Dancing in the Dark (27 page)

Back at the Stone Pony, Matthew sipped a Rolling Rock and tapped his
feet to the music. The blaring band drowned out the ringing cell phone.

Hidden behind the bleachers, Anthony watched, fascinated, not
certain of what he was seeing. The flashlight had been laid down on the
blanket by the bulkier of the two figures. As the yellow light shone
close to the floor, Anthony could see the lower parts of the bodies
more clearly than the upper. A pair of the skinniest ankles he had ever
seen stood on the blanket. Could they belong to a child?

Next to the bare, birdlike calves, another pair of legs were clothed
in baggy trousers. Anthony held his breath as the covered legs edged
closer to the bare ones. Then he watched both sets of legs begin to
sway from side to side in unison. Back and forth,
in and out, the bodies moved rhythmically. Mesmerized, Anthony started
to rock gently himself and then realized that all three of the bodies
in the darkened Casino were moving to the beat of the ocean’s ebb and
flow.

The ocean. It was just yards away, on the other side of the wall,
but it might as well have been on the other side of the world.
Anthony’s excitement was turning into anxiety. The dancing, if that was
what you could call it, was creeping him out. He wanted to get out of
the Casino and run as fast as he could back down the boardwalk. The inn
he had complained about a couple of hours ago suddenly seemed like the
most inviting spot on earth. His own bed, the clean sheets, a hot
shower, his mother.

The band finished its set. Matthew pulled his wallet from his
pocket, took out a couple of bills, and laid them on the bar. He downed
the last swallows of his third beer and made his way out of the Stone
Pony.

The night air was balmy, a soothing change from the unforgiving heat
of the daytime hours. A half smile on his lips, Matthew felt good. He
was satisfied with his day and the work he was doing. But it was too
bad that what was such a great story for him was bringing heartbreak to
so many others.

He crossed the road and walked south, parallel to the Atlantic
Ocean, seeing his car in a parking space near that old Casino building.
He stumbled over an empty bottle lying in the street, caught himself
from falling, and kept on going. When he reached his car he dropped his
keys, picked them up, and fumbled as he unlocked the door. Finally,
Matthew opened the door and got inside, barely noticing the dark blue
Crown Vic parked just behind him.

In the glow of the flashlight, both dancers slowed and finally
stopped their rhythmic movement. One of them knelt down in front of the
other, and Anthony watched as ski-jacketed arms reached out to bare,
fragile ankles and wound something around them. Flex cuffs, Anthony
realized, his heart beating faster.

Now, both hands and feet bound, the tiny figure folded like a rag
doll until it lay still on the blanket. In what little light the
flashlight provided across the Casino floor, Anthony could see the
girl’s head for the first time. A little nose peeked out between the
blindfold and the gag.

Anthony tasted the remnants of the butter pecan ice cream cone as
the contents of his agitated stomach tried to wretch themselves up.
This was no joke.

He had to get out of here. He had to go get help.

Matthew was pulling into the motel parking lot when he heard his
cell phone ring.

“Thank God,” Diane said. “I’ve been calling you and calling you.
Where are you guys?”

Guys
?
Matthew thought he must
have heard wrong. “I just got back to the motel.”

“What about Anthony?”

If Matthew had a buzz on, it immediately disappeared at Diane’s
question. “He should be there at the inn, with you.”

“Well, he’s not.”

“Diane, I swear. I dropped him off there just after eleven o’clock.
Did you check his room?”

“Of course I did,” she said shortly. “He’s not there.”

“I’ll be right over,” said Matthew as he steered the car back out
onto the road.

“Michelle.” Diane shook her daughter’s shoulder. “Michelle, wake up.”

“What?” Michelle’s eyelids lifted a crack.

“Do you know where Anthony went?”

“I guess he’s in his room.” She closed her eyes again.

“Michelle, please. Wake up and listen to me.”

Michelle propped herself up on her elbow. “All right, I’m awake,”
she said, rubbing her eyes.

“Matthew says he dropped Anthony off over an hour ago, but he’s not
in his room. Do you have any idea where he is?”

“No, I don’t. But I wouldn’t worry about it, Mom. You know what a
little goofball he is.”

“Well, he’s
my
little
goofball, and I am worried, Michelle,” Diane said. “I don’t think you
realize how serious this could be.”

Diane and Emily were down in the foyer talking to Carlos when
Matthew walked through the door, a somber expression on his face.

“Carlos says he never saw Anthony come in,” Diane told him.

“Yes, and I’ve been here most of the evening doing paperwork,” the
innkeeper explained.

Matthew walked over to stand beside Diane. “I don’t want to alarm
you unnecessarily,” he said, “but I think, given all that’s been going
on in this town, we should call the police.”

“I already have,” she said.

The dispatcher had two patrol cars, and they were both assigned. One
was at the home of Anna Caprie as statements were being taken from her
distraught parents, and the other was on the way to the office of her
therapist. If it turned out that the professional building or its
parking lot was a crime scene, it was important to secure them right
away.

Phone calls to Owen Messinger’s home and office went unanswered.
According to Bill and Angela Caprie, their daughter had gone to her
weekly evening therapy appointment. When Anna left their house at eight
o’clock, it was the last they’d seen of her.

Given the fear that this might be a continuation of the nightmare
that had been rocking Ocean Grove, Chief Albert was notified at home.
He had just arrived at the station when the call came in from Diane
Mayfield. Conscious of the media connection, the chief of police
decided to talk to her himself.

