine and humus. Jackie stood in the center of a bed of cedar chips, which made an eight-foot ring around the grotto. Two wooden benches had been placed on the outer edge of the ring. An empty koi pond, fed by a small creek, formed a semi-circle behind the benches. The area was accessible by a twenty-foot wooden bridge that crossed a small stream and the koi pond. On the other side the vestiges of an old stone foundation, reclaimed now by the forest. The forest was hushed by the gentle sounds of nature, deadening even the insistent churn of the chainsaw.
Jackie turned in a circle, scoping out the area, before facing Allison. “It looks like I was wrong. I could have sworn she said she’d be here.” Face pinched with worry, she said, “Frannie loves it here. That’s why I thought it was odd that Simone would come.”
“They didn’t get along?”
“They’re not close. And no one comes out here, really. Just Frannie.”
It was strange to hear such a familiar version of Francesca’s name. “Do you have any idea where Francesca might have gone?” Allison asked.
“None whatsoever.”
“She didn’t say or do anything unusual in the days before she left?”
“She did a lot of things that were unusual. For her.”
Vaughn had been scanning the grotto area as though searching for a sniper. He turned his attention to Jackie and asked, “Such as?”
“She left, for one thing. I’ve been in this house for nine years and I’ve never seen Frannie go anywhere, not even when Paolo fell ill.”
“So she didn’t visit him in the hospital?”
“Not once.”
“Why do you think she stayed here all those years?” Allison asked.
Jackie poked a white-sneakered toe at something on the ground. After a moment, she said, “Fear? Contentment? I don’t know. It never came up in conversation.”
Allison didn’t believe her. “Did you talk often?”
Jackie nodded. “Of the family, she was the only one who took the time. The others are very self-absorbed. Maria comes into the kitchen, but only to make requests or to steal food from the cupboards. She’s like a wild animal, that one. No manners. Which is why she prefers the animals, I suppose. She’s always out there with the horses.”
“But Francesca’s not like that?” Allison asked, careful to use the present tense.
“No, Francesca is always kind. She asks about me, my family.”
Vaughn said, “What do you know about Gina Benini, Jackie? Is what Maria told Allison true? Was Paolo’s first wide murdered?”
Jackie looked away, toward the bridge. “We need to get back. By now, Dom will have seen your car. He’ll want to talk to you.”
And we’ll want to talk to him, Allison thought. “Just one more question. How about the family? Did Francesca get along with everyone else?”
Jackie’s mouth hardened until all that was left was a slash of crimson. “Does anyone get along with everyone in their family?” She moved quickly toward the trail that led back to the house. “I’ve been here for nine years, Ms. Campbell,” she said over her shoulder. “I know enough not to talk ill of my employers. I will say this, though. Ghosts, skeletons, demons...they are all part and parcel of the same thing. People hiding things, things they shouldn’t have done, secrets that need the cleansing light of day.” She skipped over a puddle and onto the wooden bridge. “This family is no exception.”
Back inside the house, Jackie, all business once again, led them into a small parlor, where they waited for Dom. But it was Alex, not Dom, who came into the room fifteen minutes later. He shook Allison’s hand with a warm but regretful smile, and then shook Vaughn’s hand before saying, “What brings you back here, Allison?”
“Francesca. We brought her things.”
Eyebrows raised, Alex said, “The police didn’t take them?”
“No. They said she was an adult, and until there was evidence of a crime, they seemed uninterested in searching her belongings.”
“Who has them now?”
Allison said, “We left them with Jackie. But we’d still like to talk to you, if you have a few minutes.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Where are my manners? Please. Sit.”
Allison and Vaughn sat on the two armchairs facing the door. Alex remained standing. He looked fresh today, clean-shaven and smart in black dress pants and a white button-down shirt. His gaze seemed more guarded than before, but when their eyes met, Allison saw that same amused half smile.
“Have you heard anything?” Allison asked, irked, for some reason, by his easy manner. “Anything at all?” With sudden insight, she realized she wanted him to look bereft. She wanted one family member she felt she could trust.
“I’m afraid not. We filed a missing persons report, of course, and the police have been here for a chat, but beyond that, we have no clue where she could be.”
“You must be worried sick.”
“We’re all concerned. Francesca must have wandered off and lost her way. Perhaps gotten confused. She’s not used to being out in the real world.” Alex’s brows drew closer, and he looked at Vaughn. “It would be easy to lose track of her.”
“She didn’t seem remotely confused to me,” Vaughn said, tight-lipped and tight-fisted.
“No need to get defensive, Mr. Vaughn. That was Francesca’s gift. She could hide it.”
