Nighttime Is My Time

58

After Sam Deegan left, Jean Sheridan and Mark Fleischman sat for nearly an hour at the table in the coffee shop. He reached over and covered her hand with his as she told him about meeting Craig Michaelson, about becoming convinced that Michaelson had handled Lily's adoption, and about verbally attacking him when she felt he was refusing to understand that Lily might be in genuine danger.

"I did call to apologize," she explained. "When I did, I pointed out that it's just possible Lily might remember where she was when her hairbrush disappeared. That could be a direct link to who might have taken it, unless, of course, her adoptive parents are behind all this."

"That's a real possibility," Mark agreed. "Are you taking Michael-son's advice to petition the court to open the file?"

"Absolutely. I'm meeting Sam Deegan in his office tomorrow morning."

"I think that's smart. Jean, what about Laura? You don't believe this is just some publicity stunt, do you?"

"No, I don't." Jean hesitated. It was nearly four-thirty, and the late afternoon sun was sending slanting shadows through the almost deserted coffee shop. She looked across the table at Mark. He was wearing an open sport shirt and dark green sweater. He's one of those men who'll always have a boyish look, she thought-except for his eyes. "Who was that teacher we had who called you an 'old soul?" she asked.

"That was Mr. Hastings. And what brought that up?"

"He said you were wise beyond your years."

"I'm not sure it was meant as a compliment. You're leading up to something, Jeannie."

"I guess I am. My understanding of old souls is that they have great insight. When I got in the car after I left Craig Michaelson's office, I was upset. I told you that. But then, Mark, if Laura had been in the car with me, I couldn't have heard her speak more clearly. I heard her voice saying, 'Jean, help me. Please, Jean, help me.' "

She scrutinized his expression. "You don't believe me, or you think I'm crazy," she said defensively.

"That's not true, Jeannie. If anyone believes in the power of the mind to communicate, I do. But if Laura is really in trouble, where does Robby Brent fit into the picture?"

"I have no idea." Jean raised her hand in a gesture of helplessness, then lowered it as she looked around. "We'd better get out of here. They're already setting the tables for dinner."

Mark signaled for the check. "I wish I could ask you to have dinner with me, but tonight I have the unique privilege of breaking bread with my father."

Jean looked at him closely, not sure of how to respond. The expression on his face was inscrutable. Finally she said, "I know you've been estranged from him. Did he call you?"

"I walked past the house today. His car was there. Impulsively, quite impulsively, I went up and rang the bell. We had a long talk- not long enough to settle anything, but he did ask me to meet him for dinner. I said I would, on the condition that he would be prepared to answer certain questions I was going to ask him."

"And he agreed?"

"Yes, he did. Let's see if he keeps his word."

"I hope whatever you have to work out can be worked out."

"So do I, Jeannie, but I'm not counting on it."

They got in the elevator together. Mark punched the buttons for the fourth and sixth floors.

"I hope your view is better than mine," Jean said. "I overlook the back parking lot."

"Then it is better," he agreed. "I'm facing the front. If I'm in the room at the right time, I get to see the sunset."

"And if I happen to be awake, I get to see who comes rolling in around daybreak," Jean said as the elevator stopped at the fourth floor. "I'll see you, Mark."

The message signal on the phone in her room was blinking. The call was from Peggy Kimball and had come in only a few minutes earlier. "Jean, I'm on my break at the hospital, so I'll make this fast. After I left you, it occurred to me that Jack Emerson worked for the clean-up crew in our office building around the time you were seeing Dr. Connors. I told you Dr. Connors always kept his file keys in his pocket, but he must have had a spare hidden somewhere because I remember that one day he forgot to bring his key ring to the office but still was able to open the files. So maybe Emerson or someone like him did get a look at your records. Anyhow, I thought you should know. Good luck."

Jack Emerson, Jean thought as she replaced the receiver and sank down on the bed. Could he be the one who's doing this to me? He's always lived in this town. If the people who adopted Lily live here, too, he may know them.

She heard a sound and turned in time to see a manila envelope being slid under the door. She hurried across the room and yanked the door open.

An apologetic bellman was trying to straighten up. "Dr. Sheridan, a fax came for you right after a whole stack came for one of the other guests. Your fax got put in with his material. He just came across it and brought it down to the desk."

"It's all right," Jean said softly, fear almost closing her throat. She closed the door and picked up the envelope. Her hand shaking, she ripped it open. It's going to be about Lily, she thought.

