The Abduction of Mary Rose (12 page)

"Fair enough," he said, sliding the small black recorder on his desk toward him. He snapped in the tape and closed the lid. "Long time ago," he mumbled, and she heard the warning beneath the words.
A cold, cold case. Don't expect too much.
He pushed the button, turned up the volume.

At once, the whispered voice filled the room.

"Naomi Waters," came the near-whispered words, fearful, chilling even now, in this well-lit office with a policeman sitting across from her. "I'm sorry, girl … I tried to stop him. I just wanted to tell you that. I … I couldn't do nothin'."

The country music played in the background. Something she'd heard many times she still couldn't put a name to. It didn't matter. Beneath the music, the tape recorder whirred on. The man spoke again. "You don't know him. You oughta leave it alone, honest to God. He's bad news. You wanna watch your back...."

The music went on for a couple more seconds before the message clicked off.

"Well?" Naomi said. "You can hear the fear in his voice. He's terrified that someone—"

"You asked me to tell you what I think," he cut in. She fell silent. Nodded. "Okay," she said.

The sergeant replayed the tape, frowned as he listened, rubbing the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger.

"I know he's one of the two men," she insisted when it was over. "I know it. Maybe you could run the message on TV and radio. Someone might recognize his voice."

He gave a short
humph
to her suggestion, and she wasn't sure if it was in agreement or dismissal. He slid his glasses back on his face and leaned back in his chair.

"First, with all due respect, you don't know anything, Naomi. You think you know. Your caller sounds like he's 'been into his cups', as me grandma used to say. But let's not jump the gun either way. I repeat, this could just be some nutcase who read your story and decided to have a little fun," he said, pretty much echoing Eric Grant's assessment. "There's no end of whackos out there, and I'm in a position to know that. As to the men who actually grabbed Mary Rose, I wouldn't be surprised if they're long dead."

Well, that would wrap it all up nicely, wouldn't it?
she thought, anger building in her. She put a lid on it and spoke calmly.

"But you don't know that they are. No, I know I think they're alive, Sergeant Nelson. With everything in me, I feel it. I believe they were young men at the time. In their twenties, maybe. Predators, stalking the vulnerable."
The lone travelers at the edge of the herd,
she thought. "They'd be in their late forties now, maybe early fifties," she continued. "That's relatively young these days. Who knows what else they've done. They're animals. And I've already rattled one of their cages."

He sat forward, folded his hands together and like a kindly uncle said, "Supposing you're right. Unlikely, but supposing. I still can't reopen a case on maybes. We need some real evidence to do that. Okay, granted the caretaker of the cemetery said he saw two men, but he wasn't able to describe either of them, or the car, except to say that it was big and dark. And that old car has long since been turned into scrap metal. And Charles Seaton was the only witness to the crime."

She could feel the sergeant's impatience, feel him losing interest. But Mr. Seaton might remember something after all this time. At least the sergeant had read the article, no doubt the file too: probably as soon as he was off the phone with Eric Grant. She needed that file.

"I plan to talk to Mr. Seaton," she told him. After a hesitation, she said, "Sometimes people remember things during hypnosis, don't they? Do you know if they hypnotized him back then? If they didn't, couldn't you have...?"

"No. No, I can't. I can't allot time and money on a case without more to go on. That's not going to happen. We don't even know if Seaton is alive. It's doubtful. He was well into his fifties at the time." He glanced at his watch. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to wrap this up. I've got an appointment with the mayor in ten minutes. Anyway, let me mull this over for a day or two, Nancy Drew. See what I can come up with. In the meantime, you be careful, you hear? Too late to tell you to leave it alone, I suppose. Not that you would." He removed the tape from the recorder. "But at least heed your caller's words, 'watch your back'. Whoever this guy is," he said, tapping the tape with his forefinger. "It wasn't bad advice. You live with family?"

He was dropping the tape into an evidence bag he'd gotten from his desk drawer. Fine, she'd made a copy. She decided to ignore the 'Nancy Drew' comment. "No, not anymore."

"Your adopted mom. Right. Clumsy of me. I expect the house is pretty lonely with her gone. It's not good to live alone. Especially for a young woman like yourself. You might want to think about getting yourself a dog. A shepherd, maybe."

"I can take care of myself, thank you, Sergeant Nelson. All women aren't damsels in distress, you know." She spoke pleasantly but pointedly, then decided to cut him some slack. "But you're right. I'm keeping my doors and windows locked."

Each time she heard her mother referred to as her 'adopted mom', it gave her a jolt. It hurt. It sounded so strange spoken aloud, as if the term 'adopted mom' couldn't possibly apply to her mom. Clearly, she hadn't made the transition in her psyche yet. "Anyway," she said, "my cat Molly wouldn't take kindly to the idea of a dog, but I appreciate the concern." She thanked him for his time and told him she'd be back.

He walked her to the door. "You shouldn't be so defensive, you know, Miss Waters. No one is suggesting you're a damsel in distress or that you can't take care of yourself. But neither do you want to ignore the fact that you're a woman living alone and there are some very bad people out there. You don't want to be naïve and end up hurt. Or worse."

"I don't think I'm at all naïve," she said. "I came here asking for your help. I'm counting on it. I think your job is to catch those bad people, isn't it, unless I'm mistaken. I'll be in touch, Sergeant."

