T
he trees along Millwood Road were still ablaze with the last of the autumn leaves.
The road had once been a scenic pathway to the summit of Stone Hill Mountain. Now
interspersed among the trees, on both sides of the road, were vacation condos built
by developers from New York and Boston. From Thanksgiving to March, when snow was
on the ground, the Millwood area was abuzz with luxury cars topped by ski racks and
colorfully arrayed, well-to-do weekend athletes from out of state. Today, a weekday
in late October, showed signs that the area was beginning to awaken. A few of the
ski shops had opened and there was some light traffic up and down the mountain, but
it was still very quiet.
Tess drove slowly along the winding road. Some of the condos, mainly the newer ones,
were designed with a perfunctory nod to the surroundings, with crisscrossed wooden
timbers on the façade to suggest ski chalets in the Alps. The most recently built
were designed as more businesslike structures with false stucco façades, garages underneath,
and even a convenience store incorporated into the complex. 253B Millwood was clearly
one of the oldest buildings, functional but not luxurious. It was neither cleanly
modern, nor charmingly quaint. It was built in a quad style and had begun to look
a little bit shabby. Tess pulled into one of the visitor’s parking spaces provided
beside the complex and sat, shivering in the warm idling car. Now that she was here,
she knew she had to be careful about how she proceeded. It seemed unlikely to her
that there would be security cameras or the kind of patrolling that one might find
in a newer kind of complex in the Washington, D.C., area, for example. Most people
only used these units seasonally and rarely kept anything of value in them except
for their ski equipment. Even so, Tess wondered how Rusty was able to procure one
of the units for rental, but then she reminded herself that he was the chief of police.
He undoubtedly had some influence among the developers of these condo warrens. Influence
enough to have a spare unit at his disposal.
Tess looked up at the bland beige building with its cedar shingle roof and windows
that overlooked the mountainside. Erny, are you in there? she thought. How did he
get you inside without anyone noticing? Or did he take you somewhere else? Somewhere
more private, where it would be easier to stash an abducted child.
Tess shook her head. She couldn’t think about that. She had to find out about this
place first. If she couldn’t find her son here, then she would face the worry of where
else in this vast area he might be hidden. Right now she had to get inside 253B. She
turned off the engine and, feeling the rapid cadence of her own heartbeat, stepped
out of the car.
Looking all around to be sure she wasn’t seen, she slipped inside the outer door of
number 253 to the tiny vestibule where the four mailboxes for the quad of condos were
located. She wondered, with a sinking feeling, if anyone was home in any of them,
someone who might buzz her in if she pressed their bell. She tried all four buttons,
but with no luck. No answering buzz released the catch on the door. Erny, she thought.
Are you in there? Can you hear the buzz and know that someone is here and close to
finding you? She thought about going around to the back. Maybe if she could figure
out which window belonged to the B unit, she could peer in and see something—some
sign of her son. She was just about to leave the vestibule when a dirty dented compact
car pulled into the parking area and a skinny woman of about forty, dressed in jeans
and a sweatshirt, got out. She reached into the backseat of the car for a paper shopping
bag and then came toward the vestibule. Tess immediately began to rummage in her bag,
as if she were searching for her key. The woman pulled the door open, came in, and
smiled at Tess. Her entire face crinkled into folds. “Couldn’t be much gloomier out
there, could it?” she asked pleasantly.
Tess smiled back. “No, it really couldn’t.”
The woman inserted her key in the lock and turned it. “Can’t find your key?” she said
sympathetically.
“I’ll find it,” said Tess.
