But even the perfectly cooked salmon served with a bottle of Château Cheval Blanc, 1st Grand Cru Classé neither relaxed nor comforted him. The seventh anniversary of his marriage to Millicent was next Wednesday. Their prenuptial agreement read that if they were either legally separated or divorced before that anniversary, he would receive nothing from her. If their marriage lasted past the seventh anniversary, he would irrevocably receive twenty million dollars even if they were to break up anytime after that.
Millicent’s first husband had died. Her second marriage lasted only a few years. She had divorce papers served on her third husband only a few days before the seventh anniversary. I have four more days to go, he thought. Even in the beautiful room, he started to sweat at the idea.
Gregg was sure Millicent was playing a cat-and-mouse game with him. She had been traveling in Europe visiting friends for the past three weeks, but she had phoned from Monaco on Tuesday and approved the stand he took about paying the ransom. “It’s a miracle twenty other children of our employees haven’t been kidnapped already,” she’d said. “You showed good sense.”
And when we’re out together she seems to enjoy being with me, Gregg thought in an effort to reassure himself.
“Considering your roots, it’s a miracle how much polish you’ve managed to acquire,” she had told him.
He had learned to accept her barbs with a dismissive smile. The very rich are different. He had learned that since his marriage to Millicent. Tina’s father had been rich, but he’d made his way up by the bootstraps. He lived extremely well but was a candle to a star when compared with Millicent’s lifestyle. Millicent could and did trace her ancestry back to England before the Mayflower sailing. And, as she scornfully pointed out, unlike the hordes of impoverished well-bred aristocrats, generation after generation of her family had always had money, a great, great deal of money.
The terrible possibility was that Millicent had somehow learned about one of his affairs. I’ve been discreet, he thought, but if she found out about any of them, it would be the end of me.
He was pouring his third glass of wine when the phone rang. It was Millicent. “Gregg, I haven’t been very fair to you.”
He felt his mouth go dry. “I don’t know what you mean, dear,” he said, hoping the tone of his voice sounded amused.
“I’ll be honest. I thought you might be cheating on me, and I simply could not tolerate that. But you’ve been given a clean bill of health so . . .” here Millicent laughed, “when I get back, how about celebrating our seventh anniversary and toasting the next seven?”
This time Gregg Stanford did not need to fake the emotion in his voice. “Oh, my dear!”
“I’ll be back on Monday. I . . . I’m really quite fond of you, Gregg. Goodbye.”
He hung up the phone slowly. As he suspected, she had been having him watched. It was a stroke of luck that instinct had made him stop seeing any woman these past few months.
Now nothing could stand in the way of the seventh anniversary celebration. It was the climax of everything he had worked toward all his life. He knew that a lot of people were wondering if Millicent was going to stay with him. Even Page Six of the New York Post had run an item headlined GUESS WHO’S HOLDING HIS BREATH? With Millicent behind him, his position on the board was solidified. He would be first in line for Chairman and CEO.
Gregg Stanford looked around the room, at the paneling and the tapestries, at the Persian carpet and the Hepplewhite furniture. “I’ll do anything not to lose all this,” he said aloud.
62
During the past week, which felt interminable, it seemed to Margaret that Agents Tony Realto and Walter Carlson had become friends, although she never forgot that they were law enforcement officers as well. When they arrived today, the fatigue and concern in their eyes gave her a measure of comfort. She knew that to them, the failure to rescue Kathy was deeply personal as well as professional.
It’s ridiculous to be embarrassed because I crashed last night, she thought, cringing at the memory of grabbing the arm of the manager of Abby’s Discount. I know I’m grasping at straws.
Or am I?
Realto and Carlson introduced her to the man who was with them, Captain Jed Gunther of the Connecticut State Police. He’s about our age, she thought. He must be pretty smart to be a captain already. She knew that the state police had been working round the clock with the Ridgefield police, going door-to-door, asking if anyone had seen strangers loitering in the neighborhood. She also knew that the night of the kidnapping, and the day after, they had taken clothing of the twins, and had searched the town and all the parks in the surrounding area with their trained dogs, looking for any scent to follow.
