The Abduction of Mary Rose (23 page)

"You have nothing to make up for. I know that's what you're feeling, Lisa. But it's misplaced guilt."

* * *

After leaving Lisa's, Naomi went to Home Depot and bought the hardware she would need to put her plan into action, along with a set of chimes she planned to hang just inside the back door. Then she drove straight to Edna's.

There was maybe a second or two, standing on Edna's front step, where she had rarely set foot, even as a child, when Naomi almost lost her nerve. Her finger was poised over the buzzer, hesitant. Now, ignoring that timid child within her, she pressed it firmly.

She heard her aunt's footsteps coming down the hallway and took a shallow breath. The door opened and Edna's eyes widened with surprise. "You," was all she said. Then came the tightening of her mouth, the flaring of nostrils as though detecting an unpleasant smell in the air.

She was dressed in a pearl grey suit, smelling of her L'Eau d`Issey perfume. Diamond horseshoe earrings enhanced a new flip hairdo.
I really wanted her to like me. I tried. But that's all beside the point now.
She suddenly realized she didn't give a damn what this woman thought of her, and the realization was freeing.

"Yes, it's me, Edna. I won't keep you long. May I come in?"

"I was just on my way out."

"I can see that." She held her ground, refusing to cringe under her cold, unbending glare. "As I said, it won't take long."

With a put-upon sigh, Edna grudgingly opened the door wider. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here after what you did."

After what I did.
The door closed behind Naomi and she was standing in Edna's narrow gold and purple carpeted hallway, with the huge fern by the French doors, leading into the living room, reminding her of a hotel lobby. She made no response to the statement, but took the pendant out of her jacket pocket and held it out to this woman whose approval had once meant so much to her. "Where did you get this?"

She saw the fleeting shock in her eyes as she stared at the pendant in Naomi's hand. Then she looked up at her with defiance, if not quite convincing. "I don't know what you're talking about? I never saw…."

"Yes, you did. I know it's yours. At least you've taken possession of it. I want to know where you got it. It's a simple question."

How did she turn out so different from her sister? Naomi wondered for the hundredth time. How could two sisters be so different?

"Now that I've taken a better look, I do seem to remember it. I found it years ago. On … on the beach. I don't know why I kept it, I never really liked it. It's of no value. You may keep the thing."

"Oh, I'm definitely keeping it, all right, and I don't need your permission. This is rightfully mine. It belonged to my birth mother."

The colour left her face so that the rosy blush on her cheeks turned to splotches. "Whatever. Now I really have to ask you to leave. Or I'll have to call the police and tell them you've pushed you way in here and refuse to go."

"Go ahead, Edna. Phone the police. We'll wait for them together. Maybe they can get the truth from you."

"I've told you the truth. I found the damn thing on the beach. I forgot I even had it. There, that's it. So you can leave now." A flash of red scarlet fingernails as she ran a hand through her new hairdo. "Okay? Are you satisfied?"

She wasn't. Calmly, she said, "I don't believe you found this on any beach. Someone gave it to you, didn't they? Who was it, Edna? Who gave this to you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

But Edna's face said otherwise. Her entire body language said otherwise. "This pendant belonged to a girl who was raped and beaten and left on the side of the road to die. You know who she was. You read the article in the paper. You saw her school picture in which she was wearing this. She always wore it. She was wearing it the night she was abducted. It wasn't with her personal effects."

Edna's colour had turned ashen. Only the blush splotches remaining. She was shaking visibly, but with anger now. "Yes, I read your damn story in the paper. We all did, everyone who lived in River's End has read it, and more. It's an embarrassment to leave my home these days. I'm sorry, but your early circumstances have nothing to do with me. I told Lili you'd bring trouble on this family, and I was right. I have told you I found that thing on the beach. How it got there, I have no idea. Now, please leave." She glanced at her watch. "I'm going to be late for my appointment. If you don't mind."

She did mind, but she knew she was not going to get any more out of her, not today, not voluntarily. Edna was lying, though. That much was clear. Surprisingly, she was not a very good liar. The panic in her eyes told on her. This pendant had meaning for her. Naomi didn't believe she wouldn't have kept it all those years if it held no significance.

The instant she got home, she phoned Charlotte at the gym and told her that her mother now knew the necklace wasn't in her jewelry box. "I didn't mention your name, but she probably figured out that you took it. I thought you should know. I'm sorry, Charlotte."

Charlotte muttered a mild curse over the disco music in the background. "I'll deal with it," she said, her voice edged with irritation and regret. "I've got to get back to work now, Naomi. Talk to you later."

But Naomi doubted that would happen. There would be no further courting from Charlotte's side. She didn't really blame her. Despite her problems with her mother, that was ultimately where Charlotte's loyalties would lie.
Blood's thicker than wate
r, she thought, and almost laughed at the bitter irony in the old adage.
That's fine, I can live with that.
But she had needed to confront Edna with the pendant, ask the question. And she had to look into her face when she did it.