The woman shrugged, but did not hold the outer door open for her. She went through
and down the hall, carrying her bag. Tess just managed to catch it by shoving her
toe in before the door locked shut again. Tess held it open just an inch while she
waited for the woman to get into her own apartment. Tess felt her heart hammering
as she heard the sound of a door opening and then slamming shut down the hall. Luckily
there was no one passing by to see Tess lingering in the vestibule of the quad. After
a couple of minutes had passed, Tess thought it was probably safe. She pushed the
door open and looked down the hall. There were two doors on each side. The near doors
were marked A and D. That meant the far doors were B and C. She walked down the hallway
to B and tried the knob. Of course it did not open. From the place next door she could
hear a loud humming, as if from an air conditioner or a fan. It created enough white
noise to mask her voice. She put her mouth to the door and said, in as loud a voice
as she dared, “Erny. Erny, are you in there? Erny, it’s Mom. Can you hear me? Can
you make a sound?”
There was no reply from inside. Thankfully, though, none of the other doors opened.
Tess looked in frustration at the doorknob. How did you unlock a lock? She’d seen
people do it in the movies with a bobby pin or a credit card. She had to try. She
reached into her purse and pulled out a credit card from her wallet. With trembling
hands she inserted it between the door and frame and pulled up. Nothing happened.
She tried it again and pulled the credit card out. Then she reached for the doorknob
and twisted it in frustration. Still nothing. “Erny,” she cried in a low urgent voice,
bending toward the crack between door and frame.
The white noise stopped abruptly and Tess straightened up. Then, to her shock, the
door of Rusty Bosworth’s apartment opened in front of her face. The skinny wrinkled
woman from the vestibule was standing there and she started at the sight of Tess.
She put a scrawny hand against her chest. “Oh, you scared me. I thought I heard something,
but I had the vacuum going.”
Tess was too taken aback to speak for a moment. “I’m sorry. I thought…I mean, I thought
that…Rusty Bosworth…”
“Oh, sorry. I’m Vivian. I clean for Chief Bosworth,” the woman explained. Then she
frowned. “Didn’t I just see you in the foyer?”
“Yes,” said Tess. “I…I was looking for…him.”
“Chief Bosworth’s not here,” Vivian said. Then she stared out at Tess suspiciously.
“How’d you get in the building anyway? I thought you said you lived here.”
Tess’s mind was reeling. If Erny were in there, surely this woman would know it. She
would have noticed something, even though she had not been in the condo for long.
And Vivian obviously came and went as she pleased. She must have her own key. Surely
Rusty Bosworth wouldn’t have dared to try to hide Erny in a place where his cleaning
lady could come and go at will.
“Hello?” said Vivian, waving her fingers in front of Tess’s eyes. “How did you get
in?”
“Oh,” said Tess, recovering as best she could. “I’m sorry. I do…I live here…across
the hall.”
The woman folded her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows. “Borrowing a cup
of sugar?”
“I was here…with…Rusty last night,” said Tess. “I think I may have left my…glasses
here.”
The cleaning woman pressed her lips together and a spot of color appeared in her weathered
cheeks. “Oh.”
“Would you mind if I came in and looked for them?”
“I can look for you. Where were you sitting?”
Tess edged her way through the door. “Well, here…on the sofa. And…in the bedroom.”
Vivian cleared her throat. “I’ll have a look in there,” she said brusquely, indicating
the hallway to the bedroom. “You can check the sofa.”
“Thanks,” said Tess. She waited for Vivian to disappear down the hall and then she
looked around frantically, opening every door and cupboard in the combination living
room/kitchen and dining area.
“Were they in a case?” Vivian called out.
“No,” said Tess. “They have blue frames. They might be in the bathroom.”
“I’m looking,” Vivian called back.
Tess closed the doors on the home entertainment console and stood up with an oppressive
heaviness in her heart. Erny wasn’t here. There was no way that the chief would have
left him for the cleaning woman to find. Not if he knew she was coming. And most cleaning
people worked on a schedule.
Tess looked helplessly around the room. There were few personal effects to warm up
the chilly, cookie-cutter look of the condo. There were exactly two framed school
photos of children, set up on the coffee table, and a fish that looked fake, mounted
on a large, wooden plaque. The plaque was propped up against the side of the entertainment
center, as if waiting to be hung up. Tess picked it up. Beneath the fish and behind
a glass window was a faded photo of a redheaded kid holding up an enormous fish. Tess
realized, to her surprise, that it was the selfsame fish on the plaque. Not fake,
after all, but stuffed. For a moment, Tess marveled at the skill of the taxidermist
and couldn’t help thinking how Erny would covet such a trophy.
