Lost Innocents (16 page)

Long ago, when his practice was new and he had very few clients, he had encountered Charles Henson in a very different capacity. He had treated Ellen Henson for depression following the death of their son. It had been a late intervention—Ellen was already deeply depressed when Charles finally convinced her to come and see him—too late, as it turned out. At his recommendation Ellen had entered a hospital, where, with constant therapy and some effective drug treatment, she had started to improve.

Charles Henson stood up. His face was ashen and drawn. “Larry,” he said, “I need to talk to you.”

At the sight of Charles’s face, Larry suspected that the business he was here on had nothing to do with a client. Larry realized ruefully that he wasn’t going to get his paperwork done this morning, but he gestured for the attorney to come in.

“Why don’t we sit over by the window. Do you mind if I have a cup of coffee while we talk?” he asked.

Charles obediently assumed a seat next to the window and gestured to Larry that he did not mind if Larry had his coffee.

Larry had seen a lot of people who were depressed or overwhelmed by despair, and he recognized the signs. He stowed his uneaten breakfast in the top drawer of his desk, came over to the window, and took a seat. He looked compassionately at the attorney.

“What is it, Charles? What can I do for you?”

Charles Henson sighed. “It’s Ellen.”

Larry nodded. “I thought perhaps. You seem very distressed. What seems to be the problem?”

Charles opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, and then tried again. “I’ve been trying to ignore certain signs, Larry. But I remember what happened when I did that before. Told myself everything would be all right. Just to let matters take their course…”

“Well, we know that doesn’t always work with people who are under a lot of strain,” Larry said diplomatically.

“I’m afraid that there’s something drastically wrong….”

“Tell me about it,” said Larry.

Charles described the events of the past few days as succinctly, as unemotionally, as he could. His recitation was disturbing, and Larry sat very still until Charles was finished.

“This is around the time of Ken’s birthday, isn’t it?” he asked.

Charles nodded. “He would have been twenty-one this week.”

“Well, as you know, birthdays, anniversaries—they can be difficult.”

“She’s always suffered a depression in the fall,” said Charles. “But this year, this behavior…” His voice trailed away.

Larry sighed and said, “Charles, I am not about to make any kind of diagnosis based on what you’re telling me, but if you’re asking me if she needs to see someone, I’d say the answer is yes….

“Will you see her again, if I can talk her into it?” Charles asked.

“I’d be glad to,” said Larry.

Charles stood up abruptly. “All right, then,” he said. “I know what I have to do.”

Larry accompanied him out the door and through the waiting room. As they passed by, a well-dressed woman stood up abruptly from the chair where she was perched and accosted him.

“Dr. Foreman.”

Larry glanced over and saw the limp-haired, moon-faced figure of Heather Cameron, his first client of the day, bent over one of his magazines. The woman approaching them was Mary Beth Cameron, her shiny red lips parted in an apologetic but demanding pout.

“Could you wait for me in the hallway?” Larry said to Charles. Then he turned and smiled blandly at Mary Beth.

“Mrs. Cameron, what can I do for you?”

“I’m dropping Heather off a little early because I have three appointments this morning and I figured you two could get started a little early.”

“That’s fine,” said Larry, thinking ruefully of his breakfast.

“Do you think you can help her, Doctor?” Mary Beth asked in a confidential tone. Heather let out a loud sigh, but Mary Beth persisted. “I think if you could just work on improving her self-image a little bit, she wouldn’t need to…you know, live in a fantasy world. She needs friends her own age and a social life, like other girls.”

“If you want to discuss your daughter, why don’t you make an appointment for yourself. Meanwhile, Heather is welcome to wait here,” Larry said firmly. “Please excuse me now.”

Mary Beth drew herself up indignantly and then turned and blew Heather a kiss. “I’m going to dash, Heather.” She didn’t wait for a reply.

Larry met Charles out in the hallway as Mary Beth swept past them without a glance of acknowledgment.

“Isn’t that Heather Cameron in there?” Charles asked quietly.

Larry nodded. “The court ordered her to get counseling.”

“Well, she can’t do better than you,” Charles said kindly.

Larry raised his eyebrows. “I’m not at all sure that she’s the one who needs the counseling,” he said.

