Last Night, page 13
“Yeah,” Ronnie said.
Amber Alert. CeCe knew what that meant. She had learned about it in school—“stranger danger”—and she knew how someone might seem nice but could be a kidnapper. When children were taken, the police put their names in Amber, and the whole world learned they were missing. Was CeCe’s name in Amber?
She was almost to the door. Her heart was skittering as if it had been dropped and was bouncing and rolling across the floor. She glanced over her shoulder. Two more steps and she’d be there. She flexed her hands to get ready to pull on the knob, and she took a deep breath so she could scream as loud as she could.
But then she heard tires crunching on snow and ice. Both Ronnie and the man turned fast to look out the window.
“Jesus Christ, it’s Tom Reid,” the man said.
“The Coast Guard dude?” Ronnie asked.
Ronnie’s father didn’t answer. He jumped toward CeCe, picked her up with one arm, and covered her mouth with his hand. He carried her into the next room, and CeCe squirmed and twisted, trying to get away. He slammed the door behind them.
“Shut up, shut up,” the man said. He banged her face down on the floor so hard it hurt her nose and mouth and she tasted blood. A hard piece of broken tooth scraped her tongue. The man pulled her arms behind her and knotted them with something, then did the same with her legs. He shoved dirty socks into her mouth and tied a belt around her face. The socks tasted and smelled like dead things that washed up on the beach. Her chest began to heave, and she knew she was going to throw up.
“Knock that off. You want to choke on your own puke and die?” he asked. “Just breathe through your nose. I don’t want to come in here and find you all blue and choked to death. Breathe like I tell you and you’ll be okay.”
“I want my mommy!” she cried into the dirty socks, but her words were muffled. She wanted her mommy, she wanted her, never mind that she had seen her in the snowbank with the red ribbons and the pink snow and the dark black hole. That had been a bad dream, and she wanted her now. She needed Star; if only she had Star, she would feel better. Star would help her think.
The man opened a wooden chest, tore out a bunch of blankets and sheets, and lowered CeCe inside. She was screaming, but no sounds could get through the socks. He closed the lid on the chest, and it was pitch dark. He left her there, and she heard the room’s door open and close behind him.
After a few seconds, her eyes got used to the dark, and she saw light coming through slivers in the chest’s wooden slats. She tried to be perfectly still because the cracks also let sound drift in from the other room. She could just barely hear voices talking, and she wanted to know what they were saying.
“Hello, Zane,” one voice said. “How are you doing? That was a pretty rough scene out there on the water.”
“Damn right, Commander,” the man—Zane—said. “Can’t thank you and your guys enough for the rescue. Fucking bummed you couldn’t save my boat at the same time, but you can’t win everything.”
“Thanks for saving my dad,” Ronnie said.
“Where were you during the blizzard, Ronnie?” another man asked. “While your dad was out there on his boat?”
“Who the fuck are you?” Zane asked.
“This is Conor Reid,” the commander said. “He is investigating a murder and kidnapping in Watch Hill.”
“Shit, we were just watching that on the news,” Zane said. “What a terrible thing.”
“It is,” the commander said.
“You a cop?” Zane asked. “Another Reid? You two related?”
“I’m a detective with the Connecticut State Police,” Conor Reid said.
“Last time I noticed, this isn’t Connecticut,” Zane said. “So why are you asking us questions?”
“Why are you being defensive?” the commander asked.
“I’m not,” Zane said. “Go ahead, ask whatever you want.”
“Ronnie, where were you during the blizzard?” Conor Reid asked again.
CeCe so badly wanted to tell Conor Reid exactly where Ronnie had been during the blizzard, but no matter how loud she yelled, no one could hear her. Even though she was tied up, she could kick her legs, so she started to do that, her feet banging against the side of the chest, but they didn’t make a lot of sound because there were still blankets lining the wood.
“What’s that noise?” the commander asked.
“My furnace,” Zane said. “It’s on the blink. Been banging night and day since this cold snap began. Why do you want to know where Ronnie was?”
