Where Are the Children? (7 page)

Charred bits of the morning paper were still in the fireplace. The Chief realized Ray was looking at them. From the jagged way the unburned parts were torn, it was obvious they'd been pulled apart by someone in a frenzy.

'Doc Smathers still upstairs with her?' There was unconscious discourtesy in the question. He'd always called Nancy 'Mrs Eldredge' till now.

'Yes. He's going to give her a needle to relax her but not to put her out. We've got to talk to her. Oh, God!'

Ray sat down at the dining-room table and buried his face in his hands. Only a few hours ago Nancy had been sitting in this chair with Missy in her arms and Mike asking, 'Is it really your birthday, Mommy?' Had he triggered something in Nancy by demanding she celebrate? . . . And then that article. Had . . .?

'No!' Ray looked up and blinked, turning his head away from the sight of the policeman standing by the back door.

'What is it?' Chief Coffin asked.

'Nancy is incapable of harming the children. Whatever happened, it wasn't that.'

'Your wife when she's herself wouldn't harm them, but I've seen women go off the deep end, and there is the history . . .'

Ray stood up. His hands clenched the edge of the table. His glance went past the Chief, dismissing him. 'I need help,' he said. 'Real help.'

The room was in chaos. The police had made a quick search of the house before concentrating on the outside. A police photographer was still taking pictures of the kitchen, where the coffeepot had fallen, spewing streams of black coffee on the stove and floor. The telephone rang incessantly. To every call the policeman answering said, 'The Chief will make a statement later.'

The policeman at the phone came over to the table. "That was the AP,' he said. 'The wire services have got hold of this. We'll be mobbed in an hour.'

The wire services. Ray remembered the haunted look that had only gradually left Nancy's face. He thought of the picture in this morning's paper, with her hand up as though trying to fend off blows. He pushed past Chief Coffin and hurried upstairs, opening the door of the master bedroom. The doctor was sitting next to Nancy, holding her hands. 'You can hear me, Nancy,' he was saying. 'You know you can hear me. Ray is here. He's very worried about you. Talk to him, Nancy.'

Her eyes were closed. Dorothy had helped Ray strip off the wet clothes. They'd put a fluffy yellow robe on her, but she seemed curiously small and inert inside it - not unlike a child herself.

Ray bent over her. 'Honey, please, you've got to help the children. We've got to find them. They need you. Try, Nancy - please try.'

'Ray, I wouldn't,' Dr Smathers warned. His lined, sensitive face was deeply creased. 'She's had some kind of terrible shock - whether it was reading the article or something else. Her mind is fighting confronting it.'

'But we've got to know what it was,' Ray said intently. 'Maybe she even saw someone take the children away. Nancy, I know. I understand. It's all right about the newspaper. We'll face that together. But, darling, where are the children? You must help us find them. Do you think they went near the lake?'

Nancy shuddered. A strangled cry came from somewhere in her throat. Her lips formed words: 'Find them . . . find them.'

'We will find them. But you must help, please. Honey, I'm going to help you sit up. You can. Now, come on.'

Ray leaned down and supported her in his arms. He saw the raw skin on her face where the sand had burned it. There was wet sand still clinging to her hair. Why? Unless . . .

'I gave her a shot,' the doctor said. 'It should relieve the anxiety, but it won't be enough to knock her out.'

She felt so heavy and vague. This was the way she'd felt for such a long time - from the night Mother died ... or maybe even before that - so defenceless, so pliable ... so without ability to choose or move or even speak. She could remember how so many nights her eyes would be glued together - so heavy, so weary. Carl had been so patient with her. He had done everything for her. She had always told herself that she had to get stronger, had to overcome this terrible lethargy, but she never could.

But that was so long ago. She didn't think about that any more - not about Carl; not about the children; not about Rob Legler, the handsome student who'd seemed to like her, who made her laugh. The children had been so gay when he was there, so happy. She had thought he was a real friend - but then he sat on the witness stand and said, 'She told me that her children would be smothered. That was exactly what she said, four days before they disappeared.'

'Nancy. Please. Nancy. Why did you go to the lake?'

She heard the stifled sound she made. The lake. Did the children go there? She must search for them.

She felt Ray lifting her and slumped against him, but then forced her body to begin to sit up. It would be so much easier to slip away, to slide into sleep just as she used to do.

'That's it. That's right, Nancy.' Ray looked at the doctor. 'Do you think a cup of coffee . . .?'

The doctor nodded. 'I'll ask Dorothy to make it.'

Coffee. She'd been making coffee when she saw that picture in the paper. Nancy opened her eyes. 'Ray,' she whispered, "They'll know. Everyone will know. You can't hide . . . you can't hide.' But there was something else. "The children.' She clutched his arm. 'Ray, find them -find my babies.'

'Steady, honey. That's where we need you. You've got to tell us. Every single thing. Just get your bearing for a few minutes.'

Dorothy came in with a cup of steaming coffee in her hand. 'I made the instant. How is she?'

'She's coming round.'

'Captain Coffin is anxious to begin questioning her.'

'Ray!' Panic made Nancy clutch Ray's arm.

'Darling, it's just that we have to have help finding the children. It's all right.'

