She's Gone! Read online

  Mel read from the top. “Okay. At 9:00 the mother fed the baby. She went to sleep for a while, then woke up crying. So the mother tried to feed her again, lost it by the sounds of it, and “kind of” shook the baby and threw her into the crib. What do you make of that?” He chewed thoughtfully on his pencil.

  Darby stood, hands on hips, feet wide apart, pondering. “I like her. I like the mom, but she’s fragile for sure. I think there’s some pluck inside that feeble exterior, though … And it doesn’t take much to hurt a baby.”

  “Do you think that maybe she killed the baby, then panicked, got rid of the body and phoned her husband with a story?” Mel asked.

  Her jaw clenched. “It’s possible. Let’s order another search of those premises, especially looking for newly dug dirt in and around the area. I’ll order a landscape inspection.” Darby exhaled heavily puffing out her lips. “I so hope that’s not the case.”

  Mel jotted the instructions on a pad and continued. “Okay. We have a jogger on the street, a person carrying a bundle dressed in a green trench coat, and we have an old-style cream and burgundy Lincoln that nobody has seen in the area before.”

  Darby bit her lip. “We can probably eliminate the jogger. Although she had a jacket on, her arms were pumping slightly the witness told us. She wasn’t likely carrying a baby.”

  “The trench coat could have been. And the Lincoln could be relevant,” Mel mused.

  Darby spun on her heel to face him. “CSI found no foreign finger-prints or DNA anywhere in the house. No other foot-prints, even though it was raining.” She bent to glance at the report on his desk. “Only prints or DNA they found were from Ben, Shea and Cassandra Anderson, Moira Jones, Diane Taylor, Kyle Bannerman and Alyssa Darnell and Ben’s parents, Jim and Edie Anderson. Of course, an intruder could have worn gloves.” She looked up at Mel. “And the good news is there have been no dead babies found in dumpsters, parks … anywhere in the city or surrounding area. And they’ve combed it pretty thoroughly.”

  “The mother and father are being interviewed this afternoon. They’ll hit the news right away. Let’s be there and take another close look at their body language. We’ll ask if anyone knows about a green trench coat or a cream and burgundy Lincoln.” Lips pursed, Mel jotted more notes. “Anything else?”

  “Yes,” Darby nodded. “We need thorough background checks on everyone that we know has been in that house. Something stinks to high hell and I want to know what the fuck it is.”

  Chapter 16

  SHEA, SEPTEMBER 15, 2018

  Staring at Diane’s closet, I stand open-mouthed; stunned. Did Diane spirit my baby away somewhere? She loved Cassandra, and more than anything she wants a baby … “Diane, is this your trench-coat?” I hear the quivering in my voice.

  She does a double take, grimacing, and looks at it. “I’ve never seen it before in my life!” she says. “How did it get there? Weird!”

  But it sounds so phony to me. How could she not see a large coat hanging in her house? She was away when I discovered Cassandra gone. I feel the air knocked out of me, and my limbs are rubbery as I follow her through the door, across the front yard, around to the back entrance and into my house. She hurries in and starts picking up dirty dishes from the table, bustling around my kitchen while I collapse into a chair.

  Ben saunters into the kitchen, giving Diane a friendly nod. “Thanks, Diane,” he says. “We’re pretty useless these days,” and he comes to kneel in front of me, taking my face in his hands. “Shea, I want you to know this isn’t your fault.” His lustrous green eyes are earnest. “And something tells me she is okay. We’ll get her back.”

  I stare blankly at him. Are you having an affair with Moira? But I say nothing.

  “And when we do I want to be here for you,” he continues. “I realize I’ve been pretty much an absent dad and husband. You’ve had to take on everything yourself.” He pauses, tears forming in his eyes. “Shea, I’m sorry.”

  I breathe shakily. Part of me is aware of him kneeling there before me, part of me watches Diane buzzing around the kitchen, and part of me is pure darkness. The part where my husband may be having an affair, and my baby is gone. I’m immobile. I can neither move or speak.

  Ben stands, taking my hands in his. “Honey, do you feel up to going on TV and asking for our baby back?” I’m jolted back to reality, then.