Tess looked more closely at the photo and realized that the redheaded boy in the photo,
standing on the dock proudly displaying his catch, was a young Rusty Bosworth. Crouched
beside him in the photo was another older boy who was homely and wore glasses. The
older boy had a hangdog look, as if he was disappointed, or maybe a little ashamed,
not to be the lucky angler. With a start of revulsion, Tess suddenly recognized him.
She was looking at Rusty and Lazarus Abbott as youngsters. Nothing about Lazarus Abbott
betrayed the monster he would become. He looked like any other awkward adolescent.
She squinted at the photo trying to see past Lazarus’s expression. But there was nothing
to see. Just a boy at a lake on a summer’s day.
A round-faced, red-haired man, probably Rusty’s father, stood behind Rusty, proudly
resting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Perhaps, even at that moment, he was planning
to have the fish stuffed and mounted for his son. Behind Lazarus, a lanky, black-haired
man in a T-shirt looked on enviously, almost angrily, as Rusty displayed his catch.
In an instant, Tess recognized those angry eyes. It was Nelson Abbott. A thinner,
younger version, his face unlined, but Nelson Abbott without a doubt. Tess set the
plaque back down beside the entertainment center. It was a memento of a fishing trip
that had ended in glory for one cousin and ignominy for the other. Still, it gave
Tess a disorienting feeling of having forgotten something.
“Nope,” said Vivian, coming back into the room. “I didn’t find ’em. Did you? I looked
high and low.”
Tess looked up. “No. I don’t know. I’ll ask Rusty to look for them.”
“Okay,” said Vivian. “Sorry I couldn’t help you.”
“I’ll let you get back to work,” said Tess. “Thanks.”
“No trouble,” said Vivian.
Vivian closed the door behind her and Tess felt as if her last hope had been closed
off with that door. Tess closed her eyes. Where is my son, you bastard? she shouted
at Rusty Bosworth in her mind. Where are you keeping him? Tess heard the whine of
the vacuum again, now realizing that the sound was actually emanating from inside
the chief’s apartment. Vivian would clean every inch of that condo, Tess thought.
Wherever Erny might be, Tess knew that she would not find him here.
T
ess ran the gauntlet of a bunch of reporters who, despite the police warnings, had
reassembled outside the Stone Hill Inn. She avoided making eye contact with any of
them.
“Do you know who took your son?” one of them shouted.
“Any news yet, Tess?” another called out.
“Do you feel you’re being punished because of Lazarus Abbott?” cried a third.
Tess jerked open the door to the inn. She was shaking as she entered the foyer. Officer
Virgilio was leaning against the sitting room door frame, talking on his cell phone,
while the other larger man, Officer Swain, stood in the library, jiggling one foot
as he leafed through the newspaper. He looked up as Tess appeared in the hallway.
“Is there any news, Officer Swain?” Tess asked.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he said putting down the paper. He sounded sincerely sorry.
Tess nodded and sighed. “Those reporters are back. My nerves are really on edge. I
can’t stand much more of this harassment.”
Mac Swain set the paper down on the table. “I’ll get rid of them for you, ma’am,”
he said with quiet determination.
He walked outside and Tess could hear him ordering the reporters to vacate the premises.
Tess shook her head. It was like trying to chase away a swarm of gnats. They might
disperse for a moment, but she knew they would be back. Still, the sound of their
grumbling retreat made her feel slightly better. Mac Swain opened the door and came
back into the house.
“Thank you, Officer,” she said.
“Happy to do it,” he said.
“Have you seen my mother?” Tess asked.
Swain shook his head. “Sorry.”