It was about Lily. The fax read:

Jean, I am so terribly ashamed. I always knew about Lily, and I know the people who adopted her. She's a wonderful girl. She's smart; a college sophomore and very happy. I didn't mean to make you think I was threatening her. I need money desperately and thought I could get it this way. Don't worry about Lily, please. She is fine. I will be in touch with you soon. Forgive me and please let people know that I'm all right. The publicity stunt was Robby Brent's idea. He's going to try to straighten it out. He wants to talk to his producers before he has to make a statement to the press.

Laura

Her knees weak, Jean sank onto the bed. Then, crying with relief and joy, she dialed Sam's cell phone.

Jean's call jolted Sam from the peaceful nap he had been enjoying while Alice Sommers busied herself in the kitchen. "Another fax, Jean? Take it easy. Read it to me." He listened. "My God," he said. "I can't believe that woman would do this to you."

"You're talking to Jean? Is she all right?" Alice was standing in the doorway.

"Yes. Laura Wilcox has been sending the faxes about Lily. She's apologized, saying she never intended to hurt Lily."

Alice took the phone from him. "Jean, are you too upset to drive?" She listened. "Then come over here…"

When Jean arrived, Alice looked into Jean's face and saw the luminous joy she would have experienced herself if somehow years ago Karen had been spared. She put her arms around her, "Oh, Jean, I've been praying and praying."

Jean hugged her fiercely. "I know you have. I cannot believe that Laura has done this to me, but I am sure that Laura would never hurt Lily. And so it was all about money, Sam. My God, if Laura was that desperate, why didn't she just ask me straight out to help her? Half an hour ago I was ready to tell you that I thought Jack Emerson must be the one who knew about Lily."

"Jean, come in, sit down, and calm down. Have a glass of sherry and tell me what you mean by that. What does Jack Emerson have to do with this?"

"I just learned something that made me believe he was behind it." Obediently, Jean slipped off her coat, went into the den, sat on the chair nearest the fire, and, trying to keep her voice steady, told them about the call from Peggy Kimball. "Jack worked in that office at the time I was Dr. Connors' patient. He planned this reunion to get us all here. In his den he has that picture of Laura that Robby Brent talked about. It all seemed to fit-until the fax was delivered. Oh, I didn't tell you. The fax came in around noon but got mixed in with someone else's stuff."

"You should have received it at noon?" Sam asked quickly.

"Yes, and if I had, I wouldn't have gone to see Craig Michaelson.

As soon as I got it, I tried to phone him so that in case he was planning to contact Lily's adoptive parents, I could tell him to hold off until I heard from Laura again. There's no need now to alarm them or her."

"Have you told anyone else about this fax from Laura?" Sam asked quietly.

"No. I got it right after I went upstairs to my room. Mark and I sat and talked for at least an hour after you left us. Oh, I should call Mark now before he goes out to dinner. He'll be so glad to hear about this. He understands just as much as you two do how desperately worried I've been."

Dollars to doughnuts, Jean told Fleischman about the possibility that the hairbrush might be traced to the place where Lily lost it, or who she was with when she lost it, Sam thought grimly as he watched Jean reach for her cell phone.

He exchanged glances with Alice and saw they were sharing the same concern. Was this fax really from Laura, or was it one more bizarre twist in an ongoing nightmare?

Then there is another scenario, Sam thought. If Jean is right, and Craig Michaelson did handle the adoption, it's possible that Michaelson might already have contacted Lily's adoptive parents and discussed the missing brush.

Unless this communication from Laura was on the level, Lily had become a danger to whoever was sending the faxes. And whoever was doing it might have thought about the hairbrush being traced to him.

I'm not ready to accept that these faxes were from Laura, Sam thought. Not yet anyway. Jack Emerson worked in Dr. Connors' office, has always lived in town, and could easily be friends with a couple from Cornwall who might have adopted Lily.

Mark Fleischman may have won Jean's confidence, but I'm not convinced. There's something going on inside that guy that has nothing to do with going on television and giving advice to dysfunctional families, he decided.

Jean was leaving a message for Fleischman. "He's not in," she said, then sniffed and turned to Alice, a smile on her face. "Something smells wonderful. If you don't invite me to dinner, I'm going to invite myself. Oh, dear God, I'm so happy. I'm so happy!"