Where Are the Children? (22 page)

Upstairs in the bedroom, she took off her robe. Mechanically, she walked over to the closet and hung it up. For an instant, she felt lightheaded and leaned her forehead against the coolness of the wall. The bedroom door opened, and she heard Ray cry, 'Nancy!' His voice was startled as he hurried over to her, turned her to him and put his arms around her. She felt the scratchy warmth of his sports shirt against her skin and the growing intensity of his grasp.

'I'm all right,' she said. 'Really . . .'

'Nancy!' He tilted her head up. His mouth closed over hers. As her lips parted, she arched her body against his.

It had been like this from the beginning. From that first night when he'd come to dinner and afterwards they'd walked down to the lake. It had been chilly, and she'd shivered. His coat was open, and he'd laughed and pulled her against him, wrapping the coat around so that it covered her too. When he'd kissed her that first time, it had been so inevitable. She'd wanted him so much, right from the beginning. Not like Carl. . . Poor Carl. . . she'd only tolerated him; felt guilty about not wanting him, and after Lisa was born, he had never again . . . not like a husband. Had he sensed her revulsion? She'd always wondered. It was part of her guilt.

'I love you.' She didn't know she'd said it - words said so often, words she murmured to Ray even in her sleep.

'I love you too. Oh, Nancy. It must have been so bad for you. I thought I understood, but I didn't . . .'

'Ray, will we get the children back?' Her voice shook, and she felt her whole body begin to tremble.

His arms tightened. 'I don't know, darling. I don't know. But remember this: No matter what happens, we have each other. Nothing can change that. They've just come by for the Chief. They have Rob Legler at the station house. Dr Miles went with them, and Jonathan and I are going over too.'

'I want to go. Maybe he'll tell me . . .'

'No. Jonathan has an idea, and I think it could work. We've got to find out. Maybe Rob has an accomplice who has the children. If he sees you, he might refuse to say anything, especially if he was involved last time.'

'Ray . . . ' Nancy heard the despair in her voice.

'Darling, hang on. Just a little while longer. Take a hot shower and get dressed. Dorothy will stay with you. She's fixing a sandwich for you now. I'll be back as soon as I can.' For an instant he buried his lips in her hair, then was gone.

Mechanically, Nancy walked into the bathroom off the bedroom. She turned on the water in the shower stall, then looked into the mirror over the washbasin. The face she saw looking back at her was pale and drawn, the eyes heavy and clouded. It was the way she had looked all those years with Carl, like the pictures of her in that article.

Quickly she turned away and, twisting her hair into a knot, stepped into the shower. The warm needle spray struck her body, making a steady assault against the rigid tension of her muscles. It felt good. Gratefully, she lifted her face to the spray. A shower felt so clean.

She never, never took a tub bath any more - not since the years with Carl. She didn't think about those baths any more. A vivid shaft of recollection came as the water splashed against her face. The tub . . . Carl's insistence on bathing her . . . the way he had touched and examined her. Once when she'd tried to push him away, he'd slipped and his face had gone under the water. He'd been so startled that for a moment he couldn't pull up. When he did, he'd begun sputtering and trembling and coughing. He'd been so angry . . . but mostly so frightened. It had terrified him to have his face covered by the water.

That was it. That was what she had tried to remember: that secret fear of water . . .

Oh, God. Nancy swayed against the side of the shower stall. She felt nausea rack her stomach and throat, stumbled out of the shower and began retching uncontrollably.

Minutes passed. She clung to the sides of the commode, unable to stem the violent waves of illness. Then, even when the vomiting finally stopped, icy chills still shuddered through her body.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

'Ray, don't count on too much,' Jonathan warned.

Ray ignored him. Through the streaked windowpane, he could see the station house. The glow from the gas lamps gave it the look of another century. Quickly parking the car, Ray threw open the door and darted across the macadam into the station. From behind he could hear Jonathan puffing as he tried to keep pace.