“Because a key chain was found near the murder scene, and from Commander Reid’s description, the fob looks a lot like a Garson lobster buoy,” Conor Reid said.
“Well, it couldn’t be ours, we weren’t in Watch Hill, were we, Ronnie?” Zane asked.
“Nope,” Ronnie said.
“You sure, Ronnie?” Conor Reid said. “Because how could your father know where you were, since he was out there in the ocean on a sinking boat? Maybe you went to Watch Hill and dropped your key?”
“I didn’t drop any key,” Ronnie said.
“But you did go to Watch Hill?” Conor Reid asked.
“He was right here the whole time,” Zane said. “Tell him, Ronnie.”
“I was right here the whole time.”
“Weird that it’s so cold in here,” the commander said. “Even with your furnace not working great, you’d think you could keep the stove going, Ronnie.”
“All that firewood stacked outside,” Conor Reid said.
“Yeah, seems with all those nice seasoned logs, you could have kept this house toasty warm. But it feels chilly. Like it was cold for a while and hasn’t been able to really warm up,” the commander said.
“Furnace is messed up,” Zane said. “I told you.”
“But, Ronnie, didn’t you keep that fire going? While your dad was on the boat, getting rescued? Or were you out of the house?” the commander asked.
CeCe kicked the chest harder and harder.
“Is the furnace in that room over there?” Conor Reid asked. “Because that’s where the noise is coming from. Mind if I take a look?”
“I do mind,” Zane said. “Who the hell are you to walk in here and act like you own the place? I want you to leave now.”
“Mr. Garson, a little girl is missing,” Conor Reid said. “Cecelia Lafond. Her mother was murdered, and a foam key fob marked like your lobster buoys, with your initial, was found near the scene. I should think you’d want to be helpful.”
At the sound of her name, CeCe kicked even harder. She heard words—her mother was murdered—but they were just words, they were just words, they were just words.
“That has nothing to do with us,” Zane said. “Right, Ronnie?”
“Right, Dad.”
“So I want you to leave now,” Zane said. “Okay?”
“Okay,” the commander said.
CeCe wanted to kick some more so that the commander and Conor Reid would push their way past Ronnie and Zane and rescue her, but suddenly she was paralyzed. Those words—her mother was murdered—had stabbed her in the heart, and she couldn’t breathe. The socks hadn’t choked her, and the closed-off chest hadn’t stopped her from breathing, but those words had.
Murdered meant dead. She knew that because her father was sometimes in movies where he was a murderer, or where he was an officer looking for one, and once he was killed, and her parents had explained to her that even though murder sometimes happened in real life, when her father acted, it was only make-believe. The picture of her mother under the snow with the black hole in her head came back into CeCe’s mind, and she felt her own life leave her body. If her mother was dead, she would be dead, too.
So when the commander and Conor Reid left the house and said they would be back with cops and a warrant, and when Ronnie and Zane in the other room said these things, she heard them, but she didn’t feel them, and they slipped through her mind as if they were water draining into the ground.
“You fucking idiot,” Zane said. “Don’t tell me you left the key there.”
“Dad, I lost it. I don’t know where.”
“Well, they have it now. Great. Great. You moron.”
“Dad, I’m sorry! What can I do—”
“Look out the window—are they still there?” Zane asked.
“They’re driving away.”
“Okay,” Zane said. “Can you find your way to Uncle Grub’s?”
“I think so.”
“I’m going to put the girl in the car, and you get her there. We need a few more hours to make this whole thing work. We’ll let Grub take care of this last detail—thanks to you. Goddamn the weather. We’d be in the clear by now otherwise.”
“Okay, Dad.”
“I am trying really hard not to knock your head off. The only reason they came here is that you dropped the goddamn key. She’s a loose end, and you didn’t take care of it. If we wind up in prison, it’s on you.”
“Dad! We won’t. I am really sorry—”
“Yeah, whatever. And her bouncing around in that chest made it worse. Drive slow and safe, and when you get to Grub’s, he’ll know what to do.”
There was a long silence.
