Nighttime Is My Time

'Early morning is a busy time for us, with people checking out.'

Sam saw Gordon Amory coming out of the elevator. He was dressed in a shirt and tie and an obviously expensive dark gray business suit. When he saw Sam, he went over to him. 'By any chance have you spoken to Jean this morning?' he asked. 'We were supposed to have breakfast together, but she didn't show up. I thought she might have overslept, but she doesn't answer in her room.'

'I don't know where she is,' Sam said, trying to hide his growing anxiety.

'Well, she was tired when we all got back here last night, so maybe it slipped her mind,' Amory said. 'I'll catch her later. She said she'll be around until tomorrow anyhow.' With a brief smile and a wave of his hand he was on his way to the front door of the hotel.

Sam took out his wallet and looked for Jean's cell phone number but couldn't find it. Exasperated, he decided that he must have left it in the pocket of the jacket he'd been wearing the day before. There was one person he knew, however, who might have it-Alice Sommers.

As he dialed Alice 's number, he realized again how much he anticipated hearing the sound of her voice. I had dinner with her the night before last, he thought. I wish we had plans for tonight.

Alice did have Jean's number and gave it to him. 'Sam, Jean called me yesterday to say how excited she is about meeting Lily's adoptive parents. She also said there was a chance that over the weekend she'll actually meet Lily. Isn't that wonderful?'

A reunion with the daughter you haven't seen in nearly twenty years. Alice is thrilled for Jean, but it has to be one more kick-in-the-teeth reminder to her that Karen's been gone practically the same amount of time, Sam thought. He was disappointed to realize that whenever he was emotionally touched, he covered himself by sounding somewhat abrupt. 'It's great for her. Alice, I've got to run. If you happen to hear from Jean, and I haven't spoken to her, ask her to give me a call, okay? It's important.'

'You're worried about her, Sam, I can tell. Why?'

'I'm a little concerned. There's a lot going on. Listen, she's probably just out for a walk.'

'Let me know the minute you hear from her.'

'I will, Alice.'

Sam snapped the phone closed and walked over to the hotel desk. 'I'd like to know whether Dr. Sheridan ordered room service this morning.'

The answer came quickly: 'No, she did not.'

Mark Fleischman was walking through the front door into the lobby. He spotted Sam at the desk and went over to him. 'Mr. Deegan, I want to talk to you. I'm worried about Jean Sheridan.'

Sam looked at him coldly. 'Why do you say that, Dr. Fleischman?'

'Because in my opinion, whoever is communicating with her about her daughter is dangerous. With Laura missing, Jean is the only woman of the so-called lunch table girls who is both alive and unharmed.'

'I've thought about that, Dr. Fleischman.'

'Jean is angry with me and doesn't trust me. She misread my reason for speaking to the clerk about a fax. She won't listen to anything I say to her now.'

'How did you know that she was Dr. Connors' patient?' Sam asked bluntly.

'Jean asked me that, and I told her initially that I'd heard it from her. I've been thinking, however, and I know now where it came up. When the other honorees-I mean Carter and Gordon and Robby and I-were joking with Jack Emerson about working on the office clean-up crew for his father, one of them mentioned it. I just don't remember which one.'

Was Fleischman telling the truth? Sam wondered. If so, I've been barking up the wrong tree. 'Go over that conversation, Dr. Fleischman,' he urged. 'It's very, very important.'

'I will. Yesterday Jeannie went for a long walk. I suspect she has done the same thing again this morning. I checked her room-she's not there – and I don't see her in the dining room. I'm going to drive around town and see if I can find her.'

Sam knew it was too soon for the investigator assigned to surveillance on Fleischman to have arrived. 'Why don't you wait a little while and see if she shows up,' he suggested. 'The odds are that driving around, you'll miss her.'

'I don't intend to sit around and do nothing when I'm worried about her,' Fleischman said abruptly. He handed Sam his card. 'I'd very much appreciate it if you'd let me know when you hear from her.'

He walked swiftly through the lobby toward the entrance of the hotel. Sam watched him go, conflicted in his reaction to the man. I wonder if you took any drama medals at Stonecroft, he thought. Either you're on the level, or you're one hell of a good actor, because outwardly you appear just as worried about Jean Sheridan as I am.

Sam's eyes narrowed as he watched Fleischman swiftly depart through the front door. I'll give it a little while longer, he thought. She may just be out for a walk.

81

The chair he had tied her to was against the wall, next to the window, and facing the bed. There was something about the room that was familiar. With growing horror and the sense of being in the midst of a nightmare, Jean strained to hear Laura's muffled outpourings. She mumbled almost constantly and seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness as she tried to talk through the gag that gave her voice an eerie, throaty tone. The result was a sound that was almost a growl.

She never used his name. 'The Owl' was how she referred to him. Sometimes she would recite his line from that second-grade play: 'I am an owl, and I live in a tree.' Then she would suddenly lapse into a disquieting silence, and only an occasional shuddering sigh told Jean that Laura was still breathing.

Lily. Laura had said that he was going to kill Lily. But she was safe. Surely she was. Craig Michaelson had promised her that Lily was safe. Was Laura delusional? She must have been here since at least Saturday night. She keeps saying that she's hungry. Hasn't he fed her? She must have had something to eat.

Oh, my God, Jean thought as she remembered Duke, the counterman at the deli-coffee shop at the bottom of the hill. He had told her about a man from the reunion who stopped in regularly to pick up food-Duke was talking about him!

She twisted her hands in an effort to see if she could pull the cords apart, but they were too tight. Was it possible that he had killed Karen Sommers in this same room? Was it possible that he had deliberately run over Reed at West Point? Had he killed Catherine and Cindy and Debra and Gloria and Alison, as well as those two women in this area who were murdered this week? I saw him drive into the hotel parking lot early Saturday morning, Jean thought, with his headlights turned off. Maybe if I had told Sam about that, he would have investigated him, stopped him.

My cell phone is in his car, Jean thought. If he finds it, he'll throw it away. But if he doesn't find it, and if Sam tries to locate it the same way he did the phone Laura used to call me, maybe we have a chance. Please, God, before he hurts Lily, let Sam try to trace my phone.

Laura's breathing became gasping gulps, then formed into barely coherent words: 'Cleaner's bags… cleaner's bags… no… no… no.'

Even with the dark shades over the windows, a little light managed to seep into the room. Jean could see the outline of plastic bags suspended by hangers that had been hooked over the arm of the lamp by the bed. She could see writing across the front of the one directly facing her. What was it? Was it a name? Was it…? She couldn't quite make it out.

Her shoulder was touching the edge of the heavy shade. She threw her weight to one side, then to the other, until the chair moved a few inches, and the shade caught on her shoulder and was tilted away from the window frame.

The added light made the thick black marker pen writing on the plastic bag clear enough to be read: lily/meredith.