At the end, Sam sighed. "I don't believe in that kind of stuff. And I especially don't believe a theory by a guy who wears pink glasses. Even so, it's creepy the way Patrick senses things when they are dead."
"I've been thinking about that," I replied. "Orange tabbies are common, and November has probably fathered a few litters. Since little kids don't always grasp the finality of death, Patrick may have seen an orange cat and thought—or hoped—it was November. He may even have imagined the whole event.
He's been very upset since the cat died."
"You said Brook knew you were at the pond."
"We talked to him as we were leaving the house. He could have painted the back of the bam long before and been waiting for the right moment to set his prank in motion. Adrian had an appointment with his lawyer today, supposedly about his will. I think Brook found himself with the perfect opportunity to stir an already boiling pot."
"And then he got lucky," Sam went on, "because Patrick decided to cross the ice? I don't think so. Kate, hasn't it occurred to you that, according to Patrick's story, he was lured onto the ice, lured by a favorite pet, just as Ashley was?"
I shifted uncomfortably and stretched my legs out in front of me. I thought of it, yes."
"And have you thought about the fact that you were supposed to be watching him, just as your mother was supposed to be watching Ashley? And that if he had drowned, you would have been blamed, just as your mother was for Ashley's death?"
I had thought about that quite a bit.
He leaned toward me. "I'm tell ing you again, you have to leave this place."
"And I'm tell ing you I'm not."
He rubbed his head. "Maybe your mother will talk some sense into you."
At first I thought I hadn't heard him correctly. "Sorry?"
He rested his back against the base of one of the big chairs, seeming a little too pleased with himself, I thought. "I contacted your mother through the Internet. It wasn't hard—I had a hunch she wasn't hiding the way she did twelve years ago. I got her maiden name from her birth records, poked around some, and found her."
I stared at him.
"I told her what was going on, just about everything I knew, including how pigheaded you are. She said you inherited that from her."
I swallowed hard.
"She said she had to get her passport updated, but would come as quickly as possible."
"Here?" I could barely get out the word.
"Yeah," he said casually, but he was faking. He had seen my reaction and was trying to downplay things. "She can stay with Mom and me."
"I can't believe you did that." My words came out in a hoarse whisper. "How dare you!"
His face colored. "You need her, Kate, whether you want to admit it or not. You need someone on your side, and you won't let it be me. So I asked her."
I was speechless.
"I want you to lock your bedroom door tonight," he said.
"It doesn't have a lock."
"Then push some furniture against it. You've seen movies, you know what to do. I'm serious, totally serious." He stood up. "Call me tomorrow. I'll keep trying to reach you, but Stone-Face probably won't let me through. If I don't hear from you, I'm coming here—understand? I'll park in their driveway and stand outside and howl if they don't let me in. I'm sure they won't appreciate another visit," he added. "My car's dropping a lot of oil on their drive. Call me."
I nodded mutely. My mother was coming. I felt as if I couldn't move from where I was.
"It's okay, I can see myself out," he said, and left.
Chapter 20
I ignored Sam's advice to barricade my bedroom doors that night. Though Emily kept Patrick with her, I wanted to be available if he wandered off and needed me. I should have listened to Sam, for as it turned out, exhaustion took over and I didn't hear a thing. The next morning I awoke ten minutes before I was scheduled to drive Patrick to school. I knew I had set my alarm to ring an hour and a half earlier; someone had entered my room and turned it off.
I hurried down the steps to Patrick's room. His pajamas were flung on the bed, which meant he was already dressed. I returned to my room, pulled on my clothes, and arrived on the first floor in time to hear a motor rumbling in the driveway. Peering through the hall window, I saw Emily buckling Patrick into the back of Roger's Jeep. She was keeping him away from me.
"Good morning."
The greeting was cold, and I took my time turning from the window.
"Good morning, Mrs. Hopewell. Why was my alarm clock turned off?".
