The Guardian (17 page)

“She didn’t see a cab. She said she wasn’t paying that much attention.” Beth wiped her eyes angrily. “Said she didn’t hear the little girl say that Nat wasn’t her mother. That she was busy, very busy. And that Janine … Leanne … had slept most of the night she was there.”

“Jesus.”

“I think that woman drugged Janine.” Beth’s voice quavered slightly.

Ross held her hand for a moment, and she visibly pulled herself in control. She said, “At least that’s what it sounded like to me. Janine said she had a headache, and was awfully sleepy.”

They turned left on Massachusetts Avenue toward Roxbury, back on Columbus. Circled around again and got onto Huntington Avenue past Symphony Hall and down to the Museum of Fine Art. They swung around and drove back into Copley Square. Up and down the streets running parallel to Boylston.

Ross’s heart was pounding and a feeling very near panic surged through him, as he thought how the choice of a left turn versus a right might make the difference between whether or not they found Janine before the kidnapper did.

He said, “Allie, how does someone get into a shelter like that? Is there some sort of official channel?”

“There can be,” she said. “The police, or a social worker, sometimes the Department of Youth Services. But this woman said that the two of them had showed up on her doorstep, and she had an opening for the night, and she took them in. That she’d had Nat in there once a few weeks ago.”

“That must be how he knew where to come looking,” Crockett said. “Either that, or maybe he’s knocking on the doors of a bunch of those shelters.”

“Probably,” Allie said. “The woman told us Nat had obviously been scared, and she had a bruise on her cheek. Janine had been asleep in her arms.”

“She didn’t question her having a daughter?”

“No,” Beth said. “She said Nat had talked about having a daughter before.”

Beth’s back was rigid as she directed them up and down the streets. “There. Try there,” she’d say.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Twenty.

Beth used her phone every few minutes, to see if anyone had called their voice mail. “What if she calls?” she said. “Would they really leave a message?”

As they rounded the corner of Berkley Street, Ross said, “This is crazy. We can’t do this alone any longer.”

“No.” Beth shook her head. “We can’t.”

Ross pulled over, took the gun out of his waistband, and gave it to Crockett. He gestured to the Boston Police building in the middle of the block. “We need the police out there combing the streets right now. When that man had Janine it made sense to keep them out of it. But there’s nothing I’ve heard about this woman, Nat, that makes me think she wants to hurt Janine. So it’s a matter of finding them before Nat gets desperate and takes off, leaves the state maybe. Or before he finds her.”

“If the police are in, I’m out.” Crockett stepped out of the car. “I’ll toss that gun into the river for you.” Crockett leaned back in and said to Beth, “Best of luck with your girl.” He grasped her hand briefly.

Ross looked at Allie and Beth. “Crockett was never here, right?”

“Fine,” Beth said.

Crockett shut the door quietly and walked away.

“Let’s get going,” Beth said.

Allie checked her watch. “Are we doing the right thing? I know I’ve been pushing for the police all along, but we’re so close. You know it’s going to take some time to get them to listen and move. Especially once you tell them about hiding Greg’s body and breaking parole with the gun violation. You know what’s going to happen.”

“You’ll be my lawyer, right?”

Allie hesitated, then said, “Technically, I already am. I helped you sell your property.”

“All right. I’m going to tell the police what I saw. Including the fact that it was my brother who pulled the revolver when it became obvious that the kidnapper was going to kill him and Janine.”

“Don’t ask me to perjure myself,” Allie said.

“I’m not. That’s what happened. I’m asking you to represent me.”

“Where’s the gun now?”

“I threw it in the cove,” Ross said. “Technically, that’s pretty close. It’s in the water.”

Once inside the station, Allie stepped up to the glass window, introduced herself, and asked for the detective who was catching that night.

“What’s this about, Counselor?” The desk sergeant was a big man with heavy jowls and dark, patient eyes.

She told him.