“Never mind,” said Tess. She walked back to the kitchen and then over to her mother’s
quarters, tapping on the voile-curtained French doors. “Mom?”
Julie opened the French doors, clutching a wadded tissue in her hand. She was wearing
a shirt-style jacket of colorful squares of fabric. Her eyes were red-rimmed and angry.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said in an accusing tone.
“I’m looking for Mom,” said Tess.
“She went out. With Mr. Phalen,” said Julie.
“With Phalen?” Tess cried. “What is she thinking? Didn’t you try to stop her?”
“She’s a grown woman, for God’s sake. Besides, I have my own problems,” Julie said
petulantly.
“What happened at the police station?” Tess asked. “Is Jake still there?”
“Yes, he’s still there,” said Julie, shutting the door behind Tess. “Of course he’s
still there. Why in the world did you send that attorney down there with him?”
“Because I thought they were going to arrest him. You know Jake publicly threatened
Nelson Abbott. He needed an attorney.”
“Maybe so. But not that Ramsey guy,” Julie insisted. “The police absolutely loathe
him. It’s doing more harm than good to have him there.” Julie collapsed in a patchwork
heap on Dawn’s couch. “Jake would have been better off on his own. He’s known most
of those cops for years. They probably would have been nice to him if he hadn’t come
in with that shyster lawyer. They blame that lawyer for everything that’s happened.”
Tess dug her nails into her palms and counted to ten. “Look, I’m sorry you feel that
way. I was just trying to help Jake.”
“Some help.” Julie sniffed.
Tess raised her hands, palms out. “I can’t…I don’t know what to say. I’m a little
preoccupied right now. My son is missing. He’s out there all alone with a killer…”
Julie’s eyes watered again and she immediately looked sheepish. She dabbed at her
red nose with the mangled tissue. “I know. I didn’t forget Erny. I never would.”
Tess realized that this was true, but still, she felt a little bruised. She glanced
at the door to be sure it was shut and then spoke in a low, angry voice. “I’ll tell
you something else. I know who is responsible for all of this. The chief of police
is responsible, so if you want to blame someone, blame him.”
Julie blinked away her tears and stared at Tess. “What are you talking about? Are
you crazy?”
“No, I’m not crazy.”
“Then where did you get an idea like that?” Then she frowned in disapproval. “Is this
why you wanted Rusty Bosworth’s address?”
Tess sighed. “Yes. And I got it from Charmaine. I went to his condo but Erny wasn’t
there. That would be too easy. He’s put him somewhere else.”
“Put him…? What are you talking about? Now you think that Rusty Bosworth killed Nelson?
And took Erny? Did you tell that to the police?” Julie asked.
Tess looked at her balefully. “Sure,” she said. “Tell them I suspect the chief.”
Julie shook her head. “I don’t know, Tess. I can’t picture Rusty Bosworth doing something
like that.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sure you can’t…” Tess said dismissively.
“I mean, the last I knew, you were blaming it all on Nelson Abbott,” said Julie.
Tess turned on her sister-in-law. “I wasn’t
blaming
him. I had information.”
“Well, it couldn’t have been very good information.”
“It was incomplete,” Tess snapped.
“Wrong, you mean,” said Julie. “Just like with Lazarus.”
Tess gasped, as if she had been slapped. “Thanks, Julie. Thanks a lot. You’re a big
help.” She turned on her heel and left the apartment, slamming the French doors behind
her. She felt cornered, with nowhere to turn. The police were still camped out down
the hall. And outside the reporters were, no doubt, still lurking. Tess went to her
room, opened the door, and looked at the two beds. Hers was neatly made while Erny’s
was thrown together, the bedspread lumpy, the pillow askew. Tess went over to his
bed and sat down on the edge, taking his pillow up and holding it to her heart, burying
her face in it, rocking back and forth as the tears she had tried to hold in all day
began to fall. Tess felt as if she couldn’t breathe, as if she couldn’t catch her
breath any longer. In her heart she kept saying his name: Erny. Where are you? Are
you still alive?
