“I don’t know who in the hell you’re talking about. Where is everyone?”
J.C. followed me out of the salon. The chandelier was dark, and only a couple of lamps were on in the hall and along the upper galleries. I could hear voices coming from outside and the kitchen.
“The police and a lot of the neighbors’ hired men are out searching the woods and orchards. I heard someone say there were extra lanterns out front. We can get one and go out and join them.”
I didn’t answer, but started for the front door. I’d only gone a few feet before I realized my legs and feet were bare, and the front of my skirt and blouse were streaked with dirt and tar. Not only had I been out of my mind with worry and panic, I looked like a madwoman. It wasn’t any wonder that Jack had sedated me. Still, I wouldn’t forgive him unless he walked through the front door carrying Michael.
He’s gone! It’s my fault. Again, my fault!
“I’m going to run upstairs to change and get a jacket.” Without turning around, I asked J.C. if she had one warm enough for searching outside. I have no idea what led me to give her that consideration, except that she and I were alone.
“I do. I’ll get it and meet you down here?”
We started up the stairs in silence, but when we reached the first landing I stopped.
“How did you know about the roof? Do you know where Michael is?”
“I don’t know where he is. I swear to you I don’t. Please don’t think I’m cruel, Charlotte.”
“I think you’re worse than cruel.”
J.C. briefly closed her eyes. “That’s not fair. I just knew we had to go to the roof. But it wasn’t a bad thing, don’t you see? Nothing happened to Michael up there. We know that now.”
“Why are you really here?”
“Do I really matter that much right now? Isn’t the most important thing that we find Michael?”
From my darkened bedroom, I could see the driveway and the road leading to the orchards. There were several pickup trucks and a couple of sedans I thought I recognized parked in the driveway, but the dusk made it hard to make them out. Well beyond them, faint points of light bobbed through the trees, a many-eyed beast hunting for the slight, warm shape of my baby boy.
Alive. He had to be alive.
I quickly stripped out of my dress and stockings and grabbed a blouse, heavy sweater, dungarees, and tennis shoes from my closet. After using the bathroom, I splashed water on my face, smearing what little makeup hadn’t worn off, and dabbed my face with a towel. Then I ran a quick brush through my hair. My wrist was sore from falling on it, but not sprained. Each action was automatic. Fast. When we found Michael, I wanted him to see a mommy he recognized. Not a pained, frightened mess.
Without the chandelier on, the gallery was heavily shadowed. I wondered about Terrance and Marlene. What were they doing? Had they joined the search?
I called out for J.C. “I’m going downstairs.”
Hearing a familiar sound, I looked across the gallery at Olivia’s room, which we had already searched several times. The door had certainly clicked shut.
“J.C.?”
There was no answer from J.C.’s room, though her door was open and the light was on. There was no light of any kind beneath Olivia’s door. As I hurried over, I was thinking it might be a searcher who had decided to take advantage of the situation and explore places they weren’t wanted.
I confess that when I put my hand on the doorknob, I hesitated, afraid that Olivia was going to show me something and I wouldn’t be able to leave. But if she were there, wouldn’t she want to help me? I went inside.
The sky outside Olivia’s window was a dusky plum color, and the room was full of shadows. That the air smelled of roses—decaying roses—I tried to put down to my imagination.
“Olivia?”
I waited for what seemed like several minutes. The scent seemed to fade.
Disappointed, I turned to leave.
“Mama! Mamamamamama! Mama!”
Michael’s voice. Above me.
I looked up. Michael’s pale, happy face peered at me from behind the carved pediment of Olivia’s seven-foot-tall French armoire. Seeing me notice him, he gave me another triumphant “Mama!” Then, “Michael down.”
Chapter 24
Reunited