  “I’ll go get dressed,” I say and make my way to the bedroom. Passing by Cassandra’s room, I’m drawn into it. Nothing’s changed. Her bedclothes are still rumpled; still carry her baby smell. I haven’t emptied the disposable diaper pail and a few discarded sleepers hang over the dirty clothes hamper. Then I notice it. Her rabbit stuffy – the one we always kept near her when she slept – is gone. Why? Does that mean that whoever took her wants her to have it? That she is still alive? It gives me a smidge of hope.

  When I return to the kitchen dressed in my normal-mother-like clothes, slacks and a blouse, the kitchen is bright and clean. Diane’s even set a vase with brightly colored sweet peas in the centre of the table. It helps, somehow. Ben sits in a kitchen chair, pretending to read the newspaper and look patient. But his leg jitters, and I know he’s anxious. “Ready?” he smiles sadly.

  “Ben, whoever took her also took her bunny stuffy,” I tell him as we walk to the car.

  His face lights up. “Really? That means they want her happy, don’t you think? That means she’s alive?” He opens the car door for me, and I climb into the passenger seat. As I do, something on the floor – something silver – glints in the sunlight. I bend to pick it up.

  It’s Cassandra’s engraved silver bracelet. The one she wore when I last saw her.

  Chapter 17

  SHEA, 2005

  I had my own silver bracelet once. Henry gave it to me. That bracelet is long gone.

  SINCE HENRY HAD MORE money than anyone else in the house, and he was the “man”, he soon became boss. “King Henry” to Alyssa and I. The rest of us brought him his non-stop beers, served him his meals –Kraft dinner, mostly – and pretty much waited on him hand and foot while he lay on the couch watching TV, smoking cigarettes and making loud wise-cracks that he figured were funny.

  “Hey, woman! I don’t see no piano tied to your ass. Where’s my beer?” he’d yell at Mom or Auntie Linda. Then he’d laugh loudly to show that he was being good-natured about having to wait a minute.

  I didn’t come home much. I was ashamed to bring my friends to our house, so I mostly hung around with them elsewhere. Alyssa was determined, even at the young age of thirteen, to get a good education and live a different kind of life. She was angular, skinny, sombre-faced. There was no softness to her, and she was even more socially backward than I was. But I think she intimidated Henry, and he left her alone. Mom and Linda had part-time jobs at the car-wash, so the brunt of his attention fell on Julie.

  He called her “Baby-Doll”, and had her waiting on him hand and foot. “Hey, Baby-Doll, how’s about some potato chips?” he’d ask her with his big, rotten-toothed smile. And he’d crook his finger at her in a way I guess he thought was sexy. “You’re my own little baby-doll,” he’d say by way of thanking her for her constant compliance.

  Sometimes he’d take her to Mom’s bedroom for a nap, telling us not to disturb them. I hadn’t exactly lived a sheltered life, so I had an idea about what he was doing in there. But I learned to stay away. One day while they were napping and Alyssa was in the living room studying I made the mistake of knocking on the door.

  “Julie, are you in there?” I called. Bam! Moments later the door flew open and Henry, dressed only in his under-shorts, stormed out, his belt in his hand. He was skinny, but he was wiry. He grabbed me, yanked down my pants and took his belt to me. Whap! Whap! Whap! It burned. But the humiliation of being bare-assed in front of that man was worse. As I ran away I turned to see his face. It was red and twisted; evil. He wasn’t pretending to be good-natured any more.

  I never let him get the best of me again. One day wh
ile I stood at the kitchen counter making a peanut-butter-sandwich for my supper he slunk up behind me. He smelled of booze and body odour, and my stomach churned. I could feel his hot breath on my neck, his body pressing against my back. My skin crawled. “Hey, little gal, whatcha doin’?” his thick, wheezy voice keened in my ear. I cringed. Suddenly, his hand cupped my butt. I stiffened, holding my breath. His hand moved across my hip, to prod my vagina. A jolt of adrenalin surged through my body, and I turned, drawing up my knee to jab it into his nuts as hard as I could. “Don’t touch me you fuckin’ ass-hole” I screamed, bringing Alyssa running into the kitchen to see him doubled up on the floor.

  “Shea! Come with me!” and she grabbed me. We ran out the door and down the block panting, until we could run no more.

