Split Image

22

THEY PICKED UP a Concord detective named Sherman Kennedy and drove in a Concord police car to the Markham home.

"It's ugly," Jesse said, as they got out of the cruiser. "But pretentious."

"True," Sunny said. "But it's much worse inside."

Kennedy laughed.

"Summers," he said, "I used to work construction while I was going to college. And I worked on this place. They built a whole bunch of them out here when mortgage money was easy."

He was a sturdy young guy with a crew cut and some modest lettering that said Sherm tattooed on his left wrist.

"Some foreclosures around here?"

"Like a damned going-out-of-business sale. People got balloon notes all of a sudden coming due. People who had no business buying one of these fucking monsters… 'Scuse me, Ms. Randall."

"My father was a cop," Sunny said. "I was a cop. I been hanging out with a bad element all my life."

Kennedy grinned.

"So you don't give a fuck," he said.

"I do not," Sunny said.

"Anyway," Kennedy said. "Lotta people bought places they couldn't afford with mortgages they shouldn't have gotten, or got places they couldn't afford but thought they could flip when the price went up, and the prices didn't go up and they couldn't carry the payments… You know."

"I do," Sunny said.

They went to the front door. Kennedy put his badge folder in his breast pocket so that the badge showed. Elsa Markham answered the door.

"Hi," Kennedy said. "Detective Kennedy. I called earlier." Elsa nodded. She looked at Sunny.

"Ms. Randall," she said.

"Mrs. Markham," Sunny said. "This is Jesse Stone. He's the chief of police in Paradise."

"Could you tell me what this is about?" Elsa said.

"May we come in?" Kennedy said.

"I am not required to let you in," she said, "unless you have some sort of document, I believe."

"True," Kennedy said. "But it would probably go easier if we came in."

"I'll decide that," Elsa said, "when I know what this is about."

"Your daughter is missing," Jesse said.

"I know that," Elsa said.

"She's missing from the Bond of the Renewal group home," Jesse said. "Where she lived, in Paradise."

Elsa was silent for a moment. Her face had a hard, sort of sick look, Jesse thought. As if she didn't feel well. Then she spoke.

"You could have informed me of that by a phone call," she said.

"We could," Jesse said.

"But you chose to come here," Elsa said.

"We did," Jesse said.

"Phone call's kind of cold," Kennedy said.

"They could have sent just you," she said to Kennedy. Then, turning back to Jesse: "Why did you and this woman come all the way out here?"

"Thought you might be helpful," Jesse said.

"I'm no longer responsible for her. She wants to shack up with some Jesus freak, I have no control over that."

"You think she's shacking up?" Jesse said.

"That would be her style," Elsa said.

"Any idea which Jesus freak?" Sunny said.

"None."

"Has she done this before?" Jesse said.

"What the hell do you think she's been doing in your stupid town for the last several months?" Elsa said.

"Any other instances," Jesse said, "besides her adventures in Paradise?"

"Drive through town," Elsa said. "Any long-haired, tattooed drug addict you see."

"Many of those in town?" Jesse asked Kennedy.

Kennedy grinned and covered up his Sherm tattoo with his right hand.

"Not that many," Kennedy said.

"Enough," Elsa said.

Kennedy shrugged.

"Is Mr. Markham here?" Jesse said.

"John's at work," she said. "As he is every other weekday."

"Industrious," Jesse said.

"It costs a lot of money to be Elsa and John Markham," she said.

"But worth it," Jesse said.

"Every penny," Elsa said.

"What does Mr. Markham do?" Sunny said.

"He's senior vice president of marketing at Pace Advertising," Elsa said.

"And Cheryl Markham?" Jesse said.

"She has chosen not to live under our roof," Elsa said. "She wants to be on her own. Very well. She is on her own."

"You've not heard from her," Jesse said.

"I have not."

"And you have no idea where she might be?" Jesse said.

"I do not."

"Or with whom?" Jesse said.

"None."

Jesse nodded. He looked at Sunny. She shrugged. He turned back to Elsa Markham.

He said, "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Markham."

She nodded and closed the door.

They walked back to the Concord patrol car. They got in. Kennedy started it up and let it idle.

Then he said, "Jesus Christ."

"You notice she didn't ask us to let her know if we found her daughter," Jesse said.

Sunny nodded.

"She don't care?" Kennedy said.

"Maybe she'll know if we find her daughter," Jesse said.

"How would she know…" Kennedy said, and paused halfway through the sentence. "Because she knows where the kid is."

"Might," Jesse said.

Sunny nodded.

"Which would mean she took the kid herself," Kennedy said.

"Or arranged it," Jesse said.

"You think they kidnapped their own daughter?" Kennedy said.

"People do," Jesse said.

"So, where is she?" Kennedy said.

"No way to know," Jesse said. "Yet."

"Why would they do it?" Kennedy said.

"For her own good?" Jesse said.

"Or," Sunny said, "because she's an embarrassment to them. Senior vice presidents have daughters at Wellesley."

"Or we could be wrong," Jesse said.

"We often are," Sunny said.

"Well," Kennedy said. "I'll talk to the chief, but I would guess the best we can do is keep an eye on the house some. Case she's there."

"And loose," Jesse said.

"You mean she might be locked up?"

"Might," Jesse said. "You know what she looks like?"

Kennedy shook his head.

"No," he said. "But I can probably get her picture from the high school."

"If you do," Jesse said, "send me a copy."

"Sure," Kennedy said. "Is there a license picture?"

"No."

"Parents don't have one?"

"They claim not," Sunny said.

"Shit," Kennedy said. "I got a hundred pictures of my daughter, and she's eleven months old."

"But not missing," Jesse said.

"Sometimes I wish she were," Kennedy said. "You got kids?"

Both Sunny and Jesse shook their heads.

"I wouldn'ta missed it," he said. "But it's hard on the wife." Sunny and Jesse both nodded. Kennedy put the car in gear, and they drove out of the Markhams' driveway.

"Well," Kennedy said. "It could be worse. The house could have been foreclosed."

Jesse nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "That probably would have been worse."