“Kidnapping?” He raised his eyebrows and looked over at Beth and Ross. “You the parents?”

“I’m her mother,” Beth said. “This is her uncle. Please, she’s out on the streets right now.”

“How about your husband? Is this a divorce situation? You think there’s any chance he has her?”

Ross answered that one.

And when the detective who introduced himself as Olsen came up to the desk, the sergeant relayed what Ross had said. And then they read him his rights.

Have you got someone over at Open Gate yet?” Beth asked Olsen as he rejoined them in the interrogation room. She’d been pacing for about twenty minutes. “The woman there said Natalie had stayed there before. Maybe she has an address or can tell us who Natalie’s friends are. Maybe she knows something.”

“We are doing that right now,” the detective said. He was a small man with watery blue eyes and lank black hair, wearing a sport jacket. “We sent a car out.”

“Do the patrol cars have their descriptions? And how about sending men with copies of those photos to the bus and train stations?” Ross asked.

“Thanks for the ideas,” the detective said dryly. “We’re putting out a description over the radio right now. With your permission, we can have your phone signal switched right into here until we get you home.”

“How about the photos?”

The cop sighed. “We’ll circulate those photos at roll call in just a few hours. But let’s hope the manager of Open Gate comes through. Let’s hope you-all didn’t push her the wrong way. If she decides to hold onto that information about this Natalie, it’s going to take a court order to get it.”

“Why would she?” Beth said, raking her hair back. “I’m just trying to find my girl!”

Olsen shrugged. “Some people insist on going through channels.” He looked at Ross and said, “Not others.” He opened a notebook. “At this moment, you’re not in custody. If you want, you, me, and your attorney can do this off-line. Because I do want to know about your brother’s murder, and your burying him. I want to know anything you have about the murders of the two storekeepers. But for the purpose of trying to find the girl, I’m willing to take the statement from all of you at once.”

Allie said, “If Janine’s hurt, or worse, because you couldn’t bother to follow up on this in a timely manner, you’d better get the mothballs out of your uniform, Detective.”

“Take it easy,” Ross said, looking at her. Thinking about how quickly the cops would stonewall if they felt they were being pushed.

Olsen looked her up and down appraisingly. In a bemused tone, he said, “Threats already, and the investigation is so early yet.” He took a computer printout from the sleeve of his notebook. “We just ran your name, Stearns. What a surprise to find you are on
parole.
For drug smuggling. And, Ms. Pearson, as a former ADA you should know how much cops love threats.”

“My daughter doesn’t have any time!” Beth said.

The detective shrugged. “Seems to me you’ve had a week before bothering to notify us.”

“It was a matter of how we thought we could keep her alive,” Ross said. “The kidnapper threatened to kill her if we brought in the police, and we had every reason to believe he’d do it.”

Olsen sighed. He looked at Beth and said with exaggerated civility, “Look, you came to us for the right reason. If your daughter is still in Boston, we’re more likely to find her than anyone else. In the meantime, I’ve informed the FBI. But the more we know, the better we can do the job. So maybe it seems old hat to you, but go through it again.”

“Do you have anyone else going to the other women’s shelters?” Ross asked.

“Or how about the known associates file?” Allie said. “Is there anything on a male and female team doing armed robbery? Or a male and female team with the woman named Nat?”

Olsen slammed his hand on the table. “You want to handle the investigation?”

“Detective Olsen—,” Allie started, but he cut her off.

“Hey, Counselor, you want to argue this now, go ahead. We can turn this conversation into discussing Ross Stearns’s list of parole violations. And we read your client his rights; he can refuse to answer at any time. But me, I’d rather spend it finding out what the hell’s been going on so we can find this woman’s little girl.” He gestured to Beth with his thumb. “What’s it going to be?”

Allie looked at Ross, and he nodded his head. He said, “Let’s just be quick about it.”