"Mrs. Westbrook said that she was tending to Patrick today. I saw no reason for you to rise."
"Thank you, but I'll make my own decision about rising."
"Breakfast is being served," she went on, without a trace of emotion on her face or in her voice.
"I'm not hungry."
"Mr. Westbrook has asked that you see him in the office—after you breakfast," she added.
"I'll see him now."
"He is not prepared to see you until after you breakfast."
"Fine," I said. "Shall you prepare him for a change in plans, or shall I?"
She pressed her lips together, then walked stiffly toward the office door and knocked.
"Yes, Louise."
"Miss Venerelli has refused breakfast and insists on seeing you now."
"Come in, Kate," he called.
I took a deep breath and entered. I knew this wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation. Adrian rose and nodded at Mrs. Hopewell, who, for once, departed will ingly, closing the door behind her.
Adrian gestured for me to sit down. "How are you this morning?" he asked.
"Fine." I folded my hands tightly in my lap.
He chose the chair nearest to me. "Kate, I am not going to beat around the bush, except to say you don't know how much I hate doing this."
I met his eyes. "That's all right. I can take correction."
His hands opened and closed with frustration. "There is nothing about your work to correct. Nevertheless, I have to let you go."
"Let me go? You mean fire me?" I should have seen it coming, but I didn't.
"In business," he said, "we call it resigning. You resign before I terminate your position. It looks better on your record."
I thought about it for a moment. "The problem is, I'm not resigning."
He raised an eyebrow.
"If you want me to leave, you will have to fire me," I said.
He leaned forward in his chair, moving his head closer to mine, as if we were friends discussing a problem. "I am counting on you to understand. This isn't my choice. You have done a wonderful job with Patrick. Unfortunately, on some issues, I need to defer to Patrick's mother, and this is one of them. I have stood up for you against Robyn, Trent, and Mrs. Hopewell, as I'm sure you know. But too many things have happened now—things that are not your fault, of course. Still, for the sake of family cooperation and my wife's peace of mind, I need to let you go."
"Who is going to look out for Patrick?"
"I will. I promise you I will take a more active role. I should have done so long ago."
I don't trust any of them," I said. "Robyn, Brook, Trent, Mrs. Hopewell—I don't trust anyone with him but Emily."
"I understand what you are saying," Adrian replied, "and I will heed your warning." Then he offered me a preposterously large amount of money for only a week's worth of work, calling it severance pay.
I rejected the offer. "I'm not resigning."
So he fired me, handing me the large check anyway, and promising to write a stell ar recommendation for whatever job I wanted in the future. Roger would drive me where I needed to go; I was to let him know when I was packed.
"What are you going to tell Patrick?" I asked.
"I'm not sure yet."
"May I stay til he comes home from school?" I saw in Adrian's eyes that the answer was no. I felt tears in my own. "Can't I say good-bye to him?"
"His mother is going to pick him up
from school today and take him to Easton. They will have dinner there, which will give me some time to talk to the rest of the family. I am afraid that Emily doesn't want you to have further contact with him. I'm sorry, Kate. I can see that this is painful for you."
I stood up shakily, grasping the check, feeling it crinkle in my hand. I would keep it until I had transferred bank funds from England to insure that I could get by for several weeks more. Then I'd return the check to Adrian, just as I had returned the ring my father took.
Roger dropped me at Tea Leaves Cafe, as I requested. After two cheese pastries, I decided to call Amelia Sutter, who was kind enough to pick up me and my luggage, though returning to the Strawberry Bed and Breakfast may not have been the wisest of moves.
Amelia was bursting with curiosity about the Westbrooks. Fortunately the weather that day was mild, only a tattered blanket of snow remaining on the small lawns of the town, its sidewalks clear and dry. I escaped her questions and spent the afternoon wandering the back streets of Wisteria, avoiding Joseph's shop, feeling too raw to talk.