“Her family, you mean?” Charles asked.

Larry sighed. “For starters. Her mother thinks she fantasized the whole thing,” he said, shaking his head, and then suddenly remembered that Charles had represented Douglas Blake.

Charles looked at him in surprise. “Don’t you?” he asked.

Larry frowned. “I…mustn’t talk about this.”

“But she changed her story half a dozen times,” Charles protested.

“Charles. Have Ellen call me. And don’t worry. I know we can help her.” He clapped the lawyer gently on the back and turned back to his office before Charles could ask him any more difficult questions.

M
addy paced the living room, looking out the window every two minutes to see if Doug had returned from the garage. A nurse had called from the hospital to say that Terry was ready to be released. Maddy was hoping Doug would return before Bonnie was ready to go to the hospital to pick her husband up.

Finally a cavalcade of cars appeared in their driveway—Doug first, then Bonnie’s van, then the car from the garage, sent along to drive the van driver back. Doug thanked everybody and watched as the mechanics pulled out of the driveway. Then he started up the walkway. Maddy rushed out onto the front steps to meet him. She glanced back into the living room, where Amy and Sean were playing quietly.

“Mission accomplished,” he said. “Their van is as good as new. They have no excuse for staying now.”

Maddy gripped the sleeve of his jacket and spoke in a low voice. “Doug, listen. I’m going to tell Bonnie that Amy is sick and has to stay home. They called from the hospital to say that Terry is ready to be released. I’ll need you to drive Bonnie to the hospital and help her to pick up Terry. And wait there with her.”

“What?” he protested, running his hands through his hair. “Why? I have a lot of things to do. I have to start back teaching tomorrow. I need to work on my lesson plans.”

“You can bring your papers with you and work on them at the hospital.”

“Why do we have to help her, anyway? Let Bonnie go get him and they can ride off into the sunset together. Here’s their car. Why can’t they just leave now?”

“Doug, could you just trust me on this? I need you to get them out of here. Listen, this is important. I mean it.”

Doug jerked his sleeve away from her grip. “Maddy, what are you all worked up about?”

Maddy took a deep breath. “Doug, I don’t want you to think I’m crazy. Just hear me out.” She glanced back through the window into the living room. There was still no sign of Bonnie. “I think Sean may be the kidnapped child.”

Doug rolled his eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake.”

“Listen to me, will you? They were watching TV this morning, and when the kidnapped child’s parents came on, Sean went bananas, making noises and pointing to the TV.”

Despite her request, Doug did look at her as though she were crazy. “He’s a baby. That’s what babies do. They make noises and point to the TV”

“He doesn’t respond to his name. I was beginning to think he was deaf. But when I called him Justin, he looked right at me.”

Doug gave her a long-suffering look. “Maddy…this is ridiculous. They’re from Maine. They weren’t even in town….”

“We don’t know how long they were in town. Besides, she doesn’t…act like his mother,” Maddy insisted.

“Your idea of how a mother should act,” he corrected her. “Mothers act different ways. My mother always treated me like I belonged to the people next door. That doesn’t mean she wasn’t my mother—”

“Look, all right, I know it sounds far-out, but just indulge me. I want to get her out of the house so I can take a look through her stuff. Can’t you please do that much for me?”

“I told you to get rid of them. To tell them to leave.”

“But they’re still here,” she said in a low voice, “and I want you to do this for me. It’s not just for me, you know. If this is the missing baby, then that exonerates you once and for all. I mean, Chief Cameron would still like to believe that you were the one who killed Rebecca Starnes.”

“Look, if you want to play Nancy Drew, don’t try to pretend that you’re doing it for my sake,” he said.

“And what if I’m right, Doug? What if Sean is the missing child? Don’t you think that would be worth a few minutes of your time? To find out?”

“You’re saying you think Terry Lewis killed her?”

Maddy thought of Terry, with his brigand’s appearance, his religious streak, and his unfeigned pride in his son. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m imagining things, but I just have to try to find out.”

Doug raised his hands in surrender. “All right, fine, whatever you want. I’m too tired to argue about it.”

“Argue about what?” said a voice.

Bonnie was standing in the doorway, looking at them suspiciously.

