The Heritage Paper (26 page)

Youkelstein remained quiet. He learned at a young age that you couldn’t argue with a monster.

Another kick to the ribs.

He felt the blood fill inside his throat. He doubted he was getting out of this alive. He began hallucinating and swore he was looking at Siegfried Seidl, the brutal dictator of Terezin.

“I will protect these children at any cost—and nobody will ever harm them … do you understand?” Eddie exclaimed.

After all these years, Ben Youkelstein finally understood everything.

Veronica drove as fast as she could, but her children just kept getting further away.

Her lone saving grace was that Eddie was on the heels of the SUV as it sped down Bedford Ave. And he was likely doing police things she would’ve never thought about—make and model, calling for backup.

She wasn’t sure why she even kept driving—she would never catch them. And what would she do, anyway? But she’d keep going until her last breath. It was get to Maggie and Jamie or die trying.

Her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number—probably one of the local politicians bugging her again with the election nearing. She had no plans to answer, but then she got the crazy idea that Eddie might be using a different phone. Or maybe it was the kidnappers demanding a ransom. She changed her mind.

“Hello … hello.”

No reply.

She was about to hang up when she heard the voice on the other end. It was muffled, but she recognized the voice.

It was Eddie!

Strangely, he wouldn’t answer her, but was talking to someone.

“Do you have them?” she heard Eddie ask.

Who had who? Was he talking to the kidnappers? Had he called her on a backup phone to put her fears to rest?

“I better not see a scratch on them,” he demanded. “I’m sure they are scared—tell them to be calm and their Uncle Eddie will be there soon.”

Thank God for Eddie—the protector. Her fears momentarily calmed, but then things changed.

“Maggie can be such a baby!”

“Listen, make something up. Tell her that Veronica is on her way. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Veronica couldn’t breathe. She felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. There had to be a mistake.

She drove as fast as she could to Underhill School. Eddie obviously didn’t know she was listening. Someone else must be helping her.

She skidded to a stop in the back of the school’s parking lot. In front of her was a man curled up in a puddle of blood.

It was Youkelstein.

She spotted Jamie and Maggie in the back of Eddie’s car. Their faces were pressed up against the window. They saw her—Maggie was screaming “Mommy!” at the top of her lungs. She was scared.

I’m coming!

“Eddie, stop!” she shouted.

He rolled down the window of the police car. “Get out of here, Veronica—you don’t understand.”

He was right—she didn’t.

“What’s going on!?” she desperately called out.

“One day you’ll understand. The children will be safe. I promise you I will keep them safe,” he said, as he drove away.

It all happened so fast that Veronica wasn’t even sure what just occurred. But she knew someone who did.

Youkelstein was alive, but badly hurt. She touched his midsection and his face contorted in pain. She wasn’t a doctor, but was fairly certain he had broken ribs. She feared potential internal injuries.

This beating would have tested the limits of a healthy person in their prime, but at Youkelstein’s age, and with his frailty, she knew it could prove fatal. He needed medical treatment ASAP.

She thought to call the police.
But where would she even start? And could she trust them?
Eddie was a well-connected NYPD cop who’d been given the plum assignment of providing protection for a presidential nominee on election night—a candidate who’s safety might now be in question, based on these developments.

Her one ray of hope was Eddie’s final words to her—that he would keep the children safe. She could only hope that Eddie knew the kids were in danger and forcefully took them so he could safely hide them, knowing she’d never allow it. Her gut mocked that theory.

She helped Youkelstein into the car. One minute he was lying to them about his knowledge of the letters and his meeting with Carsten, and now he was risking his life trying to save her children. He was a mystery wrapped in a riddle. And she had a sudden interest in that “new information” he wanted to discuss earlier … but first things first.

She couldn’t risk taking him to the hospital, so they returned to Veronica’s house. Zach and TJ were still there, along with her mother. When she hugged her, Veronica broke down, and began sobbing in her mother’s arms. Not even after Carsten died did she let it out like this. She tried to be so strong then—for the kids—but now they were gone, and so was her strength.

Veronica didn’t have time to explain the situation, Eddie’s involvement, or anything Nazi related. Her mother read her thoughts—that she needed to be alone—so she took Youkelstein to her house, to give him some basic medical attention.

That left Zach and TJ.

“I hope you know I had nothing to do with this, Veronica. That stuff he was saying was completely false,” Zach said.

“I believe you,” she replied.

What she really needed was for Zach to play the role of Carsten. Patiently holding her steady until she could get herself together. She knew that to find Maggie and Jamie she would need a calm, clear mind.

After a couple deep breaths, she said, “It’s Eddie—he took the kids.”

Zach took a step back, shocked. “Eddie? What are you talking about?”

She told him the whole story—beginning with the mysterious one-way call, and ending where Eddie told her she didn’t understand.

She still didn’t.

Veronica walked to her closet and took out a heavy jacket. She put the coat on and headed toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Zach asked.

“I don’t know—but I have to find them.”

“Listen, going on a wild goose chase isn’t going to help anything. And it might hurt your chances. We need to take a step back and take a logical approach.”

His voice was calm. And even though his words were in conflict with her motherly instincts, she knew he was right. “What do you suggest?”

“I think we need to keep following Ellen’s clues.”

“But the next clue was on her Facebook page, and only Maggie had the password.”

TJ was standing quietly nearby. His terrified look had vanished, and he was now smiling like the cat that got the canary.

