Two Little Girls in Blue (28 page)

“Twin talk?” Gunther asked.

“They have their own special language.” Sensing that her voice was about to start rising, Margaret stopped. Then, as she looked around the table, whispered imploringly, “I've told myself that this is simply a grief reaction, but it
isn't.
If Kathy were dead, I would know it, but she isn't. Don't you
see?
Don't you understand?”

She glanced into the living room. Then, before any of them could speak, she raised her finger to her lips and pointed. They all turned to observe Kelly. She had placed the teddy bears on chairs at the table. The doll that had been Kathy's was lying on a blanket on the floor. Kelly had tied a sock around its mouth. Now she was sitting by it, her own doll in her arms. She was stroking the cheek of Kathy's doll and whispering. As if she sensed that they were watching her, she looked up and said, “She's not allowed to talk to me anymore.”

A
fter the visit of Agents Walsh and Philburn, Richie Mason made coffee and coldly considered his options. The FBI was watching him. The irony of how it had all gotten out of control hit him in waves, provoking him to fury. Everything had been clicking along so smoothly, and then the one weak link in the chain, the one he always knew was a problem, had indeed become the problem.

Now the feds were closing in. The fact that they still didn't know how close they were to learning the truth was a miracle. The fact that they were concentrating on Bailey's connection to him was a distraction that was giving him time, but he knew they'd soon move on.

I am
not
going back to prison, he thought. The image of the tiny, crowded cell, and the uniforms, and the terrible food, and the monotony of prison life made him shiver. For the tenth time in the last two days, he looked at the passport that would ensure his safety.

Steve's passport. He had stolen it from the dresser drawer that day he'd been in Ridgefield. He looked enough like Steve to pass without anyone asking questions. All I need to do is have a nice, warm smile like baby brother when they check it, he thought.

There was always the danger of an immigration clerk saying, “Wasn't it your twins who were kidnapped?” In that case he'd simply say that it was his cousin who had the tragedy. “We both were named after our grandfather,” he would explain. “And we look enough alike to be brothers.”

Bahrain had no extradition agreement with the United States. But by then he'd have a new identity, so it shouldn't matter.

Should he be satisfied with what he had, or should he go for the rest of the pot of gold?

Why not? He asked himself. And anyhow it was always better to tie up loose ends.

Satisfied with the decision, he smiled.

“M
rs. Frawley,” Tony Realto said slowly, “I cannot act on your belief that Kelly is in touch with her sister. However, the only indicators that Kathy is dead are the suicide note and the fact that Lucas Wohl was seen carrying a heavy box with him onto the aircraft. According to the note, he dropped Kathy's body into the sea. I'm going to be absolutely honest with you. We are not completely satisfied that Lucas either typed that note, or that he shot himself.”

“What are you
talking
about?” Steve snapped.

“What I am saying is that if Lucas was shot by one of his cohorts, then that note might be a phony and may have been left there to give the impression that Kathy is dead.”

“Are you finally starting to believe that she's alive?” Margaret asked imploringly.

“We are starting to believe that there may be a slight possibility that she is alive,” Tony Realto said, emphasizing the words “slight possibility.” “Frankly, I do not have faith in twin telepathy, but I do believe that Kelly may be able to help us. We need to question her. You say she did talk about ‘Mona' and ‘Harry.' She might let another
name slip or give us some indication where they were kept.”

They watched as Kelly picked up a doll's washcloth and went into the kitchen. They heard her pull a chair over to the sink. When she came back, the washcloth was wet. She knelt down and put it on the forehead of Kathy's baby doll. Then she began to speak, and they all got up and moved closer to hear what she was saying.

She was whispering, “Don't cry, Kathy. Don't cry. Mommy and Daddy will find you.”

Kelly looked up at them. “She's really, really coughing. Mona made her take medicine, but she spit it up.”

Tony Realto and Jed Gunther exchanged glances, disbelief in their eyes.

Walter Carlson was studying Sylvia Harris. She's a doctor, he thought. Her specialty is twin telepathy, and from her expression, he could tell that she believed the twins were communicating.

Margaret and Steve were clinging to each other, both of them now weeping.

“Dr. Harris,” Carlson said quietly. “Will you talk to Kelly?”

Sylvia nodded and sat on the floor next to Kelly. “You're taking good care of Kathy,” she said. “Does Kathy still feel sick?”

Kelly nodded. “She can't talk to me anymore. She told her real name to some lady, and Mona got mad and scared. She has to tell everyone her name is Stevie. Her head is
sooo
hot.”

“Is that why you're putting a cool cloth on it, Kelly?”

“Yes.

“Does Kathy have something tied around her mouth?”

“She did, but she started to get sick, so Mona pulled it off. Kathy's falling asleep now.”

Kelly untied the sock from the mouth of the doll, then laid her own doll next to it. She covered them with the same blanket, making sure their fingers were touching.

