‘I like my hopes up. They’ve been down so long.’
‘But it’ll be worse later.’ Kathy glanced at Caleb, then lowered her voice. ‘Face it, Noah killed that girl, whoever she was. He was convicted. There was a lot of evidence against him.’
‘But think about it. We know now that the girl was impersonating Anna. Doesn’t it make you wonder if she was lying about Noah?’
‘Lying when she said that he was abusing her?’
‘Yes, why not?’ Maggie shot back. ‘She was lying about everything else. She was lying about who she was. She was pretending to be my daughter when she wasn’t.’
Kathy looked unconvinced. ‘Noah lied about Jordan in the hotel room.’
‘True.’ Maggie sped ahead in the rain, spotting the airport ahead.
‘And what about the text he sent Anna? He lied about that.’
‘What if he didn’t? What if she sent it herself the way he said? What if he was telling the truth, all along?’
‘He wasn’t. You’re getting kooky.’ Kathy shook her head.
‘But it really makes you think, doesn’t it?’ Maggie’s heart lifted. ‘Stranger things have happened, haven’t they?’
‘Yes they have, and to you.’
‘Tell me about it!’ Maggie found herself smiling for the first time in a long time, heading to the airport exit.
Chapter Sixty-seven
Noah, After
Noah didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he awoke to noises in the hallway. Shuffling, whispering, and panting. He sat up in alarm. It was still nighttime. He could barely see in the darkness. Inmates were opening his cell door.
‘Doc, get down here!’ Peach whispered.
Two men rushed in like shadows, dragging a third inmate to the far side of the cell under the window. Noah heard rapid breathing and knew the man was in deep trouble.
He grabbed the brown bag, jumped off his bunk, and hustled to the men against the far wall. He crouched over the injured inmate, who lay on his back, his head against the wall, his mouth open.
The man’s chest heaved noisily with each breath. He was barely conscious. His eyes fluttered, the pupils rolling back in his head. Blood soaked his shirt, spreading at a catastrophic rate.
‘Doc, you gotta help him!’ one of the inmates whispered, his eyes wide.
‘I’m outta here!’ the other inmate said, bolting out of the cell.
‘What happened?’ Noah felt the injured inmate’s neck for a pulse. It was weak. The skin was clammy. The body shook. The man panted, in shock.
‘He’s cut in the chest! You gotta fix him up!’
‘Peach, get a flashlight. I need to see.’ Noah leaned closer to the injured man, patting his face. ‘Buddy, stay with me.’
‘Doc, sew him up! You got the stuff, right?’
‘Peach, a flashlight. Hurry.’ Noah raced to unbutton the injured man’s shirt, and a stream of blood geysered into the air.
‘Doc, he’s bleedin’ like crazy!’ The inmate recoiled. ‘You gotta sew him up!’
Noah grabbed a towel off the rack, balled it up, and pressed it down on the injured man’s chest. He had to stanch the bloodflow so he could examine the wound. He could feel the warm blood pulsing into the towel under his palms, coming at regular intervals. The knife must have severed an artery.
‘Here’s light!’ Peach aimed a cone of jittery brightness on the man’s heaving chest.
‘Stay with me, buddy.’ Noah moved the towel to look at the injured man’s chest. It was a gruesome sight. One four-inch gash near the heart, severing the aortic artery. Two cuts puncturing the left lobe of the lung, bubbling air and blood. Noah replaced the towel and pressed down to stop the loss of blood.
‘Doc, what are you waiting for! Sew him up!’
‘I can’t. I can’t move the towel. He needs surgery.’
‘So do it!’
‘It doesn’t work that way –’ Noah started to say, but the inmate shoved him in fury. He fell backwards, scrambling to keep his balance. The soaked towel came off the injured man’s chest. Noah lunged forward, grabbed it, and pressed it back down.
‘Doc, sew him!’
The injured man stopped breathing. His eyes traveled heavenward, then stopped there, fixed.
Noah started chest compressions on top of the towel. ‘We have to call somebody.’
‘Sew him, come on!’
‘Listen, you can’t just sew the skin. He’ll bleed out internally. There’s not enough blood to keep the heart pumping. That’s why it stopped.’ Noah kept compressing the chest. He didn’t feel the arterial pulse anymore.
