Vanished in the Dunes (17 page)

“I doubt that. From what I remember, he doesn't know anyone out here.”

“Except for Welbrook and Posner.”

“I've already arranged to have a car cruise regularly by Posner's house. Welbrook lives in the same neighborhood, so we can double dip the surveillance.”

“Good. So what do you make of all this?'

Wisdom hesitates in silence for almost ten seconds before he speaks.

“Four things.

“One. I think the doctor killed Heidi. I know it's still only a hunch, but he did have the motive of jealousy, as well as the opportunity when he disappeared for a day in a rented car without an alibi.

“Two. I think she's probably buried out here somewhere unless he found a way to lose her in the ocean.

“Three. I think he's been trying to pin the deed on either Posner or Welbrook.”

“What's the fourth?”

“I think he's nuts. I mean the doctor.”

They agree on two points. One is that it's still too early to officially bring in County although Bennett will keep them warm. They also plan to speak again as soon as Wisdom hears back on the possible
location where the doctor may be staying. He collects the car photo and arranges to have all cruisers in town have a copy together with the doctor's description. His orders are to identify, report in, and follow the subject without being noticed, but not to approach.

Wisdom's done all he can think of. He wants to update Brigid, but decides to wait until he knows more. He's prepared to stay at his desk all night. As it turns out, he gets a message about Stern within thirty minutes and calls Bennett without even dropping the receiver.

“He was at the East Hampton Motor Inn. At least until yesterday morning. Stayed there about a week. Paid in cash but gave them a credit card as security when he first checked in. Also used his real name so he wasn't looking to hide his identity or anything.”

“Anyone know where he went?”

“Negative.”

“So he could still be around town somewhere.”

“That's for sure, only he might also have taken off when he figured that Posner made him. I mean he might have left our little piece of paradise and decided to either come back later or drop the whole thing.”

“What whole thing?”

“That he wants some kind of confrontation with either Welbrook or Posner. Who the hell knows what that could lead to?”

“And we've got to watch them both because Stern probably doesn't know Welbrook's no longer a probable.”

“Roger that. And I'd better fill in Welbrook just to be on the safe side. I'll also see if I can scare up a few unmarkeds to watch both houses.”

“Good. How's the sister, Brigid?”

“Okay, I guess. I'll have to call her later. She deserves to be filled in, especially with a possible mental case roaming around.”

Later turns out to mean about four thirty. He's done everything else he could think of. Now they need to wait and see if Stern turns
up, either around here or back in the city. He checks in with NYPD, but Stern hasn't returned to his apartment and Avis says the car is still out.

That's when he decides to call Brigid, and only then does he realize why he'd been putting it off. He's embarrassed. They've spoken only once to set up the first appointment with a man Wisdom referred to only as a “local,” but he hasn't seen her since that afternoon at her house. They both knew that her brief dress-up time had turned him on. He doesn't want to feel that way again so he hasn't called. It's a stupid sequence, so he breaks the cycle and calls. The phone rings four times before the machine clicks in. It's funny. He hears her voice, but at the same time it doesn't sound like her. He leaves a detailed message and hangs up. He's actually relieved he doesn't need to talk with her at that moment. In a way he's broken the ice without the need to go farther.

By six o'clock nothing turns up and he decides to head home. During the drive, he tries to evaluate whether Stern might now be physically dangerous. He still thinks the doctor is putting on a big act to shift blame to another, but he can't discount that the man has likely already killed. His assumption is that if Stern feels cornered, he might well become violent, especially in a confrontation with Welbrook or Posner.

He manages to shower and change into jeans and a sweatshirt before dinner. Karen's made a root vegetable stew with some of her food co-op's autumn overflow.

“I assume that you're giving some of this away because even if you use the stuff up at this rate there'll be enough left for the whole winter,” he says as he manages to fish bits of parsnip, potato, and carrot onto his fork.

The phone rings before she can answer, but he knows she'll distribute
most of it to a local food pantry. Karen answers and in a moment puts her hand over the mouthpiece.

