Stolen in the Night (17 page)

A general murmur of disappointment and frustration traveled through the press corps
as reporters realized that their lead story was still as lacking in substance as a
soap bubble.

“As soon as we have more information, we will let you know…” Rusty Bosworth said grimly.

The crowd of technicians began to pack up their gear when suddenly a loud voice began
to shout from the back of the crowd, “Bullshit! This is bullshit!”

Tess turned around, along with everyone else, and saw her brother, Jake, his golden
brown hair disheveled, his collar turned up against the cold, his rugged face distorted
by anger. The chief, who was surrounded by officers and making his way back into the
station, pretended not to hear him, but Jake would not be denied.

“This is pure bullshit, Bosworth. Nelson Abbott’s DNA matches the killer’s and you
know it,” Jake shouted. “How come you haven’t arrested him?”

“What?” Chan Morris cried. “What is your brother talking about?”

How does he know that? Tess wondered. And then she remembered. Julie had been there
when Chief Fuller’s call came. She had rushed off to tell Jake.

“He did it,” Jake was screaming. “You’ve got the DNA results to prove it and you’re
still asking quesions? What is there to ask? He’s gotten away with my sister’s murder
all these years and now you’re lettin’ him go? Doesn’t this bastard have to pay for
what he did?”

People around Jake were trying to calm him down, but Jake was in no mood to be placated.
He shoved away their well-meaning reassurances. “What about it, Bosworth?” Jake cried.
“Is this how you treat a pedophile and a killer? I guess it’s okay to let him go if
he’s your uncle.”

Rusty Bosworth glared into the crowd. “I’ll let the suspect’s attorney answer that.”
Rusty turned around and looked behind him. “Mr. Ramsey?”

Tess felt as if she had been punched in the sternum. “Ben Ramsey?”

Ben Ramsey stepped up to the podium. The sun gleamed on his silver hair. He leaned
down to the microphone. “As of right now, my client is not charged with anything,
and I want to advise the members of the press not to broadcast or print any statements
that can be construed as slander or libel. You’re forewarned.” Ben Ramsey stepped
back and Rusty Bosworth took the microphone.

“Okay, show’s over,” snapped the police chief. He whispered to a couple of officers
who waded out into the crowd and surrounded Jake, urging him to move along. “Just
for the record, I didn’t say we were letting our suspect go. We are still questioning
him. When we have something to tell you, we’ll tell you,” Bosworth said. Beside him,
Ben Ramsey’s face was impassive as his eyes scanned the crowd. When Tess met his gaze,
her eyes blazing with hurt and anger, she thought she saw him flinch.

You traitor, Tess thought. How could you?

Protesting loudly, Jake was hustled by a wave of blue uniforms out past the edge of
the crowd. Tess turned and started to follow them.

Chan caught Tess by the sleeve. “Wait a minute. What is your brother talking about?
What does he know about those DNA results?”

Tess raised her hands as if to ward off his questions. “I can’t tell you anything,”
she said. “Really. I don’t know anything about it. I have to go.”

Chan brushed aside her protests of ignorance. “So the cops are saying that Nelson
Abbott’s DNA matched the results from…the old evidence.”

Tess shook her head. “I told you, I don’t know.”

Chan shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

“What don’t you get?” Tess demanded impatiently. “If he’s the one who raped and killed
my sister, then naturally his results would match the DNA on the evidence.”

Chan put a hand to his forehead, as if the effort of thinking were painful. “But he
always said that Lazarus was guilty. He told anybody who would listen…”

“Apparently, it was a lot easier for Nelson to let Lazarus be put to death than to
face his own execution.”

Chan peered at her. “It was you who said that Lazarus took your sister. How could
you have made a mistake like that? Those two don’t look at all alike.”

“I didn’t make a mistake,” she said angrily. “Don’t you see? They did it together.”

Chan looked startled. “Together?”

Instantly Tess realized that she had said too much. The publisher was staring at her
as if she had suddenly started speaking Mandarin. “I don’t know. I don’t know any
more than you do,” she insisted as she turned away from him. But she could see from
the triumphant look dawning on his face that her protestations were too feeble, and
too late.

F
rom all her mother’s years in residence at the Stone Hill Inn, Tess knew that there
was a path that could be entered on foot half a mile down the road and led in a meandering
route to the back door of the inn. She also knew that the reporters, frustrated by
their lack of a story and titillated by Jake’s outburst, would soon be congregating
again in front of the inn. She decided to take the path.

