Myron knocked. Linda Coldren told him to come in.
He opened the door. Linda stood by the far window looking out onto her backyard.
'Linda'?'
Her back still faced him. 'I'm having a bad week, Myron.' She laughed. It was not a happy sound.
'Are you okay'?' he asked.
'Me? Never better. Thanks for asking.'
He stepped toward her, unsure what to say. 'Did the kidnappers call about the ransom?'
'Last night,' Linda said. ' Jack spoke to them.'
'What did they say?'
'I don't know. He stormed out after the call. He never told me.'
Myron tried to picture this scene. A call comes in.
Jack answers it. He runs out without saying anything. It didn't exactly mesh.
'Have you heard from them again?' he tried.
'No, not yet.'
Myron nodded, even though she wasn't facing him.
'So what did you do?'
'Do?'
'Last night. After Jack stormed out.'
Linda Coldren folded her arms across her chest. 'I
waited a few minutes for him to calm down,' she said.
'When he didn't come back, I went out looking for him.'
'You went to Merion,' Myron said.
'Yes. Jack likes to stroll the grounds. To think and be alone.'
'Did you see him there'?'
'No. I looked around for a while. Then I came back here. That's when I ran into you.'
'And Jack never came back,' Myron said.
With her back still to him, Linda Coldren shook her head. 'What tipped you off, Myron? The dead body in the stone quarry?'
'Just trying to help.'
She tumed to him. Her eyes were red. Her face was drawn. She was still incredibly beautiful. 'I just need someone to take it out on.' She shrugged, tried a smile.
'You're here.'
Myron wanted to step closer. He refrained. 'You've been up all night?'
She nodded. 'I've been standing right here, waiting for Jack to come home. When the police knocked on the door, I thought it was about Chad. This is going to sound awful, but when they told me about Jack, I was almost relieved.'
The phone rang.
Linda spun around with enough speed to start up a wind tunnel. She looked at Myron. He looked at her.
'It's probably the media,' he said.
Linda shook her head. 'Not on that line.' She reached for the phone, pressed the lit up button, picked up the receiver.
'Hello,' she said.
A voice replied. Linda gasped and bit down in midscream.
Her hand flew to her mouth. Tears pushed their way out of her eyes. The door flew open. Victoria Wilson stepped into the room, looking like a bear stirred from a power nap.
Linda looked up at them both. 'It's Chad,' she said.
'He's free.'
Chapter 27
+Victoria Wilson took control. 'We'll go pick him up,' she said. 'You stay on the line with him.'
Linda started shaking her head. 'But I want- '
'Trust me on this, honey. lf you go, every cop and news reporter will follow. Myron and I can lose them if we have to. I don't want the police talking to your son until I have. You just stay here. You say nothing. If the police come in with a warrant, you let them in. You don't say a word. No matter what. Do you understand'?'
Linda nodded.
'So where is he?'
'On Porter Street.'
'Okay, tell him Aunt Victoria is on the way. We'll take care of him.'
Linda grabbed her arm, her face pleading. 'Will you bring him back here'?'
'Not right away, hon.' The voice was still matter-offact. 'The police will see. I can't have that. It'll raise too many questions. You'll see him soon enough.'
Victoria Wilson tumed away. There was no debate with this woman.
In the car, Myron asked, 'How do you know Linda?'
'My mother and father were servants for the Buckwells and Lockwoods,' she replied. 'I grew up on their estates.'
'But somewhere along the line you went to law school?'
She frowned. 'You writing my biography'?'
'I'm just asking.'
'Why? You surprised that a middle-aged black woman is the attorney for rich WASPs?'
'Frankly,' Myron said, 'yes.'
'Don't blame you. But we don't have time for that now. You got any important questions?'
'Yes,' Myron said. He was doing the driving. 'What aren't you telling me?'
'Nothing that you need to know.'
' 'I'm an attorney of record on the case. I need to know everything.'
'Later. Let's concentrate on the boy first.'
Again the no-argument monotone.
'Are you sure we're doing the right thing?' Myron continued. 'Not telling the police about the kidnapping'?'
'We can always tell them later,' Victoria Wilson replied.
'That's the mistake most defendants make. They think they have to talk their way out of it right away. But that's dangerous. There is always time to talk later.'
'I'm not sure I agree.'
'Tell you what, Myron. If we need some expertise on negotiating a sneaker deal, I'll put you in charge. But while this thing is still a criminal case, let me take the lead, okay?'
'The police want to question me.'
'You say nothing. That is your right. You don't have to say a word to the police.'
'Unless they subpoena me.'
'Even then. You are Linda Coldren's attorney. You don't say anything.'
Myron shook his head. 'That only works for what she's said after you asked me to be co-counsel. They can ask me about anything that happened before.'
'Wrong.' Victoria Wilson gave a distracted sigh.
'When Linda Coldren first asked you to help, she knew you were a bar-appointed attomey. Therefore everything she told you fell under attorney-client.'
Myron had to smile. 'That's reaching.'
'But that's the way it is.' He could feel her eyes on him now. 'No matter what you might want to do, morally and legally you are not allowed to talk to anyone.'
She was good.
Myron drove a bit faster. No one was tailing them; the police and the reporters had stuck to the house. The story was all over the radio. The anchorman kept repeating a one-line statement issued by Linda Coldren: 'We are all saddened by this tragedy. Please allow us to grieve in peace.'