I left a message on Sam's home phone tell ing him that I had been fired and asking him to keep an eye on Patrick. I didn't mention where I was staying, for I was even less ready to talk to him. I knew he might go to Mason's Choice that evening to ask where I had gone, but I decided that was a good thing because he would check on Patrick while he was there. And perhaps Joseph, curious to know if I had learned anything at the pond and unable to reach me by cell phone, would call the estate. All the better. Attention from outsiders might persuade those at Mason's Choice that it would be risky to harm Patrick.
I wanted to think that Patrick was safe and that Sam was right: The real goal of the recent events was to get rid of me. I, with my interest in Ashley's death, was the true threat, and all that had happened to Patrick was staged to make me seem irresponsible, to frame me so that I would be fired. But each time I reached that logical conclusion, my gut told me that much more was going on.
I awoke Saturday morning ready to deal with what had occurred. I waited til ten o'clock, when the week-end guests at the Strawberry had left on their excursions, then called Joseph from the tiny room equipped with the B&B's guest phone. I found him at his mother's house.
"Katie!" He breathed into the phone. "Thank God! Where are you? I've been worried. Why didn't you tell me you resigned from Mason's Choice?"
"I'm calling to tell you now. And I didn't resign, I was fired."
"Yes, yes, but where are you? Adrian has been trying to reach you. And Sam Koscinski, both last night and this morning…" Joseph blew hard into the phone. "I know you like him, Katie, but he's a lunatic."
"I won't argue that. Why is Adrian looking for me?"
"Patrick's missing."
"What! When did this happen?"
Amelia, who was passing by the small phone room, paused outside the door.
"Sometime between last night and this morning." Joseph made his voice calm, perhaps to counter the panic rising in me. "According to Trent, Patrick was gone from his bed when Emily went to awaken him."
"He got outside the house unnoticed? Adrian didn't set the alarm?"
"If he did, someone turned it off. Trent said there was no forced entry."
I turned my back on Amelia, whose mouth moved as if she were silently repeating my words, trying to milk their full meaning.
"Did they—did they check the pond? Did they look for signs of—" I couldn't complete the thought. "Did they look for some sign of him there?"
"Yes. Trent said they have looked everywhere on the estate."
"The empty houses and the hayloft? The pool, the orangerie—"
"Everywhere on Mason's Choice."
"The old barn, the beach, the cemetery, the docks—" I couldn't stop thinking of places that were full of danger for a child like Patrick.
"Everywhere, Katie."
"Trent told you this?"
"He left here about twenty minutes ago. Adrian sent him as his envoy. He thought you might be staying with me.
I glanced over my shoulder at Amelia. There was a door to the room, but it was propped open by an iron doorstop. "Excuse me a moment," I said to Joseph. "Amelia, would it be all right if I moved that doorstop and closed the door?"
"No need," she said cheerfully. "There's only me here."
"I understand, but this is a private conversation."
"Oh. I wasn't really listening." She moved on, walking rather slowly.
"What do the police think?" I asked Joseph, keeping my voice low. "Adrian did call the police."
"No, not yet."
"What is he waiting for!" I exclaimed. But, of course, I knew why he hadn't contacted the authorities and why he would put if off as long as possible. "He suspects someone in his family removed Patrick."
"Katie, I don't like tell ing you this, but Trent came here because Adrian suspected you."
"Me! Why would I do such a stupid thing?"
"Revenge," Joseph suggested. "Anger at being fired."
"But it makes no sense," I argued. "It would confuse and upset Patrick and, in the end, where would it get me?"
"You keep believing that Adrian is as rational and compassionate as you," Joseph replied.
"Perhaps. I need some time to think. Are you going to the shop?"
"I was just about to depart."
"I'll meet you there in a half hour," I told him.
As soon as I hung up, I punehed in the numbers for Adrian's cell phone. I reached his voice mail and left a message saying I knew nothing about Patrick's disappearance and could be reached for a limited time at the antique shop, leaving that number as well as Amelia's. I saw no point in speaking to anyone else in the household. I didn't trust Emily to keep a clear head and relate accurate information; as for the others, I didn't trust them at all.