‘Doc, sew him up!’ The inmate thrust the needle at Noah.
‘It’s not going to do any good.’ Noah’s hands were slick with blood. He couldn’t have threaded the needle with dental floss if he tried. ‘If you don’t call the CO, he’s dead. Call or I will.’
‘Doc, if you call the CO, you’re dead.’
Noah felt for the injured man’s pulse as he pumped. It was gone. The man was dead. Noah hadn’t been able to save his life. He hadn’t been able to save Anna either. But he kept pumping, not knowing whom he was trying to save. Himself.
‘Guard!’ Noah hollered, but it was too late.
For both of them.
Chapter Sixty-eight
Maggie, After
Maggie steered the rental Honda through the snow-covered streets of Congreve, down the main drag that she remembered from last April. It had been chilly then, but it was freezing now, 4° at 6:23 P.M., according to the red digital numbers on the bank sign. It was already dark, and snowflakes gusted in the frigid wind. There was little traffic except for plows and salt trucks, and the sidewalks were deserted except for one or two hardy souls. The shops and restaurants were closing, their lights going off in their storefronts.
Maggie drove carefully in the storm, which had gummed up everything at the airport. Flights were delayed or canceled with Thanksgiving only days away. Luckily, the holiday left vacancies at the Congreve Inn, and she had booked two rooms, though they were going directly to the school. Caleb slept in the backseat, tired from the excitement of the plane ride.
‘Do you believe this weather?’ Kathy asked, marveling. ‘Mainers are better than we are.’
‘What do you mean?’ Maggie looked over with a smile.
‘They’re stronger. They’re tougher. I couldn’t live here. I’d die of laziness.’
Maggie chuckled, driving along, and the windshield wipers flapped madly, struggling to keep the flakes at bay. They passed bundled-up residents operating snowblowers, clearing their sidewalks and driveways before too much snow accumulated.
‘Is that the school, at the end of the street?’ Kathy pointed.
‘Yes.’ Maggie felt her juices flowing. She had texted Ellen from the airport and told her when to expect them, and they were right on time. Directly ahead lay Congreve Academy’s ornate wrought-iron gate, which was propped open. The school’s brick buildings looked picturesque in the falling snow, and a white blanket covered the rooftops. Nobody was outside except for maintenance men operating snowblowers and shoveling.
‘Whoa,’ Kathy said, as they reached the entrance. ‘This is the preppiest snowglobe ever.’
‘I know.’ Maggie braked at a lit security booth, which was brick and had a window on the side.
An older security guard slid the window aside. ‘May I help you ladies?’ he asked, blinking against the snow.
‘Yes, we’re here to meet with Ellen Salvich, in the Admissions Rotunda. I believe she’s with Head of School Morris Whitaker and Assistant Head of School Jack Amundsen.’
‘Fine, drive straight ahead.’ The guard gestured, and Maggie drove forward, spotted a sign, and steered in that direction. Ahead was a red-brick building that was completely round, topped by a domed rotunda covered with snow. Palladian windows dominated the façade, and lights were on inside and under a small white portico that covered the entrance. She pulled into a small parking lot that
had already been plowed, empty except for two BMWs.
Kathy looked around. ‘No cop cars? I thought the cops would be here.’
‘So did I.’ Maggie parked, then turned around to wake Caleb up. ‘Honey, Caleb? We’re here.’
‘Okay,’ Caleb said sleepily, rousing. ‘Where are we again?’
‘We’re at Anna’s old school and we’re going to meet some people and talk.’ Maggie chose her words carefully, not to give him too much information. ‘You can come to the meeting, but I think it would be better if you waited in the waiting room. Is that okay with you?’
‘Yes, can I bring my phone?’
‘Yes. Do you have to go to the bathroom?’
‘No.’
‘You thirsty? You wanna bring your water bottle?’
‘No.’
‘Okay, let’s go.’ Maggie and Kathy collected their purses, Caleb got his phone, and they got out of the car and ran toward the entrance with their heads down against the icy flakes. They flung open the door and found themselves in a circular waiting room with Congreve-blue sofas and chairs, cherrywood end tables, and an empty reception desk.