I
t was the manager of the motel, David Toomey, who rapped on Angie's door. A slightly built man in his mid-seventies, he had probing eyes that peered at her through rimless glasses. He introduced himself, then, with annoyance in his voice asked, “What's this about your car seat being stolen from your van last night? Officer Tyron from the Barnstable police stopped by to find out if any other cars had been broken into.”

Angie tried to think fast. Should she tell him that she had lied, that she had forgotten to bring the car seat? That might make for more trouble. The cop might come around and give her a ticket. And ask questions. “It's not a big deal,” she said. She glanced at the bed. Kathy was facing the wall. Only the back of her head, with its dark brown hair, was showing. “My little guy has a bad cold, and I was just concerned about getting him inside.”

She watched as Toomey's eyes darted around the room. She could read his mind. He didn't believe her. She had paid cash for a two-night stay. He sensed that something was peculiar. Maybe he could hear Kathy wheezing.

He
had
heard her. “Maybe you should take your son
to the emergency room at Cape Cod Hospital,” he suggested. “My wife always gets asthma after a bronchitis attack, and he sounds as though he's building up to an asthma attack.”

“That's what I was thinking,” Angie said. “Can you give me directions to the hospital?”

“It's ten minutes from here,” Toomey told her. “I'd be happy to drive you.”

“No. No. That's fine. My . . . my mother will be here around one o'clock. She'll go with us.”

“I see. Well, Ms. Hagen, I suggest that you get medical treatment for that child promptly.”

“You bet I will. Thanks a lot. That's really nice of you. And don't worry about the car seat. I mean, it was old anyway. You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean, Ms. Hagen. There was no theft. But I gather from Office Tyron that you do have a car seat now.” Toomey did not bother to hide the sarcasm in his voice as he closed the door behind him.

Angie immediately double-locked the door. He's gonna be watching me, she thought. He knows I didn't have a car seat, and he's mad because it makes his place look bad if there's a complaint about a theft. That cop. He's suspicious, too. I've got to get out of here, but I don't know where to go. I can't pull out with all my stuff—he'll know I'm taking off. Now I have to look as though I'm waiting for my mother. If I run out right away, he'll know there's something up. Maybe if I just wait a while, then carry out the kid and put her in the car seat in the back, then go back—like for my pocketbook.
From the office he can only see the passenger side of the car. I can put a blanket over the suitcase with the money and slip it in on the other side. I'll leave all the other stuff here so he'll think I'm coming back. If he talks to me, I'll tell him that my mother called and is meeting me at the hospital. But maybe with any luck, somebody will want to check in or out of this dump, and I can sneak out while he's busy.

Facing left from the window she could see the driveway in front of the office. She waited there forty minutes. Then, as Kathy's breathing became heavier and the wheeze became stronger, she decided she had to break open one of the penicillin capsules, dissolve some of it in a spoon, and force her to drink it. I've got to get rid of her, she thought, but I don't want her to die on my hands. Both furious and nervous, she opened her shoulder bag, got out the bottle of capsules, broke one open, poured it into a glass from the bathroom, diluted it with a little water, and grabbed a plastic spoon from the coffee machine on the counter. She shook Kathy, who stirred, opened her eyes, and immediately began to cry.

“Geez, you're burning up,” Angie snapped. “Here, drink this.”

Kathy shook her head, and as the first taste of the liquid touched her tongue, she pressed her lips shut. “I said,
drink
it!” Angie shouted. She managed to force some of the liquid into Kathy's mouth, but Kathy gagged, and the medication trickled out onto her cheek. She began to wail and cough. Angie grabbed a towel and tied it around her mouth to quiet the sound,
then realized that Kathy might suffocate and pulled it off. “Keep quiet,” she hissed. “You hear me good. Don't make another sound or I'll kill you right now. All this is your fault. Every
bit
of it.”

She looked out the window and saw that several cars were now parked in front of the office. This is my chance, she thought. She picked up Kathy, ran outside, opened the door of the van, and strapped her in the car seat. Then, in a quick movement, she ran back inside the motel, grabbed the blanket-wrapped suitcase and her shoulder bag, and tossed them in beside Kathy. Thirty seconds later she was backing out of the parking space.

Where do I go? she wondered. Should I get off the Cape right away? I haven't called Clint back. He doesn't even know where I am. In case that cop is suspicious and starts looking for me, he has my license plate number. So does the guy at the motel. I've got to tell Clint to come up here in a rental car or something. It isn't safe for me to be driving this thing any longer.

But where should I go?

The weather had continued to clear, and the afternoon sun was bright. The thought that the cop who had made her buy the car seat might pull up in a squad car beside her made Angie want to scream in frustration at the slow-moving traffic. At the base of Main Street the traffic became one-way, and she was forced to turn right. I need to get out of Hyannis, and in case that cop is really suspicious and sends out an alarm, I don't want
to get caught at one of the bridges. I'll take Route 28, she thought.