Just then, the door slammed open and in stormed another man. He had a full head of cropped graying hair, a bulbous nose and a neatly-trimmed beard. Unlike his handsome brother and beautiful sister, his looks hinted at peasant, not patrician. But for his contemptuous manner, he could have been just another visitor—but his cocky bearing gave him away. He was shorter than Alex, five-foot-nine or ten at most, but carried himself with an angry energy that demanded attention.
“Why are they here?” he said to Alex.
“Dom, I don’t believe you’ve met Allison Campbell and her colleague, Christopher Vaughn.”
Shoulders still squared for battle, Vaughn held out his hand. “Call me Vaughn.”
Dominic Benini looked at Vaughn’s outstretched hand for a pregnant moment, his contempt written in the snide turn of his mouth. Allison found herself holding her breath, for she knew Dom’s next action would decide the tone of this meeting. Finally, he shook Vaughn’s hand, but said, “You’re the man who lost our aunt?”
Alex looked at his brother sharply. “As you can see, Dom’s upset.”
Vaughn seemed calm, his eyes taking in the scene unfolding before them with a detached intensity. Allison said, “We’re not the enemy, Mr. Benini. My colleague did nothing but wait while your aunt used a restroom. I’m sure you didn’t want him to follow her in.”
Dom said, “I would have never encouraged her to leave this house.”
“She contacted us, not the other way around.”
“She was an emotional invalid. Not fit to make decisions.”
Vaughn said, “She seemed perfectly sane to us.”
Through clenched teeth, Dom said, “I never said she was crazy. I said she was an emotional invalid. My aunt was unstable, depressed...naïve to the world.” He hung his head in a gesture that, to Allison, seemed contrived. “And now she’s gone.”
Vaughn said, “Leaving you to run Benini Enterprises. Convenient.”
Dom inched his head up a notch and stared at Vaughn through hooded eyes. “Is that your assessment?”
Allison laid a warning hand on Vaughn’s arm. Arguing would get them nowhere, and with everyone’s nerves shot, both men seemed primed for a fight. She said, “We don’t think anything, Mr. Benini. We want Francesca back as much as you do.”
Dom shifted his gaze from Vaughn to Allison. He started at her feet and made his way up, resting his gaze on her chest, then her mouth. When he finally made eye contact, it was with a degree of surprise, as though he were seeing her for the first time. With his focus still locked on her, Dom said to Alex, “Maria’s in the dining room with her mother. Simone wants to talk to us.”
Dom started to walk out of the room. He paused at the threshold. “If the police have not contacted you already, they will soon enough. Perhaps Alex has already told you, but we’ve hired our own private investigator in the hopes of finding our aunt. Despite what you may want to believe, we want Francesca back. We’re going to find her.”
Dom left the room. His heavy footsteps could be heard in the hall as he receded into the bowels of the estate. Allison looked at Alex, trying hard to control her anger. “You set us up for that.”
With a rueful shake of his head, Alex said, “No, that’s Dom. Charming, isn’t he?” Alex grasped the heavily carved door and motioned for Vaughn and Allison to go
out before him. “But he’s right in this instance. We need to find Francesca. If the police can’t help us, we’ll do it on our own. Our man’s name is Burr. Reginald Burr. He’s an old family acquaintance. Don’t be surprised if you hear from him.”
“Think this Reginald Burr is legit?” Alison asked. They were back in the car, about two miles from the Benini estate. Allison watched the woods go by through the driver side window, taking in this area, lush with old trees and dense foliage. Across the street, Cayuga Lake churned, its deep waters choppy and unwelcoming today. Thick tree trunks, roots covered in moss, blocked the little light emanating from the torn sky. So many places to hide, Allison thought. If one were inclined to hide in the forest.
Allison forced her thoughts back on Reginald Burr. It was no surprise that the family hired a private investigator. In fact, she would expect a wealthy family with nothing to hide to do just that. Which is exactly why it felt suspect.
“An old family acquaintance?” Vaughn said. “I don’t believe a damn word they say.”
“It does seem a little too convenient. But a family kidnapping its own...” Before the words were out of her mouth, Allison knew how silly they sounded. More preposterous things happened every day. And blood did not necessarily equate to loyalty. Allison pulled over and punched an address in her phone. She watched as her GPS pinpointed the location she wanted. She made the next right.
“Where are we headed?” Vaughn asked.
“The hospital. To pay a visit to Paolo Benini.”
Vaughn looked over at her, surprised. “He’s in a coma.”
“I know,” Allison said. “But the people around him can still talk.”
Ten
The hospital corridors had the despairing antiseptic feel that Allison associated with her youth and her mother’s illnesses. She stood in the lobby next to Vaughn, ignoring the quickening pace of her heartbeat and the little, niggling, rational voice inside her head that said she was out of her element.
