Two Little Girls in Blue (39 page)

She went around a final bend with Clint right behind her. The Pied Piper wouldn't have the nerve to get too close, she figured. I guess by now he knows that I'm no dope. The pier was directly ahead, and she was just about to drive onto it when she heard the faint, brief tap of a horn.

Stupid, stupid Clint. What the heck was he blowing a horn for? Angie wondered. She stopped the van, and, livid with anger, watched as he got out of his stolen car and rushed up to her. She opened the door. “You wanna kiss the brat goodbye?” she snapped.

The odor of acrid perspiration was the last thing she remembered as Clint's fist flew through the space between them and pummeled her into unconsciousness. As she slumped over the wheel, Clint put the car in gear and placed her foot on the accelerator. He closed the door just as the van began to move along the pier. He watched as it reached the end where it balanced for an instant, then dropped out of sight.

P
hil King, the clerk at the Shell and Dune Motel, kept his eye on the clock. He went off duty at ten and was anxious to be on his way. He had spent all his spare time that day patching up a fight he'd had with his girlfriend, and she had finally agreed to meet him for a quiet drink in the bar at the Impudent Oyster. Only ten minutes to go, he noted with anticipation.

There was a small television set behind the desk, company for whoever was working the late-night shift. Remembering that the Celtics were playing the Nets in Boston, Phil flipped on the set, hoping to catch the score.

Instead he caught a breaking news story. Police had confirmed that Kathy Frawley had definitely been seen on the Cape that morning. Her abductor, Angie Ames, was driving a twelve-year-old dark brown Chevy van with Connecticut plates. The announcer gave the license plate number.

Phil King did not hear it. He was staring openmouthed at the television. Angie Ames, he thought.
Angie Ames!
His hand trembling, he grabbed the phone and dialed 911.

When the operator answered, he shouted, “Angie Ames is staying here! Angie Ames is staying here! I saw her van drive out of our lot not ten minutes ago.”

C
lint watched the van disappear, then, with grim satisfaction, he got back in his stolen car and made a sharp U-turn. In the beams of his headlights he caught the startled look on the face of the Pied Piper who was walking toward him. Just like I expected, he's got a gun, he thought. Sure, he was going to share with me. Real sure. I could run him over, but that would be too easy. It would be more fun to play with him.

He drove straight at him, then watched with glee as the Pied Piper dropped the pistol he was holding and jumped out of the car's path. Now I get me off the Cape, Clint thought, but first I gotta ditch this car. Those kids will be coming out of the movie in less than an hour, and then the police will be looking for this car.

He raced back along the quiet road until he came to Route 28. He figured the Pied Piper might try to chase him, but he knew he had too great a lead. He'll think I'm heading for the bridge, he decided, but what could he do—that was the best way to go. He turned left. The Mid-Cape Highway would be faster, but he decided to stay on Route 28. By now, they probably know that I flew to Boston and rented a car, he thought. I wonder if they fell for my asking for the map to Maine.

He turned on the radio in time to hear an excited announcer report that Kathy Frawley had definitely been sighted in Hyannis. With her was her abductor, Angie Ames, who also used the name Linda Hagen. Roadblocks were being set up.

Clint gripped the wheel. I've got to get out of here fast, he thought. I can't waste any time. The suitcase with the money was on the floor of the backseat. The thought of it and what he could do with one million dollars kept Clint from dissolving into panic as he drove through South Dennis, then Yarmouth, and finally to the outskirts of Hyannis. Twenty more minutes and I'm at the bridge, he thought.

The sound of a police siren made him cringe. Can't be me, I'm not going too fast, he thought, then watched aghast as one police car swerved ahead of him and cut him off, while another pulled up behind him.

“Get out of the car with your hands up.” The command came from a loudspeaker in the squad car behind him.

Clint felt rivulets of perspiration run down his cheeks as he slowly opened the car door and stepped out, his thick arms high over his head.

Two policemen, guns drawn, approached him. “You're out of luck,” one of them said amiably. “The kids didn't like the movie and left in the middle of it. You are under arrest for possession of a stolen motor vehicle.”