As a child, she had only told the truth as she knew it. The adults around her had
done the rest. But perhaps the perverse order of the universe had ruled that she had
not yet suffered enough for her unwitting part in the injustice done to Lazarus Abbott.
How much, she wondered, do I have to lose before my debt is paid? Where is my boy?
she thought.
She felt as if Julie had attacked her when she was at her weakest. Attacked her when
she didn’t need reminding of her failings. She never forgot, not for one moment, that
it was her word that sealed the fate of Lazarus Abbott. She may have ignored those
reporters, but she had heard their insinuations.
They had no idea what was in her heart. None of them. They did not know what it was
like to grow up in the aftermath of such a crime. Tess remembered the day of the execution
with utter clarity. The family had been told they could attend the actual execution
at the prison, but they all declined. Even Jake. When Lazarus was executed, Tess was
at college, hiding in a library carel pretending to study, waiting for the news to
come that would “end” her family’s suffering.
But after it was over, long before she learned that Lazarus might not be guilty, Tess
learned the sorry truth about vengeance and closure. After the execution was done,
Tess realized that she felt no better for it. No less guilty for having stayed quiet
as her sister was stolen in the night. No less secretly angry at Jake for having left
them alone in the tent that night to go to a dance. Vengeance would not bring back
her innocent, lovely sister or spare her father from the anguish that had led to his
fatal heart attack. Or heal her family. She understood, too late, that the execution
of Lazarus Abbott, even when she believed him to be guilty, had done no good. No good
at all.
The bedroom door opened and Dawn came in wearing her car coat with the collar turned
up. “Tess, are you all right?”
Tess furtively wiped her tears away. She got up from the bed, sniffling, and walked
to the door where her mother stood. “Where were you?”
“Ken and I have been out driving around, looking for Erny. I’ve just come home to
change into some rubber boots. We want to walk up the bridle path to the campground.
At least as far as they’ll let us go. Maybe I’ll see something they missed. It’s worth
a try. I can’t sit here and do nothing. Did you have any luck?”
Tess shook her head and followed her mother out of the bedroom.
“All right, let me see if I can find those boots,” said Dawn as she turned down the
hall to head for the mudroom. “Tess, go put a sweater on. You’re shaking.”
Tess didn’t feel like arguing. Obediently, she pulled on a warm sweater and then walked
down the hall. She looked into the sitting room. Kenneth Phalen was sitting in the
Windsor chair by the fireplace. He seemed to feel Tess’s gaze and looked up.
“Tess. I’m so sorry about your boy,” said Ken. “I thought I’d help your mother look
for him. You have to help in the search at a time like this. Just to keep your sanity.”
“Yes,” said Tess.
“I know how it feels when your child is missing. I’ll never forget that sense of helplessness
when we couldn’t find Lisa.” He shook his head. “She ran away about a dozen times
before…the final time.”
“Erny did not run away,” said Tess. “That’s what the police want us to believe, but
it’s not true. Somebody took him.”
“Oh, I know. I know. But the feeling is the same. Just the sheer terror that something
awful is going to happen to them. I can’t tell you how many nights I went out looking
for Lisa, making bargains with God that if I found her and she was all right…. Well,
when they get into drugs, it’s a nightmare.”
Tess crossed her arms over her chest. “Kids don’t just…get into drugs, do they? I
mean, aren’t there warning signs that they’re very troubled to begin with?”
There was a flicker of resentment in Ken’s eyes. And then it subsided. “How old is
your son?”
“Ten,” said Tess.
Ken shook his head. “Well, that’s what you tell yourself now. You think that you’ll
make sure your kid has a happy life and then it won’t ever happen to them.”
“Isn’t there some truth to that?” said Tess.
Ken shrugged. “If you’re lucky,” he said.
Dawn came down the hall wearing her rubber “Wellies.” “Ken, are you ready?”
