Dessert came—a moist triple layer chocolate cake with chunks of chocolate chips and iced with fudge frosting. Juliet raised her brow after she took her first bite.
“This is delicious.”
The waitress refilled their coffee. As Juliet raised the cup to her lips, the sleeve of her sweater slipped up enough for Diane to notice several scars on her arm. She wondered if Juliet was a cutter. At the end of dessert, Diane took a card out of her purse.
“I don’t intend to interfere in your business, and this is the only time I’ll mention it. I have a friend. Her name is Laura Hillard and she is a psychiatrist. If you ever want to talk to her, even if it is just to learn coping strategies to deal with people like Whitney Lester, give her a call. She won’t report to me, and I won’t ask you if you called her. This is just for your information if you need it.” Diane put the card on the table and pushed it forward.
Juliet picked up the card and turned it over in her hand. She stared at it for a long time before she spoke.
“I’ve been having dreams again,” she said, still staring at the card. “They stopped for several years and now they’ve started again. That’s why I couldn’t cope with Ms. Lester tonight.” She looked up at Diane. “I don’t remember much about my early childhood. I only know what I’ve been told and what I looked up in the newspapers. I was kidnapped when I was seven and left for dead in a culvert. I think all my problems stem from that—even if I don’t remember it.” She put the card in her purse.
Diane was stunned. It was several moments before she could speak. “Juliet,” she said finally, “I don’t know what to say. Was your kidnapper caught?”
Juliet shook her head. “No.”
“You only saw a therapist in college? Not sooner?”
“Since I couldn’t remember, my parents didn’t want the memories dredged up. They thought it best if the experience remained buried. My mother died a year later and my father remarried. My father and my grandmother told me I had nightmares because I felt guilty for being disobedient and ‘got myself snatched,’ as my grandmother used to say. She told me that if I was obedient, the dreams would stop. My stepmother thought the cure was summer camp. A benign cure, but I was never able to pull off being a happy camper.”
No wonder she’s skittish and prefers solitude,
thought Diane.
I would be too if I had been through that as a child
. The knowledge made Whitney Lester’s behavior all the more appalling.
“I’m sorry,” said Diane. “Life must be very difficult for you. If I can help, I will.”
“You gave me a job. Do you know how many times I lost jobs in the interview stage? That’s why this job is so important to me. I’d never jeopardize it by stealing. I’ve never stolen anything. I’m not a thief.”
Diane was glad they had dinner. It helped her understand a lot of things about Juliet. She offered her a lift home, but Juliet said she drove to the museum and her car was parked in the lot. Diane left a tip on the table and the two of them walked out together. The hostess nodded to Diane on the way out. She knew to send the tab to Diane’s office. Diane found that arrangement easier than arguing with the few guests who insisted on paying their own way. The matter was a nonissue if they weren’t presented with a bill.
The restaurant was about to close and there were few cars in the parking lot. Diane noticed that one of the streetlights was out. It was the one near her car. She stopped, wary. Juliet apparently sensed the change in Diane’s demeanor, for she slowed and stiffened. Diane reached for Juliet’s arm.
“Let’s go back in,” she whispered.
Juliet didn’t ask why, she turned on her heel, but as Diane reached for her phone to speed dial the security desk in the museum she saw a man stand up from behind her car. He had a baseball bat and he was walking toward her. Diane turned to run, but another man was coming up behind. Juliet gave a cry and sank to the ground.
Chapter 17
Diane wanted to run—she thought she could make it to the museum—but she couldn’t leave Juliet crumpled on the ground. She hurriedly dialed museum Security as the men approached. She frantically tried to think of some defense. As with Blake Stanton, the young carjacker with the gun, she had only words with which to defend herself. These men weren’t going to be as easy as Blake was.
“Stop where you are and back off,” she said.
She must have sounded pathetic to the huge men wielding baseball bats. Her thumb pressed the keys on her phone and she heard Security answer. As she brought it to her mouth she yelled.
“Front parking lot now!”
