Vanished

But instinct also told him that it was unlikely they were involved in the kidnapping. It was possible they'd taken a bribe, had left a door open somewhere for a hundred bucks, but he wasn't even sure they'd done that. They were just out, taking advantage of their employers, in a purloined dress, a borrowed car, having shirked their duties to the child, but he doubted if there was more to it than that. Lucky for them, or he'd have been glad to nail them.

He went back to the library after telling O'Connor to let them go. He'd interrogate them again in the morning. They had both already insisted that they'd seen nothing unusual that night, or in the days before. The only thing unusual, Patrick repeated, was Marielle's meeting with her “boyfriend.”

“What did you make of that?” O'Connor asked in an undertone before Taylor left the kitchen.

“It's probably all lies, but I'll ask her.”

“She don't look the type.” O'Connor shook his head. Maybe the boyfriend had taken the kid. It was certainly a possibility if she was involved with someone other than her husband. And you never knew. It was always the quiet ones who surprised you.

“No, she doesn't look the type,” Taylor agreed almost sadly. But if it was true, he was even more anxious to talk to her before the return of her husband. As he walked into the library, he saw her sitting there, almost as though she hadn't moved, but she seemed to be shaking harder than ever. The house was warm, but she was clearly in shock, and in spite of himself, he felt sorry for her.

“Would you like a drink, or a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you,” she said sadly. “Did they know anything?” she asked him hopefully, but he shook his head. “Do you think it's possible they took him and left him somewhere, and came back?” It was a thought she'd had while he was talking to them, and she was anxious to share it.

“Possible, but not likely. I'll see them both again tomorrow morning. But I think they've probably just been out dancing and drinking.” Like her, he was disappointed. It would have been so simple if they had him.

“Neither of them is very fond of me.” Few people were, in Malcolm's house, but she was embarrassed to say it. Malcolm was their only boss, as far as they were concerned. No matter how kind she'd been to them, they were still cold and rude and surly, and more than they knew it, it hurt her.

Being married to Malcolm wasn't always the easy life it appeared. There had been many long nights when she'd been unhappy and lonely. There'd been years of them now, and yet she was faithful to him, and honorable, decent, and a good mother to Teddy. But no one gave her credit for that. Sometimes, she thought, not even Malcolm.

Taylor was watching her face then, and wondering something. “Why do you think they don't like you?” It wasn't that he disagreed with her, he had seen the hatred in Patrick's eyes, and the look on Edith's face when she talked about her dresses.

“I think they're jealous. Most of them have been here since before we were married. I was an intruder, as far as they were concerned. They had their arrangements with my husband, and suddenly there I was, and they didn't want to be bothered. Everyone has an angle in a house like this, something they're doing, something they want, something they shouldn't have done, but did, and they don't want to get found out. I'm a headache for them, and they don't like it.” Something about what she'd just said reminded him about her headaches. It was an odd thing that had stuck in his mind, and he couldn't help wondering, in light of everything else the driver had said, if she and Malcolm were happily married.

“Maybe you're right.” The investigator from the FBI was noncommittal. “What about what I asked you before I left the room?”

“I can't think of anything else.” She was still struggling with her conscience and her terrors, and her unwillingness to believe that Charles would take Teddy, no matter what he had said. He couldn't have meant it.

“You're sure?” Two uniformed policemen wandered by, and Taylor gave them a high sign and asked for a cup of tea for her, and coffee for himself, if they could find it. It was three o'clock in the morning by then, and just watching her shiver made him feel cold and tired.

“Do they have any news at all?” She had to fight back tears as she asked, and he shook his head. She still couldn't let herself believe that if she went upstairs, she wouldn't find Teddy. He had to be there …but in her heart, she knew he wasn't.