Ken rose immediately to his feet. “Sure,” he said. He put on the gray parka that was
hanging from a hook by the door. Then he pulled a walking stick from the umbrella
stand. “Might need this,” he said.
“Well,” said Tess stiffly, “I appreciate your…helping out.”
He grasped her shoulder briefly. “Courage,” he said.
Tess felt tears spring to her eyes and she avoided his gaze.
“Let’s go out the front,” said Dawn. “We’ll walk around the inn.”
“Okay,” said Ken. He led the way out the front door.
“Tess, walk us out. Get a breath of air,” said Dawn.
Tess did as she was told, walking arm in arm with her mother out the front. Tess pulled
her sweater tight around her and scanned the parking lot.
“I guess the vultures have scattered for the moment.”
“They’ll be back,” said Dawn grimly. “Ken has his cell phone with him. We’ll check
in with you soon.”
Tess nodded and breathed in the damp, gray air. “Thanks.”
“Don’t be afraid,” said Dawn.
Tess released her mother reluctantly. Dawn stepped off the front step and started
down the path where Ken had led. He was using the walking stick to part the grasses
as he went along. Dawn turned back to look at Tess. “I won’t be gone long.” Then she
frowned. “Now, what’s that doing there?” Dawn asked as she spotted something out of
place in the inn’s carefully maintained front yard. She walked back across the gravel
and picked up the pole that was propped against the latticework behind the bench.
Tess looked at the object Dawn was holding. “Oh,” she said, “that’s the fishing pole
Erny made. Jake brought it over.”
Dawn’s expression softened as she looked at the makeshift fishing rod. “Oh,” she said.
“That’s wonderful. What a kid.”
“Oh, Mom,” Tess cried.
Dawn shook her head and handed the pole to Tess. “Don’t, Tess. Don’t give up. You
go put it in the mudroom. He’ll be using it again before you know it,” she said firmly.
“I will,” said Tess.
“We’ll be back soon,” Dawn promised and then she disappeared around the side of the
house.
Tess nodded and clutched the pole to her chest with both hands. She waved at her mother,
though Dawn was already out of sight. Then Tess sank down on the bench, planting the
fishing rod on the stone step in front of her and gazed at it. She could picture her
son making it. Busily hunting up the elements he needed for the job. The long tomato
plant stake. The twine, which had probably been used to secure the vine to the stake.
Where did he find this stuff? she thought, smiling through her tears. Jake’s house?
Neither Jake nor Julie was much of a gardener. Then she remembered Jake saying that
they were out at the Whitman farm. He probably found this stuff in one of their many
fields that Nelson Abbott had tended so dutifully over the years. Luckily Nelson would
never know that Erny had lifted this pole and twine from his garden to fashion a fishing
rod.
Tess clutched the childish contraption to her, to her heart. He was hoping to catch
a big fish and instead…
Tess pulled the twine through her fingers until she came to the small, rectangular
metal lure that he had clumsily secured to the end of the twine through an eye at
one end of the rectangle. She took the piece of metal in her fingers and turned it
over. Then her heart leaped to her throat.
Erny’s lure was a silver medallion, worn and scratched by time and dirt. Engraved
on it was one word: “Believe.” Tess felt confused and…suddenly frightened, as if she
had stepped out of an open door and found herself on a high ledge. Mine? she thought,
examining the medal. It had to be. The blood was pounding in her ears as Tess fumbled
inside the top of her turtleneck and pulled out her own chain. Her medallion was still
there, as it always was. Her hands shook as she put the two medallions together and
saw that they were the same, although the one attached to the twine was scratched
and battered. She turned the fishing lure/medallion over again and peered at it more
closely. Etched faintly into the back, barely visible, were three numbers. Tess’s
heart was thudding and there seemed to be a rushing sound in the air around her. The
three numbers formed a date. It took her a moment to comprehend it. Her brain felt
woolly and it was difficult to make those numbers correspond to a day, a month, a
year. To the date they represented. To Phoebe’s date of birth.