Cast into Doubt (32 page)

No, she thought. Don’t give up like this. It’s not over yet. You have to keep fighting. Frantically, Shelby began to try to pry her hands apart. As she strained to pull the bonds loose, her heart began to hammer wildly, and she could not get enough breath through her nose to fill her lungs. The panic was about to overwhelm her. Stop, she thought. Calm down. She lay still for a moment, trying to let the panic subside and let her breathing return to a semblance of normal. If she suffocated from her own fear, he would win. She wasn’t going to make it any easier for him.

Once she managed to get her heart to stop pounding, she began to try again with her hands and her feet. Pretend it’s an exercise, she thought. Pull them as far apart as you can, and hold them there. She was able to do that, as long as she didn’t try to think. Once she let her thoughts take over, they began to race away, and that was too dangerous. She concentrated, very deliberately, only on the small space she was making between her hands and her feet. Even as she held her hands apart, she felt around with her fingers for some loose scrap of fabric or rope that she could pull. Mostly they grasped at the air.

Where is he taking me, she thought? No one will even be looking for me. I will disappear and no one will even know. Her heart began to race again, and she forced herself not to think about it. The car stopped and then started again, rolling along silently. It was a good car. A new car. It would make a lovely hearse. NO. No, she thought. Don’t go there. Pull your hands apart.

The car continued to move.

THIRTY-SIX

‘
S
he’s probably taking a walk,’ said Talia.

Glen shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’

He bent down and inserted the key into the lock of the front door to Shelby’s condo. The key turned.

Glen reached for the doorknob and turned it. The door opened inward. ‘Shelby,’ he called out. There was no answer.

Talia frowned. ‘I’m going to get a ticket. That place I parked was a loading zone.’

‘It’s Sunday,’ said Glen, looking around as he entered the apartment. ‘There’s nobody loading anything on Sunday.’

Talia followed him down the hall to the large, comfortable living room with its panoramic view. Glen went directly into the kitchen and began looking for some note or indication of where Shelby might have gone.

‘Maybe she just went somewhere. She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t have to tell you where she’s going,’ said Talia. Talia’s gaze was drawn to the bank of windows, but she frowned at the gray river, the bridge, the buildings, and the treetops, as if she found the sight of them offensive.

Glen was rummaging through note pads and takeout menus which were piled on the counter. ‘Look, she doesn’t answer her phone, or her cell. She doesn’t answer the door. And her car is in the garage.’ Glen had insisted that Talia drive him over to Shelby’s when he returned from his fruitless visit to Faith. ‘And what about these?’ Glen held up a key chain and jingled the keys. He had found them on the floor of the garage, under the driver’s side door of Shelby’s Honda. He tried them on her car, and unlocked the door instantly. ‘These are her car keys and her house keys. You think she just left them there and walked away?’

‘She dropped them. Or they fell out of her purse,’ said Talia irritably.

Glen shook his head. ‘No. There’s something going on.’

‘I don’t know why you think that,’ said Talia.

Glen had given up on the kitchen and moved to Shelby’s glass top desk in the living room. He sat down on the steel and leather desk chair and began to search through her papers. He stopped long enough to look up at Talia.

‘Are you serious?’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Is it possible that you really don’t know?’

Talia returned his exasperated stare dispassionately.

‘You know, Talia, if you had interceded, and insisted, Faith would have had to tell me the name of that doctor. We could have settled this all by now.’

‘It’s none of your business, Glen. People’s doctors are a private matter. I wasn’t going to force my assistant to tell me that.’

‘Can’t you try to remember?’ Glen asked.

‘I did try,’ Talia complained.

‘Try harder.’

‘This is a wild goose chase. I have to get back to Mother,’ Talia insisted.

‘No, you don’t,’ Glen snapped. ‘Estelle is fine. She doesn’t know if you’re there or not. She doesn’t need your help. Your sister needs your help. Now sit down. If you can’t do anything constructive, then just sit there quietly.’

With a sigh, Talia sank down on to the nearest chair, turning her own car keys impatiently in her hands. ‘What are you looking for?’ Talia demanded of her brother.

‘I don’t know. Something to tell me where she went.’