  Chapter 18

  SHEA, SEPTEMBER 15, 2018

  I’m nauseous. Slipping the bracelet into my jean-jacket pocket I will myself to get a grip. The important thing, right now, is to send a compelling appeal to the public. Maybe someone knows something. It’s all we’ve got.

  Ben glances over at me as he pulls out of the drive-way. “Shea? You okay?”

  I nod and stare straight ahead. Was it him? Did he take Cassandra away? At least, if he did, I know she’s alive. He wouldn’t hurt her. Do he and Moira want Cassandra for themselves? Is he planning to run away with his girl-friend and my baby? I shake my head a little, pushing everything from it except the matter at hand. We will go and appeal to the masses.

  Throngs of reporters, oodles of sympathetic eyes, reassuring shoulder-pats … and we’re finished. I broke down, but they tell me that’s okay. It gains support and sympathy. Ben was stellar. He appeared supportive of me and heart-broken. Is he just a great actor?

  We ride home in silence. I’m bursting with hatred for him. I want to smack that fake compassionate look right off his face. I want to kick and punch and scream at him. But I sit, stony-faced. Staring straight ahead. When we pull into the drive-way I speak, my voice cold. “Please leave. I want to be alone right now.”

  I can see the pain in his eyes, and it pleases me. He nods and waits for me to leave the car. Then he drives off.

  When I walk up the steps I see the corner of an envelope sticking out of the mailbox. I pull it out and rip it open. There is a picture of Cassandra lying on a bed. Her eyes are closed, her body spread-eagled. Is she dead? A typewritten note has been stuck in the envelope, and I open it with shaking hands. “Forget about your baby if you know what’s best” is all it says. I sink, crumpled into a ball there on the front step.

  I don’t know how long I lie there before I’m lifted in strong arms and carried into the house. He places me gently on the living-room sofa, and he grazes my cheek with his fingers.

  “Shea?” Kyle’s voice is soothing. His touch calms me. I show him the picture and the letter, still clutched in my hand.

  “Oh, Sweetie,” he says, his voice breaking. “Oh, my poor girl,” and he kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my eyes. He smells like shampoo and soap; manly soap, clean and refreshing. Then, he softly kisses my lips, and I respond. I kiss him back. Tenderly at first. Then, more and more hungrily. His tongue dives into my mouth, rampaging across my teeth. I feel a jolt of electricity burning a clear path of desire up my belly and through my limbs. No! This can’t be happening. His fingers trail against the hollow of my throat and down to fondle my breasts. I can feel my nipples harden as he rubs and caresses my yielding body. Stop! Something inside me screams. My sister’s voice! And I pull myself back, away from him. He looks at me through glazed eyes.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice is ragged, husky.

  “I am too,” I mutter, looking deeply into his kind, brown eyes.

  “Shea, I know you’re not happy… “he begins, then looks away before continuing. “I know it’s wrong of me. But I love you. Can you think of me that way?” A faint smile dances on his lips as he watches my utter confusion. I can’t answer. I can’t speak.

  He rises from the couch and looks down at me. His arms are thick and tanned in the form-fitting t-shirt he wears, and his legs look solid, muscular, a telling bulge in his tight jeans. “I can’t resist you right now. I have to go.” And he gives me a crooked smile. He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever known. I can’t believe I’m feeling this right now!

  Chapter 19

  SEPTEMBER 15, 2018

  On return to the office after the Anderson interview, Darby threw off her jacket, deep in thought. She ambled over to perch on the edge of Mel’s desk. “What do you think?” she asked looking at her partner who had deposited himself in his chair.

  Mel scratched his chin. “Much as I don’t get that punkish mother, they both seem genuinely upset. I don’t think either one had anything to do with kidnapping their baby. That or they’re awfully good actors,” he mused.

  “If she hurt their baby I don’t think she remembers doing it. You’re right,” Darby agreed. Looking toward her desk she saw her phone flashing. She moved to pick it up, listened a moment, and looked at Mel as she clicked off. “It’s Shea Anderson. She says she thinks maybe her sister took the baby.”

  His mouth dropped open. “Her sister! Why?”