Maddy smiled brightly at her. “I was just asking Doug if he would take you to the hospital to get Terry, because Amy is feeling feverish and I want to keep her at home here with me.”

Bonnie looked back at the children in the living room. “She looks all right to me.”

“Well, I am concerned about her,” Maddy said in a tight voice.

“I’ll drive you,” said Doug. “Get your stuff together.”

“If you want to leave Sean here, I can watch him,” said Maddy.

“I’m not going to leave him with her if she’s sick,” said Bonnie, and Maddy wondered if the reason she was thinking the worst of this woman was that she disliked her so much. “Fine,” she said, “whatever you wish.”

Without another word Bonnie returned to the house and began gathering up stuff to take to the hospital. She put Sean in his hat and hooded sweatshirt, took her purse and the diaper bag.

Maddy could hardly wait until they were gone. Doug put together some work to do at the hospital and followed Bonnie and Sean to the door. He looked back at Maddy as if to say “You owe me one.” Maddy felt a stab of anger at him for acting like a martyr. Hadn’t she stood by him through all that ugliness without complaint? Gone into debt so great they might never emerge from it, just to defend his reputation? Was it so much to ask that he drive this woman to the hospital?

Nonetheless she waved dutifully from the doorway, so that everything would seem as normal as possible.

She turned away from the door as soon as the car was out of the driveway and went over to where Amy was seated on the floor. “Amy, you want to come upstairs with Mommy and play in your room?”

Amy reached over and pulled out her favorite book, an oversize book of fairy tales, from a pile under the coffee table. “Read to me. Read ‘Ugly Duckling.’ “

“I can’t right now, honey,” said Maddy. “There’s something I have to do upstairs. Why don’t you come up.”

“I want ‘Ugly Duckling,’” she wailed.

Maddy sighed and looked at her watch. She had plenty of time. It would take a while to get Terry released. “Okay, okay. I’ll read ‘Ugly Duckling,’ and then you come upstairs with Mommy, okay?”

Amy nodded happily and settled herself comfortably against her mother. Trying not to rush the story, Maddy read about the ugly duckling, giving Amy a chance to comment, as she always did, on the mean ducks and to commiserate with the duckling as he shivered through the winter, alone and afraid.

“All right,” said Maddy, closing the book. “Let’s go on upstairs and see what’s in Amy’s room to play with.”

Maddy replaced the book in the pile, and Amy scrambled to her feet. “I wanna juice box, Mommy.”

Maddy put her hands on her hips and looked down at the innocent face looking up at her. “What do we say?”

“Please?” Amy said.

“All right,” said Maddy with a sigh. “A juice box, then we’re going. You can take it to your room if you’re careful not to spill it.” Amy followed her mother to the kitchen and picked out her favorite flavor from the refrigerator.

“I’ll put the straw in upstairs, okay?” said Maddy. “Now come on, let’s hurry.”

Amy took this as a cue to tear through the house and start up the stairs way ahead of Maddy. As Maddy came down the hallway to the staircase, there was a knock at the door.

Her heart jumped. What now? she thought. She went to the door and pulled it open. Heather Cameron stood on the doorstep, looking up at her from behind her curtain of lank hair.

Maddy felt her face redden at the sight of Doug’s accuser boldly standing on the threshold of their home. She was wearing a tight poor-boy T-shirt, a pair of baggy jeans, and unlaced green sneakers. “I would like to speak to Doug, please,” Heather said. A worn plaid backpack hung from her left hand.

Maddy regained her voice, but her tone was icy. “Mr. Blake isn’t here right now.”

“Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“He drove a…friend of ours to the hospital. He could be gone quite a while.”

Heather stood on the doorstep, chewing her lip. Then she looked up at Maddy. “Which hospital?” she said.

Maddy felt herself start to shake. “How dare you come here, Heather? Aren’t you ashamed to show up here after what you did to us?”

Heather held the backpack up against her chest. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said stubbornly.

“What are you trying to do?” Maddy cried. “Haven’t you caused us enough heartache? Do you think we have forgotten the things you said…”

“I’m not here to bother you. I just want to know about him and Karla,” Heather said defiantly. “Karla is telling everybody that she and D—Mr. Blake are hot for each other, and I want to know if it’s true.”