Hide Yourself Away (12 page)

“Do you think I could know who my mother’s killer is?”

“Anything is possible.”

“I know anything is possible. But do you think I do?”

“I don’t know, Madeleine. I have no idea.”

“What should I do, Grace?” She looked insistently into the intern’s eyes. “What would
you
do?”

Grace saw the anguish in the young woman’s face and struggled to think of the right thing to say. “Well, I guess I would wait and see if more came back to me in my dreams, or maybe I would try hypnosis and see if anything came out that way. I can’t really tell you what to do, Madeleine. I’m not a trained professional.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. You’re Grace Callahan, a TV news person.” Madeleine groaned, her demeanor changing in an instant. “How could I have forgotten? How stupid of me, spilling my guts to you.”

“Madeleine, please, don’t feel like that.”

“You’ll go back now and tell your news friends what I’ve told you, won’t you?”

Grace was torn between wanting to do just that—or at least telling B.J. what Madeleine had spoken of—and wanting to honor the confidence shared by a young woman with whom she was united in a painful bond. It would be an act of betrayal to broadcast what Madeleine, in great vulnerability, had confided. Technically,
Grace had never indicated that their conversation would be off the record, but morally, she felt bound to honor the intimacy.

“No, Madeleine. I’m not going to tell anyone. I promise.”

“I would really appreciate that, Grace.” Madeleine seemed to relax a bit.

The silence that followed was awkward.

“Want to go back outside?” asked Grace. “The fireworks will probably be starting soon.”

They rose from the sofa as the eavesdropper in the hallway just outside the living room retreated.

  CHAPTER  
24

Dessert was strawberry shortcake and an ice-cream sundae bar, but the grand finale of the clambake was to be the fireworks, graciously provided by the city of Newport. Rain on the Fourth of July, followed by a soggy weekend, had postponed the pyrotechnic display until tonight.

The guests, given flashlights by their thoughtful hosts, paraded down Narragansett Avenue for two long blocks to the Cliff Walk. Some enthusiastically sang “Yankee Doodle Dandy”
in their alcohol-induced patriotic fervor. They gathered at the top of the cliff on the ocean’s edge and waited for the fireworks to be shot off from the water off Easton’s Beach down to their left. A long, steep staircase led ominously from the Cliff Walk to the rocks pounded by the surf below.

Grace found herself standing next to Professor Cox. “Those are the Forty Steps,” he volunteered, noticing her peering downward. “The servants in all the mansions here had nowhere to gather on their one night off a week. This was where they came to socialize. Of course, the steps were wooden back then. Now they’re stone.”

“Interesting,” said Grace, picturing the hardworking domestics dancing in the moonlight on the cliffs or resting on the steps with their bottles of ale. Maybe they had even skinny-dipped in the cold Atlantic water. But somehow Grace doubted it. Not the females at least. That was a pretty straitlaced era, and a young girl’s reputation would be irreparably ruined by a stunt like that.

The first boom reverberated through the summer night air, and the crowd roared. Rockets whizzed into the sky, bursting into giant blossoms of gold and silver, followed by sprays of red, white, and blue. Over and over, the brilliant explosions rocked the sky, holding the mortals below spellbound.

Grace looked over to where Professor Cox had been standing to share an appreciative glance. But the professor wasn’t there.

Instead, several feet away, Grace saw Madeleine Sloane, wiping
a tear from her eye. Grace wasn’t sure if she should go over to her, and before she could make up her mind, she watched Madeleine turn her back on the dark ocean and the glowing fireworks and disappear into the crowd.

  CHAPTER  
25

Madeleine could figure it out. If she remembered any more, if any more came back to her, she might be able to piece together what happened.

It was a chance that couldn’t be taken.

No matter how unfortunate, there was no getting around it. There was really no other way. It had to be taken care of now, before she ranted on to anyone else. Madeleine had already said too much to that Grace Callahan.

The fireworks were over. People were sauntering back to the Vickerses’ for one last drink before calling it a night. In the hubbub, it wasn’t hard to separate from one’s companions.

Where was Madeleine?

Eyes searched the crowd, watching as the guests headed back on Narragansett Avenue. The last stragglers finally passed
and still there was no sign of Madeleine. Had she gone back to the house ahead of everyone else?

A last glance toward the Cliff Walk revealed the solitary figure sitting on the iron bench at the top of the Forty Steps. The low roar of the ocean blocked out any sound of the murderer’s approach.

  CHAPTER  
26

Sam Watkins knelt beneath the giant elm tree, retching violently. He had definitely had too much to drink. Too many beers and all that seafood were a killer combination.

Sam looked around furtively, hoping that no one had witnessed his pathetic display. That definitely wouldn’t be a plus in his quest to win the full-time spot at KEY News. They’d think that he was just another boozing frat boy—that he wasn’t serious about his career. He uttered a low groan as a second wave of nausea hit.

Finally, he was able to get to his feet. Sam staggered at first, then became a bit more sure-footed, coming out from behind the tree and taking a few steps toward the road. In the distance,
he could see the backs of the last party guests returning to the house. Good. No one had seen him.

Sam turned his head in the direction of the ocean, just to make sure that there was no one behind him. He didn’t want any surprises.

It was then he saw what he prayed was a drunken man’s mirage. On shaky legs, Sam tried to move forward, on instinct, wanting to help. But the vision at the cliff’s edge and the alcohol overwhelmed him. He staggered backward, falling down again beneath the elm, as a woman’s scream was muffled by the roar of the crashing surf.

SUNDAY

—— JULY 18 ——

  CHAPTER  
27

Grace slept fitfully, periodically peeking at the digital clock as it marked the passing of the night. She got up again and again, to get a glass of water, to fiddle with the thermostat on the air conditioner, to play back the message.