* * *

It was just past four when Naomi showed up at Frank Llewellyn's office. She took a chance he'd still be there and not too busy to see her. Not that he wouldn't have made himself available, but Frank was a busy man and she didn't feel good about barging in unexpectedly, although that's exactly what she was doing, taking advantage of the guilt she knew he felt about his part in the conspiracy. Not the most noble motivation. But he'd offered to help, and she needed the favour. She had promised to find the evidence Sergeant Nelson said he needed to reopen the case. So she needed to start with the case file.

Kay was at her desk typing at the computer, and didn't see Naomi right away. Kay Garrett had been Frank's right hand for years. A grandma now in her sixties, she was still a pretty woman, filled with energy and enthusiasm, makeup perfect, every platinum hair in place, smelling of gardenias. Or maybe it was a potpourri on the counter. Frank said he didn't dare suggest retirement to her, but he also admitted he'd be lost without Kay.

When she looked up and saw Naomi standing there, her face broke in a smile. "Naomi, how wonderful to see you. It's been a very long time. I was so sorry to hear about your mom, dear. And about all this other...."

"Thanks, Kay. And for the lovely card. How's that adorable granddaughter of yours? Kelsey...?"

"What a memory you have," she said, warming to a subject close to her heart, and no doubt one more comfortable than the matter of Naomi's background. She wondered if Frank had ever confided the secret to Kay, but then decided no, he wouldn't have. Kay knew only what she read in the paper, like the rest of River's End residents.

"Kelsey's four now, hardly a baby anymore," Kay was saying, reaching into her purse and producing an accordion of snapshots over which Naomi made all the appropriate comments. Not that it was hard to be complimentary. Kelsey was a pretty little girl with light brown curls, bright blue eyes and a mischievous smile. "She has your eyes," Naomi said. "Blue as robin's eggs."

Kay beamed. "That's what they tell me. She starts kindergarten this fall. It has been a while, hasn't it?" she laughed, returning the photos to her purse. "Frank will be delighted you're here. I'll buzz him."

* * *

"I don't see a problem getting you the file," Frank said a short time later as they sat across from one another at The Golden Dragon, the best Chinese restaurant in town.

"Thanks, Frank. I really appreciate it."

She hadn't meant to take up more than a few minutes of his time, but he'd insisted on taking her to dinner, saying, "If I remember correctly, Chinese is your favourite."

The instant they entered the restaurant and Naomi smelled the enticing aromas, she was suddenly famished, and realized she'd forgotten to eat today. She chose her favourite almond gai ding, eggroll and chicken fried rice. Looking around, she was overcome with a sense of déjà vu. She sipped her white wine which Frank had ordered, and remembered coming here years ago with Frank and her mother. She might have been nine. They'd ordered her a Shirley Temple and she'd felt like such a big girl. Almost grown up. Happier times.

The decor hadn't changed: lots of red, exquisite wall paintings depicting scenes of old China, hanging silk and bamboo lanterns, men and women wearing shade hats tied under their chins, working in rice paddies. A wave of loss swept over her, eclipsing the anger, which was already starting to wane.

"You're a good friend, Frank."

"Then I'm forgiven?"

"I'm thinking on it." She grinned. A forkful of chicken chow mein mid-way to her mouth, she leveled her gaze at him. "I hope you won't tell me what an ungrateful person I am, that I should leave well enough alone. I've already heard that a few times and I don't think I can handle hearing it again. Not from you."

"That wasn't even close to what I was planning to say."

"Okay. I'm sorry. But to some people, it's as if my wanting to bring Mary Rose's killers to justice is some kind of slap at my mother. It's not. I loved my mother, and I know she loved me."

Frank's sigh of relief was audible. "You can't know how happy I am to hear you say that, Naomi."

"Oh, Frank, that will never change. I just wish she had trusted me with the truth."

He took her hand. "It was a hard truth, Naomi."

"I know." Lisa had made her see things a little differently. "Anyway, this is something I have to do."

"I understand. I do. I admire you for it. And if Lili were here, so would she. She cared about justice and fairness. You know that. And if this is what you need to do to find some kind of closure, that's an overused word and not the right one, but you know what I mean...."

She smiled thinly. "I think so."

"Like I said, getting the file shouldn't be too much of a problem. It's an old case. My biggest concern, and I have to say this even if you don't want to hear it, is that you're putting yourself in harm's way. Whoever is responsible for such a monstrous crime isn't going to want to see new attention being brought to it after all this time. Animals like that are capable of anything. Don't underestimate the capacity for evil in some people. I've been in this business long enough that nothing surprises me anymore. Remember, to these monsters, you're nothing but 'Exhibit A', like leaving your blood at the scene of the crime. You're evidence."

His words sent a prickling of foreboding through her. She hadn't thought of herself as Exhibit A. But now that she did, clearly that's exactly what she was. The killer's DNA would match hers. The idea took a bit of getting used to. She considered telling Frank about the phone call, then thought better of it. He might change his mind about getting that file for her, and she needed it. She wondered if Sergeant Nelson would tell him. She hoped not.

"I'll be fine," she said. "Frank, I really appreciate your help."

"You're welcome. Just answer me one thing, and please don't take it the wrong way."

"Shoot."