Stolen in the Night (16 page)

“This isn’t something I can be objective about,” said Tess. “That kind of intrusive
attention could drive any reluctant witnesses even further underground. Besides, I
need to be objective when I work on a film. I mean, it’s good to be passionate about
your subject, but I’m just too close to this. For me, this is not about making a movie.
This is about finding out what really happened.”

“It seems like you have your priorities straight,” he said.

“I hope so,” she said.

A silence fell between them. “Well, I’d better let you go,” he said. “Get some sleep.”

“Right,” said Tess. “Thanks for asking about Erny.”

“I’m glad he’s all right,” Ben said. “Good night.”

“’Night.” Tess put the receiver carefully back in the cradle, but her heart was feeling
anything but careful. She hadn’t felt that excited about a man in a long while. She
gazed into the fire, but she did not see the flames. She was picturing him, wondering
about him.

The front door of the inn opened and Dawn called out, “I’m back.”

Tess looked up as her mother came to the doorway. “Hey, Mom. Come and sit.”

“Honey, I’m beat,” said Dawn. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Sure,” said Tess. “How was the meeting?”

“Grueling,” said Dawn. “They always are. But somehow, afterwards, you feel better.
Tired. But better. How’s our boy?”

“Asleep,” said Tess.

“Good. I’m going to do the same,” said Dawn. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Tess looked at the phone. The results were not going to be coming in tonight. “Me,
too,” said Tess. She set her unread book on the table and picked up her sherry glass,
which she set on the tray.

“That goes…” said Dawn.

“I know, into the kitchen,” said Tess, kissing her mother’s cheek. “Go to bed. I’ll
close the place up.”

Tess carried the tray back into the kitchen and rinsed out the used glasses. Then
she turned down the kitchen lights, leaving the light on over the sink. She walked
back out and down the hallway, checking the library to be sure that she was not turning
out the lights on a guest. The library was empty now. Tess left one lamp burning on
the library table. She made sure the fire in the sitting room was banked and then
she went to the front door to turn out the outside lanterns and the gaslights that
illuminated the parking area. As she glanced out, she heard an engine idling and saw
a plume of smoke rising in the air. She thought it must be a car’s exhaust. Then she
looked again. The smoke was drifting from the half-open window of a fawn-colored sedan,
which was facing the inn. All of a sudden, Tess realized that it was smoke, not from
the exhaust, but from the driver’s cigarette. Tess strained to see the driver’s face,
but all she could make out was his head, which looked skull-like in the dark, his
eyes sunken. He flicked his cigarette out the window onto the gravel of the driveway
and Tess saw his extended arm. He was wearing a gray parka.

Tess backed up into the vestibule, slammed the front door, and flipped the switch.
All the lights in the parking area went out at once. Then she looked through the door
light. Now the car was bleached colorless in the moonlight. The car idled for a moment
more and then slowly turned and pulled away.

Tess’s heart was beating hard. It’s nothing, she told herself. A gray parka. A million
people could own a gray parka. It doesn’t mean anything. It could be anyone, she thought.
An inn is a public place. And then she remembered the front door. She turned the lock
and the bolt snapped into place. She looked through the door light again, but the
car was gone.

W
hile Tess’s mother dusted the sitting room the next day, Tess was cleaning out the
ashes in the sitting-room fireplace just to have something to do other than wait for
the DNA results on Nelson Abbott. Shortly after noon, both turned and looked toward
the front door where Julie came squeaking in on her rubber-soled shoes, dressed in
her nurse’s scrubs and her coat, and carrying an XMen action figure, still in its
plastic packaging.

“Hey,” said Tess.

“It’s my lunch hour. I figured I’d come see how my nephew is doing. Jake told me about
his fall.”

“He’s doing okay,” said Tess. “I let him take Leo out for a short walk.”

Julie handed Tess the packaged action figure. “Well, I picked this up for him. I guess
I’ll leave it with you.”

Tess smiled at the gift and then gave her sister-in-law a hug. “Thanks. That was sweet
of you.”

