Where are the children?

'Darling, hang on. Just a little while longer. Take a hot shower and get dressed. Dorothy will stay with you. She's fixing a sandwich for you now. I'll be back as soon as I can.' For an instant he buried his lips in her hair, then was gone.

Mechanically, Nancy walked into the bathroom off the bedroom. She turned on the water in the shower stall, then looked into the mirror over the washbasin. The face she saw looking back at her was pale and drawn, the eyes heavy and clouded. It was the way she had looked all those years with Carl, like the pictures of her in that article.

Quickly she turned away and, twisting her hair into a knot, stepped into the shower. The warm needle spray struck her body, making a steady assault against the rigid tension of her muscles. It felt good. Gratefully, she lifted her face to the spray. A shower felt so clean.

She never, never took a tub bath any more – not since the years with Carl. She didn't think about those baths any more. A vivid shaft of recollection came as the water splashed against her face. The tub… Carl's insistence on bathing her… the way he had touched and examined her. Once when she'd tried to push him away, he'd slipped and his face had gone under the water. He'd been so startled that for a moment he couldn't pull up. When he did, he'd begun sputtering and trembling and coughing. He'd been so angry… but mostly so frightened. It had terrified him to have his face covered by the water.

That was it. That was what she had tried to remember: that secret fear of water…

Oh, God. Nancy swayed against the side of the shower stall. She felt nausea rack her stomach and throat, stumbled out of the shower and began retching uncontrollably.

Minutes passed. She clung to the sides of the commode, unable to stem the violent waves of illness. Then, even when the vomiting finally stopped, icy chills still shuddered through her body.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

'Ray, don't count on too much,' Jonathan warned.

Ray ignored him. Through the streaked windowpane, he could see the station house. The glow from the gas lamps gave it the look of another century. Quickly parking the car, Ray threw open the door and darted across the macadam into the station. From behind he could hear Jonathan puffing as he tried to keep pace.

The desk sergeant looked surprised. 'Didn't expect to see you here tonight, Mr Eldredge. I'm sure sorry about the kids…'

Ray nodded impatiently. 'Where are they questioning Rob Legler?'

The sergeant looked alarmed. 'You can't have anything to do with that, Mr Eldredge.'

"The hell I can't,' Ray said evenly. 'Go in and tell the Chief I have to see him now.'

The sergeant's protest died on his lips. He turned to a policeman who was coming down the corridor. 'Tell the Chief that Ray Eldredge wants to see him,' he snapped.

Ray turned to Jonathan. With a trace of a wan smile, he said, 'Suddenly this seems like a far-fetched, crazy idea.'

'It isn't,' Jonathan replied quietly.

Ray glanced around the room and realized for the first time that two people were sitting on a small bench near the door. They were just about as old as he and Nancy – a nice-looking couple. He wondered abstractedly what they were doing here. The guy looked embarrassed, the woman determined. What would bring anyone out on a night like this? Was it possible they had had a fight and she was pressing charges? The idea was wildly fu

He realized that the woman was staring at him. She started to get up, but the husband pulled her down. Quickly, Ray turned his back to her. The last thing in the world he wanted or needed was sympathy.

Footsteps hurried down the corridor. Chief Coffin rushed into the room. 'What is it, Ray? Have you heard anything?'

Jonathan answered. 'You have Rob Legler here?'

'Yes. We're questioning him. Dr Miles is with me. Legler's asking for a lawyer. Won't answer any questions.'

'I thought as much. That's why we're here.' In a low voice, Jonathan outlined his plan.

Chief Coffin shook his head. 'Won't work. This guy's a cool one. There's no way you'll get him to place himself at the Eldredge house this morning.'

'Well, let us try. Can't you see how important time is? If he had an accomplice who has the children now, that person may panic. God knows what he might do.'

'Well… come in here. Talk to him. But don't count on anything.' With a jerk of his head, the Chief nodded to a room half-way down the corridor. As Ray and Jonathan started to follow him, the woman got up from the bench.

'Chief Coffin.' Her voice was hesitant. 'Could I speak to you for just a minute?'

The Chief looked her appraisingly. 'Is it important?'

'Well, probably not. It's just that I felt I wouldn't have any peace unless… It's something my little boy

The Chief visibly lost interest. 'Just sit down please, ma'am. I'll be back with you as soon as I can.'

Ellen Keeney sank down on the bench as she watched the three men leave. The sergeant at the desk sensed her disappointment. 'Are you sure I can't help you, ma'am?' he asked.

But Ellen didn't trust the sergeant. When she and Pat had first come in, they had tried to tell him that they thought their little boy might know something about the Eldredge case. The sergeant had looked pained. 'Lady, do you know how many calls we've had today? Since the wire services got hold of this, we've had nothing but calls. Some jerk from Tucson phoned to say he thought he saw the kids in a playground across the street from his apartment this morning. No way they could have gotten there, even in a supersonic plane. So just take a seat. The Chief 11 talk to you when he can.'

Pat said, 'Ellen, I think we should go home. We're only in the way here.'

Ellen shook her head. She opened her pocketbook and took out the note the stranger had given Neil when he had sent him in for the mail. She had attached the note to her own scribblings about everything Neil had told her. She knew the exact time he had gone in for the letter. She had carefully written down his description of the man; his exact words when he'd said the man looked like the picture on television of Nancy Harmon's first husband; the kind of car the man was driving – 'a real old station wagon just like Gramp's' – that sounded like a Ford. Last, Neil had said that the man had a fishing permit for Adams Port on his windshield.

Ellen was determined to sit here until she got a chance to tell her story. Pat looked so tired. Reaching over, she patted his hand. 'Bear with me, dear,' she whispered. 'I suppose it doesn't mean anything, but something is making me wait. The Chief did say he'd talk to me soon.'

The door of the station house opened. A middle-aged couple came in. The man looked thoroughly a

'You won't believe it,' Wiggins snapped. 'On a night like this, my wife wants to report that somebody pilfered a can of baby powder from the store this morning.'

'Baby powder?' The sergeant's voice ranged upward in astonishment.

Mrs Wiggins looked more upset. 'I don't care how stupid it sounds. I want to see Chief Coffin.'

'He'll be coming out soon. These people are waiting for him too. Just sit down, won't you?' He pointed to the bench at a right angle to the one where the Keeneys were waiting.

They came over, and as they sat down, the husband muttered angrily, 'I still don't know why we're here.'

Ellen's ready sympathy made her turn to the couple. She thought that maybe just talking to someone would help the other woman to get over her nervousness. 'We don't know why we're here either,' she said. 'But isn't it an awful thing about those missing children…?'