She considered her options: she could take the pendant to the police. But running that scenario through her mind convinced her it would just be another dead end. They'd accept Edna's story that she found it on the beach and that would be that. Of course they would. They'd tell Naomi she was grasping at straws, to get on with her life. Yet, wouldn't it occur to them that that was awfully coincidental considering she was legally related to me? That the pendant had belonged to a victim in an abduction and had never been recovered. Would they follow it up? Take seriously the connection with Edna?

They might. But probably not. This was a cold case, hardly a priority for the police department. She could always call Sergeant Nelson and ask him to intercede, but she wasn't about to harass a man who'd just had a heart attack.

Two things Naomi knew for certain; Edna was keeping secrets, and Edna was afraid.

She suddenly thought of Frank. He knew Edna. Maybe he would have some ideas. She would ask him to go through that year book. He might have been acquainted with some of the people in Edna's life back then.

He was out when she called so she left a message with Kay. While she waited for him to call her back, she hung the chimes she'd bought above the back door. Eight feather-light butterflies in blues and yellows that would move at the slightest draft and warn her that someone had opened the back door. She was counting on it.

Having dubious mechanical skills, she spent the better part of an hour installing the bolt on her studio door, placing it well below the doorknob so that it wouldn't be immediately noticeable, and painted it toasted mahogany, the same colour as the door.

She stood back and admired her work.

Chapter Thirty-Six

"You actually faced her down," Frank said, still appraising the pendant Naomi had handed him, turning it over and over gently in his fingers, obviously moved by its story. His glasses low on his nose, he looked like a professor of archaeology studying some recent find from a dig. He'd been stunned to learn all that Naomi had uncovered in her quest. That Sisip meant little bird, that Mary Rose's grandfather had made it for her. That she'd been wearing it the night of her abduction. He'd told her she missed her calling, that she should have been a detective. She didn't think so.

"You didn't know about the pendant, then, Frank?"

He looked up, hurt evident on his face. Incredulous that she would ask the question. Then something came into his eyes and the incredulity left. He conceded she had a right to suspect that more things could be hidden from her.

"No," he answered adamantly. "I swear I knew nothing about Edna having this pendant. Everything I know, you know," he said. "I've told you everything."

"Okay, Frank. I believe you."

"And you are absolutely sure this was Mary Rose's pendant?"

"Yes. Her name's on the back, like I said. The name her grandfather called her by. Sisip. Little Bird." She told him about Lisa Boyce, Cameron back then. "Lisa is positive she was wearing it that night. The pendant was supposed to protect her. I guess the evil was stronger."

He shook his head in wonder. "If you ever need a job as an investigator…."

"Thanks. I'll think I'll keep my present job."

He was back to examining the adornment that had been Mary Rose's talisman, running thumb and forefinger down the length of braided leather that held the crescent moon, and over the man-in-the-moon profile. "That couldn't have been easy, standing up to Edna," he said almost absently, merely glancing at Naomi. He held the crescent moon up to the lamplight so that the letters were more visible.

He was sitting in the armchair by the window, one leg crossed over the over, revealing a charcoal sock to match his pants. Due at a dinner for a colleague an hour from now, he'd donned a white shirt and blue tie beneath a navy blazer, and looked very dapper, much better than the last time she saw him, more relaxed and at peace with himself, apparently come to terms with his part in her mother's conspiracy, which more and more, she understood and forgave. As Eric Grant had said, she was lucky. God only knew what might have happened to her if Lillian Waters/Bradley had not adopted her. She could make a pretty good guess though. She wouldn't be here. They would have aborted her in utero. Eric was right. Two amazing women had fought to give her a life. She was indebted to them both.

"It wasn't easy, confronting her," she said. "Not at first, anyway. I'm sure someone gave her this pendant, Frank. She didn't find it on any beach." She picked up the yearbook from the coffee table. "Here. This is Norman Banks' yearbook," she said. "Edna's picture's not in here, I already checked. I'm guessing she was probably a year or two behind Norman Banks in school, but I don't know that, of course."

"What am I looking for?" He traded the pendant for the book and opened the front cover.

"You knew Edna back then. She was living with Mom in the old house. You were there a lot. Maybe you remember some of her friends."

"You're putting a lot of stock in my memory. That's quite a long shot."

"I don't know anyone sharper than you are. And I've been operating on long shots for a while now."

He gave her a half-smile, nodded and turned the second page. Norman Banks' photo was near the front of the book, in keeping with the alphabetical order. A shy looking boy, he had a narrow, hopeful face, neatly combed hair, a boy who would sit on the sidelines until he met a woman who found much about him to love. But before that, he would meet someone who preyed on his vulnerabilities, and made him feel like he belonged. People reacted so differently to life's difficulties. She thought of Eric Grant who had been thrown to the wolves as a child, but he had stayed strong, believed in himself and accomplished his goals. She had a feeling he was going to write a fine novel.

Naomi sat in the chair opposite to Frank, leaving him to focus on the pages of students, while her thoughts lingered on the reporter. She imagined his smiling Viking face, with its wild beard that she apparently managed to find attractive even if she didn't know it at the time. His clean-shaven face wasn't bad either, she thought, recalling their chance meeting at the police station during which he'd managed to really put her off. But he'd apologized for that, though he really had nothing to apologize for. She'd been overreacting, defensive.