She gulped the coffee, welcoming the searing, hot taste as she swallowed it. If she could just think . . . just wake up ... just lose this terrible sleepiness.

Her voice. She could talk now. Her lips felt rubbery, thick, spongelike. But she had to talk . . . make them find the children. She wanted to go downstairs. She mustn't stay here . . . like last time . . . waiting in her room . . . unable to go downstairs ... to see all the people downstairs ... the policeman ... the faculty wives . . . Are there any relatives? . . . Do you want us to call anyone? . . . No one ... no one ... no one . . .

Leaning heavily on Ray's arm, she stood up unsteadily. Ray. She had his arm to lean on now. His children. His children.

'Ray ... I didn't hurt them . . .'

'Of course not, darling.'

The voice too soothing . . . the shocked sound. Of course he was shocked. He was wondering why she would deny it. No good mother spoke of hurting her children. Why then did she . . .?

With a supreme effort she groped towards the door. His arm around her waist steadied her steps. She couldn't feel her feet. They weren't there. She wasn't there. It was one of the nightmares. In a few minutes she'd wake up, as she had so many nights, and slip out of bed and go in to see Missy and Michael and cover them and then get back into bed - softly, quietly, not waking Ray. But in sleep he'd reach out and his arms would pull her close, and against the warm scent of him she'd be calmed and sleep.

They started down the stairs. So many policemen. Everyone looking up ... curiously still . . . suspended in time.

Chief Coffin was at the dining-room table. She could feel his hostility ... It was like last time.

'Mrs Eldredge, how do you feel?'

A perfunctory question, non-caring. Probably he wouldn't have bothered to ask except that Ray was there.

'I'm all right.' She had never liked this man.

'We're searching for the children. I have every confidence that we'll find them quickly. But you must help us. When did you last see the children?'

'A few minutes before ten. I put them outside to play and went upstairs to make the beds.'

'How long were you upstairs?'

'Ten minutes . . . not more than fifteen.'

'Then what did you do?'

'I came downstairs. I was going to. turn on a wash and call the children. But after I started the wash, I decided to heat the coffee. Then I saw the boy deliver the community paper.'

'Did you speak to him?'

'No. I don't mean I saw him. I went to get the paper and he was just going around the corner.'

'I see. What happened then?'

'I went back into the kitchen. I turned on the coffeepot - it was still quite warm. I started turning the pages of the paper.'

'And you saw the article about yourself.'

Nancy stared straight ahead and nodded her head.

'How did you react to seeing that article?'

'I think I started to scream ... I don't know . . .'

'What happened to the coffeepot?'

'I knocked it over . . . The coffee went all over. It burned my hand.'

'Why did you do that?'

'I don't know. I didn't mean to. It was just that I was going to burst. I knew that everyone would start looking at me again. They'd stare and whisper. They'd say I killed the children. And Michael mustn't ever see that. I ran with the paper. I pushed it into the fireplace. I lit a match and it burned ... it started to burn . . . and I knew I had to get Michael and Missy - I had to hide them. But it was the way it was last time. When the children were gone. I ran out to get Michael and Missy. I was afraid.'

'Now, this is important. Did you see the children?'

'No. They were gone. I started calling. I ran to the lake.'

'Mrs Eldredge, this is very important. Why did you go to the lake? Your husband tells me the children have never once been disobedient about going there. Why didn't you look on the road for them, or in the woods, or

see if they'd decided to walk into town to buy you a birthday present? Why the lake?'

'Because I was afraid. Because Peter and Lisa were drowned. Because I had to find Michael and Missy. Missy's mitten was caught on the swing. She's always losing a mitten. I ran to the lake. I had to get the children. It's going to be just like last time ... their faces all wet and quiet . . . and they won't talk to me . . .' Her voice trailed off.

Chief Coffin straightened up. His tone became formal. 'Mrs Eldredge,' he said, 'it is my duty to inform you that you have a right to legal advice before you answer any further questions and that anything you say can be used against you.'

Without waiting for her response, he got up and stalked out of the room and to the back door. A car with a policeman at the wheel was waiting for him in the rear driveway. As he stepped from the house, thin, driving pellets of sleet stung his face and head. He got into the car and the wind blew the door closed behind him, scraping it against his shoe. He winced at the short stab of pain in his ankle and growled, 'The lake.'

Fat chance they had of doing any searching if this weather got any worse. At noon it was already so dark you'd think it was night-time. The diving operation was a mess under optimal conditions. Maushop was among the biggest lakes on the Cape and one of the deepest and most treacherous. That was why over the years there'd been so many drownings there. You could be wading up to your waist and at the next step be in forty feet of water. If those kids had been drowned, it might be spring before their bodies surfaced. The way the temperature was dropping, the lake would be fit for ice-skating in a few days.

The lakeside, normally deserted at this time of the year and certainly in this kind of weather, was crowded with bystanders, who huddled together in small clusters, silently watching the roped-off area where the divers and their apparatus were flanked by police.

Chief Coffin jumped out of the squad car and hurried to the beach. He went directly to Peter Regan, the lieutenant who was supervising the operation. Pete's eloquent shrug answered his unasked question.