Finally, I called Sam's home. I thought I was calm and collected, but as soon as I heard Mrs. Koscinski's voice, I felt the moisture in the corners of my eyes. She said Sam had gone on an errand. "He received your message last night and has been trying to find you, Kate. Is everything all right?"
"Yes." My voice shook. "No."
She waited patiently til I found the words to tell her that Patrick was missing.
"Why don't you come here and wait for Sam," she said. "He should be back soon. Come over and I'll fix you some breakfast."
"Thank you, no."
"A cup of tea," she offered. "Tea or coffee or juice."
I blinked back the tears. It was tempting to run to her, sit in her kitchen, drink her tea, and have a good cry, but I wasn't that kind of girl. At least, I hadn't been til now.
"Thank you, but another friend is expecting me," I said, then gave her the name and number of the bed-and-breakfast. "I'll try to call back. It's Sam's play-off game tonight, isn't it? I know he has to get ready for that,"
"First, he has. to know you are safe," she said. "If he could talk to you, Kate, he'd feel better. If he saw you, he'd feel more assured. Me too."
"I—I'll be in touch," I said, and hung up. It was bad enough to fall for a guy, without liking his mother, too.
I grabbed my coat and headed out, glad for the long walk to the shop on High Street. The stiff March breeze blowing up from the water helped clear my head. It seemed to me there were two possibilities: Patrick had run away, or he had been abducted.
If he had run away, where would he have gone? A seven-year-old couldn't walk far and would head for a place familiar to him. I remembered when I was eight and had run away from home—all the way to our next-door neighbor. Perhaps Patrick was just beyond the estate boundaries. Perhaps he had tried to walk to school; given the tension and fighting at home, school may have become a safe haven for him.
It seemed odd, however, that no one had spotted a young child walking alone and questioned the situation, though he could have fallen asleep beneath some bushes, somewhere out of sight. When I got to the shop I'd leave another message for Sam, asking him to gather a group of friend
s and search the area around the estate as well as the route between the estate and school.
If Patrick had been kidnapped, it had to be by someone who had easy access to him, someone on the estate who could silently remove him from the house. Had the anger and envy within the family finally boiled over? It seemed absurd for any of them to think they could get away with harming Patrick, but then, murder had happened before at Mason's Choice and no member of the family had been charged. I refused to think about that possibility—Patrick had to be alive. I made myself focus on the question of where he might have been taken.
The Eastern Shore, with its large rural stretches, had a million places to hide a child. If Robyn had done it, someone she knew through the horse business might have a barn or shed, some isolated building that could be easily secured. If Brook, a friend might have his own place now and hide Patrick there. I didn't know where to begin if Mrs. Hopewell had taken things into her own hands; I couldn't imagine her having friends or family. If Trent had done it? It came to me when I turned onto High Street: Why not the Queen Victoria, the hotell where his friend, Margery, was manager?
I mentioned this as soon as I saw Joseph, who was standing before a table of hardware, preparing to work on a lamp.
He shook his head. "Too many people would recognize Trent and would wonder why Patrick was with him."
"Not if he showed up at three A.M.," I argued, "wrapped in a winter scarf, hidden under a hat, and carrying a sleeping child bundled against the cold. He could have sedated Patrick and brought him in a back entrance with the help of Margery."
Joseph played with the lamp's switch, then sorted through his tools. His deliberate movements calmed me. "Trent is too cautious to take risks like that."
"It's unlike him," I admitted. "He isn't first on my list, but it won't hurt to check the hotell while I figure out where else to look."
After leaving another message with Sam's mother about searching the area between Mason's Choice and Patrick's school, I paged through the shop's phone book, then rang up the Queen Vic.
No Time to Die & the Deep End of Fear Page 35