She came out of the field at the back door, went in through the mudroom, and walked
into the kitchen. A shrieking whistle filled the room and a gaunt-faced man in a gray
parka was standing by the sink. He turned on her as she entered the room.

Tess cried out. It was the man whom she had seen in the field, looking in at her that
first morning. The cigarette smoker, from the car, last night.

He raised his pale fingers. “Whoa, Tess,” he said. “Take it easy.”

“Who the hell are you?” she demanded. “What are you doing here?”

Dawn came into the kitchen from the laundry room carrying a pile of dish towels. “Tess,
what’s wrong? Didn’t you hear the kettle?”

Tess could see instantly that her mother was not surprised to find the man in the
kitchen. “Who is this, Mother?” she demanded. “What’s he doing here?”

Dawn looked embarrassed by her daughter’s reaction. “Don’t you remember Mr. Phalen?
Kenneth Phalen?”

Tess stared at the man’s sunken eyes, his short, salt-and-pepper hair, and gray face
that matched the color of his parka. She thought of the picture in the paper, the
one on which she had drawn the glasses. Kenneth Phalen.

“Mr. Phalen?”

“Call me Ken,” he said with half a smile. “We’re all grown-ups now.”

Tess looked at him warily. “I’ve seen you. Hanging around here,” she said.

Dawn set the towels down and turned off the flame under the kettle. “We’re just about
to have a cup of tea. Do you want to join us?” Dawn was pouring the boiling water
into a pair of mugs on the counter.

Tess shook her head.

Ken took off his coat and draped it carefully on the back of a counter stool. Dawn
pointed to the breakfast nook. “Sit down, Ken,” she said.

Kenneth edged past Tess and onto one of the benches in the nook. “’Scuse me,” he said.
Dawn came over and set down the mugs. She slid into the bench on the other side of
the table, sliding toward the window so that there was room on her bench. “Sit down,
Tess,” said Dawn. “Tell me what happened.”

Tess looked at her blankly.

“With Nelson,” her mother reminded her.

“Nothing happened,” said Tess. She did not sit. “There’s nothing new. The police are
questioning…their suspect. Jake came and…got a little out of control.”

Dawn shook her head. “Oh no.”

“You can’t blame the boy,” said Ken Phalen.

Tess looked at Ken in surprise. “Boy?” she said.

“I guess that’s how I remember your brother,” said Ken.

Tess peered at Phalen. “You never answered my question. Why are you here?”

“Tess,” Dawn reproved her.

Ken stirred the coffee in his mug and then set down the spoon on a napkin. “Well,
I ran into your mother last night at the Friends meeting…”

“Although I have to admit I didn’t recognize him,” said Dawn.

“I haven’t weathered too well,” said Ken.

The Compassionate Friends. Of course, Tess thought. She felt a moment of guilt as
she realized that Ken and her mother did have that unbearable loss in common. But
the guilt quickly passed. “I meant, why are you here in town?” she demanded. “It seems
kind of a coincidence…” she said. “Now, when all this is coming out about Phoebe’s
murder.”

Ken shook his head. “It’s no coincidence. I was having lunch with one of the editors
I work for. He tries to throw as much work my way as he can. We were tossing around
ideas and he mentioned this case—the DNA and death penalty thing. I told him about
my personal involvement and he got very excited. He thought I should come up and try
to get an article out of it.”

“Mr. Phalen’s a writer,” said Dawn.

“I never did finish that novel I was working on when I met you,” Ken demurred. “But
I do a lot of magazine work. My editor thought I might have an interesting angle on
the whole thing. After all, we were here when Phoebe…when the crime happened. Your
family stayed here during the trial.”

“How fortunate for you to have the inside track,” said Tess coldly.

Ken sighed. “I don’t know how fortunate it is. I didn’t want to come at first. I haven’t
been back here in years. Since my daughter, Lisa, died. I wasn’t sure I was…ready
to make the trip. You know.”

“But, now that you’re here, why not exploit your advantage, right?” said Tess.

Dawn glared at her daughter. “Ken did not come here to exploit anyone.”

“How come you were in our parking area last night?” Tess demanded.

“Tess, your tone,” said Dawn sharply.

“I recognized your mother, of course, and I wanted to talk to her, but I…didn’t want
to intrude.”

