Gone, but not forgotten

Chapter Twenty-seven

"Tannenbaum was killed Friday evening," Ross Barrow said as he uncapped a Styrofoam cup filled with black coffee. Randy Highsmith pulled a jelly doughnut out of a bag Barrow had placed on Alan Page's desk. it was still dark. Through the window behind Page, a river of headlights flowed across the bridges spanning the Willamette River as the Monday morning commuters drove into downtown Portland.

"Three days without a call," Page muttered to himself, fully aware of the implications. "Anything last night at Betsy's house?" he asked Barrow.

"A lot of condolence calls, but no kidnapper."

"How do you figure it?" Page asked Highsmith.

"First possibility, it's a kidnapping, but the kidnapper hasn't gotten in touch with Betsy for some reason known only to him."

"The kid could be dead," Barrow offered. "He wants to hold her for ransom, but fucks up and kills her."

"yeah," Highsmith said.. "Or, possibility number two, he has Kathy and he's not interested in ransom."

"That's the possibility I don't even want to consider," Page said.

"Do we have anything new, Ross?" Highsmith asked.

Barrow shook his head. "No one saw anyone leaving the apartment house with a little girl. The murder weapon is missing. We're still waiting on results from the lab."

Page sighed. He'd had very little sleep in the past few days and he was exhausted.

"The only good thing to come out of this mess is the extra time it's bought with Darius," Page said. "What was in the surveillance logs?"

"Nothing that helps us," Barrow answered.

"Padovici and Kristol were on Darius from the moment he left his estate at six forty-three a.m. I talked to justice Ryder again. He's positive he was eating breakfast with Lisa Darius at seven-thirty. The teams were on Darius constantly. Besides, Darius met with people all day, in his office. I've had every member of his staff and visitors interviewed twice. If they're covering for him, they're doing a great job."

"There has to be an answer," Page said. "Has the team we've got searching for Gordon turned up anything?"

"Nada, Al," Barrow answered. "No one's seen her since she checked into that motel."

"We know she's alive," Page said, his tone echoing his frustration. "She made that damn call. Why won't she show herself'?"

"We have to start facing the fact that Gordon may have lied to you,"

Highsmith said. "Darius may have been a victim in Hunter's Point. Waters may have been the killer."

Page wished he could let Highsmith and Barrow know what Wayne Turner had told him. Then they would know Gordon was telling the truth.

"Remember I suggested Gordon might be our killer, Al," Highsmith continued. "I think we'd better start considering her very seriously. I can't see any way she could have known we would find Lisa Darius in the basement, unless she put her there.

"what if she visited Lisa and convinced her to help her break into Martin's house to find evidence to convict him. They go through the woods. Lisa knows how to turn off the alarms. Martin Darius is at work all day and the house is deserted. She kills Lisa to frame Darius, waits until she sees him come home, then calls you. The only flaw in the plan is that Gordon doesn't know about the surveillance teams."

"Nancy Gordon did not kill those women," Page insisted. "Darius killed them, and he's not beating this case."

"I'm not saying Darius isn't guilty. I'm saying this case makes less and less sense every time I look at it."

Alan Page checked his watch. It was ten-thirty in Washington, D.C.

"This is going nowhere. I want to attend Rick Tannenbaum's funeral, and, believe it or not, I have some work to do that has nothing to do with Martin Darius or Rick Tannenbaum's murder. Let me know about any developments immediately."

"You want me to leave a doughnut?" Barrow asked.

"Sure. Why not? I should have at least one good thing happen to me today. Now get out and let me work."

Ross Barrow handed Alan a maple bar and followed Highsmith into the hall. As soon as the office door closed, Page dialed Senator Colby's office and asked for Wayne Turner.

"Mr. Page, what can I do for you?" Turner asked.

Page could hear the tension in the administrative assistant's voice.

"I've been thinking about the senator's information all weekend. My situation is desperate. Even my own staff is starting to doubt Darius's guilt. We know Darius killed three women in Hunter's Point, including his wife and daughter, but the judge is starting to see him as an innocent victim and me as his persecutor. If Darius is released, I have no doubt he'll kill again. I don't see I have any choice but to ask the senator to testify about the pardon."

The line was silent for a moment. When Wayne Turner spoke, he sounded resigned.

"I was expecting your call. I'd do the same thing in your shoes. Darius has to be stopped. But I think there might be a way to protect the senator. Betsy Tannenbaum seems like a responsible person."

"She is, but I wouldn't count on her staying on the Darius case. Someone murdered her husband on Friday and kidnapped her little girl."

"My God! Is she okay?"

"She's trying to keep herself together. The husband's funeral is this afternoon."

"That might complicate matters. I was hoping we could convince her to tell judge Norwood about the pardon in camera. That way he could use the information to deny bail without the public finding out about it."