The desk sergeant looked surprised. 'Didn't expect to see you here tonight, Mr Eldredge. I'm sure sorry about the kids . . .'

Ray nodded impatiently. 'Where are they questioning Rob Legler?'

The sergeant looked alarmed. 'You can't have anything to do with that, Mr Eldredge.'

"The hell I can't,' Ray said evenly. 'Go in and tell the Chief I have to see him now.'

The sergeant's protest died on his lips. He turned to a policeman who was coming down the corridor. 'Tell the Chief that Ray Eldredge wants to see him,' he snapped.

Ray turned to Jonathan. With a trace of a wan smile, he said, 'Suddenly this seems like a far-fetched, crazy idea.'

'It isn't,' Jonathan replied quietly.

Ray glanced around the room and realized for the first time that two people were sitting on a small bench near the door. They were just about as old as he and Nancy - a nice-looking couple. He wondered abstractedly what they were doing here. The guy looked embarrassed, the woman determined. What would bring anyone out on a night like this? Was it possible they had had a fight and she was pressing charges? The idea was wildly funny. Somewhere outside this room, outside this whole incredible day, people were home with their families; cooking dinner by candlelight, telling kids not to be scared of the dark, making love . . . having fights . . .

He realized that the woman was staring at him. She started to get up, but the husband pulled her down. Quickly, Ray turned his back to her. The last thing in the world he wanted or needed was sympathy.

Footsteps hurried down the corridor. Chief Coffin rushed into the room. 'What is it, Ray? Have you heard anything?'

Jonathan answered. 'You have Rob Legler here?'

'Yes. We're questioning him. Dr Miles is with me. Legler's asking for a lawyer. Won't answer any questions.'

'I thought as much. That's why we're here.' In a low voice, Jonathan outlined his plan.

Chief Coffin shook his head. 'Won't work. This guy's a cool one. There's no way you'll get him to place himself at the Eldredge house this morning.'

'Well, let us try. Can't you see how important time is? If he had an accomplice who has the children now, that person may panic. God knows what he might do.'

'Well . . . come in here. Talk to him. But don't count on anything.' With a jerk of his head, the Chief nodded to a room half-way down the corridor. As Ray and Jonathan started to follow him, the woman got up from the bench.

'Chief Coffin.' Her voice was hesitant. 'Could I speak to you for just a minute?'

The Chief looked her appraisingly. 'Is it important?'

'Well, probably not. It's just that I felt I wouldn't have any peace unless . . . It's something my little boy

The Chief visibly lost interest. 'Just sit down please, ma'am. I'll be back with you as soon as I can.'

Ellen Keeney sank down on the bench as she watched the three men leave. The sergeant at the desk sensed her disappointment. 'Are you sure I can't help you, ma'am?' he asked.

But Ellen didn't trust the sergeant. When she and Pat had first come in, they had tried to tell him that they thought their little boy might know something about the Eldredge case. The sergeant had looked pained. 'Lady, do you know how many calls we've had today? Since the wire services got hold of this, we've had nothing but calls. Some jerk from Tucson phoned to say he thought he saw the kids in a playground across the street from his apartment this morning. No way they could have gotten there, even in a supersonic plane. So just take a seat. The Chief 11 talk to you when he can.'

Pat said, 'Ellen, I think we should go home. We're only in the way here.'

Ellen shook her head. She opened her pocketbook and took out the note the stranger had given Neil when he had sent him in for the mail. She had attached the note to her own scribblings about everything Neil had told her. She knew the exact time he had gone in for the letter. She had carefully written down his description of the man; his exact words when he'd said the man looked like the picture on television of Nancy Harmon's first husband; the kind of car the man was driving - 'a real old station wagon just like Gramp's' - that sounded like a Ford. Last, Neil had said that the man had a fishing permit for Adams Port on his windshield.