With Dr. Sylvia following, she and Steve brought the investigators into the dining room—our “command post,” she thought. How many times in this past week have we sat around this table waiting for a phone call, praying that we’d get the twins back?
Kelly had brought down the matching baby dolls and teddy bears that were the twins’ favorite toys. She’d laid them on doll blankets on the living room floor and was now setting up the play table and chairs for a tea party. She and Kathy loved to play together at serving afternoon tea, Margaret thought. Across the table, she exchanged a glance with Dr. Sylvia. She’s thinking the same thing. Sylvia always asked the girls about their tea parties when we went to her office.
“How are you feeling, Margaret?” Agent Carlson asked sympathetically.
“I’m okay, I guess. I’m sure you heard that I went to the dress shop where I bought the birthday dresses and asked to speak to the clerk who waited on me.”
“She wasn’t there, we understand,” Agent Realto said. “Can you tell us your purpose in seeking to speak to her?”
“Only that she said she had just waited on a woman who was buying clothes for twins and that it seemed peculiar that the woman didn’t know their sizes. I just had the crazy thought that maybe someone was buying those clothes, anticipating kidnapping my children and . . . and . . .” She swallowed. “The clerk wasn’t there, and at first the manager wouldn’t give me her cell phone number. I realized I was making a scene, so I ran out. Then I guess I just kept driving. When I saw a sign for Cape Cod, I came to my senses somewhat and turned around. The next thing I remember is a policeman shining a light in my face. I was parked at the airport.”
Steve drew his chair closer to hers and put an arm around her shoulder. She reached up and linked her fingers with his.
“Steve,” Agent Realto said, “you’ve told us that Kelly said the names ‘Mona’ and ‘Harry’ in her sleep, and that you are positive you don’t know anyone with those names.”
“That’s right.”
“Has Kelly said anything else that might be helpful in identifying the people who were holding her?”
“She said something about a crib, which gave me the impression that Kathy and she were kept in a crib. But that’s all that really made sense.”
“What didn’t make sense to you, Steve?” Margaret asked intently.
“Marg, honey, if I could only hope with you, but . . .” Steve’s face crumbled, and tears welled in his eyes. “I wish to God I could believe there was even a possibility that she’s alive.”
“Margaret, you called me yesterday and told me you believe that Kathy is still alive,” Carlson said. “Why do you believe that?”
“Because Kelly told me she is. Because at Mass yesterday morning she said Kathy wants to come home, too, right now. Then, at breakfast, when Steve said that he would read a book to her, and pretend he was reading to Kathy, too, Kelly said something like, ‘Oh, Daddy, that’s silly. Kathy is tied up on the bed. She can’t hear you.’ And a few times Kelly has tried to talk twin talk to Kathy.”
“Twin talk?” Gunther asked.
“They have their own special language.” Sensing that her voice was about to start rising, Margaret stopped. Then, as she looked around the table, whispered imploringly, “I’ve told myself that
this is simply a grief reaction, but it isn’t. If Kathy were dead, I would know it, but she isn’t. Don’t you see? Don’t you understand?”
She glanced into the living room. Then, before any of them could speak, she raised her finger to her lips and pointed. They all turned to observe Kelly. She had placed the teddy bears on chairs at the table. The doll that had been Kathy’s was lying on a blanket on the floor. Kelly had tied a sock around its mouth. Now she was sitting by it, her own doll in her arms. She was stroking the cheek of Kathy’s doll and whispering. As if she sensed that they were watching her, she looked up and said, “She’s not allowed to talk to me anymore.”
63
After the visit of Agents Walsh and Philburn, Richie Mason made coffee and coldly considered his options. The FBI was watching him. The irony of how it had all gotten out of control hit him in waves, provoking him to fury. Everything had been clicking along so smoothly, and then the one weak link in the chain, the one he always knew was a problem, had indeed become the problem.