"I don't know," Page said hesitantly. "You run into all sorts of constitutional problems if you try to bar the press. Besides, Darius would have to give his okay. I can't imagine him not trying to pull down Senator Colby with him."

"Take a shot at it, will you? The senator and I have been talking this out. We might be able to weather the storm, but we don't want to, if we don't have to."

Storm clouds cast somber shadows over the mourners as the graveside service began. Then a light rain started to fall. Rick's father opened an umbrella over Betsy. Cold drops hit it. Betsy did not feel them. She tried to pay attention to the eulogies, but her mind kept wandering to Kathy. She was grateful for the concern everyone had shown for her daughter, but every mention of Kathy drove a knife into her heart. When the rabbi closed his prayer book and the mourners began to drift away, Betsy stayed by the grave.

"Let her have some private time with him," Betsy heard Rita tell Rick's parents. Rick's father pressed the umbrella into her hand.

The cemetery spread across low, rolling hills. The headstones near Rick's grave were weathered, but well cared for. An oak tree would provide shade in the summer. Betsy stared at Rick's grave. What was left of her husband's body was covered by the earth. His spirit had flown.

The future they might have had together would be a mystery forever. The finality terrified her.

"Betsy."

She looked up. Samantha Reardon was standing beside her. She wore a black raincoat and a wide-brimmed hat that left her face in shadow.

Betsy looked around for help. Most of the mourners were walking quickly toward their cars to get out of the rain. Her brother was walking with the rabbi. Rita was talking to two of her friends.

Rick's family was huddled together, looking away from the grave.

"The hearing was supposed to be today."

"It's the funeral. I couldn't…"

"There will be no stalling, Betsy. I was counting on you and you let me down. I went to the courthouse and you weren't there."

"It's Rick's funeral."

"Your, husband is dead, Betsy. Your daughter is still alive."

Betsy saw it would be useless to try and reason with Reardon. Her face was void of compassion. Her eyes were dead.

"I can call the judge," Betsy said. "I'll do it."

"You'd better, Betsy. I was so upset when I heard the hearing was delayed that I forgot to feed Kathy."

"Oh, please," Betsy pleaded.

"You've upset me, Betsy. When you upset me, I will punish Kathy. One meal a day is — all she'll get until you've done as I say. There will be just enough water and just enough food so she can last. The same diet I received in Hunter's Point. Kathy will suffer because you disobeyed me.

Every tear she sheds will be shed because of you. I'll be checking with the court. I better hear that a date has been set for the hearing."

Reardon walked away. Betsy took a few steps — after her, then stopped.

"You forgot your umbrella," Alan Page said.

Betsy turned and stared at him blankly. The umbrella had slipped from her hand while Reardon was talking to her. Page held it over them.

"How are you holding up?" Page asked.

Betsy shook her head, not testing herself to talk.

"You'll get through this. You're tough, Betsy."

"Thank you, Alan. I appreciate everything you've done for me."

It was hard dealing with grief in a house full of strangers. The FBI agents and the police tried to be unobtrusive, but there was no way to be alone without hiding in her bedroom. Page had been wonderful. He had arrived with the first invasion on Saturday night and stayed Until dawn.

On Sunday, Page returned with sandwiches. The simple, humanitarian gesture made her cry.

"Why don't you go home. Get out of this rain," Page suggested.

They walked away from the grave. Page covered them with the umbrella as they walked up the hill toward Rita Cohen.

"Alan," Betsy said, stopping suddenly, "Can we hold the hearing for Darius tomorrow?"

Page looked surprised by the request. "I don't know judge Norwood's calendar, but why do you want to go to court tomorrow?"

Betsy scrambled for a rational explanation for her request.

"I can't stand sitting in the house. I don't think the kidnapper will call, if he hasn't called by now. If… if this is a kidnapping for ransom, we have to give the kidnapper a chance to contact me. He may have guessed you'd tap the phones. If I'm at the courthouse, in a crowd, he might try to approach me."

Page tried to think of a reason to dissuade Betsy, but she made sense.

There had been no attempt to phone or write Betsy at her home or office.

He was beginning to accept the possibility that Kathy was dead, but he did not want to tell Betsy. Going along with her would give Betsy some hope. Right now, that was all he could do for her.

"Okay. I'll set it up as soon as I can. Tomorrow, if the judge can do it."

Betsy looked down at the grass. If judge Norwood scheduled the hearing, Kathy might be home tomorrow.

Page laid his hand on her shoulder. He handed the umbrella to Rita, who had walked down the hill to meet them.

"Let's go home," Rita said. Rick's family closed around her and followed her to the car. Page watched her walk away. The rain pelted down on him.