The men advanced, bats ready to strike. Before they got to her, the headlights from an approaching car shone on all of them. The two men stopped for only a moment; then one started to take a swing at Diane. She ducked when the car’s siren blasted and the blue light flashed. It was a police car.
Thank God,
she thought, as the men took off running across the parking lot, the police car in pursuit. Just then three of her security guards came running out of the building, their hands on their guns ready to pull.
“We need to help Dr. Price inside,” said Diane when they reached her. She and one of the security guards helped Juliet to her feet.
“I’m sorry,” Juliet whispered.
“It’s all right,” said Diane.
As she spoke, she watched the police car cut one of the runners off so that he slammed into the side of the car. The other man ran past the car and into the woods.
With the help of a guard, and flanked by the two other guards, Diane helped Juliet inside.
“Thanks for coming so fast,” said Diane when they were safely inside the building.
“Sure thing, Dr. Fallon. What was that about?”
“I don’t know. Can you take Dr. Price to my office and let her lie down on my sofa? And get her some water, or whatever she wants from my fridge.”
The security guard nodded and walked with Juliet across the granite foyer and through the double doors that led to the offices. The other two guards stayed with Diane.
“Go outside and see that the restaurant personnel and patrons get to their cars safely. Don’t make an issue of it. Just keep an eye out. Call for someone to keep a lookout on the terrace side of the restaurant.”
“Yes, ma’am.” As the two guards left the museum to go to the parking lot, one was on his radio.
Diane had a feeling that the men with the bats were after her, though she didn’t know why, except that she was the intended target of all the other attacks that took place at the museum. Better her as the target, she thought, than the patrons. Who would want to send their kids to a museum targeted by gangs wielding baseball bats?
Diane watched the activity at the police car from the doorway. She wanted to walk over to them and find out who the hell the guy was, but she would just be a distraction. She suddenly wondered what the police car was doing here in the first place. Had someone called them? Were there other problems she didn’t know about?
For whatever reason, the police were there and she was glad of it. It was clear that one guy would have gotten off at least one blow before her security people reached her.
She saw another patrol car join the first one and watched as they transferred the prisoner. The perpetrator looked to be about six feet and heavyset. The police had removed his ski mask, but she couldn’t see his face.
Two policemen from the first car, her rescuers, were walking toward the museum. When they were near enough, she recognized Archie from the morgue tent and Izzy Wallace.
Dear God,
she thought.
Izzy wants to talk about his son.
Diane opened the door wide for them. “Thank God you were here,” she said as they entered the museum.
“We got one of the guys,” said Archie. “You OK?”
“Yes. I’m fine. I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for the two of you. They were about to do us some real harm, and they really frightened one of my employees.”
“I need to talk with you,” said Izzy.
He’d taken his hat off and he held it in his hand. Diane thought of the phrase “hat in hand.” It seemed to fit. Izzy wasn’t someone she got along with, but now he needed something. Something she wasn’t sure she would be able to give.
“Dr. Price is in my office. Let’s step into the Security office and talk there,” said Diane. They nodded.
Diane led them through the same double doors that Juliet and the guard had gone through, but Diane headed to Security instead of the Personnel offices. There was a small refrigerator in the office, and she got the three of them bottled water.
“My boy,” said Izzy, “could you have made a mistake?” He looked at Diane with eyes that pleaded with her to tell him it was a mistake.
“How . . . ,” began Diane.
“It wasn’t Archie,” said Izzy hurriedly. “It was someone else. Is it true?”
“We need to have the DNA results to know for sure,” said Diane. “Right now, we just have the x-rays.”
“But you could have made a mistake in reading the x-rays,” he said hopefully.
“Yes, I could have. Dr. Rankin, Dr. Webber, and Dr. Pilgrim also read the x-rays separately, and we all reached the same conclusion.”
Izzy groaned.
“We all could be wrong. X-rays are not absolute. That’s why we’re trying for DNA.”
Izzy shook his head back and forth. “I’d hoped you were wrong. I told Evie you were wrong. But . . . we don’t know where Daniel is. We can’t find him anywhere and it’s not like him to just . . . We’ve looked everywhere. The library, the Student Learning Center, his friends, parks, the movies, the mall.”
