Deadly Intent (44 page)

Abbie was vaguely aware that John had taken off his own shirt and wrapped it tightly around her arm. “Ben...I need...to see Ben.”

“Shh.” John held her as two more men rushed in, carrying a first-aid kit. “Ben is going to be all right. Don’t talk, darling. For God’s sake, don’t talk.”

She tried to stay awake, but darkness had wrapped itself around her, blotting out all sound, shutting out all the light, taking away all her willpower.

With a sigh, she surrendered to it.

Forty-Six

Abbie woke to find Ben sitting at her bedside, holding her hand and looking worried but unharmed.

She felt groggy and vaguely remembered a nurse giving her a sedative. When was that? Yesterday? The day before? Bits and pieces found their way through her hazy mind—the drive to Tannersville, the confrontation with Liz. The shooting.

She looked down and saw that her left arm was bandaged and in a sling. “Ben,” she murmured. Thank God.

The pressure on her hand tightened. “Hi, Mom.”

“Where am I?”

“Memorial Hospital in Tannersville. That’s in the Poconos. You lost a lot of blood, but the doctors say you’re going to be okay.”

“What about you?” With her good hand, she reached for his precious face and touched it. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Mr. Ryan and Claudia have been taking good care of me. They’re outside, waiting to see you.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Since yesterday afternoon. They let me spend the night. They didn’t want to at first, but Mr. Ryan talked to the chief of staff and they gave me a bed.” He pointed behind him. “Right there next to yours.”

She closed her eyes. “Tell me what happened between you and Liz.”

“Mr. Ryan said to wait.”

“I want to hear it now, Ben. From you.”

He nodded, looking grave. “I know I shouldn’t have gone with Liz. I should have remembered that only three people are allowed to pick me up from school—you, Claudia and Brady. But when I saw her driving your car and she told me to hop in, I didn’t think, Mom. I just did it.”

Of course he had. After all, hadn’t they just visited her in New York? Had breakfast with her? Hadn’t she promised to come down to see him?

“Once I was in the truck,” Ben continued, “she changed. And then she held an awful-smelling handkerchief over my face and I must have blacked out, because when I woke up, I was in that room, all alone. I kept pounding on the door and the windows, but they were locked and no one answered.”

“Did she feed you?”

“Just some bread and cold cuts.”

“Did she hurt you?”

He gave an emphatic shake of his head. “I only saw her once, when she brought the food in, but she didn’t talk. She just left the tray on the table and left.” Eyes downcast, he added, “I was scared. Mom. I thought Liz was going to leave me in that room to die and no one would ever find me.”

“Come here.” He snuggled close and she held him tight with her good arm. “There’s no shame in being scared, sport. I was, too.”

“Mr. Ryan won’t tell me what happened” when you got to the house. He said you and I would talk about it later, but...” Anxious eyes searched her face. “How did you get shot, Mom? Did Liz do it?”

At least he was no longer calling her Aunt Liz. “I’ll tell

you everything when I feel a little stronger, okay, Ben? Right now all I want is to hold you.”

That was how John and Claudia found them a few minutes later, in each other’s arms.

“Hello there, lazybones.” Claudia walked over to Abbie’s bed and kissed her on the forehead. “About time you woke up.”

“You are disgustingly chipper,” Abbie muttered.

“Could be the fresh mountain air. Speaking of fresh mountain air,” she added, turning to Ben. “I’m starving. Why don’t you and I go to the cafeteria for some breakfast. I hear they whip up a mean omelette.”

“I’d rather have pancakes.”

“You’ve got it, Bud. Let’s go.”

John waited until they were gone before taking the chair next to Abbie’s bed. “How do you feel?”

“As though I was ninety years old.”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you you don’t look a day over twenty?”

“Only if you mean it.”

“Oh, I mean it. You are beautiful. And you are alive.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “You gave me one hell of a scare, lady.”

“Did you spend the night here, too?”

“Yup.” He thumbed toward the door. “I wasn’t as charming as Ben, so all I could get from the staff was permission to sleep in one of those chairs outside your room. With Claudia as my companion. Did you know she cheats at poker?”

Abbie smiled. “How much did she take you for?”

“Forty-rive bucks.”

“Consider yourself lucky.”

He kissed her fingertips again. “When I found you, nearly unconscious and bleeding so badly I thought you

weren’t going to make it. I thought, here I am, a police officer, trained to serve, protect and save lives, and I can’t save the woman I love.”

The woman I love.

She wanted to tell him she loved him, too, but her eyelids were getting heavy again and she couldn’t quite get the words out. So she just lay there, smiling foolishly as words she hadn’t expected to hear from him so soon came pouring out of his mouth like a fountain.

He was still talking when she drifted off to sleep.

Forty_Seven

One week later

Not surprisingly, Jordan had jumped at the chance to move in with his father. Thanks to Percy, who had taken care of every detail, the transition from one household to another was made quickly and effortlessly. At first John had feared the town house might be too small to accommodate two men and an active boy, and give each the privacy they were accustomed to. But with three bedrooms, two full baths and a den John had insisted Percy use as his office, space was not a problem.

Clarice called every afternoon, and in the five days since the move, she had already stopped by twice to make sure her son’s living conditions were acceptable. But even her discriminating eye hadn’t found a single reason for disapproval. For the first time in two years, John’s house was spotless, free of clutter and the refrigerator fully stocked.