“No, Dad. She’s nice. She’s okay, Dad. Maybe I shouldn’t go to Uncle Grub’s house. Let’s just keep her here.”
“Shut up, moron. You brought this on us. Now the Reids are suspicious, and you’ve got to get her out of here. Whatever you do, don’t get pulled over.”
“I don’t even have a license,” Ronnie said in a low voice.
“Yeah, well, you won’t go to prison for that. There’s plenty else they can get you for. You’re the one. It’s on you. They only care about the one who done it. My big boy, my brave boy. I could have been so proud, but you dropped the fucking key. Put on your boots and get going,” Zane said.
“Okay, Dad. I did a good job, though, right? Except for dropping the key?”
“Who cares? You just undid anything good.”
CeCe heard but not really. Sometimes voices go into the ears but not into the brain. She was in the chest, staring into the enclosed darkness of the small box, thinking of her mother and feeling the word murder.
Footsteps got closer. The lid opened, and Ronnie helped her to her feet. He didn’t loosen the ties, though. He didn’t take the socks out of her mouth. His father put a blanket around her and picked her up, then carried her outside into the freezing cold. Ronnie was right beside them, and he opened the back door of the car.
“Whoa!” Zane said. “They’re coming back. Get back in the house.”
He carried CeCe into the same room where she’d been before. She still had the gag on, and she’d started throwing up; there was no way to stop it. Zane tugged the gag off and shoved her into a small bathroom.
“Do it in the toilet,” he said, sounding as if he hated her. She threw up, even though she had nothing much in her stomach, and the taste made her even sicker. Tears poured from her eyes. She wanted her mommy there, to hold her hair back from her face, to pat her back and tell her she was going to be okay.
Outside the bathroom door, she heard Ronnie and Zane talking.
“Forget the car,” Zane said. “They’re parked out there, by the shed, watching. I’ll distract them. You’re gonna have to go out the back way and get to Uncle Grub’s fleet trucks. Take the black Ford 250. The key’s in the left front wheel well. Got that?”
“I got it, Dad.”
“And keep her quiet. Don’t forget, they’ve got a goddamn Amber Alert on her. Tell her . . . never mind, I’ll tell her myself.”
CeCe’s stomach clenched because she heard his footsteps, and then Zane opened the door and stared down at her. He handed her a towel.
“Wipe your face,” he said.
She did.
“I think you’re probably a fine kid,” he said with a fake smile on his face. “And I bet you’re smart, and I bet you know how to follow directions. We gotta have some rules, to get us all through to the other side. Okay?”
“What other side?” CeCe asked.
“Don’t talk back,” he said in a snarling way, no more fake smile. “The rules are: No making noise. Like, no yelling or screaming. No running away. Because if you do, I’m gonna have to take action that no one’s gonna like. Not you, not me. I saw the news, okay? I know you still got a father and an aunt. I’ll have to kill them if you break the rules. You probably don’t want that to happen, right? It’s up to you.”
She squeezed her eyes tight. She’d do anything to make sure he didn’t hurt her papa or Aunt Hadley.
“I’m gonna trust you to follow the rules,” he said. “Ronnie’s your guard; he’ll make sure you obey, and then he’ll take you somewhere nice. You’ll like it. And your father and aunt will be just fine. Now, I’m going into the other room. You behave now.”
He left and slammed the door to the outer room.
“You okay?” Ronnie asked when she came out of the bathroom.
She didn’t answer.
“We’ll go to my uncle’s house,” Ronnie said. “Just do what my dad said, make it easy on all of us. My uncle’s house is a whole lot more comfortable than this place; you’ll be warm. Just don’t do anything stupid, you’ll be fine. You’ll be going home soon. Okay?”
CeCe couldn’t have answered even if she wanted to. Her broken front tooth had cut her lower lip, and it hurt, and she could taste the blood; she was afraid that if she said anything, or even breathed too deeply, she would throw up again. She clenched her fists and pretended she was holding Star. Star helped her think. If she thought hard enough, she could find a way to escape.