Izzy Wallace put his head in his hands. Diane felt sick at heart. Hers and Archie’s gazes met, and she could see he felt the same helpless sick feeling. Izzy raised his head.
“Daniel’s a good student. He’s a good boy. He’s going places, not like me. He’s smart, always gets As in school. He’s not a drug user. I’d know. I can tell a drug user.”
“I know,” said Diane. “I doubt if many of the kids there were.”
“This is killing Evie. I don’t know what we are going to do. Daniel is our only child.”
Diane wanted to cry. She could see Archie did, too. How was Rosewood ever going to heal from this?
“Why couldn’t they get out?” said Izzy.
“What?” said Diane.
“Of the house. Why couldn’t they get out? Why didn’t more of them get out?”
“I’m not sure,” said Diane. “I think that the explosion . . .” She trailed off. “I’m not sure.”
Izzy uncapped the water and took a sip. The three of them sat there for several minutes, saying nothing. Diane wished she could make this go away. It seemed like an eternity since she was awakened in the middle of the night to the sight of the fire reflected in her photograph of the chambered nautilus.
“Thanks for seeing me. I just . . .” He fidgeted with his hat. “I just wanted . . .” His lower lip trembled. “I just wanted you to tell me you made a mistake.” He put his head in his hands again and sobbed.
“Did he suffer?” he said at last.
“No,” said Diane. She laid a hand on his. “But Izzy, until the DNA comes back . . . We aren’t a hundred percent certain it’s Daniel.”
“I know. But where is he? Why can’t we find him?”
When Izzy and Archie left, Diane wanted to sit down and have a good cry. Instead, she took a deep breath and walked to her office to see how Juliet Price was. This ought to have set her back, thought Diane. If she wasn’t already having nightmares, this day should surely bring them on.
Juliet, drinking from a bottle of orange juice, was sitting on the stuffed red sofa in Diane’s office. The guard was sitting in the easy chair. He looked up, relief evident in his face. Diane guessed he had been trying to engage Juliet in conversation. Diane thanked him. He eagerly got up, nodded a good-bye to Juliet, and left.
Juliet set down her drink, looked at her hands a moment, and twisted her ring, an aquamarine in a gold setting. “I—I’m sorry. I disappeared on you when we were in real trouble. I’m sorry.”
What an odd way of putting it, thought Diane as she pulled up a chair and sat across from Juliet.
“There was nothing you could have done. We were lucky the police and my security came when they did. This was not your fault.”
She looked up at Diane, her ice blue eyes swimming in tears. “I’m useless. I just disappear when things get hard.”
Diane noticed blood seeping through the fabric on the arm of Juliet’s shirt.
Chapter 18
“Were you hurt?” Diane reached over to look at her arm.
Juliet pulled it back. “It’s nothing.”
“Did you cut yourself?” asked Diane. Juliet was silent. “Dr. Price.” Diane used her title and a firm voice. “Let me help you. It looks like you need it.”
“There is no help,” she whispered. “I’ve tried.”
“What if there is help to be had? Isn’t it worth it to try again?”
“I’m sorry I deserted you.”
“You didn’t desert me. You were faced with maniacs with bats. Half the people in the museum would have collapsed in the face of that. I’m concerned about your cutting yourself. That is what you’re doing, isn’t it?”
Diane saw that the door to the bathroom was open. She usually left it closed. She guessed that Juliet had cut herself when she came in from the episode in the parking lot. Some kind of strange coping strategy that Diane didn’t understand.
Juliet was rubbing her hands, as if washing them, almost wringing them. Her face looked panicked.
“I know that seems strange, but I have to.”
“Doesn’t it hurt?” asked Diane.
“Now it does. That’s the point. It doesn’t at first. It’s as though I’m disappearing—I can’t even feel anything. The cutting brings back the feeling. It anchors me back to the ground. Without it, I’ll just fade away.”
Odd, thought Diane. Fading away was the way she saw Juliet.