Olsen pointed to a mirror at the end of the room. “We’re videotaping from behind there. Got any objections?”

“No,” Ross said before Allie could answer.

And they all turned to Beth, and she began to tell how it started.

Chapter 30

Janine was so sleepy she could hardly walk. Nat kept hustling her along. “Come on, baby. Come on, Leanne.”

Janine didn’t even bother to say that wasn’t her name this time; she was that tired. Nat had kept them in the alley behind the place they’d been staying until it began to rain. Now Janine’s legs felt loose, and when she walked, they’d sometimes trip up. And they’d walked so far. Once, she fell, and there was still the sharp, bright pain in her knee to tell her she’d scraped it.

But she didn’t care.

This was how things were now. The phone conversation with her mother already seemed far away, and she had to concentrate to know if it had been real or not. She wanted to do that again, put a quarter in the phone and tap out the number, and hear her mother’s warmth over the line.

But if she’d had a phone in front of her at that moment, she couldn’t imagine being able to remember the number, never mind press all the buttons in the right order. And what would it mean if she did anyhow? Her mother hadn’t come before.

She stumbled again.

“Come on, baby. I’m going to find us a place to rest until it’s time.”

Janine could smell the ocean. There were buildings to her left, and the place to her right looked slightly familiar. She thought she’d been there before. Shopping with her mother last Christmas, she remembered carrying a box with a big wide ribbon. Red. She carried it and they’d taken the subway in. Her mother had said the present was from both of them for her dad. A bathrobe.

Janine began to cry.

She stumbled again.

“We can’t get the bus yet, hon,” Nat said. “And I don’t want to wait in the station. But I’ll find us a place out of the rain. I’ll find us a car. Remember that big Caddy we stayed in? I’ll find us one of those.”

The woman had her arms under Janine now, and she kissed Janine on the head. The woman smelled smoky; she had been smoking cigarettes constantly, and even a little pipe once in a while. Janine had never seen a woman do that before, smoke a pipe. But she knew it wasn’t good, knew it had something to do with drugs and that it could make you sick.

Janine remembered Nat had made a face the first time Janine had seen her light the pipe. It had been soon after Nat had put the gun to the man’s head. To Lee’s head—don’t say the name, don’t think it.

“Do as I say, not as I do, baby,” the woman had said. “This stuff’s bad, but I like it.”

Nat had told the man she’d kill him if he touched Janine again. Stood there with her hand grabbing the cloth of his jacket, the pistol pointed at his head. She’d dragged him away from Janine before he could kick her. Nat had seemed so in charge then. Scared, but mad.

Lee hadn’t seemed too scared, but he’d looked even angrier than before. But he’d kept his hands to himself as Nat had shoved Janine down the stairway of the big old building. She’d taken Janine out of there and they’d run down the street. Nat had even shot at him once, the gun making a huge boom, when he’d tried to follow them.

And they’d gone to the house of a woman Nat said was a friend. But the friend didn’t smile, and she took Nat’s money and gave her a little envelope with stuff for the pipe. The place was dirty, and Nat had lain on an old striped mattress and smoked and started calling Janine by that name, Leanne, like it was a joke. She’d talked a long time, laughing at first about how angry Lee had looked, and then, as it got later and later, she looked scared. She smoked more, and sniffed powder up her nose, and sometimes Janine couldn’t tell if the woman was joking anymore when she hugged her and called her Leanne.

And that was bad. Not as scary as when the man had them, but Nat wouldn’t take Janine home. And when Janine had started to get mad about that, Nat had gotten angry right back and kept saying again and again, “Look-what-I-did-for-you.” And then Janine had started getting so sleepy. She wondered if it was something she’d eaten. The other woman had brought them burgers and fries and a chocolate shake one time. That was before Lee had shown up, and the other woman was screaming and the gun was going off, and Nat had pushed Janine out the window onto the fire escape, and she was saying, “Go, Leanne, go, go… .”