Vanished

He asked her a few more questions then, made a few notes, and thanked her for her time, as he snapped shut his briefcase. And as she stood up, she looked at him, and decided to be honest.

“I was told that I shouldn't speak to you today. That it was 'unwise, but not illegal.'” She quoted John, and she knew that Malcolm and the U.S. Attorney would have been livid.

“Then why did you?” He was fascinated by her, not by her looks as much as her quiet ways, and her inner peace. This did not appear to be a woman who had ever been in a mental hospital or gone crazy. Maybe she had just given up and wanted to die, as Charles had explained. But now she was definitely back again, and beneath the cool surface, there was a lot of fire, and a sharp brain. He had enjoyed talking to her.

“Mr. Armour, all I want is the truth. That's all I want. Even more than justice. If Teddy is dead, I want to know it …and yes, I want to know who killed him, and why …but if he's alive, I want him found. … I just want to know where he is, so he can come home.”

Tom Armour nodded. He understood. And for his own reasons, he wanted that too. “I hope we find out, Mrs. Patterson … for his sake as much as yours …and Mr. Delauney's.”

“Thank you.”

Haverford saw him out, and Marielle watched as he went down the stairs. He looked like a man who was in control of everything he touched. And she envied him his confidence. But beneath the confident air, she had sensed something more. Something warm and strong and very caring. And as she walked back to the library, she realized again how fortunate Charles was to have him as an attorney.

The trial opened on a bleak wintry afternoon in March, with a bitter wind and a chill rain that went right to the bone, as the jurors, the public, and the press filed into the courtroom. It was the same week that Hitler swept into Prague, and announced to the world that Czechoslovakia was his now. But even Malcolm was less concerned with world news than usual. All they could think of was The U.S. v. Charles Delauney.

The trial was being held at the U.S. District Courthouse and at exactly one o'clock, Malcolm and Marielle arrived in the Pierce-Arrow limousine, driven by two policemen and accompanied by four FBI men, among them John Taylor. He was glad he could be there to give her strength. She felt his presence close to her, and it made her feel braver. Malcolm had said not a single word to her since they left the house. His silent accusations had begun to wear her down in the past months. She looked as gray as her dress when they got out of the car, and Malcolm assisted her silently up the steps of the courthouse. She was wearing a pale gray coat and matching hat, and the wind nearly swept it off, just as the press descended on them in a wave, and the FBI men had to fight to make a path for them. And as they entered the courtroom, Marielle realized again how painful this was all going to be, and how pointless. At the end of it, they would not get Teddy back. What purpose did it serve? He was gone, and after three months their hopes of having him returned alive had grown dim now. All this was was an exercise in accusation.

The Pattersons took their seats in the front row behind the U.S. Attorney. John Taylor sat next to Marielle, and one of his assistants was next to Malcolm. There were two more FBI men just behind them, and two uniformed policemen on either side of them, and just ahead, so they were surrounded by more than adequate protection. And Brigitte was already in the courtroom waiting for them when they arrived. She glanced warmly at Marielle, and nodded politely at Malcolm. A few moments later the bailiff appeared and demanded that all rise as the judge entered in his black robes, and gazed around the courtroom. He was a tall man with a rugged face, and a shock of white hair, not unlike Malcolm's. In fact, the two men were vague friends, but he was known to be a harsh judge, and Malcolm had made no objection when he'd been selected.

Judge Abraham Morrison took his seat, and scowled at everyone as he looked around his courtroom. There was a long silence and people began to squirm in their seats, particularly the press, whom he seemed to scrutinize, and then the jurors, the Pattersons, the defendant, and the attorneys.