She could warn her father and Aunt Hadley. And she could stop being Amber.
22
When Hadley got back to the Ocean House after seeing Johnny and Donna in the studio, she went straight to sleep. The next morning, when she checked her phone, she found that she had several voice mails. Friends who had heard about Maddie had called, texted, and emailed. One message was from a lawyer named Jeanne Gladding. And there was another from Genevieve Dickinson.
“It can’t be true,” Genevieve’s voice mail said. “Not Maddie. Hadley, I am devastated for you. I know she and I had our issues, but that’s in the past. She and I made up. We were friends again, and now I’ve lost her! We both have. The news says it happened in Watch Hill—Maddie’s favorite hotel is there, and I am guessing that’s where you’re staying. The roads are pretty clear right now, so I am going to drive down. I’ll see you soon.”
Genevieve and Maddie were friends again? Hadley listened to the message a second time. Genevieve sounded as if she were crying. Hadley knew that many friends would be hearing the news about Maddie and feeling shock, feeling sorrow. But Genevieve? The pure hatred that had poured out of her during the lawsuit had been extreme. How would Genevieve know that the Ocean House was Maddie’s favorite hotel?
Surely Maddie would have told Hadley if there had been any sort of rapprochement. Hadley had been her sister’s biggest support during the pendency of the suit. Genevieve had hired a Boston lawyer with a reputation for being a “paperhanger” because of all the papers he served. He had flooded her with subpoenas for documents, notebooks, drawings, and correspondence going all the way back to college. He had hired a forensic accountant to examine bank records, statements from her agent, and sales figures from her galleries.
Hadley had accompanied Maddie to several depositions. Each time, she had sat in the lawyers’ waiting rooms while Maddie was inside at a conference table being grilled by Genevieve’s attorney.
“I feel as if she’s after my soul,” Maddie had said to Hadley. “Not just money and credit for my ideas and paintings, but my actual being. The deepest part of me.”
“Don’t let it get to you,” Hadley had said. “That’s what she wants, to wear you down.”
“She’s there at every deposition, staring at me across the table,” Maddie had said. “I look at her and try to remember when we were friends. Those days on the schooner, studying whales . . . it was so wonderful.”
“We see those days as beautiful and inspiring,” Hadley had said. “She sees them as the beginning of your success and a mirror of her failure—she measures them differently than we do.”
“She’s talented, Hadley,” Maddie had said. “She can do whatever she wants. Just why can’t she leave me alone?”
“Because she’s obsessed with you. She always has been, Maddie. It’s easier for her to go after you than to dig deep and find her own material,” Hadley had said.
Hadley had a secret. She didn’t want Maddie to know that she had a fishhook in her own heart, one that had lodged there not long after her sister’s career began to take off. She would never tell Maddie that she could relate to Genevieve’s envy. As much as Hadley adored her sister and cheered her on, part of her wondered why she couldn’t have been the one to create that iconic image of the whale and the swan.
When Hadley was up on a ladder in a port city like New Bedford, shivering in the March chill or sweating in the July heat, doing the equivalent of paint-by-numbers brigantines and sea captains, or in the rotunda of the Drake Aquarium, working off-hours when patrons were home sleeping and she and Johnny could have the place to themselves, to cover a wall with frolicking beluga whales and smiling white-sided dolphins, diving terns and impish harbor seals . . . well, she would find herself thinking of Maddie in her north-facing studio at the edge of Topanga Canyon, overlooking the Pacific Ocean, and she would feel a pang.
Hadley hid those feelings from her sister. She was so proud of her, overjoyed at her accomplishments and the rewards they brought. And Maddie was always so generous. She bought Hadley soft leather boots from Prada, tiny watercolor sets from Sennelier in Paris, a delicate gold chain with their initials entwined on a disk—the back engraved with the words “We’ll have many friends in life, but only one sister.” Maddie had given her the very first charm depicting the whale and the swan, struck by a Florentine goldsmith. And more than once, Maddie had paid Hadley’s mortgage on her condo in Providence.