“Least I could do,” said Julie, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe if my husband had been
watching him like he was supposed to…he told me you were plenty mad at him.”

Tess shrugged and avoided Julie’s gaze. “I’m sure he also told you I was being an
overbearing worrywart.”

“He didn’t use those exact words,” said Julie.

All of a sudden the phone on the table by the door rang. Tess jumped. “I’m sorry.
I have to get that,” she said.

“Go ahead,” said Julie.

Tess rushed over to the table and picked up the phone with a trembling hand. “Hello.”

“Tess?”

Instantly she recognized Aldous Fuller’s thready voice. Tess’s heart thudded and she
felt light-headed. Calm down. He’s probably just calling to say he won’t know anything
until tomorrow, she told herself. “Chief Fuller,” she said.

“I have the results,” he said.

Tess felt as if someone was grabbing her throat. Squeezing it. “And?” she managed
to squeak.

“Looks like a match,” he said.

Tess’s knees buckled and, for a moment, she actually saw spots in front of her eyes.
She took a deep breath. “A match?”

“It’s not perfect, Tess,” said the chief. “The sample from the original crime is so
deteriorated. But they do these things by points. Apparently…”

Tess was hearing his voice, but not actually listening as he detailed the test results.
She kept picturing Nelson Abbott’s face, his cruel little eyes, as he confronted her
at his house. Demanding to know what she was doing there. Menacing her. Gloating over
his lawsuit and piously proclaiming his desire to have justice for Lazarus. And all
the while, he was the one who had killed Phoebe. Defiled her. Tess’s stomach twisted
and she stifled the urge to gag.

“So…a pretty good hunch on your part,” said the chief.

Tess tried to speak calmly. “What happens now?”

“I called Rusty and explained the results to him. He was steamed. Said it wouldn’t
stand up in court, but I threatened to take the results to Chan Morris and the rest
of the news vultures if he didn’t do something about it. So he did agree to send two
of his men to pick up Nelson and bring him in for questioning down at the station.”

“Why do they have to question him? Doesn’t this prove it?” Tess demanded.

“Well, it certainly implicates him.”

“What else do they need?” Tess cried.

“That depends,” said Aldous vaguely.

“Never mind,” said Tess. “Thank you, Chief. Thank you so much.”

“You just sit tight, Tess. If there’s any news you’ll hear about it.”

Tess set the receiver back down in the cradle and turned around.

Julie, who was chatting amiably with Dawn, frowned at her. “Tess, what’s the matter?
You’re red as a beet.”

“That was Chief Fuller,” she said.

“What did he want?” Julie asked.

“They know who did it.”

“Who did what?” Julie asked.

Dawn was peering at her. “What are you talking about, honey?”

“The police. They know who killed Phoebe,” said Tess. “It was Nelson Abbott.”

Julie let out a cry. “What? No. Why would they think that?”

Tess nodded. “It was him. His DNA matched the old evidence.”

“Oh my God,” Julie cried. “Oh Tess. Oh my God. Wait until Jake hears this. Nelson
Abbott. That lying hypocrite. I just…I can’t believe it. Oh my God. I have to catch
Jake at lunch. I want to be the one to tell him. I don’t want him to hear it on the
TV or something. He will be wild when he hears this. Just out of his mind. I’d better
go. I’ll see you both later.” Julie hurried toward the front door.

Tess picked up the phone again. “I have to call Ben,” she said. She called information
for the number of Ben Ramsey’s office and had it dialed automatically. As the phone
rang, Tess looked at her mother. Dawn was dead white except for the gray smudges under
her eyes. Even her lips looked livid. “Mom, are you okay?”

Dawn shook her head and walked into the sitting room.

“Cottrell and Wayne,” said the receptionist.

“Mr. Ramsey,” said Tess. “I need to speak to him. It’s very important.”

“Mr. Ramsey is unavailable,” the receptionist said firmly. “Can I take a message?”

Tess looked worriedly at the door through which her mother had disappeared. “Tell
him to call Tess please. As soon as he’s free. Thank you,” she said. She hung up the
phone and went into the sitting room.

