Cry Mercy (18 page)

“Fair enough.”

“You won't mind working from a script if it comes to that?”

“Hey, I did theater when I was in high school.”

“Really? What plays were you in?”

“I had the title role in
Harvey,”
he said loftily.

“The title role in
Harvey
was an invisible rabbit.” She worked unsuccessfully to control the smile that tilted the corners of her mouth. “And had no lines.”

“None that you could hear.”

Emme laughed. “All right. We'll try it your way and see what happens. But if I think we're getting off track, or I don't like the way things are going, I call you off and you don't argue with me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, if you don't like the way it goes, you get to shut it down.”

“And shut you out.”

“Right. You get to shut me out.”

“And you don't argue if that time comes.”

“Right.” His sigh was loaded with reluctance. “I won't argue with you.”

“I call the shots.”

“Sure. You call the shots.”

She smiled in the darkness. Somewhere she'd read the line, “Promises made in haste are the first to be broken.” She didn't believe for a minute that Nick would keep his word.

“So when do we start? And where?” he asked.

“
We
start with the email addresses and phone numbers I expect to get from Hayley tonight.” She checked her rearview mirror before taking the exit that would lead them from I-95 back to Conroy. “In the morning, I'll call the chief in Eastwind to see if we can get our hands on the surveillance tapes from the museum, see if we can get a picture of this guy who was stalking Belinda. It could mean something, or nothing.”

“Why don't you just call the museum and ask to see them?”

“That would constitute a huge security breach for them. The firm that handles the security isn't going to want anyone to know where their cameras are or what measures they take, and I certainly don't blame them. The only way we can hope to get a look is by subpoena, and the museum and the security company will probably want to fight that—again, not that I blame them. My guess is that the case will be solved before the legal issues are resolved, but since you never know for sure how things will play out, we'll get that ball rolling anyway.”

“All right. I can start calling some of these kids. Maybe I can arrange to meet with—”

Emme shot him a loaded glance, and he caught it.

“What?” he asked.

“Did we not just agree that I call the shots?”

“Well, yes, but …” He held up one hand in surrender. “Right. Sorry. When you've run your own business for as long as I have, you're used to being in charge. It can make you bossy and impatient at times.” Nick took a deep breath. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“I think I'm going to like this new Nick.”

“You like men who do whatever you tell them to do?” He frowned as if the idea was foreign to him.

“There are times when it works for me.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

“I'm counting on it.”

He raised an eyebrow, but did not comment further.

“In the meantime, we need a game plan. There are too many questions, too few answers right now. For starters, I think we want to approach the kids who were at the art museum on January twenty-fourth. Maybe one of them will have a better description of the guy Hayley says was flirting with Belle.”

“Hayley said that after lunch, Belinda and one of the other girls went in one direction, the others went somewhere else,” Nick recalled. “Maybe she'll be able to tell us if the guy followed them, and if Belinda spoke with him.”

“That was Ali, I think. So we'll put her near the top of the list. And then Henry and Lori. Maybe Ali can shed some light on just how far your niece had gotten
on her search for their donor, and where Belinda went after they left the group. After that, we go on to the others on the message board, see if anyone knows anything or has heard anything from our missing girl.”

Emme thought for a moment, then added, “And we need to find this kid, Aaron, to find out exactly what he told Belinda to do that would help her find her donor. I'm pretty sure I saw a reference to him when I was reading through some articles online. I think we need to know, step-by-step, what formula he followed to find his donor, and if he gave those same instructions to your niece.”

“The next obvious question being, if he did, did Belinda follow them?”

“And if she followed, where did they lead?”

I
t took a great deal of patience to sit through the dinner Trula had kept warm. As thoughtful and as much appreciated as that dinner was, and as congenial as the company may have been, Emme was eager to get back to the hotel, settle Chloe for bed, and get to work on her laptop.

