The Divided Child (35 page)

           
The
knowledge surged through me, sending waves of relief and exhilaration cascading
down to my fingertips.
 
Without
thinking, I threw my arms around Maria.
 
"We did it!
 
He's safe!
 
He's going to be all right!"

           
"Yes,"
she agreed somberly, "he is safe.
 
But for how long?"

*
                                 
*
                                 
*

           
"I
still do not completely understand,” Lieutenant Mavros said.
 
“What triggered your sudden anxiety for
the boy?
 
Why did you return to the
sea and search for him?"

           
Fighting
the urge to say something rude, I glared up at an innocent patch of peeling
green paint -- well, not all that innocent, the bilious color did nothing to
soothe my temper and the dirty, curling strip was a reminder that Michael was a
patient in a hospital that looked like a rundown bus terminal -- and replied
impatiently, "As I've already explained to you several times, Lieutenant,
I grew alarmed when Michael didn't surface for air after what seemed to me an
unusually long time."

           
"Your
attention was fixed on the boy?"

           
"Not
fixed, but yes, I was keeping an eye on him," I said.

           
The
policeman frowned.
 
"I beg
your pardon?"

           
"I
was watching him."

           
"And
yet you did not see the boy attacked?"

           
"So
this time you believe there was an attack?” I said.
 
“You don't think it was another accident?"

           
He
shook his head, his expression stony.
 
"The boy says someone swam up behind him.
 
At first, he thought it was you, but as he started to turn,
he was seized by the throat.
 
He
remembers no more."

           
"He
was knocked out?" I asked.

           
"You
mean struck?
 
No, his attacker was
not so clumsy.
 
Two slight bruises
only -- hardly visible unless a person is looking for them -- have been found
on the boy's neck, as if a someone pressed their thumbs against the carotid
arteries."

           
"But
that would cut off all blood to his brain!”

           
The
Lieutenant nodded.
 
"Yes, once
rendered unconscious, the boy had merely to be left where he was to
drown."

           
My
fists clenched in anger, but I was also afraid.
 
"Did Michael see his attacker?"

           
"Unfortunately,
he did not."

           
I
slowly let out the breath I'd been holding.
 
"So where does that leave us?"

           
"Me,
it leaves with a murderer to find, and you?
 
Under the circumstances, Miss Stewart, I am afraid I must
ask you to cancel your airplane reservation for tomorrow.
 
I would like you to remain on Corfu for
a few more days as your part in all this -- you will forgive me -- seems to me
still unclear."
 
He turned and
walked away, leaving me with a strong desire to kick one of the ugly, orange
plastic chairs that circled the waiting room.

           
Instead
I climbed the dark, dingy staircase to the third floor, and the single-occupant
room that Demetra Redfield had insisted on for her stepson.
 
For once, I was grateful for her
patrician attitudes;
 
most of the
rooms I'd seen had patients packed in six deep.

           
I
found Paul on guard duty outside Michael's door.
 
Demetra having deputized him to keep undesirables -- namely
Geoffrey and me -- out in her absence.
 
Having saved her stepson's life twice did not redeem me in her eyes;
after all, he would not have been in the water but for me.
 
I thought that after our cooperative
effort at the beach, I might be able to coax Paul into allowing me in to see
Michael for a minute or two, but Paul was clearly unwilling to risk his
employer's wrath on my behalf.

           
"He
will be fine," he assured me, "but the doctor says he must rest.
 
Do not worry, Thespinis.
 
Go home and prepare you things.
 
After all, tomorrow you are
leaving."

           
"Actually,
I'm not.
 
Lieutenant Mavros's
orders.
 
He wants me to stick
around for a while."

           
"He
suspects you?"

           
I
nodded.
 
"But then I guess he
suspects just about everyone.
 
I
bet he's already asked you why you were in swim trunks and dripping wet when
Maria called you to help me with Michael."

           
The
turquoise eyes blinked.
 
"I
thought I saw a trespasser swimming in the next cove," Paul said in a flat
voice.
 
"I went to chase him
off."

           
I
nodded.
 
"And did you?"

           
"Unfortunately,
he was gone by the time I arrived.
 
I could not find him."

           
"Too
bad."

           
"Yes."

           
We
regarded each other in silence for a moment.
 
"Will you remain at
Ithaki
?" Paul finally
asked.

           
"Unless
Mr. Skouras returns soon, probably not.
 
I suspect Mrs. Redfield will consider this an excellent opportunity to
kick me out.
 
I don't suppose you
happen to know where Mr. Skouras is, by the way?"

           
Paul
shook his head.
 
"Somewhere on
the mainland."

           
Somewhere
on the mainland.
 
A conveniently
vague location, and worthless as an alibi for the attack that afternoon.
 
Ferries ran almost hourly between
Igoumenitsa and Corfu.
 
Had Spiro
slipped across on one and tried to murder Michael?
 
Though it was a more palatable solution than the one which
worried at my peace, I still knew of no definite motive to explain why he
should.