Glen sat in front of Shelby’s computer, his fingers poised over the keys. He typed in a few combinations. ‘I wonder what she would use for a password,’ he mused aloud.

‘People use their birthdays,’ Talia said, sounding bored.

‘I tried that,’ said Glen.

‘You know her birthday?’ Talia asked.

‘I know yours, too,’ said Glen. ‘Now be quiet. Let me think.’

Suddenly, they heard a knock at the front door of the apartment. ‘Shelby?’ a voice called out.

Glen and Talia exchanged a surprised glance. Glen got up from the desk, went to the door and opened it.

A pretty woman with shoulder-length chestnut-colored hair and gray eyes was standing there. She frowned at the sight of Glen’s wild hair and layers of shirts. ‘Who are you?’ she said to Glen. ‘Where’s Shelby?’

‘I’m Shelby’s brother. Who are you?’ Glen demanded.

‘I’m Jen. I live down the hall. I heard voices in here. I’ve been waiting for her to come home. We were talking about having lunch after she got back from Markson’s. When I heard the voices, I thought it was her.’

‘What was she doing at Markson’s?’ Glen asked.

‘She works there,’ said Talia.

Glen turned away from the door and looked at Talia. ‘She hasn’t been to work in weeks,’ said Glen impatiently. ‘Don’t you pay any attention at all?’

Talia sniffed.

Glen looked back at Jen. ‘Did she tell you why she was headed to Markson’s?’

Jen shook her head. ‘I don’t know. She didn’t say. She was planning some scheme. I think it had something to do with what happened to Chloe. She said she’d tell me all about it if it worked.’

Glen turned back to Talia who was listening to their exchange. ‘I told you,’ he said. ‘There’s something wrong.’

Jen frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Come in, come in,’ said Glen, heading back down the hall. Jen followed him cautiously. ‘This is my other sister, Talia. I made her bring me over here when we couldn’t reach Shelby. I found Shelby’s car in the parking garage, and these were on the ground not far from the car.’ He jingled the keys.

Jen reared back. ‘Her car is here? And her keys were on the ground? That’s not right.’

‘Thank you. My point, exactly,’ said Glen, giving Talia a meaningful look.

‘So what do you think happened to her?’ Jen asked anxiously.

Glen peered at Shelby’s neighbor. ‘Shelby told Talia that she had her suspicions about some doctor. Did she mention a doctor to you? Someone who might have had some involvement with Chloe?’

Along with the thousand fabrics, tiles, and paint colors that she kept in her head, Jen was the sort of friend who kept the details of all her friends’ lives in her head as well. ‘Chloe worked for a doctor. An ob-gyn named Cliburn.’

Glen turned to Talia. ‘Does that ring a bell? Dr Cliburn?’

‘No. Besides, she just said he was an ob-gyn,’ said Talia scornfully. ‘Why would an ob-gyn be treating Faith’s parents? They’re old people.’

‘True,’ said Glen. ‘What was wrong with those people anyway? Faith said that her mother had a stroke. Now, the father . . .’

Suddenly, Talia’s eyes seemed to light up. ‘Lou Gehrig’s disease. ALS. Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. Ultimately, the neuromuscular system in the body completely fails . . .’

‘Good work, Talia. So the doctor for that would be a . . .’ Glen fumbled for an answer. He avoided things medical. He planned to live forever, like Peter Pan.

‘A neurologist,’ said Jen firmly. ‘My uncle had a stroke. He saw a neurologist.’

‘All right,’ said Glen. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere. We can get a list of all the local neurologists. There can’t be that many. It’s a specialty.’

‘Don’t bother,’ said Talia.

‘Why not?’ Jen asked.

‘Janssen,’ said Talia bluntly. ‘I remember now. His name was Janssen.’

THIRTY-SEVEN

S
he did not know how long it took, but she knew that it took every ounce of her patience and determination. Finally, nearly crushing the bones of her hand in the effort, Shelby was able to pull one hand free. One hand was all she needed. The first thing she did was to rip the tape off her mouth. The next was to untie her ankles. She rolled over on her back, and for a moment she allowed herself to feel the physical bliss of not having her arms and legs bound and twisted unnaturally behind her.