Settling Chloe wasn't easy even after they'd returned to their room. She was wound up from her afternoon with Trula and overtired after having been out a little later than she should have been. It was almost nine before the bedtime storybook had been selected and the story read a sufficient number of times. Finally, Emme tucked Chloe in and turned off the light next to the bed. She retreated quietly to their tiny sitting room and set up her laptop on the desk. Moments later she was skimming her mail.

There, as promised, was the email from Hayley.

Emme opened it and quickly read its contents, pleased to see email addresses for all other eight members of the Donor 1735 message board. Several, however, had no phone listings. She dashed off a reply to Hayley, thanking her for the information and
asking about the missing phone numbers. She busied herself on the website of the Philadelphia Museum of Art and awaited a reply. It was forthcoming in minutes.

Emme studied the list, then forwarded the email to her work computer so she could print it out in the morning before Nick showed up. She'd called the house and tried to gauge Robert's feelings on having Nick come to the house to work with her, but he seemed ambivalent. Finally he said, “Oh, for heaven's sake, this is not Fort Knox. If you need to work here, there's a conference room on the second floor. Someone should use it once in a while.”

Having that settled, Emme shot off an email to Nick, giving him directions to the Magellan estate. Five minutes later, the cell phone Mallory had given her on the first day began to ring.

“What time tomorrow?” Nick asked.

“I'm usually there by eight, but you don't have to be that early,” she whispered.

“I want to get an early start.” She noticed he'd lowered his voice.

“I don't know how early we want to start making phone calls.”

“If kids are still in school, they're probably up,
right? Unless they had a late night of partying the night before. Is Thursday night a big party night?”

“I don't know. Listen—”

“Why are we whispering?”

“My daughter is sleeping about fifteen feet away and I don't want to wake her. She had a big day at preschool.”

“What do kids learn in preschool these days?”

“Letters. Numbers. Colors.” Emme thought back to her earlier conversation with Chloe. “And apparently foreign languages. Chloe hit me with a little
Español
this afternoon.”

“Good for her. It's a very useful language to know.”

“Agreed. Listen, while I'm thinking of it, what kind of car did Belinda drive? And where is it now?”

“She had a white BMW sedan, the smallest model. And as for its whereabouts, I have no idea what happened to it. All I know for certain is that the Philadelphia police did not have it in their impound lot, and it hadn't been towed from where she parked it.”

“Which means it was driven from where she'd parked it.”

“It was reported missing but it's never been recovered—as far as I know, anyway.”

“Not to cut you short, but—”

“But you're going to cut me short.”

“I don't want to wake Chloe.”

“And just when I was getting used to whispering. It makes for a kind of intimate conversation, don't you think? Anyone ever tell you that you have a very sexy voice?”

She laughed softly.

“I'll see you in the morning, Nick.”

She was still smiling when she slid her phone back into her bag, turned off the laptop and the light, and made her way into the bedroom for the night.

Emme had just finished printing out two copies of the phone and email list the next morning when she heard Trula in the hall.

“This is Emme's office,” Emme heard her say. “Right on through the door here. Come for a coffee refill anytime.”

“Thanks, Trula.” Nick was smiling pleasantly as he strolled into the office. To Emme he said, “You didn't tell me your job came complete with a fairy godmother.”

Emme laughed. “That's as good a description of Trula as I've heard since I got here.” She pointed to the chair that stood next to her desk. “Make yourself comfortable for a moment while I finish this.”

“Seriously, that woman is something else. If she was thirty years younger, I'd ask her to marry me.” He moved a pad of paper closer to the edge of her desk and set his coffee cup on it. “I'd
beg
her to marry me.”

“You must have gotten a whiff of those muffins she bakes every morning.”

“I got more than a whiff,” he smiled.

“She gave you a muffin?”

“Where do you think I've been since eight fifteen?”

“She must think you're here for a job interview.”

“Nope. She knows why I'm here. She just couldn't resist the old Perone charm.”

