‘Doc, sew him up!’ The inmate thrust the needle at Noah.
‘It’s not going to do any good.’ Noah’s hands were slick with blood. He couldn’t have threaded the needle with dental floss if he tried. ‘If you don’t call the CO, he’s dead. Call or I will.’
‘Doc, if you call the CO, you’re dead.’
Noah felt for the injured man’s pulse as he pumped. It was gone. The man was dead. Noah hadn’t been able to save his life. He hadn’t been able to save Anna either. But he kept pumping, not knowing whom he was trying to save. Himself.
‘Guard!’ Noah hollered, but it was too late.
For both of them.
Chapter Sixty-eight
Maggie, After
Maggie steered the rental Honda through the snow-covered streets of Congreve, down the main drag that she remembered from last April. It had been chilly then, but it was freezing now, 4° at 6:23 P.M., according to the red digital numbers on the bank sign. It was already dark, and snowflakes gusted in the frigid wind. There was little traffic except for plows and salt trucks, and the sidewalks were deserted except for one or two hardy souls. The shops and restaurants were closing, their lights going off in their storefronts.
Maggie drove carefully in the storm, which had gummed up everything at the airport. Flights were delayed or canceled with Thanksgiving only days away. Luckily, the holiday left vacancies at the Congreve Inn, and she had booked two rooms, though they were going directly to the school. Caleb slept in the backseat, tired from the excitement of the plane ride.
‘Do you believe this weather?’ Kathy asked, marveling. ‘Mainers are better than we are.’
‘What do you mean?’ Maggie looked over with a smile.
‘They’re stronger. They’re tougher. I couldn’t live here. I’d die of laziness.’
Maggie chuckled, driving along, and the windshield wipers flapped madly, struggling to keep the flakes at bay. They passed bundled-up residents operating snowblowers, clearing their sidewalks and driveways before too much snow accumulated.
‘Is that the school, at the end of the street?’ Kathy pointed.
‘Yes.’ Maggie felt her juices flowing. She had texted Ellen from the airport and told her when to expect them, and they were right on time. Directly ahead lay Congreve Academy’s ornate wrought-iron gate, which was propped open. The school’s brick buildings looked picturesque in the falling snow, and a white blanket covered the rooftops. Nobody was outside except for maintenance men operating snowblowers and shoveling.
‘Whoa,’ Kathy said, as they reached the entrance. ‘This is the preppiest snowglobe ever.’
‘I know.’ Maggie braked at a lit security booth, which was brick and had a window on the side.
An older security guard slid the window aside. ‘May I help you ladies?’ he asked, blinking against the snow.
‘Yes, we’re here to meet with Ellen Salvich, in the Admissions Rotunda. I believe she’s with Head of School Morris Whitaker and Assistant Head of School Jack Amundsen.’
‘Fine, drive straight ahead.’ The guard gestured, and Maggie drove forward, spotted a sign, and steered in that direction. Ahead was a red-brick building that was completely round, topped by a domed rotunda covered with snow. Palladian windows dominated the fa?ade, and lights were on inside and under a small white portico that covered the entrance. She pulled into a small parking lot that had already been plowed, empty except for two BMWs.
Kathy looked around. ‘No cop cars? I thought the cops would be here.’
‘So did I.’ Maggie parked, then turned around to wake Caleb up. ‘Honey, Caleb? We’re here.’
‘Okay,’ Caleb said sleepily, rousing. ‘Where are we again?’
‘We’re at Anna’s old school and we’re going to meet some people and talk.’ Maggie chose her words carefully, not to give him too much information. ‘You can come to the meeting, but I think it would be better if you waited in the waiting room. Is that okay with you?’
‘Yes, can I bring my phone?’
‘Yes. Do you have to go to the bathroom?’
‘No.’
‘You thirsty? You wanna bring your water bottle?’
‘No.’
‘Okay, let’s go.’ Maggie and Kathy collected their purses, Caleb got his phone, and they got out of the car and ran toward the entrance with their heads down against the icy flakes. They flung open the door and found themselves in a circular waiting room with Congreve-blue sofas and chairs, cherrywood end tables, and an empty reception desk.
‘Hello, I’m Morris Whitaker, the Head of School.’ Whitaker smiled as he entered the room from an attached office. He was tall and thin, maybe sixty-something, with a lined face behind horn-rimmed glasses. He had on a dark three-piece suit with a Congreve-blue bowtie, plus heavy Sorel snowboots. He extended his hand. ‘You must be Maggie Ippoliti. I saw you drive in.’
‘Yes, hi, I’m Maggie,’ she said, shaking his hand, and introducing Caleb, who shook Whitaker’s hand, and Kathy, who introduced herself.
‘Ladies, come into my office and meet some folks. I put on a pot of fresh coffee.’
‘Thank you. Caleb’s going to wait here.’ Maggie gestured Caleb into a chair, and he sat down.
‘Fine.’ Whitaker led them into an office where there were two other middle-aged men in dark suits and rep ties. They both wore wire-rimmed glasses, but one was short and one was tall. Ellen Salvich, Anna’s therapist, wasn’t present, which surprised Maggie.
‘I thought Ellen would be here.’
Whitaker smiled politely. ‘There was no need. She gave us the information we need.’
‘I was hoping the police would be here, too. Ellen told me you were calling them.’
‘Chief Vogel of the Congreve Police was here, but he was called away. It’s a small police force, and the storm is placing a heavy demand on its manpower and resources.’ Whitaker gestured to the other two men. ‘Please, meet Jack and Roger.’
‘Welcome, I’m Jack Amundsen,’ said the tall one, shaking Maggie’s hand. ‘Assistant Head of School. I’ll be sitting in tonight.’
‘Roger Baxter,’ said the short one. ‘General Counsel and a member of the board.’
‘Great to meet you,’ Maggie said, and they shook hands, introduced themselves to Kathy, then settled in chairs with coffee around a circular cherrywood table, which was nestled among bookshelves filled with reference books, awards and citations, and a group of family photos. A large matching desk was on the far side of the office.
‘Well, Maggie.’ Whitaker cleared his throat, his hooded hazel eyes meeting hers with concern. ‘First, let me say that I’m so sorry about this situation. We commenced an investigation as soon as Ellen brought it to our attention.’
‘Thank you.’ Maggie sipped her coffee, served in a blue Congreve mug. ‘I’ve been racking my brain myself and I think I have some things figured out.’
‘Really, what would that be?’ Whitaker cocked his head, and Maggie launched into an explanation, including the notes with Jamie they had found in Anna’s textbook, about PG and Connie buying the bus ticket for Jamie, and even about Samantha’s disappearance at Lower Merion.
‘Of course,’ Maggie finished by saying, ‘my main concern is that Anna’s missing and has been missing since April.’
‘That’s our primary concern as well.’ Whitaker nodded quickly.
‘Did you know Anna?’
‘Somewhat. She was on the quiet side, so perhaps I didn’t know her as well as some of the more extroverted students.’
‘Do you know anybody in the student body who looks like Anna?’
‘Not offhand.’ Whitaker nodded, this time in the direction of the lawyer. ‘Roger, why don’t you take the reins?’
‘Of course. Maggie, thank you so much for this information.’ Roger flipped a page of a legal pad on which he had been taking notes with a gleaming Mont Blanc pen. ‘Here is the chronology we have, from Ellen.’