Nighttime Is My Time

52

Sam Deegan's subpoena for the telephone records that would show the area where Laura's phone call to Jean had originated produced exactly the same results as the one he'd gotten a day earlier. The second call from Laura had been made from the same kind of cell phone-the kind that could be purchased with one hundred minutes of available calling time and did not require a subscriber's name.

At eleven-fifteen on Tuesday morning, Sam was in the district attorney's office giving him an update. "It's not the same phone Wilcox used Sunday night," he told Rich Stevens. "This one was purchased in Orange County. It has a 845 exchange. Eddie Zarro is out checking the places in the Cornwall area that sell them. Of course, it's been turned off, just like the one Wilcox used to phone the Glen-Ridge desk clerk Sunday evening."

The district attorney spun a pen in his fingers. "Jean Sheridan can't be one hundred percent certain she was talking to Laura Wilcox."

"No, sir, she can't."

"And the nurse-what's her name, Peggy Kimball?-told Sheridan that Dr. Connors may have arranged an illegal private adoption for her baby?"

"That's what Mrs. Kimball thinks."

"Have you heard anything from the priest at St. Thomas about baptismal records?"

"So far they're drawing a blank. They've been pretty successful reaching people who had baby girls baptized within that three-month period, but they haven't come up with one single instance of anyone admitting that their child had been adopted. The pastor, Monsignor Dillon, is smart. He called in some of the long-timers on the parish council who were around twenty years ago. They knew of families who had adopted children, but not one of them has a girl who's nineteen and a half now."

"Is Monsignor Dillon still working on it?"

Sam rubbed his hand over his head and thought again of how Kate used to tell him that he was weakening the roots of his hair. He decided it was a sign of his fatigue that from thoughts of Kate his mind jumped to Alice Sommers. It seemed more like two weeks than two days since he had seen her. But then, since early Saturday morning when Helen Whelan was reported missing, everything had been spinning out of control.

"Is Monsignor Dillon still searching through the files, Sam?" Rich Stevens asked again.

"Sorry, Rich. I guess I was woolgathering there for a minute. The answer is yes, and he's also called some of the neighboring parishes and asked them to do a discreet check on their own. If they think they have anything, Monsignor Dillon will let us know, and we can subpoena their records."

"And is Jean Sheridan following up on Craig Michaelson, the lawyer who handled some of Dr. Connors' adoptions?"

"She's seeing him at two o'clock."

"What's your next step, Sam?"

They were interrupted by the ringing of Sam's cell phone. He grabbed it from his pocket, glanced at the ID, and the fatigue suddenly dropped from his expression. "It's Eddie Zarro," he said as he pushed the talk button. "What have you got, Eddie?" he snapped.

As the district attorney watched, Sam's mouth dropped. "You've got to be kidding me. God, I feel so dumb. Why didn't I think of that, and what is that little weasel up to? Okay. I'll meet you at the Glen-Ridge. Let's hope he didn't decide to take off today."

Sam closed the phone and looked at his boss. "A cell phone with one hundred minutes on it was bought at the drugstore on Main Street in Cornwall a few minutes after seven last night. The clerk remembers distinctly the man who made the purchase because he's seen him on television. It was Robby Brent."

"The comedian? Do you think he and Laura Wilcox are together?"

"No, sir, I don't. The clerk in the drugstore watched Brent after he left. Brent stood on the sidewalk and made a phone call. According to him, it was at exactly the same time that Jean Sheridan received the call supposedly from Laura Wilcox."

"You mean that you think-

Sam interrupted. "Robby Brent is a comedian by some standards, but by everyone's standard he's a first-class mimic. My guess is the guy was imitating Laura's voice on that call to Jean Sheridan. I'm on my way to the Glen-Ridge. I'm going to find that jerk and make him explain to me what he was up to."

"Do that," Rich Stevens snapped. "He'd better have a damn good story, or else let's slap him with a charge for hindering a police investigation."