Dawn sat on the sofa, blinking, as if she had been struck in the face and was still
stunned by the blow. She was shivering from head to toe. Tess came and sat beside
her mother, draping an arm protectively around her shoulders.

Dawn looked into Tess’s eyes with a bewildered expression on her face. “I don’t understand
any of this, Tess.” Dawn shook her head. “Nelson Abbott? How could it be?” Then she
looked at Tess. “You don’t seem…surprised.”

“I was the one who…first suspected him. I got a sample of Nelson’s DNA and Chief Fuller
sent it to the lab…” Tess admitted.

“
You
got it?” said Dawn. “How? What made you think of Nelson?”

Tess started to explain her thinking that had led to the unmasking of Nelson Abbott
but as she talked she could see the distracted suffering in her mother’s eyes. All
Dawn could think about was her daughter Phoebe, set upon by two depraved men, father
and son. Tess cut short her explanation.

Dawn shook her head and looked away from her daughter. “He always seemed…normal. A
regular man. Not a monster. I mean, I should have known better. I remember the stories
of how he used to treat Lazarus. I thought they were exaggerating how bad it was,
to save Lazarus. But I never dreamed…to think that Nelson stood here, right in this
very room, just days ago, and told us that he thought Lazarus was guilty…”

“I know…” said Tess. “Mom, I want to be there when they arrest him. I have to go down
to the police station. Will you be all right if I leave you alone here?”

“I’m all right, Tess,” Dawn said vaguely.

“If Mr. Ramsey calls, tell him…tell him I’m heading to the police station. Give him
my cell phone number.”

“I will. You go on. Be my brave girl.”

Tess kissed her mother’s dry cheek and hurried to get her jacket.

The word was already out. The assemblage of reporters had vacated the parking area
outside the inn and reassembled at the police station. There were officers coming
and going through the front doors of the station house, refusing requests for comments
from the reporters who waited in the cold, their clouds of breath visible against
the blue sky.

Tess saw a pretty young woman being videotaped as she spoke to the camera with the
station house as a backdrop. The nearby van had the call letters of a local TV station.
Although she strained to listen, Tess could not hear what the reporter was saying.
Tess jammed her hands in her pockets and hunched her shoulders, hoping no one would
recognize her. She wasn’t ready to make any public comment on Nelson’s arrest. Even
though it was her own purloining of the John Deere hat, her own suspicion of Nelson’s
guilt that had brought this moment about, Tess still felt too shaky to talk publicly
about her feelings.

Tess jumped as someone tapped her on the shoulder from behind. She turned around.
Channing Morris, wearing an olive green field coat, was standing beside her. “Fancy
meeting you here,” he said.

Tess shrank from his curious gaze.

“I heard they’ve arrested someone for your sister’s murder,” said Chan, absently pushing
back his shiny black hair.

Tess hesitated. “Arrested?” she asked.

“Well, they have a suspect they’re questioning.” Chan shook his head and his black
locks fell into his eyes again. “It’s just hard to believe that after all these years,
all that’s happened, they could find the real killer so quickly.”

Tess avoided looking at him. “It is amazing.”

“We could be waiting here for quite a while. Can I buy you a cup of coffee while we
wait?” he asked.

“I suppose so,” said Tess.

Chan pointed to the Dunkin’ Donuts across the street, which was doing a brisk business
thanks to the assembled newspeople. People were streaming out of the store carrying
paper trays of steaming coffee cups and bags of food. “Let’s go over there. At least
we can sit down.”

“All right,” said Tess. He must have been a beautiful child, she thought, glancing
at his square jaw and his long black eyelashes, and then, inevitably, her thoughts
returned to her own child. “I guess my son created a little excitement over at your
house yesterday,” Tess said as they hurried along the sidewalk to the store.

Chan looked puzzled. “I’m sorry. What do you mean?”

“Oh, I figured you knew.”

“Knew what?” Chan asked.

“My son, Erny, was…fooling around and he fell out of a tree on your property. Jake
had to take him to the emergency room.”