But somehow, you brought yourself to do just that, Tess thought.

“You should have come in last night,” said Dawn. “You did look familiar to me. I just
couldn’t place you. I’m really so glad to see you again.”

“I’ve been trying to work up my nerve. The idea of walking through that door again…”
he said.

Dawn reached out her hand and placed it over his on the table. “I’m glad you finally
did. This was your home through good times, too, Ken. It wasn’t all bad. You have
to remember that.”

Ken shuddered and then he nodded.

“How’s Mrs. Phalen?” said Tess.

Dawn gave her a warning look.

Ken looked up at Tess. “We’re divorced now. She…had a very rough time after Lisa died.
She became an alcoholic. Refused to get any treatment.”

“That’s too bad,” said Tess.

Ken nodded. “I could understand it. I just couldn’t live with it anymore.” He took
a sip of his tea, then set the cup down carefully in front of him. “So your mother
says that at long last,” he said, “it looks as if they’ve got the real killer?”

Dawn looked proudly at her daughter. “It was Tess who figured it out,” she said.

“Really?” said Ken. “How did that happen, Tess?”

“I’m not really in the mood for an interview,” said Tess. She turned to Dawn. “Is
Erny back?”

“In your room,” said Dawn.

Tess turned and left the kitchen. She went out into the main hallway and then around
to her room. She was still fuming at Ken Phalen’s question. Forget it, she thought.
Another opportunist. Tess took a deep breath, tapped on the door, and walked in.

Erny was sprawled on the bed, working on the puzzle book.

Tess came and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Hey,” she said. “How was the walk
with Leo?”

Erny shrugged. “Good.”

“How’s the head feel?”

Erny nodded. “Good. Can I go fishing tomorrow with Uncle Jake?”

“No,” said Tess, too sharply. Then she reached out and rubbed his messy hair. “But
maybe tomorrow you and I can do something fun.”

“Maybe,” he said, frowning, and pulled away from her touch. “I’m hungry,” he said,
sliding off the bed. “I’m going to the kitchen.”

“Don’t eat too many snacks,” said Tess. “It’s almost dinnertime.”

Tess followed him out into the hallway and closed the door behind her. Dawn ruffled
Erny’s hair as she passed him in the hallway.

Tess looked up at her mother. “Erny wants a snack.”

“He knows where everything is,” said Dawn.

“Where’s Kenneth?” Tess asked.

“He left. I’m sure he didn’t feel very welcome here. What was the meaning of that
behavior anyway?” Dawn demanded. “Kenneth was my guest.”

Tess frowned. “Your so-called guest is a journalist, Mother. You’re offering him the
kind of access every one of those vultures waiting around outside the inn wants.”

Dawn shook her head. “We were talking, Tess. Kenneth and Annette helped us in a very
difficult time. I’ll always be grateful to them.”

“Don’t worry. You’re paying him back now,” said Tess.

“I don’t understand you. You were rude to him the minute you saw him.”

“I’ve seen him lurking around this house for days,” Tess exclaimed.

“He was trying to get up the courage to face the past,” said Dawn. “Is that so hard
for you to understand?”

Tess folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t like it. Now suddenly he finds the courage
to come back? Now, when there’s a story in it, that will probably earn him a bundle
of money?”

“Oh Tess,” said Dawn, shaking her head. “It’s not that simple. He’s suffered a great
deal. He knows that I, of all people, can understand it.”

“In other words, you’re an easy mark, Mother.”

Dawn shook her head. “Tess, you’ve got to have a little faith in people.”

Tess thought of Ben Ramsey, acting concerned and brainstorming with her about Phoebe’s
killer. Calling her about Erny. Seeking her out. Flirting with her, in his own careful
way. And now the handsome attorney, who had begun to invade her daydreams, was busy
searching for a loophole. An excuse to get Nelson Abbott exonerated. The thought of
his betrayal caused tears to spring to her eyes. But she willed them away. She couldn’t
call it a betrayal when he had not promised her any loyalty. Hell, he hadn’t even
asked her out. She had blamed his reticence on his bereavement, not his lack of interest.
Now, she berated herself for imagining that he felt the same attraction which she
felt. It had all been a fantasy. As painful as it was to admit, she had not really
seen him for the man he was. “Everybody suffers, Mother,” said Tess. “That doesn’t
mean they deserve your trust.”