“Hi, Mom. It’s Lucy. Guess what? Daddy and Jan and I are coming to Newport! Daddy knew about your hotel and he got a room for us there. Isn’t that cool? We can hang out. Well, call me back at Daddy’s. Love you.”

It had been too late to return the call when she had gotten back to the Viking, and that was probably just as well. Grace didn’t want to get Frank on the phone and get into an argument about how utterly inappropriate his intentions were. He would just feign ignorance and innocence.

Grace’s intuition told her that her former husband had a plan, though she wasn’t sure yet what it was. Maybe he was trying to psyche her out, make her more nervous than she already was on her first out-of-town assignment. He probably wanted her to fail. Or maybe Frank would be looking for things to use
against her in his court case. He’d be watching her, taking mental, if not written, notes on the long hours she worked here in order to have evidence when the time came.

Was she being paranoid? Grace wondered as she punched at the pillow. No. That was how Frank Callahan worked. When he wanted something, Frank used all his considerable energies and resources to get it.

But Lucy wasn’t something. She was everything.

  CHAPTER  
28

The loose-fitting cotton slacks and long-sleeved blouse she took from the hook on the back of her closet door were the same clothes she had worn the previous morning and the one before that, but Elsa couldn’t have cared less. She was not out to impress anyone this early. In fact, experience told her that there wouldn’t be many people out there to impress. She would be home again, showered, and dressed in more socially acceptable attire before most of the residents and vacationers in this town were even out of bed.

Elsa grunted a bit as she bent over to tie her rubber-soled
walking shoes. She was feeling more than her age this morning. At forty-two, one shouldn’t be stiff when getting out of bed. She wrote it off to the balled-up position she had found herself in when she awakened. Her sleep had not been a relaxed one, and her muscles were tense.

She walked down the wide, elaborately carved staircase and picked up the binoculars and her cell phone from the large marble-topped table in the expansive foyer. Glancing out the long, leaded-glass window, Elsa decided not to stop to brew her usual cup of breakfast tea. It was getting lighter outside and she had to hurry. She could have her tea later. Maybe she would bake some nice raisin scones and bring them over to Oliver and they could have tea together.

Elsa listened to the driveway’s crushed stones crunching beneath her shoes as she began her walk. As she’d expected, when she reached the road, it was deserted. Only the low roar of the ocean and the occasional call of one of her feathered friends filled the air.

At the end of Ruggles Avenue, she reached one of the several entrances to the Cliff Walk. Elsa didn’t need her binoculars to identify the familiar black-legged kittiwakes gliding above the water. She knew they nested in colonies on the cliff edge. The seagulls were joined by sandpipers and plovers, none of them rare to the Rhode Island coast. Of course, she was always on the lookout for one of the native species in imminent danger. The pied-billed grebe, the northern harrier, the barn owl, the American bittern, and the upland sandpiper. These five birds
were threatened with extinction in Rhode Island. That fact greatly disturbed Elsa, and she had made it her crusade to save them. Chairing the annual fund-raiser—this year at The Elms— was her contribution to the cause.

Heading north on the walkway, Elsa looked for the orchard oriole she had spotted yesterday in the hedgerow at the edge of The Breakers’ sweeping lawn. It had been a male with a distinctive, dark chestnut color and a short, pointed bill. The orchard oriole was uncommon, though not endangered, but as far as Elsa could determine now as she searched the hedgerows, he had chosen to make himself scarce this morning.

Was it only yesterday that she saw the bird? So much had happened. Charlotte’s identification, Oliver’s grief intensified again. Elsa had wanted Oliver to come to the Vickerses’ party with her, wanted them to be seen as a couple. But maybe it was just as well Oliver hadn’t come. It would have appeared unseemly for him to be out partying last night. He would have been criticized for going.

People were more understanding, though, of Madeleine’s attendance. The poor child had been through so much. Everyone agreed that Madeleine had done nothing wrong, and people were supportive of the idea that the young woman accepted the invitation to be in a festive atmosphere, celebrating life.

The sun’s bottom rim had risen over the horizon now. Elsa continued up the Cliff Walk, past The Breakers. She saw nothing
unusual but appreciated the familiar winged creatures that glided across the sky above her.

She went as far as the bench at the end of Narragansett Avenue, her customary spot to sit, rest, and meditate for a while before heading back. She seated herself, feeling the coolness of the metal through her thin slacks. She noticed the cigarette butts and empty beer cans carelessly left behind by the fireworks-watching revelers the night before. An early-morning jogger saluted her as he sailed by.

Elsa got up from the bench and stretched, taking in a deep breath of the fresh morning air. The sea was especially glorious today, she thought, as she took a few paces closer to it. The Forty Steps lay beneath her now, with Madeleine’s twisted body at their base.

  CHAPTER  
29

Officer Tommy James came out of the Dunkin’ Donuts with two crullers and a disposable cup full of steaming coffee. He was settled into the squad car, looking forward to his breakfast, when the call came in on the radio. He shoved the coffee into the
holder and slammed the car into gear. Pulling out onto Broadway, he didn’t bother turning on the siren. There was no traffic on an early Sunday morning.

As he sped onto Narragansett Avenue, Tommy passed the Vickerses’ house and felt a twinge. He was hurt that Joss hadn’t invited him to her party. He’d had to hear about it from one of the guys at the station house. Seemed they all had a good time. Police had responded several times after neighbors called to complain about the noise.

Joss should have invited him. Especially since he had gone out on a limb and copied that diary for her. What was she thinking? Was she only using him?

In his heart, he knew she was. Yet he still couldn’t give up on her.