The other cop shone his flashlight in Clint's face,
then did a double take. Clint knew he was comparing him with the description the police undoubtedly had of him.

“You're Clint Downes,” the cop said positively, then angrily demanded, “Where is that little girl, you bum? Where's Kathy Frawley?”

M
argaret and Steve and Dr. Harris and Kelly were in the police chief's office when the news came that Angie Ames had registered under her own name in a motel in Chatham and that the clerk had seen the van pull out only ten minutes ago.

“Was Kathy in it?” Margaret whispered.

“He doesn't know. But there was a child's shoe on the bed, and there was an indentation on the pillow. It seems probable that Kathy had been there.”

Dr. Harris was holding Kelly now. Suddenly she began to shake her. “Kelly, wake up,” she demanded, “Kelly, you must wake up.” She looked at the police chief. “Get a respirator,” she demanded. “Get one now!”

T
he Pied Piper had watched as the squad cars cut off Clint's stolen vehicle. He doesn't know my name, but as soon as he describes me, the FBI will be on my doorstep, he thought. And to think I didn't have to come here, he reproached himself—Lucas hadn't told him who I am.

He forced back the burst of blinding anger that made his hands tremble so much that he could hardly grasp the wheel. I've got seven million dollars, less the bank cut, waiting for me in Switzerland, he thought. The passport is in my pocket. I've got to get on an overseas flight right away. I'll have the plane fly me to Canada. Clint may not give me up right away since he can use me as a bargaining chip. I'm his ace in the hole.

His mouth dry, his throat choked with terror, the Pied Piper turned off Route 28 North. Even before a handcuffed Clint was led to a police car, the Pied Piper was on Route 28 South, heading for Chatham Airport.

“W
e know your girlfriend left the Shell and Dune Motel twenty minutes ago. Was Kathy Frawley with her?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Clint said, his voice a monotone.

“You know what we're talking about,” FBI Agent Frank Reeves of the Boston office snapped. He, Realto, Carlson, and the Barnstable police chief were in the interview room of the Barnstable police station. “Is Kathy in that van?”

“You just read me my rights. I want a lawyer.”

“Clint, listen to me,” Carlson urged. “We believe that Kathy Frawley is very sick. If she dies, you've got two murder raps going. We know your pal Lucas didn't commit suicide.”

“Lucas?”

“Clint, the twins' DNA must be all over that cottage in Danbury. Your friend Gus told us he heard two children crying when he was on the phone with Angie. Angie charged the clothes she bought for the twins on your card. A Barnstable policeman saw her this morning with Kathy. So did a waitress at McDonald's. We've got all the
proof we need. Your only chance for any kind of leniency is to come clean now.”

A scuffling outside the door caused them all to turn abruptly. Then they heard the voice of the sergeant at the desk. “Mrs. Frawley, I'm sorry you can't go in there.”

“I have to. You have the man who kidnapped my children.”

Reeves, Realto, and Carlson exchanged glances. “Let her in,” Reeves shouted.

The door burst open, and Margaret rushed in, her blue eyes now coal black, her face deathly pale, her long hair a wild tangle. She looked around, then went directly to Clint and dropped on her knees before him. “Kathy is sick,” she said, her voice quivering. “If she dies, I don't know whether Kelly will live. I can forgive you everything if only you will let me have Kathy back now. I will plead for you at your sentencing. I promise. I promise. Please.”

Clint tried to look away, but found himself compelled to look into Margaret's blazing eyes. They have me cold, he reasoned. I won't give up the Pied Piper yet, but maybe there's another way to avoid having a murder charge thrown at me. He waited a long minute, quickly rehearsing his story, then said, “I didn't want to keep the other kid. That was Angie's doing. The night we dropped them off, she shot Lucas and left that phony note. She's crazy. Then she took off with all the money and didn't tell me where she'd gone. She phoned me today and asked me to meet her up here. I told her that we'd ditch the van and get off
the Cape in the car I'd grabbed. But it didn't work out that way.”