“Dad?” Jordan stood in front of him, his baseball glove and ball in his hand. “Is it time to go to Ms. DiAngelo’s house yet?”

“Not for another fifteen minutes. She’s not expecting us until two, remember?”

“She won’t mind if we get there early.”

John smiled at the boy’s impatience, although, to be

truthful, he was getting pretty antsy himself. Except for the time he had spent with Abbie at the hospital and in the district attorney’s office where she had given her statement, he hadn’t seen much of her these past few days. He had been too busy moving Jordan and Percy in and wrapping up the McGregor case. As for Abbie, she had taken some much-needed time off to rest from her ordeal and to be with Ben. Today’s little gathering at her house was her way of thanking her friends, old and new, for standing by her during those difficult couple of weeks.

“You know something,” John said, glancing at the three boxes marked Books, “the next fifteen minutes will go much faster if you keep busy.”

“Doing what?”

“You could start by taking those boxes to your room and unpacking them.”

“But Percy said he would do it when he came back from Grandpa’s house.”

A typical kid, Jordan hadn’t wasted any time getting used to being waited on. “Percy can’t be doing everything for you, Jordan. We talked about that, didn’t we?”

The boy swung his head from side to side in that familiar “yeah, yeah” motion, grabbed one of the boxes and walked up the stairs, stomping his feet, not hard, just enough to let John know he wasn’t happy.

Not one to let a situation get out of control, John followed him. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching Jordan unpack his books and put them in the new bookcase John had bought him.

“You’re not having second thoughts about living here, are you, kiddo?”

Jordan spun around. “Gee, no, Dad. I like being with you, and seeing you every day.” He grinned. “Doing guy stuff.”

“So do I, Jordan, and I know we’re going to have a great time together, but you’re still going to have to do chores, just as you did at your mom’s house.”’

Jordan nodded.

“As for Percy, he did us a huge favor by agreeing to move in here. Your mom would have never gone along with this arrangement if it wasn’t for him.”

“I know that.”

“Then you understand why he should not be treated like a servant.”

“I didn’t mean to do that, Dad. Percy is the one who always wants to do things for me.”

That was true. In fact, John himself had tried to take advantage of the butler’s thoughtfulness years ago until Spencer had given John the same speech he was now giving to his own son. “I guess I’ll have to talk to Percy as well.”

As Jordan took the last book out of the box, John glanced at his watch. “Well, what do you know? It’s time to go.”

After keeping Abbie at Tannersville Memorial one more night, the doctors had released her with a clean bill of health. The bullet had gone right through, causing significant blood loss but not damaging any nerves or major muscles. She would regain complete use of her arm as soon as she healed.

Feeling nervous, even with John at her side, Abbie gave a formal statement to the Tannersville D.A., who chose not to bring charges against her. John explained later, that, had she wanted to, Sandra Zolov could have charged Abbie with second-degree murder and let her plead self-defense in the killing of Liz Tilly. But this was an election year,

and given the exceptional circumstances of this case, Zolov thought it wise to let Abbie go.

By the time they all returned home, Abbie’s former husband was waiting for them. Father and son had spent the entire day together, catching up. Before leaving, Jack had promised to come down more often. Abbie had no idea whether or not he would keep his word, but Ben seemed to think he would, and for now, that was enough.

The Princeton district attorney, Abbie learned, had been busy, not only with Arturo Garcia, who would be standing trial for Ian’s murder, but with another bizarre development—the arrest of Professor Oliver Gilroy.

Dissatisfied with his inconclusive talk with the professor, John had contacted Scotland Yard in London, and learned that in 1987, Gilroy’s twelve-year-old neighbor had accused him of touching him in an improper manner. The boy later recanted his story, claiming he was angry with the professor for not buying a tin of vanilla wafers during a Boy Scouts’ fund drive.

Although the charge was dropped and the boy made a public apology, Professor Gilroy was quoted as saying that the damage done to his reputation was irreparable. Six months later, in a surprising move, his wife divorced him, ending their eighteen-year marriage.

While Gilroy was never asked to resign his teaching position at Middlesex College, he no longer felt comfortable working there. Shortly after handing in his resignation, he applied for a U.S. visa and moved to the States.

A search of Gilroy’s house uncovered a locked room, where one wall was almost entirely covered with snapshots of young boys the professor had photographed, some with their knowledge, some without. Eric Sommers and the other two murdered boys, as well as Jordan and Ben, were included in the display. In an upper shelf in his bedroom

closet, the police had also found child-pornography literature and one other interesting item—a cream-colored fedora Gilroy swore he hadn’t worn in years.

Although Gilroy was arrested, he refused to admit to the raping and killing of the three New Jersey youths, insisting the photographs proved nothing other than a harmless fondness for the dozens of boys who shared his passion for trains. As for the pornographic material, he claimed to have no idea how it got there. It wasn’t his. His refusal to cooperate had prompted Captain Farwell to send Tina to England for further investigation.

It was a brilliant Sunday afternoon, and for the first time in a little over a week, Abbie felt alive again. John and Jordan had arrived moments ago, and the boys were already in the pool, laughing and playing as though the events of last week had never taken place.