The Mortal Groove (34 page)

 

 

“He's been
what?”
said Cordelia, sounding just short of apoplectic.

“Kidnapped,” repeated Jane. She was driving through the pouring rain on 1-94, heading back to Minneapolis on her way to talk to Sigrid.

“What the hell does Wilton want?”

“Our silence. And Melanie's.”

“Melanie doesn't remember a thing.”

“There was no point in telling him that. He knows as well as we do that her memory could come back anytime. He also doesn't believe we'll leave it alone. Maybe we missed something down in Waldo, Cordelia. Maybe there really is something that proves who Sue's real murderer was.”

“So, he's going to hold Peter for what? A week? A month? He can't hold him forever.”

“He says he needs time to put some sort of plan together. His getaway, I assume.”

“And then what?”

“I don't know. That's why we've got to find my brother, before Larry does something stupid. I'm on my way to talk to Sigrid now. I called Nolan, left him a message. My dad and I both want him to weigh in on what he thinks we should do. How's Mia?”

“She fell asleep on the couch in the study around eight. That poor kid is exhausted. I covered her with a quilt. With any luck, she'll sleep until morning. Teacake is asleep on the couch right next to her, Mouse is stretched out on the floor, and Blanche is curled up at her feet. I haven't seen Lucifer or Melville all day. I think they're plotting something.”

“Did you and Mia have fun together?”

“Of course. We made monster cookies, chocolate sodas, played checkers—she beat me three times and Cecily twice. We drew self-portraits. But what am I going to tell her if she wakes up and Peter isn't here?”

Jane had been thinking about that nonstop since she left Randy Turk's house. “I guess we make something up. Like, maybe he was called away on a business trip.”

“Boy, that's going to be a hard one to sell. He gave her his promise that he'd be back.”

“And he will be,” said Jane, “just not tonight.”

 

Jane parked behind Peter and Sigrid's apartment building and then dashed through the rain to the rear security door. She'd called from the road, so Sigrid was waiting for her, ready to let her in.

“You know something?” said Sigrid, grabbing Jane by her arm before she could reach the stairway.

“Let's go up to your apartment.”

“No, tell me here. Has he been in an accident? Is he—”

“No,” said Jane. Tension swelled between her shoulders. This was a conversation she would give anything not to have. “He's okay, as far as I know. Please, Siggy. We need some privacy.” She could see a look of confused bewilderment pass across Sigrid's face. “Come on.”

Jane led the way upstairs. The apartment door was open a crack so she walked in. Her jean jacket was damp, but she didn't take it off. She sat down on the couch.

Sigrid stood over her. “What is it? Where is he?”

“Please, Siggy. Sit down.”

“Tell me.”

“Okay. He's . . . been abducted.”

“What?” Her first reaction was to laugh. “Is this a joke?”

Jane shook her head.

“While he was in Chicago?”

“No, after he got back. Sometime today.” Jane explained everything she knew. By the time she was done, Sigrid was sitting on the couch, staring impassively down at her wedding ring. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again.

“I think I know some of what you're feeling,” said Jane, reaching for Sigrid's hand. “I'm feeling the same thing. Dad's talking to Del right now. Maybe he'll find some information that will help us. Siggy? Are you okay? What can I do? You want some water?”

“Water? Are you serious? Get the brandy. It's in the kitchen.”

“Are you sure—”

“How often does my husband get kidnapped? I think we could both use a drink.”

Jane found a nearly full bottle in the cupboard and brought it back with two shot glasses. Setting everything down on the coffee table, she poured them each a shot.
Sigrid downed it, poured herself another, downed that, then poured herself a third, which she held in her hand.

Before Jane could touch hers, her cell phone rang. “Hope that's Nolan.” When she answered, she found that it was. “Hi. Are you back from New Jersey?”

“Flew in two nights ago. How did Peter make out with the girl?”

“Okay. But there's a problem.” She gave him an abbreviated version of everything she'd told Sigrid, ending with Peter being kidnapped.