‘Hello, I’m Morris Whitaker, the Head of School.’ Whitaker smiled as he entered the room from an attached office. He was tall and thin, maybe sixty-something, with a lined face behind horn-rimmed glasses. He had on a dark three-piece suit with a Congreve-blue bowtie, plus heavy Sorel snowboots. He extended his hand. ‘You must be Maggie Ippoliti. I saw you drive in.’
‘Yes, hi, I’m Maggie,’ she said, shaking his hand, and introducing Caleb, who shook Whitaker’s hand, and Kathy, who introduced herself.
‘Ladies, come into my office and meet some folks. I put on a pot of fresh coffee.’
‘Thank you. Caleb’s going to wait here.’ Maggie gestured Caleb into a chair, and he sat down.
‘Fine.’ Whitaker led them into an office where there were two other middle-aged men in dark suits and rep ties. They both wore wire-rimmed glasses, but one was short and one was tall. Ellen Salvich, Anna’s therapist, wasn’t present, which surprised Maggie.
‘I thought Ellen would be here.’
Whitaker smiled politely. ‘There was no need. She gave us the information we need.’
‘I was hoping the police would be here, too. Ellen told me you were calling them.’
‘Chief Vogel of the Congreve Police was here, but he was called away. It’s a small police force, and the storm is placing a heavy demand on its manpower and resources.’ Whitaker gestured to the other two men. ‘Please, meet Jack and Roger.’
‘Welcome, I’m Jack Amundsen,’ said the tall one, shaking Maggie’s hand. ‘Assistant Head of School. I’ll be sitting in tonight.’
‘Roger Baxter,’ said the short one. ‘General Counsel and a member of the board.’
‘Great to meet you,’ Maggie said, and they shook hands, introduced themselves to Kathy, then settled in chairs with coffee around a circular cherrywood table, which was nestled among bookshelves filled with reference books, awards and citations, and a group of family photos. A large matching desk was on the far side of the office.
‘Well, Maggie.’ Whitaker cleared his throat, his hooded hazel eyes meeting hers with concern. ‘First, let me say that I’m so sorry about this situation. We commenced an investigation as soon as Ellen brought it to our attention.’
‘Thank you.’ Maggie sipped her coffee, served in a blue Congreve mug. ‘I’ve been racking my brain myself and I think I have some things figured out.’
‘Really, what would that be?’ Whitaker cocked his head, and Maggie launched into an explanation, including the notes with Jamie they had found in Anna’s textbook, about PG and Connie buying the bus ticket for Jamie, and even about Samantha’s disappearance at Lower Merion.
‘Of course,’ Maggie finished by saying, ‘my main concern is that Anna’s missing and has been missing since April.’
‘That’s our primary concern as well.’ Whitaker nodded quickly.
‘Did you know Anna?’
‘Somewhat. She was on the quiet side, so perhaps I didn’t know her as well as some of the more extroverted students.’
‘Do you know anybody in the student body who looks like Anna?’
‘Not offhand.’ Whitaker nodded, this time in the direction of the lawyer. ‘Roger, why don’t you take the reins?’
‘Of course. Maggie, thank you so much for this information.’ Roger flipped a page of a legal pad on which he had been taking notes with a gleaming Mont Blanc pen. ‘Here is the chronology we have, from Ellen.’
Maggie got her phone to take notes, and so did Kathy.
‘As you know, your ex-husband Florian Desroches was killed in a plane crash on March 8. Ellen saw Anna for her weekly appointments, on Mondays, except for Monday, March 13 because Anna was at her father’s funeral in France. The last time Ellen saw Anna was April 3, because of Passover and Easter Monday. So we don’t know when Anna went missing exactly, but we know that it had to be after April 3. I strongly suspect it was during Spring Break.’
Maggie tapped it into her phone. ‘Okay, and just so you know, the imposter called me on Easter Sunday, April 16, and I met her for dinner on Friday, April 21, and brought her home on April 22.’
‘Thank you, I’ll make a note of that.’
Maggie blinked. ‘Maybe you can fill in some other dates for me. When did Anna return from the funeral in France?’