Now the feds were closing in. The fact that they still didn’t know how close they were to learning the truth was a miracle. The fact that they were concentrating on Bailey’s connection to him was a distraction that was giving him time, but he knew they’d soon move on.
I am not going back to prison, he thought. The image of the tiny, crowded cell, and the uniforms, and the terrible food, and the monotony of prison life made him shiver. For the tenth time in the last two days, he looked at the passport that would ensure his safety.
Steve’s passport. He had stolen it from the dresser drawer that day he’d been in Ridgefield. He looked enough like Steve to pass without anyone asking questions. All I need to do is have a nice, warm smile like baby brother when they check it, he thought.
There was always the danger of an immigration clerk saying, “Wasn’t it your twins who were kidnapped?” In that case he’d simply say that it was his cousin who had the tragedy. “We both were named after our grandfather,” he would explain. “And we look enough alike to be brothers.”
Bahrain had no extradition agreement with the United States. But by then he’d have a new identity, so it shouldn’t matter.
Should he be satisfied with what he had, or should he go for the rest of the pot of gold?
Why not? He asked himself. And anyhow it was always better to tie up loose ends.
Satisfied with the decision, he smiled.
64
“Mrs. Frawley,” Tony Realto said slowly, “I cannot act on your belief that Kelly is in touch with her sister. However, the only indicators that Kathy is dead are the suicide note and the fact that Lucas Wohl was seen carrying a heavy box with him onto the aircraft. According to the note, he dropped Kathy’s body into the sea. I’m going to be absolutely honest with you. We are not completely satisfied that Lucas either typed that note, or that he shot himself.”
“What are you talking about?” Steve snapped.
“What I am saying is that if Lucas was shot by one of his cohorts, then that note might be a phony and may have been left there to give the impression that Kathy is dead.”
“Are you finally starting to believe that she’s alive?” Margaret asked imploringly.
“We are starting to believe that there may be a slight possibility that she is alive,” Tony Realto said, emphasizing the words “slight possibility.” “Frankly, I do not have faith in twin telepathy, but I do believe that Kelly may be able to help us. We need to question her. You say she did talk about ‘Mona’ and ‘Harry.’ She might let another name slip or give us some indication where they were kept.”
They watched as Kelly picked up a doll’s washcloth and went into the kitchen. They heard her pull a chair over to the sink. When she came back, the washcloth was wet. She knelt down and put it on the forehead of Kathy’s baby doll. Then she began to speak, and they all got up and moved closer to hear what she was saying.
She was whispering, “Don’t cry, Kathy. Don’t cry. Mommy and Daddy will find you.”
Kelly looked up at them. “She’s really, really coughing. Mona made her take medicine, but she spit it up.”
Tony Realto and Jed Gunther exchanged glances, disbelief in their eyes.
Walter Carlson was studying Sylvia Harris. She’s a doctor, he thought. Her specialty is twin telepathy, and from her expression, he could tell that she believed the twins were communicating.
Margaret and Steve were clinging to each other, both of them now weeping.
“Dr. Harris,” Carlson said quietly. “Will you talk to Kelly?”
Sylvia nodded and sat on the floor next to Kelly. “You’re taking good care of Kathy,” she said. “Does Kathy still feel sick?”
Kelly nodded. “She can’t talk to me anymore. She told her real name to some lady, and Mona got mad and scared. She has to tell everyone her name is Stevie. Her head is sooo hot.”
“Is that why you’re putting a cool cloth on it, Kelly?”
“Yes.
“Does Kathy have something tied around her mouth?”
“She did, but she started to get sick, so Mona pulled it off. Kathy’s falling asleep now.”
Kelly untied the sock from the mouth of the doll, then laid her own doll next to it. She covered them with the same blanket, making sure their fingers were touching.
65
It was the manager of the motel, David Toomey, who rapped on Angie’s door. A slightly built man in his mid-seventies, he had probing eyes that peered at her through rimless glasses. He introduced himself, then, with annoyance in his voice asked, “What’s this about your car seat being stolen from your van last night? Officer Tyron from the Barnstable police stopped by to find out if any other cars had been broken into.”