He kept his voice calm and told her that he would have a squad car
over to the Dancing Dunes Inn as soon as possible but refrained from
telling her that another Ocean Grove woman had gone missing… a woman
who could not possibly have been abducted by Arthur Tomkins because he
was in custody.

What if nobody believed him? What if by the time he got out of the
Casino and ran back to the inn, before he could bring back help, the
figure in the hooded ski jacket and gloves was gone, taking the bound
and gagged girl along?

To be on the safe side, Anthony decided he should get proof. He
calculated the distance from his hiding place to the path that led to
his escape. It wasn’t far and he was fast. He could take the picture
and run, getting away before he’d be caught.

Sliding his camera from his pocket and holding it out in front of
his eyes, Anthony framed his subjects in the LCD display as well as he
could given the meager light. The image was grainy, but he knew that
once the flash went off the two figures would be captured crystal clear.

Anthony wanted to get the face. Realizing that he would have only
one chance to get it right, he waited for the ski jacket to turn in his
direction.

The patrolmen found the parking lot at Dr. Messinger’s office empty.
The building itself was locked up tight, and all the windows were
darkened.

At the station, Chief Albert listened to his man’s report come in
over the radio. It was certain that Arthur Tomkins had not abducted
this next victim, and Albert wondered now if he had been wrong in his
previous suspicions about Shawn Ostrander too. Perhaps he had been so
convinced by statistics that ex-husbands and boyfriends were often the
perpetrators that he had automatically looked in Shawn’s direction. The
chief couldn’t beat himself up too much for that assumption, though. It
made sense, especially since not one but two victims had dated him.

Both Leslie Patterson and Anna Caprie were patients of Owen
Messinger’s. Could it be the therapist who had abducted both young
women? But how did Carly Neath fit that scenario?

Chief Albert didn’t have the answers to the questions that raced through his mind. But he needed answers,
and he needed them quickly—before another girl died. Psychologically and

economically, Ocean Grove couldn’t take another death.

They had to get into Messinger’s house. If the good doctor wouldn’t
let them in to look around, a judge was going to have to be roused from
sleep for a search warrant.

As Helen watched her sleeping daughters, she felt that her world was
coming apart. Jonathan still hadn’t come back to the tent. With every
minute that passed, Helen was more terrified that her husband had
something to do with Leslie Patterson’s and Carly’s disappearances and
Carly’s subsequent death. That would make the man she thought she knew
so well, the man she had had two children with, the man she had
promised to be true to till death they did part—a murderer.

She wasn’t sure now if she wanted Jonathan to come back or not. If
she confronted him, she didn’t know what he was capable of. Could he
hurt her—or worse, the girls? Helen couldn’t bring herself to call the
police either. God forgive her, she still
loved Jonathan and didn’t want to be the one to bring him down.

Hannah’s thumb found its way into her little mouth, and Helen
automatically pulled it out again. She tucked Sarah’s chubby leg back
beneath the cotton sheet. These precious angels were so young, so
innocent. How was she going to explain to her daughters what their
father had done?

The figure opened the Styrofoam cooler, took out a can, pulled the
gag away, and nudged the diet soda to the girl’s mouth. Anthony could
hear her coughing as she choked on the liquid. Holding the camera
steady, he waited for his chance. But the figure didn’t look up.
Instead, the head was bowed, appearing to study the contents of the
cooler.

Anthony held his breath, cursing himself, knowing that he had moved
the stuff around inside the cooler. Was the ski jacket noticing that?

The lid of the cooler snapped closed, and the head looked up,
peering straight in Anthony’s direction.

“Carlos, will you please use your key and open Anthony’s room for
us?” asked Matthew. “Maybe we’ll find something that can help us figure
out where he’s gone.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” asked Diane.

“Because right now, you’re a mother, not an investigative
journalist, Di. Give yourself a break,” said Emily.

Diane, Matthew, Emily, and Carlos crowded into the nautically
decorated room, Diane drawing a deep breath at the sight of the
untouched bed. The room was quite neat, the result of the cleaning done
earlier in the day by the inn’s chambermaid. Only Anthony’s bathing
suit lay on the floor, where he had dropped it when he came in from the
beach this afternoon. Diane picked it up. It was still damp.

Matthew went to the pine dresser. A leather case, embossed with
Anthony’s initials, containing a toothbrush and toothpaste and a small
can of deodorant, lay on top. Diane remembered her son’s pleasure when
he had gotten that Dopp kit as a birthday
present two years ago. He had been so proud to have one just like his
father’s.

Philip. Oh, God, why can’t Philip be here
now
?
She needed him. But with determination, Diane pushed
the thought of her husband from her mind. There wasn’t anything Philip
could do from where he was. It was up to her to keep her head about her
and find their son.

“May I?” Matthew asked as he took hold of the knobs on the top
drawer.

“Go ahead.” Diane nodded.

Inside were underwear and a couple of pairs of socks. The next
drawer held T-shirts and shorts. The bottom drawer held a Game Boy and
a jumble of cartridges. “There doesn’t seem to be anything here that
will help us,” said Matthew as he rifled through.

Diane felt her heart sink.

“Wait a minute.” Matthew picked up another cartridge, different from
the others. “This one isn’t for a Game Boy. This is a compact flash
card.”

Diane looked at him blankly.

“It’s for a digital camera. It stores the pictures. Now all we need
is Anthony’s camera and we can see what’s on it.” Matthew looked deeper
into the drawer.