Nighttime Is My Time

sandwich and container of coffee that had just been delivered to her desk. As she pushed back her chair and begrudgingly got to her feet, she mumbled to herself, 'My God, from the tone of his voice you'd think it was a matter of life and death.'

45

Dorothy Connors was a frail septuagenarian who Jean could see at first glance suffered from rheumatoid arthritis. She moved slowly, and the joints of her fingers were swollen. Her face showed lines of pain, and she wore her white hair very short, probably, Jean thought, because raising her arms was a distinct effort.

Her home was one of the desirable high-up properties that overlooked the Hudson. She invited Jean to the sunroom off the living room where, as she explained, she spent most of her waking time.

Her vivid brown eyes brightened when she talked about her husband. 'Edward was the most wonderful man and husband and doctor who ever walked the face of the earth,' she said. 'It was that dreadful fire that killed him, the loss of his office and all his records. It brought on his heart attack.'

'Mrs. Connors, I explained to you on the phone that I've been getting threats about my daughter. She would be nineteen and a half now. I am frantic to find her adoptive parents and warn them about the possible danger to her. I was a girl from this town. Please help me. Did Dr. Connors talk to you about me? I could see where he would. My mother and father were the town joke, with their public quarrels, and they only stayed together long enough to shove me into college. That was why your husband understood I could never go to them for help. He arranged the cover-up story, establishing my reason for going to Chicago. He even came out and delivered the baby himself in the emergency section of the nursing home.'

'Yes, he did that for a number of girls. He wanted to help them maintain their privacy. Jean, fifty years ago it wasn't easy for a girl to have a baby out of wedlock. Do you know that the actress Ingrid Bergman was denounced in Congress when she gave birth to an illegitimate child? Standards of behavior change-for better or worse, you decide. Today most of the world doesn't think a thing about an unmarried woman bearing and raising a child, but my husband was old-fashioned. Twenty years ago he was deeply concerned about protecting his young pregnant mothers' privacy, even with me. Until you told me, I never even knew that you had been his patient.'

'But you did know about my parents.'

Dorothy Conners looked at Jean for a long moment. 'I knew they had problems. I also saw them at church and chatted with them a number of times. My guess, my dear, is that you only remember the bad times. They were also attractive, intelligent people who unfortunately were ill-suited to each other.'

Jean felt the sting of a rebuke and in an odd way sensed that she had been put on the defensive. 'I can guarantee you that they were ill-suited to each other,' she said, hoping that the anger she felt was not reflected in her voice. 'Mrs. Connors, I do appreciate that you let me visit you on such short notice, but now I'll be brief. My daughter may be in very real danger. I know that you fiercely guard Dr. Connors' memory, but if you know anything about where he might have placed her, you owe it to me and to her to be honest with me.'

'Before God, Edward never discussed patients in your situation with me, and I never heard your name mentioned by him.'

'And he kept no records at home, and all his office records are gone?'

'Yes, they are. The entire building was so totally destroyed that arson has always been suspected but never proved. Certainly no records survived.'

Clearly Dorothy Connors could give her no help. Jean rose to go. 'I remember that Peggy Kimball was the office nurse when I saw Dr. Connors. I've left a message for her and hope she'll call me. Maybe she'll know something. Thank you, Mrs. Connors. Please don't get up. I'll find my way out.'

She offered her hand to Dorothy Connors and then was shocked to see that the expression on the other woman's face could only be construed as extreme alarm.

46

Mark Fleischman checked into the Glen-Ridge House at one o'clock, dropped off his bag, phoned Jean's room but got no answer, and then went down to the dining room. He was surprised and pleased to see Jean sitting alone at a corner table, and with quick strides, he hurried over to her.

'Are you waiting for anyone, or would you like company?' he asked, then watched as the somber expression on her face was replaced by a warm smile.

'Mark, I didn't expect to see you! Of course, sit down. I was just about to order lunch, and nobody's planning to join me.'

'Then consider yourself joined.' He settled on the chair opposite her. 'I put my briefcase with my cell phone in the trunk of the car by mistake,' he said, 'so I didn't get your message till I unpacked last night. I called the hotel early this morning, and the operator told me that Laura wasn't back and that the police were checking phone records. That's when I decided to rearrange my schedule and come back. I flew down and rented a car.'

'That was very nice of you,' Jean said sincerely. 'We're all terribly worried about Laura.' Quickly she gave him a rundown of what had transpired since he had left after the brunch the day before.

'You say you came back to the hotel with Sam Deegan, that man you were having a drink with the other night, and when you knew Laura was missing, he began an investigation?' Mark queried.

'Yes,' Jean said, realizing she had awakened Mark's curiosity as to why Sam Deegan had been with her in the first place. 'Sam followed me to the hotel because I was giving him something that our friend Alice Sommers is interested in seeing.'

Alice is interested in seeing the faxes, she told herself, so it's not a complete fabrication. Looking across the table at Mark and seeing the concern in his eyes made her want to tell him about Lily, to ask him as a psychiatrist if he thought the threats were genuine, or whether someone was only setting her up for blackmail.

'Ready for menus?' the waitress chirped.

'Yes, thank you.'

They both decided on a club sandwich and tea. 'Coffee for breakfast, tea for lunch, and a glass of wine to start dinner,' Mark said. 'I've noticed that seems to be your routine, too, Jeannie.' I guess it is.

'I've noticed a lot of things about you this weekend, and they reminded me of the years we were at Stonecroft.'

'Such as?'

'Well, you always were very smart in school. You were also very quiet. And I remember that you were very sweet-that hasn't changed. Then I thought about one time during the freshman year when I was really down and you were very kind to me.'

'I don't remember that.'

'I won't go into it, but you were, and I also admired the way you held your head high when you were upset about your parents.'

'Not always.' Jean cringed inwardly, remembering the times she had started crying in class from the stress of the arguments at home.

It was as though he could read her mind, Jean realized, as Mark Fleischman continued. 'I tried to hand you my handkerchief one day when you were upset, but you just shook your head and dabbed furiously at your eyes with a soggy Kleenex. I wanted to help you then, and I want to help you now. Coming from the airport I heard on the radio that the reporter kid who hounded us at the reunion is talking to the media about what he calls 'The Lunch Table Serial Killer.' Even if you're not worried about that possibility, I am. And with Laura missing, you're the only one of those girls left.'

'I wish I was just worried about myself,' Jean said.

'Then what are you worried about? Come on, Jean, tell me. I am trained to spot stress in people, and if I've seen anyone under stress, it was you the other night when you were talking to Sam Deegan, who you now tell me