Angie tried to think fast. Should she tell him that she had lied, that she had forgotten to bring the car seat? That might make for more trouble. The cop might come around and give her a ticket. And ask questions. “It’s not a big deal,” she said. She glanced at the bed. Kathy was facing the wall. Only the back of her head, with its dark brown hair, was showing. “My little guy has a bad cold, and I was just concerned about getting him inside.”
She watched as Toomey’s eyes darted around the room. She could read his mind. He didn’t believe her. She had paid cash for a two-night stay. He sensed that something was peculiar. Maybe he could hear Kathy wheezing.
He had heard her. “Maybe you should take your son to the emergency room at Cape Cod Hospital,” he suggested. “My wife always gets asthma after a bronchitis attack, and he sounds as though he’s building up to an asthma attack.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Angie said. “Can you give me directions to the hospital?”
“It’s ten minutes from here,” Toomey told her. “I’d be happy to drive you.”
“No. No. That’s fine. My . . . my mother will be here around one o’clock. She’ll go with us.”
“I see. Well, Ms. Hagen, I suggest that you get medical treatment for that child promptly.”
“You bet I will. Thanks a lot. That’s really nice of you. And don’t worry about the car seat. I mean, it was old anyway. You know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean, Ms. Hagen. There was no theft. But I gather from Office Tyron that you do have a car seat now.” Toomey did not bother to hide the sarcasm in his voice as he closed the door behind him.
Angie immediately double-locked the door. He’s gonna be watching me, she thought. He knows I didn’t have a car seat, and he’s mad because it makes his place look bad if there’s a complaint about a theft. That cop. He’s suspicious, too. I’ve got to get out of here, but I don’t know where to go. I can’t pull out with all my stuff—he’ll know I’m taking off. Now I have to look as though I’m waiting for my mother. If I run out right away, he’ll know there’s something up. Maybe if I just wait a while, then carry out the kid and put her in the car seat in the back, then go back—like for my pocketbook. From the office he can only see the passenger side of the car. I can
put a blanket over the suitcase with the money and slip it in on the other side. I’ll leave all the other stuff here so he’ll think I’m coming back. If he talks to me, I’ll tell him that my mother called and is meeting me at the hospital. But maybe with any luck, somebody will want to check in or out of this dump, and I can sneak out while he’s busy.
Facing left from the window she could see the driveway in front of the office. She waited there forty minutes. Then, as Kathy’s breathing became heavier and the wheeze became stronger, she decided she had to break open one of the penicillin capsules, dissolve some of it in a spoon, and force her to drink it. I’ve got to get rid of her, she thought, but I don’t want her to die on my hands. Both furious and nervous, she opened her shoulder bag, got out the bottle of capsules, broke one open, poured it into a glass from the bathroom, diluted it with a little water, and grabbed a plastic spoon from the coffee machine on the counter. She shook Kathy, who stirred, opened her eyes, and immediately began to cry.
“Geez, you’re burning up,” Angie snapped. “Here, drink this.”
Kathy shook her head, and as the first taste of the liquid touched her tongue, she pressed her lips shut. “I said, drink it!” Angie shouted. She managed to force some of the liquid into Kathy’s mouth, but Kathy gagged, and the medication trickled out onto her cheek. She began to wail and cough. Angie grabbed a towel and tied it around her mouth to quiet the sound, then realized that Kathy might suffocate and pulled it off. “Keep quiet,” she hissed. “You hear me good. Don’t make another sound or I’ll kill you right now. All this is your fault. Every bit of it.”
She looked out the window and saw that several cars were now parked in front of the office. This is my chance, she thought. She picked up Kathy, ran outside, opened the door of the van, and strapped her in the car seat. Then, in a quick movement, she ran back inside the motel, grabbed the blanket-wrapped suitcase and her shoulder bag, and tossed them in beside Kathy. Thirty seconds later she was backing out of the parking space.