“I knew you weren't down in Iowa for your health.”

“Got any opinions on what we should do?”

“Call the police. Have them put out an APB on Wilton's truck.”

“I knew you'd say that. But Randy and Del think they can defuse the situation without anybody getting hurt. If the police make one wrong move, my brother is a dead man.”

“Yeah. I've heard that a million times. Let me think about it. I'll call you.”

“Thanks,” said Jane. “Think hard, and call me soon.” She flipped her phone closed.

“Has he got any brilliant ideas?” asked Sigrid, downing the third shot.

“Not really. If we could just catch a break.” The comments Larry had made about Peter being soft, about turning him into a good soldier, bothered Jane almost more than anything else. She might be wrong, but Larry seemed to enjoy twisting the knife during that conference call, which left her with the distinct impression that he had a sadistic side.

“I can't believe this is real,” said Sigrid. She started to laugh again, caught herself, then laughed even louder. “You know,
Peter and I, well, we haven't been seeing eye to eye on much lately. I'm sure he's talked to you about it.”

“A little.”

“It started out as an argument about whether or not we should have children. You know all about that. But, to be honest, it's gone further than that now, at least it has for me.”

It wasn't what Jane wanted to hear.

Sigrid poured one more shot, then set the bottle behind her on the end table. “I feel like a traitor, talking about him when he's . . . he's—” She tilted her head back, closed her eyes, started to cry. Wiping a hand across her cheeks, she went on. “God, how can this be happening?”

“He'll come home, Siggy. I believe that with all my heart.”

“I want to believe that, too. I do . . . so much. I was thrilled when he called about that job in Chicago. He sounded so excited. He's a great photographer. It suits him perfectly. He can work behind the scenes, but he can still be creative.” Looking over at Jane, she said, “Do you mind if I talk to you about this?”

Jane could hardly say no. Sigrid seemed to need to talk. “Sure, go ahead.”

Sigrid downed shot number four.

“I think you should slow down.”

“Not every day your husband gets kidnapped.”

“I know, but—”

“See, I want him to get that job in Chicago. That way, it could be a fresh start for both of us.”

“You'd go with him then?”

She shook her head.

“Are you saying you want a divorce?”

“I'm saying that Peter . . . he's the greatest guy in the world. Lie's smart, funny, good-looking, sweet, caring, but . . . he
doesn't have a lot of ambition. What he wants out of life is . . . how do I say this . . . it's less than what I want. His dream is a house with a picket fence and a bunch of kids in the yard and a dog running around and me in the kitchen.”

“I think that's a little simplistic.”

“Okay, maybe, but not by much. I don't want any of that, Jane. It just seemed to me like now might be the best time to call it quits. All we have is this apartment. Sure, we've both bought some furniture, but he can have it all, I don't care. I'll always love him, Jane. And if he'll let me, I'll always want to be a part of his life, but not as his wife.”

Jane didn't know what to say. Her stomach was already in knots, and this just made it worse.

“It's like . . . you knew me back when I was getting my undergrad degree at the U. I dated lots of guys, even some women. I never wanted to be tied down to just one person.”

“But you wanted to marry Peter.”

“I did. He was one guy I didn't want to get away. I figured, if other people could do it, if my friends could marry and be happy, so could I. I mean, I not only fell in love with your brother, I fell in love with his family. You and Ray. You two are
so
important to me. I don't ever want to lose either of you. But—” She leaned back. “See, I want more. I don't want to spend my life as a couples counselor, just eking out a living. I haven't told anyone this because I just learned about it a couple of days ago, but I've been accepted into the doctoral program in social psychology at Stanford. It's the number one university in the country in psychology. I've also been reading about this program M.I.T. offers. It's a one-year master's in political science. I want to somehow combine the two. I'm fascinated by how social psychology could be applied to geopolitics. Working at the UN is
my dream. I want to write, to research, to explore new ways for governments to work with each other.”