Ellen was determined to sit here until she got a chance to tell her story. Pat looked so tired. Reaching over, she patted his hand. 'Bear with me, dear,' she whispered. 'I suppose it doesn't mean anything, but something is making me wait. The Chief did say he'd talk to me soon.'

The door of the station house opened. A middle-aged couple came in. The man looked thoroughly annoyed; the woman was visibly nervous. The desk sergeant greeted them. 'Hi, Mr Wiggins . . . Miz Wiggins. Anything wrong?'

'You won't believe it,' Wiggins snapped. 'On a night like this, my wife wants to report that somebody pilfered a can of baby powder from the store this morning.'

'Baby powder?' The sergeant's voice ranged upward in astonishment.

Mrs Wiggins looked more upset. 'I don't care how stupid it sounds. I want to see Chief Coffin.'

'He'll be coming out soon. These people are waiting for him too. Just sit down, won't you?' He pointed to the bench at a right angle to the one where the Keeneys were waiting.

They came over, and as they sat down, the husband muttered angrily, 'I still don't know why we're here.'

Ellen's ready sympathy made her turn to the couple. She thought that maybe just talking to someone would help the other woman to get over her nervousness. 'We don't know why we're here either,' she said. 'But isn't it an awful thing about those missing children . . .?'

Fifty feet away in the office down the corridor, Rob Legler stared through narrowed, hostile eyes at Ray Eldredge. The guy had class, he decided. Nancy had certainly done a lot better this time. That Carl Harmon had been some creep. Fear knotted Rob's stomach. The Eldredge kids hadn't been found. If anything had happened to them, they might try to pin something on him. But nobody had seen him near the Eldredge house . . . nobody except that fat slob who'd been in the old station wagon. Suppose that guy had been a delivery-man or something and called the cops? Suppose he could identify

Rob as being around the Eldredge house this morning? What excuse did he have for being there? No one would believe that he had sneaked into the country just to say hello to Nancy.

Mentally, Rob darted around for a story. There was none that made sense. He'd just keep his mouth shut until he got a lawyer - and maybe after that too. The older guy was talking to him.

'You are in a very serious situation,' Jonathan was saying. 'You are a deserter who has been taken into custody. Shall I remind you of the penalty the law holds for deserters? Your situation is far more serious than that of a man who left the country to avoid conscription. You are a member of the armed forces. No matter what has happened to the Eldredge children or how guilty or innocent you are in their disappearance, you stand right now to spend the better part of the next ten or twenty years in prison.'

'We'll see about that,' Rob muttered. But he knew Jonathan was right. Christ!

'But, of course, even the desertion charge isn't nearly so serious as a murder charge . . .'

'I never murdered anyone,' Rob snarled, jumping up from his chair.

'Sit down,' Chief Coffin ordered.

Ray stood up and leaned across the table until his eyes were on a level with Rob's. 'I'm going to lay it out for you,' he said evenly. 'I think you're a bastard. For two cents, I'd kill you myself. Your testimony almost put my wife in a gas chamber seven years ago, and right now you may know something that could save my children's lives if it isn't already too late. Now, listen, bum, and listen hard. My wife doesn't believe that you could or would harm our children. I happen to respect that belief. But she saw you there this morning. So that means you've got to know something about what went on. Trying to stall and say you never got to our house won't help. We'll prove you were there. But if you level with us now, and we get our kids back, we won't prosecute a kidnapping charge. And Mr Knowles, who happens to be one of the top lawyers in the country, will be your lawyer, to get you off with as light a sentence as possible on the desertion charges. He has pull - plenty of it. . . Now, which is it, punk? Do you take the deal?' The veins bulged out in Ray's forehead. He moved forward until his eyes were inches away from Rob's. 'Because if you don't. . . and if you know something . . . and if I find out that you could have helped us get our kids back and didn't... I don't care what jail they throw you in ... I'll get to you and I'll kill you. Just remember that, you stinking bastard.'