           
Which
left Geoffrey.

           
Geoffrey,
who had had a violent quarrel with his brother on the very day his brother died
and who would inherit millions if Michael died, too.

           
Geoffrey,
who knew the Old Fort, scene of the first attack, like the back of his hand,
and who knew the cove at
Ithaki
, scene of this last, like the front of
it.

           
Geoffrey,
who frequently seemed as anxious as Demetra for me to quit the villa and Michael's
company, and who had been back on Corfu for more than a day without so much as
a word to me.

           
Suddenly,
from down the hall, a man's voice called out my name.
 
I turned.

           
Geoffrey.

Chapter Seventeen

           
"Of
course, Paul, I'll be happy to take Miss Stewart home."
 
Ignoring my angry scowl, Geoffrey slid
his arm through mine and led me away down the dim and dreary corridor as if I
were a recalcitrant child.
 

           
I
pulled my arm free as soon as we were out Paul's sight.
 
"I don't understand you at
all.
 
You're Michael's uncle!
 
How can you let your

sister-in-law's
gardener
prevent you from seeing him?"

           
"From
what I've been told, that gardener helped save the boy's life this
afternoon.
 
Besides, what did you
expect me to do?
 
Throw him aside
and burst into Michael's room unbidden?"

           
"No,
of course not, I just. . ."
 
My voice trailed away as I realized that despite what I’d said, that was
exactly what I’d wanted him to do.
 
I’d wanted him to challenge Paul, to fight him, if necessary, to see
Michael.
 
I’d wanted him to throw
his weight around and yell and curse and prove in some tangible way that he was
upset, that he cared.
 
Michael had
been attacked and nearly killed, yet Geoffrey was acting as if he didn’t give a
damn.
 

           
I
bit my lip and stared up at the peeling paint.
 
"You don't have to worry about driving me back.
 
I can take a taxi."

           
"I
see.
 
Gone three days and you’ve
already lost the taste for my company.
 
Well, I’d be happy to leave it to Skouras to squire you back, but he
doesn’t appear to be about.
 
As for
taking a taxi, I doubt you’ll find one around here at this time of night.
 
The hospital isn’t exactly a tourist
stop.”

           
He
was right, and I knew it.
 
“In that
case,” I said stiffly, “I suppose I’ll have to take you up on your offer.”

           
He
flashed me a searching look, then nodded grimly.
 
We started down the stairs in uneasy silence.

           
"Have
you spoken to Lieutenant Mavros yet?" I finally asked.

           
"There's
been no time.
 
My flight arrived an
hour ago, and when I arrived at my hotel there was a message that there'd been
another 'accident'.
 
I came
straight here."

           
"Your
flight?" I exclaimed.
 
"Are you trying to tell me you've just now returned to Corfu?"

           
"Of
course.”
 
He shot me a sideways
glance.
 
“Didn’t you get my
letter?”
 
He paused, then added,
“Things didn’t go as smoothly with Elizabeth as I’d hoped.

           
"She
doesn't want custody, does she?"

           
"It
didn’t get that far.
 
She wouldn't
listen to me, refused to hear me out.
 
When I tried to explain to her that Michael was in danger, she insisted
he was quite safe where he was."

           
"Perhaps
she doesn't want to get involved."

           
"She's
his mother, Christine!
 
Do you
think she'd simply stand by if she truly believed he was in danger?"

           
"She
abandoned him when he was two.
 
That's
hardly the act of a woman overburdened by maternal instinct."

           
He
shook his head.
 
"The problem
isn't Michael, it's me.
 
Someone's
convinced her I'm not to be trusted.
 
Considering our past relationship, that probably wasn't hard to
do."

           
"Considering
your past relationship," I snapped, "you were crazy to think she'd be
of any help in the first place."
 
I hurried down the last of the steps and out the main entrance.
   

           
"May
I ask why you’re in such a blasted hurry?" he demanded as he caught up
with me near the hospital gates.
 
The dwindling twilight left his face swathed in shadow.

           
"I
want to get back to the villa.
 
I
have to pack my things."

           
"Of
course,” he said, his voice sounding strangely hollow as it echoed in the
courtyard.
 
“I'd forgotten.
 
You're leaving tomorrow, aren't
you?"

           
I
didn't bother to correct him.
 
With
his rekindled feelings for Elizabeth, I doubted it mattered much to him whether
I stayed or went.
 
As if to confirm
this, he added abstractedly, "Yes, I suppose that's for the best."

           
"I'm
glad you think so."
 
I started
to walk away.

           
Once
again he followed me.
 
"Where
are you going?"

           
"I
told you.
 
Back to the villa to
pack."

           
"But
first you're dining with me," he insisted.

           
I
shook my head.
 
"I'm not
hungry."

           
"Have
you forgotten?
 
I’m your lift
back.
 
And anyway, you promised to
have dinner with me again before you left the island.
 
Are you going back on your word?"