“You got something to add?” his father asked.

“Yeah—I know the password.”

With all the Peterson computers smashed and/or stolen, Zach made a quick trip home to get his laptop. Once he returned, TJ went to work—signing on Facebook and filling in Ellen’s user name and password.

The page was very bare. No profile picture, and the only information she listed was
Current City
as New York, NY, and
From
New York, NY. She could never bring herself to admit she lived in Chappaqua. But as they’d learned, she was really not from either place. She came from somewhere much darker.

She had one “friend” named Mags P, who also had no profile picture or other friends. For Maggie, this wasn’t that far from the real thing. Neither Ellen or Mags P “liked” any pages that might draw attention, and the only communications on their
Wall
or
Direct Messages
was about the Heritage Paper project, communicated directly to each other.

Ellen did list her favorite book as her memoir called
The Last Leaves of Evil
, with the notation that it was “coming soon.” But as far as they could tell, there were no clues as where to locate it. And there was no electronic copy hidden on the Facebook page, as they’d hoped. Veronica wondered if there was a hidden message that Maggie might have been able to decipher. But just the thought of her daughter almost brought Veronica to her knees. She fought it off, needing to remain strong.

The one fertile area of their search was the
Photos
section. Ellen had posted a life’s worth of pictures that spanned almost a century. TJ stated defensively that he didn’t alter them in any way, but did help to scan the old photos. This time they believed him.

TJ clicked on an icon titled
Family Photo Album
. A picture might be worth a thousand words, but these pictures rendered Veronica speechless.

Zach was less affected—he’d already seen a few of them during Maggie’s presentation, lessening the shock value—and he took over the wheel from TJ. The first photos were of Ellen and her mother, Etta. The photos were black and white with the typical quality of a 1920s photo. They chronicled a journey from a beautiful young woman to a gauntly sick one who was knocking on death’s door.

Next up were shots of a young Ellen with Adolf Hitler, who was dressed in his military uniform. A comment under the photo read:
The Alps
:
1936
. The mountainous scenery behind them was breathtaking, as she stood with Hitler’s arm draped around her. Veronica tried to shake the cobwebs out
.
It was too far beyond her realm of comprehension to even grasp.

Zach continued to click through the photos. Many of Ellen with Heinrich Müller during their time in Germany. It looked to be at the same location in the Alps, again providing the postcard-esque scenery. There were a few more of her and the head of the Gestapo being lovey-dovey—holding hands and kissing. A few when Ellen was pregnant with Chosen Joe.

“Ellen mentioned in the presentation that she and Müller had fallen in love when he was assigned by Hitler to head up her security. She said she regretted that he was married, but not enough to stop the affair,” Zach said.

Next came the photos of the newborn. Like any new mother, there was no shortage of baby photos. Most were of Ellen holding the infant in her arms, wrapped in blankets. Others featured Müller, the proud papa, holding the child. And not to be outdone, there were a couple of Hitler awkwardly cradling the child to his chest. Seeing the mass-murderer holding an innocent child was both strange and chilling.

The next album centered on Ellen’s time in the United States. Zach found particular interest in a picture of Josef at his wedding in 1959. According to Veronica’s calculations, he would be about twenty at the time. She remembered Ellen stating in the letters that she hoped the marriage would help him get his life together. The ceremony looked to be lavish, and his wife was a Nordic beauty.

Like many of the clues that Ellen had left for them, the pictures were both fascinating and shocking, yet didn’t seem to help them get any closer to the answers they needed. They didn’t even know the aliases of these people in the pictures, so how could they track them down? Veronica thought Ellen could have at least had the courtesy to tag the names.

The photos that followed were the polar opposite of the happy wedding photos—they were from Josef’s funeral. His wife was still beautiful and svelte, but appeared to be about fifteen to twenty years older than at the wedding.

Ellen was dressed in black from veil to shoes. She displayed the same despondent, sad expression that Veronica remembered from Carsten’s memorial service. It was hard to find sympathy for her at this moment, but as a mother, Veronica felt her pain. The thought of losing a child was indescribable—she again fought to block thoughts of her own missing children.

After passing through the sea of sadness, they arrived at happier times. Ellen’s marriage to Harold Peterson, and holding Harry Jr. as a baby, just as she held Josef. No Hitler this time.

The photos kept coming—Harry Jr. and Greta’s wedding, with Greta in a dress that would make Hugh Hefner blush. Veronica studied the happy couple, and wondered again what caused Harry Jr., her children’s grandfather, to change so dramatically, so quickly.

Others included a proud-looking Ellen with her arm around Harry Jr. in his police uniform, upon graduation from the academy. Another of Ellen with her guys, Carsten and Eddie, at a Yankees game—they were maybe ten, eating cotton candy and flashing youthful smiles. The final picture was of Ellen and Maggie together at her room at Sunshine Village, which could have been taken in the last few days or weeks. Circumstances aside, it was a really good photo of the two of them. Getting Maggie in front of a camera, and then to smile, was quite a challenge.

As night drifted toward morning, Zach continued to beat a dead horse, searching every inch of Ellen’s account. He didn’t have any quit in him, she’d give him that.

Veronica got TJ set up in Jamie’s bed. He was acting unaffected, but she could tell he missed his mother. Maggie and Jamie struggled without Carsten, and not to pat herself on the back, but the mother was the comfort—the one who gave the feeling everything would be all right. The hug from her own mother was what was keeping Veronica going tonight.