“For you. A woman. Sounds foreign.”

He takes the receiver and slips a few feet into the hallway. He's aware that his fingers are wet and he wipes them on his jeans.

“It's me,” Brigid says and somehow makes it sound like a secret lover calling.

Wisdom instantly regrets having given his home number out, yet he's done it before.

“What's up?”

“After your message about a delay, I thought some more about the idea and—”

“And what?”

“And I think that maybe I was wrong. That I don't want to do it. Any of it. I mean I don't know if I can do it. Whether I can be her.”

“But you're not her. From what you've told me you could never be her. The idea was to try and catch a guilty person and it was your own idea.”

“I know. I know. Do you remember the day when you came over here? When I tried on the dress so I could look like her.”

“I remember.”

And just like that his memory serves up an image of the way Heidi looked that afternoon and his reaction. No. Not Heidi, it's Brigid, asshole. But what's the difference? Really? Brigid or Heidi. The effect was the same. Heidi's picture and then Brigid in the same dress.

“Are you still there?”

“I'm here.”

Got to regain my balance. Take control.

“What happened to make you change your mind?”

“I guess it's the idea itself. And then your message said there would be a delay. I kept thinking about what I was going to do. The
more I thought, the more I felt I didn't want to be her. Not even for a second. When I made myself up like she does and wore that dress I couldn't change back fast enough. Do you remember what I told you?”

“Yes. That you felt dirty.”

“Yes. I felt dirty.”

Neither spoke for several seconds. Wisdom heard her breathing return to what must pass as normal.

“Was that your wife on the phone?”

“Yes.”

“She sounds very nice.”

“She is.”

“Are there children?”

“We have a son. His name's Kevin. He's eight.”

“Well, I won't keep you from your family any more. I just wanted to tell you that I'd prefer not to go ahead. But if you still feel it's important, I will. Is it still important?”

“I think so, but it's still up to you.”

“Then let me know what you decide. I did promise you I'd do it and I will. It's funny. When I called you tonight, I was planning to tell you I absolutely didn't want to go ahead. But now that I've told you why, it isn't so important anymore. Thank you for listening. Call me when you decide what to do. Goodbye.”

Wisdom doesn't have a chance to speak before he hears a dial tone. He didn't have time to tell her that now there's a risk in going ahead with her plan that they hadn't given much thought to up till now. Even if they decide to go ahead, he'd have to fill her in on the possible danger, however remote. He moves back into the kitchen and Karen looks up.

“Sorry about that. She's a possible witness in the disappearance case.”

“Is that the sister you told me about?”

“Yes.”

“What's she like?”

“She's from Europe.”

“I mean what's she like, I could tell she was foreign?”

“Nothing special. A woman trying to forget about a problem she had with her sister a long time ago.”

“Will she?”

“Will she what?”

“Forget about her problem.”

“Time heals lots of things. For her, I think it will take longer than most.”

Posner sits alone on the top step and looks down at the red quarry tiles that in seconds changed his whole life. A part of him still thinks he's been caught up in some colossal hallucination. Heidi is, in fact, just a fictional character. Someone he's never met and only dreamt about. A make-believe person conjured up from a movie or book who died right here. Although they've been bleached and then washed many times, he can never look at the tiles and see anything other than splattered blood.

He moves down the steps and stands at the base of the stairway. The hall light is on directly above his head, as it has been on constantly since that day. Some part of his brain insists that every step be visible so no one can ever fall again. He bends down and draws his fingers across the cool tiles, eventually moving them into the gray channels of grouting. Some of the grout now has a lighter shade where he's applied some bleach. His eyes bore into the floor with almost radiographic intensity, but his sight cannot penetrate the tiles' façade. There is no trace of blood, yet he knows that chemical tests would prove otherwise. An objective observer such as a real estate appraiser would describe the space as the entrance area of a modern house in a beach community. The red tiles are not exceptional. There are tiles like these in probably half a million homes across the country, but these particular tiles are matchless. They alone and uniquely have been an instrument of death.

