to resist starting again. Three women in less than forty-eight hours: Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“I’ll get on the phone and get some people together. What time did you last see Holly yesterday?”
“About noon, when I went to lunch with Caleb Stone.”
“So we can ignore the parts of the island we searched after noon and concentrate on the rest.”
“Good idea. Have you searched Hal Rhinehart’s place?”
“Not yet.”
“Please go there first.”
“Why?”
“Rhinehart has a criminal background. Dino and I got him for a series of high-end burglaries in New York years ago. He’s done time.”
“Did any of the burglaries have sexual overtones? Did he rape any of his victims?”
“Not that we knew of, but still…”
“All right, we’ll start there.”
“I want to come with you.”
“I’ll pick you up in half an hour.” Young hung up.
Stone got dressed and had some cereal in the kitchen while Mabel protested that he should eat some bacon and eggs. He was waiting at the roadside when Young drove up in his patrol car. There were two men in the backseat who looked more like locals than summer people. Young introduced them, then drove on north.
“You don’t look so good,” he said as he drove.
“I didn’t get any real sleep,” Stone said. “I’m tired.”
“I understand.”
They reached the Rhinehart sign and turned into the drive. Hal Rhinehart came out of the house as they drove tip, apparently on the way to work.
“Morning,” he said, looking doubtfully at the four men. “What’s going on?”
“Mr. Rhinehart,” the sergeant said, “we need to search your place.”
“Have you got a warrant?”
Stone spoke up. “Come on, Hal,” he said, “we’re looking for a woman who disappeared yesterday. You know we can get a warrant, but if you don’t let us search, then you’ll automatically be a suspect. Just let us get this done.”
“All right,” Rhinehart said, “look wherever you want. I was just about to open the shop.” He handed Stone a key. “Let yourself in while I tell my wife what’s going on.”
“Stone,” the sergeant said. “You take one man and go through the workshop. We’ll take a look in the house.”
Stone headed for the shop followed by his fellow searcher. He unlocked the door and walked in. “Here’s how we do this,” he said to the man. “You take that side of the shop. Look in every room, every closet, every cupboard, every box-anyplace that’s big enough to hide a human being. Look particularly for trapdoors that might hide a stairway to a basement. Don’t miss anything.”
The man nodded and started his work. Stone went into Rhinehart’s office and, trying not to make a mess, searched every corner of it, pulling back a rug to expose the floorboards. Satisfied there was nothing there, he opened another door and found a storeroom full of tools and paint cans. He moved everything that might conceal another door or a trapdoor. Nothing. He moved on to the paint shop and was joined by the other man.
“I didn’t find nothing, and I looked hard,” the man said.
Stone nodded, and the two of them continued their work. Finally, satisfied that no one was hidden in the workshop, they walked to the house. The front door stood open.
“Hello,” Stone called. He opened the screen door and walked in. Nobody was in sight. He walked through the nicely furnished living room to the kitchen, where he found Mrs. Rhinehart feeding her baby. “Good morning,” he said. “I hope we’re not causing you too much trouble.”
“It’s all right,” she replied. “I know you’ve got to find that lady who’s missing.”
“Where is Sergeant Young?”
“I think they’re all in the cellar,” she said, pointing toward a hallway.
Stone walked into the hall and found an open door, with stairs leading down. He walked downstairs and found Sergeant Young and his other searcher standing, talking to Rhinehart.
“Anything in the workshop?” Young asked.
“Nothing.”
Rhinehart turned to Stone. “This is because of my record, isn’t it?”
“Hal, they’re searching every house and outbuilding on the island,” Stone replied. “Every structure has to be cleared, and the woods and beaches, too. It was just your turn.”
Rhinehart nodded.
“I think we’re about done here,” Young said.
They all trooped up the stairs. Young thanked Rhinehart and apologized for the intrusion, and the four men got into Young’s cruiser.
“I guess that clears Rhinehart,” Young said.
“I guess so,” Stone replied.
“I’m taking you home so you can get some rest.”
“All right.”
Young dropped Stone at the top of the driveway. “I’ll call you the minute we find anything.”
Stone noted that he didn’t say “Holly” or “her.” She had already become an object.
Chapter 43
STONE WENT BACK TO THE HOUSE, and Mabel brought a sandwich on a tray to the study.
“You look terrible,” she said. “Eat; you need your strength.”
“Mabel, when was the last time you saw Holly?”
“Well, after you left for your lunch appointment, she had a sandwich, then she did some work in that little room of Dick’s while I was vacuuming, then she changed into her running clothes and went out. I saw her stretching when I took out the garbage.”
“What time was that?”
“Pretty close to one o’clock,” she replied.
Stone looked at his watch. Holly had been missing for twenty-four hours. After that long, the chance of recovering her alive fell off sharply as the hours passed. And after forty-eight hours, she was very likely dead.
There were exceptions, he knew, and that was what kept the hopes of friends and relatives of missing people alive. There was that girl out in Utah who was kidnapped and held for more than a year. But that rarely happened.
Thinking of friends and family, he suddenly had an awful thought: He had not called Hamilton Barker, Holly’s retired master-sergeant father. He opened his address book and picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Ham?”
“Yep.”
“It’s Stone Barrington.”
Ham’s voice brightened. “Hey, Stone, how are you?”
“Not so good.”
He became wary. “What’s happened?”
“It’s Holly; she’s disappeared.”
“What do you mean, ”disappeared“?”
“First of all, Holly and I are on an island in Maine called Islesboro. There have been some kidnappings and murders here; some of them were women.”
“Anybody who tried to kidnap Holly would have his hands full,” Ham said.