Emme coughed into her hand.

“Think you can drag that charm up to the conference room so we can get started?”

“Sure. Lead the way.”

Emme gathered up her files. When she struggled to pick up her laptop, Nick grabbed it for her. Halfway up the stairs they met Robert, who was on his way down. Emme made the introductions.

“I'm really glad to meet you,” Nick told him. “I think what you're doing here is amazing. If I'm lucky enough to see my niece again, I'll have you to thank.”

“You'll have Emme to thank,” Robert corrected him. “She's doing the work.”

Robert went down two more steps, then stopped and turned around. Looking up, he said, “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Nick shrugged. “I don't think so.”

“You look familiar.” He continued down a few more steps. “Nick Perone. Even your name is familiar.”

“Your name is familiar to me, too,” Nick said, “but you're Robert Magellan. Everyone knows who you are.”

Robert was at the bottom step, looking over his shoulder. “If we've met before, it'll come to me. I never forget a face.”

“Could you have met him somewhere?” Emme opened the door to the conference room and turned on the light.

“I think I'd remember if I had. I doubt we travel in the same circles.” Nick followed her into the room. “Wow. Looks like an old-fashioned library.”

“The library is downstairs. And that's pretty much off-limits to the rest of us, one of the few places in the
house off-limits to us. That's Robert's private domain. Invitation only.” She placed her files on the table and looked around for a coaster for Nick's coffee. Not finding one, she handed him a file. “You'll have to use this.”

“Have you ever been invited?” he asked, and when she looked blank, he added to clarify, “To the private library.”

“Are you kidding? That's family only. Robert. Kevin—his cousin, Father Kevin Burch, but no one around here seems to remember he's clergy half the time. And of course, Trula.”

She glanced around for the phones, and found them at the far end of the table.

“Let's move down to that end,” she told Nick. “It's easier than moving the phones.”

They repositioned themselves, the laptop between them flanked by a phone on each side.

“I spoke with the Eastwind police this morning. The chief is going to start working on those surveillance tapes. I think he was happy to be kept in the loop. Oh, and here”—she handed him a piece of paper—“I printed out Hayley's email so we'd have clean copies to work from. I also printed out what I think the order of things should be.”

Nick glanced over the list.

“You want to start with Ali, then move on to Henry, then Lori,” he read.

“I'm thinking Ali might be home. She's a high school senior so she's probably finished with her exams. Depending on the school system she's in, she might have already graduated. Hayley said that Henry just graduated from college, but that he wasn't
living at home right now. Lori's still in college but she has an apartment with a few other girls and she's staying in New Haven for the summer.”

“You know what you're going to say?”

“I can do this in my sleep. Seven years on the police force, remember.”

Nick pointed to the phone. “Dial away.”

While she dialed, he asked, “Did you like it?”

“Did I like what?”

“Being a cop.”

“Loved it.”

“Why'd you leave?”

“I love my daughter more.” She flushed pink and mentally kicked herself. She was grateful that the call was answered on the third ring, saving her from an explanation she didn't want to give.

“Hello, is this Ali?” she asked.

“Yes. Who's this?” The young girl yawned blatantly.

“My name is Emme Caldwell.” She hit the speaker button but kept the volume low. “I'm an investigator with the Mercy Street Foundation. I'm calling about Belle Hudson.”

“Belle?” She yawned again. “I haven't heard from her in a couple of months.”

“She's been missing for a couple of months, Ali. We're trying to find her.”

“Belle's really missing? She's not just AWOL from the board?”

“I'm afraid so.”

The yawning stopped and Ali was suddenly fully awake.

“Are you sure about this? Who'd you say you were again?”

Emme reintroduced herself. “And yes, we're positive she's missing. Actually, no one's seen or heard from her since January.” Emme paused for effect. “January twenty-fourth, to be precise. The day you spent in Philadelphia at the art museum with several of your donor siblings.”