He leaves the house in faint darkness and enters his car. He looks around, but there in the early dawn sees no sign of the little blue car. Maybe he's still sleeping, he muses as he releases the hand brake and rolls down the driveway. He also doesn't see the police car that Wisdom promised. Probably too early for them as well. He looks at his watch just as the hands form a straight line from twelve and six.

The highway ahead is empty and spotted with wisps of ground fog. He keeps checking his rear mirror, but there is no sign of another car. In the east, the sun rises to meet his eyes above the horizon of wooded hills and lofty dunes. At this hour it's an oversized orange ball that summons him even as it jumps from dune to dune atop the highway as he moves eastward. There is warmth in this light that is almost spiritual. It signals him with a beacon's energy to return to the overlook and check to see if the man in the blue car or anyone else has been there.

His conversation with Wisdom convinces him the police have not been involved. In retrospect it was a smart move, however uncomfortable, to draw them in, if only to further defray any possible suspicion. Although he has not seen the face of the man in the blue car, he is sure it must be the doctor boyfriend, Henry. Posner has no reason to suspect this other than by deduction. Since he was one of the few people on the bus who spoke to Heidi, the doctor has probably targeted him and whoever else was there as suspects. Yet the doctor hasn't a shred of evidence to link Heidi to him or else he would have already given it to the police. His trip this morning is to insure that the spot near the overlook still remains in its natural state after his first encounter with the blue car.

He arrives at the overlook just as the daylight begins to march across the pines. He has no need of a flashlight although one lies in his trunk cradled by a rake and shovel. They have rested there in the same place without use since that evening in May. Everything has
long since been cleaned; the trunk vacuumed of obvious sand traces and the shovel's shiny steel blade washed and dried.

The air at this dawn hour delivers a sharp chill that slices through the fleece sweatshirt under his windbreaker. He disappears into the pines at the edge of the lot and is swallowed from view if there was an observer, but he's alone. He's already checked and waited several minutes before leaving his car and setting out into the trees.

He soon comes upon the space and lurches to a wobbly stop as dawn bathes the area near the landmark pine tree in a pale orange. He immediately sees the ground's been disturbed. Someone's been here in the last few days. He bellows a string of curses as he moves around a few random shallow remnants of holes that radiate from where he knows the grave site lies. He approaches the unfilled areas and starts to scrape soil with the edge of his shoe into the remaining open cavities. In minutes he is done and steps back against the gnarled sand pine to observe his effort. His breath comes in short bursts from the effort, but he feels satisfied until he realizes that the area still doesn't look untouched. Twigs, pines cones, and needles aren't as random as they should be. The space definitely looks as if there have been recent visitors. A new chill dances across the back of his neck. Not from early morning dampness, but from the renewed fear of discovery.

He tells himself to stay calm and think. The grave is still undisturbed, so whoever was here failed to find anything.

“Good, good,” he repeats aloud as he jogs back up the hill to the lot, fixated on what he must do next. The sun is higher now, and the lot is already half-washed in light. He pulls the rake from his trunk and returns to smooth over the soil. The work is so easy he nearly laughs until he remembers that a body rests just below his feet. He pushes the pinecones and needles back into some reasonable random pattern. He stops and inverts the rake to pull some clods of wet soil from its tines when his fingers grasp the utterly foreign texture of silver plastic, just like the material in the bag he used to bury Heidi.

Posner stares at the tiny silver flake between his fingers, an indestructible polymer that will survive all normal conditions save fire. He looks again at the ground. Maybe there's more he thinks, but he soon verifies that his fingers hold the sole confirmation that anything was ever put in this sandy soil. He puts the artifact in his jacket pocket and realizes that it now rests alongside the bit of broken heel. One last look at the site verifies that he has returned it to a semblance of its original state. He walks back to his car. It is nearly seven and the lot is still thankfully empty.