“But couldn't Peter be a part of that?”

The excitement in Sigrid's eyes faded. “How do I make you understand. You're going to hate me, Jane. You and Ray, you're everything I admire. You've created lives that are meaningful, lives based on your passions.”

“I think you're looking at us a little unrealistically.”

I don t.

Poor Peter, thought Jane, living his life around workaholic overachievers when all he ever wanted was an ordinary, sane existence. She could see now more clearly than ever why, out of all the women he'd dated, he'd picked Sigrid to marry. She must have felt like home, like what he'd always been used to.

Sigrid's eyes dropped to the bottle of brandy next to Jane. “Have you ever fallen out of love?”

“Oh, God.”

“I'm sorry, but it happens. Even when you don't want it to, even when you try your damnedest to prevent it. I mean, I still love your brother, but not the way I should, not the way he deserves.”

The alcohol had no doubt caused Siggy to say more than she wanted to, not that it mattered. It was all the truth. It had been awhile since Jane had had a heart-to-heart with Sigrid. She regretted that now.

“Peter and I, we've got a good physical relationship. That's what's kept the marriage going, but it's nothing to build a life on. In a strange way, this running argument we've had about having a child has kept us together. It's been something to talk about. Peter knows I want to go for my doctorate, but he never wants to discuss it. He just doesn't get why I can't be satisfied
with my master's, just work my job, and enjoy life. He's creative, and he likes what he does, but it's his free time, his personal life that makes him happy. Last year he was all excited about taking the two of us on a Caribbean cruise. I can't tell you how little interest I have in that. Work, meaningful work, is where it's at for me.”

Jane did understand. But where did that leave Mia? All this time, Peter had been operating under the assumption that reuniting Sigrid with her daughter was the magic bullet for all of them. Clearly, he hadn't been listening to his wife even a little. Mia's entrance into their lives would change everything.

“I'm sorry, Jane. I've been bending your ear about something that's really beside the point at the moment. I'll do anything to help find Peter. Just tell me what to do. I may not stay married to him in the long run, but if I ever lost him, I'm not sure I'd survive it. I know that doesn't make any sense.”

“Yeah, it does,” said Jane, exhaling a soft, frustrated sigh.

“I'll call my supervisor in the morning and tell him I need to take some time off.”

The phone in the kitchen rang.

“Maybe that's Peter,” said Sigrid, rushing to answer it.

Jane doubted it. She got up and stood in the doorway.

“Oh, hi Ray,” said Sigrid. She listened for a few seconds. “Sure, I appreciate that. But I don't think I should drive. I've had some brandy.” She listened again. “That would be great. It won't take me long to get ready. Half an hour is good.” After she hung up, she turned to Jane and said, “Your dad doesn't think I should be alone tonight. He wants me to stay at his place.”

“He's coming by to pick you up?”

She nodded. “Like I said, what a great family.”

Walking Jane to the door, Sigrid asked, “Are you going to be okay?”

“Not until Peter's back home and safe.”

“Yeah. I know.”

They hugged, then said good night.

 

When Jane got back to Linden Lofts, she sat in her car in the back parking lot and called Kenzie. She might as well break the bad news to her now. She wouldn't be coming down for the Memorial Day weekend. At least it wasn't business that had nixed their plans this time. It was late, going on midnight, but Jane figured that even if she woke her, Kenzie would understand.

“Hey, babe. It's me. Were you asleep?”

“No, just reading.”

Jane could hear her yawn. “I'm afraid I've got some bad news.”

Silence.

“Kenzie?”

“You're not coming.”

“No.”

“I knew it. I just knew it. I told you how important this was to me. I've been planning it for months. You know, I've really had it with your compulsive need to work all the time. Don't I ever get to come first?”

“Of course you do. But it's not about work. It's about my brother.”

“What about him?”

“He's been . . . abducted.”

“What?”

“A psycho grabbed him. I don't know where he is, or what this guy is planning to do with him. I'm scared out of my mind.”