“Really? You’re kidding.”

“Fortunately, he wasn’t hurt. Just bruised and shook up,” said Tess, although Chan
hadn’t asked.

“Well, that’s good. No, I didn’t know anything about it,” Chan said. He reached out
to open the door and ushered Tess into the bubble gum pink-and-white interior of the
donut shop. Most of the TV people were collecting their orders and leaving, unwilling
to miss a moment of recordable action or a sound bite, so the tables and booths in
the store were mostly empty. Chan chose a beige Formica-topped booth in the rear and
brought back two steaming cups.

Tess thanked him. She did not want to be recognized, so she sat with her back to the
counter activity. Chan, on the other hand, wanted to keep an eye on the station house,
just in case someone emerged to give a statement, so he sat facing the door. He shrugged
off his field coat. Beneath it, he was wearing a striped broadcloth shirt with rolled-up
sleeves. “I hope we’ll find out what’s going on soon. I have to put the paper to bed
this afternoon and if there is an arrest I’d like to get it on the front page.” Chan
blew on his coffee. “Do you have any idea who the suspect is?” he asked.

Tess continued to stir her coffee, her gaze riveted to the plastic stirrer. The steam
from the hot beverages rose up around them, enveloping them in a private haze. “No,”
she said.

Chan frowned. His pale gray eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard rumors that it might be…Nelson
Abbott.”

“Nelson Abbott?” Tess exclaimed, trying to feign surprise.

Chan nodded. “I know. It’s freaking me out.”

“Doesn’t he work for your family?” Tess asked.

Chan raked back his hair. “Yeah. For years. My grandfather hired him when they first
moved to the farm. And then, after he died, even during that business with Lazarus,
my grandmother kept Nelson on. She couldn’t have managed without him. She was too
busy running the newspaper. My mom always said the newspaper was Nana’s real child.”
Chan leaned across the table and spoke to her in a confidential tone. “You know, you
didn’t seem all that surprised when I mentioned Nelson Abbott as the possible suspect.”

“I didn’t?” said Tess, flustered.

“You knew, didn’t you?” he said.

“No, really. I didn’t,” she insisted.

Chan looked at her skeptically. “I have to wonder, what kind of evidence would have
led them to Nelson Abbott after all these years?”

Tess looked at the publisher incredulously. “Oh, come on,” she said. “Are you serious?
Do you really have to wonder? I mean, when you think about how this case was reopened
in the first place?”

Chan frowned. “Ramsey got it reopened,” he said.

Tess frowned. She wondered if Chan was being deliberately obtuse. DNA results were
the heart and soul of this case. She remembered Jake scoffing that Chan was no journalist,
that he was a lightweight who had simply inherited the paper. She wondered if her
brother might be right. “Well,” she said, “I’m sure it will all be common knowledge
very soon.”

“You know what the evidence is, don’t you?” Chan asked.

Tess gave him a half smile. “I’m afraid I can’t be much help to you.”

Suddenly there was a burst of activity at the front of the store. Chan sat up straight
and looked out at the street. “Uh-oh,” he said. “Something’s happening.” Tess turned
around in her seat. She could see several people gathering in the vestibule of the
police station.

Chan jumped up and pulled on his jacket. “Let’s go,” he said.

Tess followed him at a run. All the reporters and newspeople were converging on a
podium that had been set up in front of the station. Chan managed to snake his way
through to the middle of the crowd and he let Tess sneak into an empty pocket that
had formed in front of him. Rusty Bosworth stepped up to the podium. Though she craned
her neck, Tess could not see who else was behind him.

The redheaded police chief tapped on the microphone, sending a whoosh of noise through
the clear, cold mountain air.

“All right, can I have your attention,” he said. “Now I know,” Chief Bosworth said,
“that the rumors have been flying. So I want to just straighten out a few things.
It’s true that we do have a person of interest in the murder of Phoebe DeGraff and
we have been questioning him. But his attorney has raised a number of issues and,
as of this moment, our suspect is not under arrest. Until we make an arrest, we’ll
be releasing no other names or details at this time…”