But she only allowed herself a moment. She was still a prisoner. She had to get free of this trunk. She thought about pounding on the underside of the lid to try to attract attention. But for all she knew, they were out in the country somewhere, and there would be no one to hear her but Harris. If he heard her making a commotion he would know she had gotten loose from her bonds. He might pull over, get out, open the trunk and kill her then and there. Her mind was still cloudy and she did not know if she had the strength to resist him. Certainly, not without a weapon, especially if he was still carrying Norman Cook’s gun.

She was aware that she was lying on a piece of carpet trimmed with rubber to fit the floor of the trunk. She rolled up, and began to tug at it. Sooner or later, he was going to pop the lid of that trunk. There might be a jack underneath the carpet that she could use for a weapon when that happened.

There was no light to aid her, so she felt around and found the edge of the carpet. She lifted it up and felt around beneath it for the tire well, where a person would naturally keep a jack or a lug wrench. She ran her hand over the cold metal floor beneath the trunk until she found it. She had to feel around for the mechanism to open it, but when she did, and the lid over the well opened, she felt her heart sing with hope.

She felt around, first with one hand, and then with both. It did not take long to realize that he was one step ahead of her. The jack and the lug wrench had both been removed. Only the tire remained.

Shelby wanted to cry. She rested her face on the floor of the trunk with a groan. There was nothing. He had made sure of that. Not even a screwdriver or a flashlight. Nothing.

She realized now that she should never have pursued this alone, without someone to help her. I had to, she thought. Chloe, darling, no one else cared. I had to find out what happened to you. Weary, she started to ruminate on all she had learned about Chloe’s last days and moments. The thought of it was so upsetting that she had to put it out of her mind.

Are you going to just give up, she asked herself? Are you going to let the man who killed her get away with it? By killing you? She used all her mettle to summon some will. She pulled back the carpet once again, and studied the floor of the trunk. There were coated wires running along the sides beneath the carpet. Her eyes were adjusting to the dark, and she could see that they were leading from the back of the back seat to the exterior sides of the car.

To the lights, she thought. To the signal lights. To the brake lights.

The answer came to her. The smart thing was not to bang on the lid to attract attention. The smart thing was to attract attention without making a sound.

She just had to hope that someone out there would be paying attention. Shelby wound her hands under and around the wires, braced herself as best she could, and jerked on them with all her might.

‘Jesus Christ, look at all these cops,’ said Glen uneasily.

Talia pulled up in front of the Gladwyne house and parked.

Glen chewed on a cuticle. ‘I wonder what they’re all doing here.’

‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ said Talia, but she sounded far less defiant than she had at Shelby’s apartment.

‘You think I should go up there?’ said Glen.

‘If you want. But I’m staying here,’ said Talia. ‘I’m not talking to them.’

Glen chewed the inside of his mouth. ‘I’ll do the talking,’ he said. ‘Just wait for me.’

Glen jumped out of the car and loped up the lawn to the house. There were two officers standing on the front steps. ‘What’s going on here?’ Glen said.

The two officers looked askance at him. ‘Move along,’ they said. ‘Nothing to see here, mister.’

Cops. They always looked at him with contempt. As usual, it irritated him. ‘Hey I’m not some rubbernecking bystander,’ said Glen, his voice rising. ‘I’m involved in this. I came here to see Dr Janssen.’

‘What do you want with Dr Janssen?’ said one of the officers.

‘That’s my business. I want to speak to somebody in charge,’ said Glen, trying to sound entitled.

The two men looked at one another, and then one of them picked up his two-way radio and spoke into it. The other one motioned for Glen to get down off of the steps. Glen considered refusing. Reluctantly, he stepped down.

After a few minutes the front door opened and Detective Ortega appeared. He looked out. ‘What is it?’ he said.

‘This guy says he’s looking for Dr Janssen.’

‘Actually, I’m looking for my sister, Shelby Sloan,’ said Glen.

Ortega hesitated, peering at the man on the step. ‘Why do you think your sister would be here?’ Ortega asked.

‘She was trying to find Dr Janssen and now she’s missing,’ said Glen.

‘Why was she looking for Dr Janssen?’