‘We received a call on Thursday morning, March 9, from a French lawyer representing your ex-husband, notifying us of his death.’ Roger flipped back through his notes, then consulted a page. ‘We summoned Anna out of class and notified her. She left school the same day, on Thursday, March 9, and she returned to campus on March 15.’
‘And she went to class as usual at least until Spring Break, which was April 10 through April 18?’ Maggie had looked up the school calendar on the website.
‘Yes, though during Spring Break, she doesn’t go to any regular classes.’
‘But she boarded here, so she was still here. Have you asked the other students who board?’ Maggie thought for a minute. ‘The imposter told me that the boarders live in Parker Hall and that they’re made fun of, because they’re parked there. So I wonder if any of them stayed during Spring Break. Maybe they’d remember seeing Anna that week. They must’ve. Did you speak with them?’
‘We attempted to, however, we want to keep this discreet, as I’m sure you understand. There’s no reason to alarm the students or the parents.’
Maggie blinked. ‘I think there is, for sure. They should know if someone is preying on the campus.’
‘But there’s no evidence of that.’
‘Anna may have been abducted.’
‘Or she went missing, and that was almost eight months ago, it’s being investigated, and there’s certainly no immediate danger.’
Maggie worried they were being dismissive. ‘Have you had a student go missing since Anna?’
‘No.’
‘What about a student running away?’
‘No, and this week, most of our students have already left for Thanksgiving break, which is until November 27. Thanksgiving is Thursday, the twenty-third, and classes ended today.’
‘But what about the ones who haven’t? I can’t believe that they all go away for Thanksgiving, especially not international students. Or maybe they couldn’t get out because of the storm? Maybe their flights were delayed or canceled?’ Maggie had questions and felt like she wasn’t getting answers. ‘And what happened to Jamie Covington? Have you been looking for Jamie as well? Or was she found? Did she go home? Was it foul play?’
Roger shook his head. ‘To the best of our knowledge, Jamie hasn’t returned. Her parents consider her a runaway. They do not suspect foul play.’
‘And what about PG and Connie, who bought the bus ticket for Jamie? Could we find them? Do you know who’s nicknamed PG?’
‘No.’
‘How about Connie?’
‘No.’ Roger g
lanced at Whitaker. ‘Do you know a PG or Connie, a Constance? Maybe a senior?’
‘I’d have to check into that, and I will.’
Kathy frowned, shifting forward in her seat. ‘We think a great place to start investigating would be with the staff of The Zephyr. Have you spoken with any of those girls? It was only last year, and not all of them would have graduated. Even so, you probably have their home addresses.’
Roger nodded. ‘We have already begun to ask those questions, but as Morris says, it is a holiday break and not everyone is around.’
Maggie was losing patience. ‘Gentlemen, I don’t think we’re on the same page. My daughter Anna disappeared from the school, going missing sometime during last April, Spring Break. She could’ve been abducted, even kidnapped. And it’s possible that whatever happened to her also happened to her friend Jamie, also a student. Aren’t you going to do anything about it? Why are you so calm? Why aren’t the police here?’
Roger raised a palm, coolly. ‘On the contrary, we’re very concerned. As we say, the state and local police were here, but they were called away due to the storm.’
‘What about the FBI?’
‘We saw no need to contact them. We reported it to the appropriate police, state and local.’
‘But this is a matter that may involve three missing girls, one from Pennsylvania and two from here. Why not call the FBI?’
‘You may, if you wish. Their closest satellite office is in Bangor.’ Roger’s tone turned official. ‘I would remind you, in this regard, that Morris received an email from your daughter at 9:02 A.M., on Monday, April 10, withdrawing from Congreve effective immediately.’
‘But you don’t know if that was from Anna or the imposter.’
‘It was completely reasonable for us to assume that the email came from Anna, and it’s still a reasonable assumption.’
‘So?’ Maggie didn’t like the change in his manner, which had turned distinctly lawyerly.
‘I have reviewed this matter, and in my opinion, our legal responsibility for Anna Desroches terminated as of that email. We did not believe, nor can we reasonably have believed, that the email came from anyone but Anna Desroches, and after that point, Anna Desroches was no longer a student at Congreve.’