He began to speak more quickly, as though he felt he was letting too much time pass. 'I noticed that all the newspaper accounts seven years ago described the missing children as wearing red cardigan sweaters with a white pattern when they disappeared. Nowhere in any of the extensive newspaper coverage is there an exact description of what that pattern was. I surmised – correctly – that the motif of the pattern had been deliberately withheld.'
Jonathan looked directly at Lendon, wanting him to understand immediately the importance of what he was about to tell him. 'The article which appeared in the Cape Cod Community News clearly states that when the Harmon children disappeared they were wearing red cardigan sweaters with an unusual white sail-boat design, and that they were still wearing them when their bodies were washed ashore weeks later. Now, Nancy, of course, was aware of that sail-boat design. She made those sweaters herself. But only one other person outside of the top people on the San Francisco investigative staff knew about that design.' Jonathan's voice rose in pitch. 'If we assume Nancy 's innocence, that person was the one who kidnapped the Harmon children seven years ago – and who one month ago wrote the story that appeared in today's paper!'
'Then you mean -' Lendon began.
'Doctor, I mean, as Nancy 's lawyer and friend, if you can break through her amnesia, do it – quickly! I have persuaded Ray that it is worthwhile to waive any immunity. The overriding necessity is to find out what Nancy may know; otherwise it will surely be too late to help her children.'
'Can I telephone a drugstore and get something delivered?' Lendon asked.
'You call, Doctor,' Jed ordered. 'I'll send a squad car over to pick up whatever you need. Here – I'll dial the drugstore for you.'
Quietly Lendon phoned his instructions and when he had finished went into the kitchen for a glass of water. Oh, the waste, he thought – the awful waste. The tragedy that had begun with Priscilla's accident… cause and effect… cause and effect. If Priscilla had not died, she probably would have persuaded Nancy not to marry so young. The Harmon children would never have been born. Sharply he pulled himself back from useless speculation. The kitchen had obviously been gone over for fingerprints. Grains of powder were still evident on the counter-tops, around the sink and on the stove. No one had wiped up the stain from where coffee had spilled.
He returned to the dining-room to hear Chief Coffin say, 'Remember, Jonathan, I may well be exceeding my authority as it is. But I'm going to have a tape-recorder on in that room when that girl is questioned. If she confesses to anything under sedation, we may not be able to use it directly, but I'll know what to ask her under regular questioning later.'
'She's not going to confess to anything,' Jonathan said impatiently. 'What concerns me is that if we accept her innocence as a fact – not only about Michael and Missy's disappearance but also her innocence in the murder of the Harmon children – then our next supposition becomes this: if the killer of the Harmon children wrote the article for the Community News and used a Hyannis post office, he has been here on the Cape for some time.'
'And you are saying that he abducted the Eldredge children this morning,' Chief Coffin finished.
Jonathan relit his pipe and puffed at it vigorously before answering. 'I'm afraid so,' he said. His tone of voice, deliberately devoid of expression, made Lendon understand what he meant. Jonathan believed that if the killer of the Harmon children had taken Michael and Missy Eldredge, they were probably dead.
'On the other hand,' Jed theorized, 'if we remove Mrs Eldredge as a suspect, it is equally possible that someone who never came forward at the Harmon trial knew something about these murders, wrote that article and has now kidnapped the Eldredge children. A third possibility is that the two cases are unrelated except that someone reading that article and recognizing Nancy Eldredge has become involved in the disappearance this morning. The children may have been taken by a frustrated mother who feels Nancy doesn't deserve them. I've seen a lot screwier rationalizations than that in my day.'
'Jed,' snapped Jonathan, 'what I'm trying to say is that no matter who else may have become involved, one fact is very clear: I don't believe there's any question but that Nancy knew more than she told about the disappearance of her children seven years ago.'
Lendon raised an eyebrow. Jed frowned deeply. At the expressions on the faces of the two men, Jonathan slapped his hand impatiently on the table. 'I'm not saying that that girl is guilty. I am saying that she knew more than she told; probably knew more than she was aware of knowing. Look at the pictures of her on the witness stand. Her face is an absolute blank. Read the testimony. For God's sake, man, read the trial testimony. That girl was out of it. Her lawyer may have upset her conviction on a technicality, but that doesn't mean that he didn't let that district attorney crucify her. That entire set-up stank, and you're trying to re-enact it here.'
'I'm trying to get away from your theories… and that's all they are… and perform my job, which is to recover those children – dead or alive – and find out who abducted them.' Jed was clearly out of patience. 'In one breath you tell me she's too sick to be questioned and in the next one that she knows more than she ever let on. Look, Jonathan, you said yourself that writing a book about questionable verdicts is a hobby for you. But those lives aren't hobbies with me, and I'm not here to help you play chess with the law.'
'Hold on.' Lendon put a restraining hand on the Chiefs arm. 'Mr Knowles… Jonathan… you believe that whatever knowledge Nancy has of the death of her first family may help us find the Eldredge children.'
'Exactly. But the problem is to extract that knowledge, not drive it deeper into her subconscious. Dr Miles, you are considered an expert in the use of sodium atnytal in psychiatry, are you not?'
'Yes, I am.'
'Is it possible you might be able to have Nancy reveal not only what she knows of this morning's events – which I suspect will be nothing – but also information about the past that she doesn't even know she has herself?'
'It's possible.'
'Then unless she can tell us something tangible about Michael and Missy's whereabouts, I beg you to try.'
When Dorothy was readmitted to the house an hour later, the family room and kitchen were deserted except for Bernie Miles, the policeman charged with answering the phones. 'They're all in there,' he said, jerking his head towards the front parlour. 'Something pretty queer going on.'
Dorothy hurried down the hall, but stopped at the doorway of the room. The greeting she was about to utter died on her lips as she took in the scene before her.
Nancy was lying on the couch, a pillow under a head, a quilt tucked around her. A stranger who looked like a doctor was sitting beside her, speaking softly. Nancy 's eyes were closed. An anguished-looking Ray and grim-faced Jonathan were side by side on the love seat. Jed Coffin was sitting at a table behind the couch, holding a microphone pointed towards Nancy.
As Dorothy realized what was happening, she sank into a chair, not bothering to take off her coat. Numbly she slipped her chilled fingers into the deep side pockets, unconsciously gripping the scrap of damp, fuzzy wool that she felt in the right-hand pocket.
'How do you feel, Nancy? Are you comfortable?' Lendon's voice was tranquil.
'I'm afraid…'
'Why?'
'The children… the children…'
' Nancy. Let's talk about this morning. Did you sleep well last night? When you woke up did you feel rested?'
Nancy 's voice was reflective. 'I dreamed. I dreamed a lot…'
'What did you dream about?'
'Peter and Lisa… They'd be so grown up… They're dead seven years…' She began to sob. Then, as Jonathan's iron grip held Ray back, she cried, 'How could I have killed them? They were my children! How could I have killed them…?'
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Before Dorothy had met John Kragopoulos at the office, she had tried to camouflage her red-rimmed eyes with a dusting of powder. She'd tried to convince herself that after all, showing the Hunt place would be an outlet, an action that could be concentrated on for a little while and keep her mind from its endless squirreling for clues to the children's whereabouts. What clues?