  Darby grabbed her jacket, slung on her desk. “Come on, big guy. Let’s go talk to that girl!” He had to scramble to keep up with her.

  SHEA SAT WITH HER LEGS curled under her, white-faced, looking even more vulnerable than the day before. The story she told obviously tore her apart; the misgivings, questions involving those she held dearest; the people closest to her. Words had spilled from her like pebbles from an upturned sand-pail.

  None of it made sense to Darby. The sister, Alyssa, saying it was for the best, though she denied abducting the baby. The green trench-coat hanging in Diane’s house. The fact that Diane wanted a child and loved Cassandra. But she was at home with no child in the house. The bracelet lying on the floor of Ben’s car; a bracelet the baby had worn just before she disappeared. The possibility of an affair between Ben and his partner, Moira. Finally, the note and the picture of the lifeless baby. And here was the mother herself; unable to account for the hours before the abduction.

  Darby inhaled, holding her breath a moment. Fuck! Incriminating clues all over the place. For the moment, Shea must be reassured and comforted. She spoke heatedly, bending forward and looking Shea in the eye. “Someone is messing with you, Shea. Cassandra is very likely sleeping in this picture. She may have been given a drug. It does not mean she is dead.”

  Shea nodded. Tears shimmered in her thick-lashed eyes. She stared at Darby, gleaning every ounce of reassurance she could get.

  “It looks very much like someone close to you has done this. We’ll get warrants for your sister’s house, for your neighbour, Diane’s, yours, Moira’s, your tenant, Kyle’s, Ben’s parents …” She ticked each name off on her fingers as she spoke. “Anyone else that you can think of? Your mother?”

  Shea shook her head slowly, “I can’t think of anyone else that’s close to me. And my mother may be dead for all I know.”

  Darby crouched by the sofa where Shea sat, taking hold of her hands, her eyes boring into the stricken woman’s face. “Listen to me. You’re stronger than you think. And you’re doing well. We’ll find your baby. We will.” With a set jaw and determined eyes, she rose. Darby inclined her head toward Mel. He stood and followed her through the door.

  THE REPORTS WERE ON Darby’s desk when they returned to the station. Poring through them took time, and it wasn’t until early evening when Darby called her partner at home. (“You go,” she’d told him earlier. “That sexy little wifey of yours is waiting. All I have at home is a fuckin’ vibrator!”)

  She spoke into a speaker phone as she scanned the pages on her desk in front of her. “Mel, I’ve read the reports on the Anderson case. There are a few things that grab me. So much so that I had to call.”

  “I’m listening.” She could hear the curiosity in his voice.

  “Well, the sister is a theology professor; very h
ighly regarded at the University. Driven, impersonal, above reproach. An unlikely pair, Alyssa and Shea!”

  “Huh!” Mel registered his surprise.

  “Shea’s mother, it seems, is a street person living in San Francisco. Not likely to have made her way here to snatch a grand-daughter that she probably doesn’t even know exists.”

  “Yet she raised a Professor of Theology!”

  “What the fuck, eh?!” Darby laughed. “Ben’s parents are rich, respectable – and away in Europe right now. He runs a prestigious building company, and they travel a lot. Ben spent his life mostly in private schools.”

  “Okay …”

  “Diane, the neighbour, is divorced, close to her family, works as a banker from home. Nothing suspicious there. But she has been taking fertility treatments for the last year or so. Guess there are boyfriends around … ”

  “She wants a baby bad,” Mel murmured.

  “She does. Then there’s Moira. She’s a gifted barrister, partner to Ben. They’ve just started their partnership in the past year, but are beginning to see success. She graduated with top honours, and seems to be admired by everyone around her. A baby is not likely to be on her radar. There is no concrete evidence to show that she and Ben are having an affair.”

  “But they may be very good at hiding it.”

  “True,” Darby agreed. “It wouldn’t be that hard. Now for Kyle, the renter in the basement. He’s moved here recently so not a lot on him. He works as a social worker for the city, has few friends and seems to keep to himself. His co-workers say he seems ambitious and is a nice guy.”

  “So nothing that jumps out at us,” Mel mused. “No one with a record.”

  “Just one. Ready for this?” Darcy hesitated a moment. “When she was ten years old Shea was found guilty of manslaughter.”