Into Thin Air Page 18

  “No, not at all. Lots of young women who find themselves unexpectedly pregnant are afraid of how their boyfriends will react, but Amanda had already told the father of her baby, and she gave me the impression that he was being very supportive.”

  Lomax nodded. “So there was nothing at all unusual in her demeanor the last time you saw her?”

  “I saw her only the one time, so I have nothing with which to compare her behavior, but she seemed to me to be just like the dozens of other young women who get themselves into trouble.” Virginia sighed hopelessly.

  “Okay. I want you to go back to Wednesday, December 21. Amanda had made an appointment with you for additional counseling, correct?”

  “Yes, but she didn’t show.”

  “Did you think that unusual?”

  “Not at all. It happens all the time. I had our receptionist phone Amanda’s home, but she didn’t get an answer. Then I put it out of my mind.”

  “Were you in the office all day that day?”

  “I believe so. I usually eat lunch at my desk, and I don’t recall having left for any reason, so, yes, I’m sure I was here all day.” She nodded for emphasis, thanking her stars that at least she had an alibi for the time Amanda disappeared.

  “I see that your office has a window facing out to the parking lot. What can you recall seeing out your window that day?”

  “Nothing,” she answered with certainty. “My view isn’t what you would call picturesque. I leave the drapes drawn all the time, especially in the morning when the east sun shines in that window. I don’t pay any attention to the goings-on in the parking lot.”

  “Could you have heard anything unusual that day? Loud voices, car horns, anything like that?”

  She shook her head helplessly. “No, I’m sorry.”

  “All right.”

  Virginia allowed herself a quiet sigh of relief. Perhaps this ordeal was almost over. And she’d done splendidly, even if she did say so herself—just the right amount of concern, mixed with consternation and a tiny bit of impatience.

  “Let’s forget Amanda Arkin for the moment. I want to show you another girl’s picture.” From the back of his notebook he pulled a color photo and laid it on the table. Virginia had to lean over to look at it, but it took her only a moment to realize the picture was of Marcy Phelps.

  Dear God, they’d connected Marcy to the clinic. Her mental pat on the back had been premature, Virginia realized. Whatever composure she’d been maintaining abruptly fled.

  “She looks familiar to me,” Virginia said with a barely discernible tremble to her voice, “but I’m not sure.”

  “Her name’s Marcy Phelps.”

  Virginia put a hand to her breast. “Oh, the little girl who was found dead in that lake? I remember reading about it in the paper, but...did she...was she a patient at the clinic?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. She looks familiar, but that might be because I saw her picture in the paper or on TV. I see up to eight patients a day, and I don’t always remember them.” Oh, God, oh, God, she thought in despair. He knows I’m lying. She could feel dampness forming under her arms and at the back of her neck. She only hoped the detectives wouldn’t notice if beads of sweat started popping up on her forehead.

  “Marcy would have been to the clinic in June. I know that’s a long time ago, but please try to remember—”

  “I’m sorry, I really can’t tell you for sure.”

  “Do you see all of the clinic’s patients?”

  “Most of them. The doctors strongly encourage counseling before a pregnancy termination, and most of the young women take that advice.”

  “Then you probably would have seen Marcy.”

  “If she was a patient at the clinic.”

  “She was impregnated by her older sister’s boyfriend. Does that story ring a bell?”

  Virginia shook her head apologetically.

  “Are you sure?”

  “In my line of work nothing shocks me. No one story is more memorable than the next. I don’t dwell on them, or my own mental health might be at risk.”

  “All right. I have just one more picture to show you....” He produced another photograph. Virginia immediately recognized the girl. Although the name escaped her, the girl was another of Odell’s recruits. In a split second, Virginia decided not to lie again. Telling as much of the truth as she could would be easier.

  “Yes, I remember this girl, although not her name. Don’t tell me she’s missing, too.”

  “For more than three months.”

  Virginia could feel the blood draining from her face as she accepted the realization that all three girls she had referred to Odell were missing or dead. Odell wasn’t merely luring girls to her home with propaganda. She was taking them by force.

  “Marcy Phelps was missing since June?” Virginia had to ask, for her own peace of mind. She remembered the story Odell had told about Marcy running away from the home and how Odell had worked with Marcy’s parents to locate the girl, to no avail.

  Lomax raised one eyebrow, the only indication that Virginia’s abrupt question surprised him. “The last anyone saw of her was June 6.”

  Odell had lied. And if she’d lied about Marcy running away, she could be lying about everything. She could be the one who threw Marcy’s body off the dam, trying to make it look like suicide. And she could, right now, have Marcy’s missing baby.

  Virginia tried to school the horror out of her expression as she asked one last question. “I thought she was in a maternity home.”

  The corporal’s attention was now riveted totally on Virginia. Any semblance of casualness was gone. “Why did you think that?”

  “Oh, I just thought I read it in the paper. But I must have it mixed up with some other story.”

  Lomax took off his glasses and stared at her. And stared some more.

  Virginia cleared her throat. “Is that all?”

  “No, that’s not all, Dr. Dreyfus.” He turned to Corporal Triece. “Maybe we should take her down to the station.”

  Virginia was near panic. Should she play innocent and demand to know what he was talking about? Ask to call her lawyer? Or simply refuse to cooperate? She knew they couldn’t arrest her without a warrant. But could they get a warrant if they wanted to? “I don’t understand,” she said. “Have I said something wrong?”

  His silent stare scared her more than any accusation could have. He knew she wasn’t telling the truth. There was no doubt in her mind. Perhaps even now he thought she was guilty of hurting those girls.

  Maybe she was; if not directly guilty, then she’d certainly been an unwitting accomplice.

  Suddenly the enormity of what she’d done hit her square in the chest. She’d as good as sent Marcy Phelps to her grave. And who knew what horrible things those two other girls were enduring—if they were even alive? No, they had to be alive, Virginia thought, consoling herself. Odell wanted their babies.

  “Why don’t you tell us exactly what you remember about a maternity home?”

  Virginia knew that the next few words she spoke would determine whether they would detain her or let her go. And abruptly the decision as to what to say came easily. She’d done nothing criminal. Unethical, yes, but she hadn’t yet crossed that line that would send her to prison. And she didn’t intend to start now.

  “There’s a woman named Odell,” she began. And the words spilled out of her. She told them everything—about the referrals and the money she’d received, the details of how she contacted Odell and vice versa, Odell’s repeated assurances that she took good care of “her girls” and how she carefully screened all prospective adoptive parents.

  “I didn’t see the harm in exposing those young women to some pro-life literature,” she said. “I’m not necessarily pro-choice myself. I work at the clinic because that’s where I could find work. If I’d had any idea what was really happening...” She had to swallow hard to dislodge the lump in her throat.

/>   “What did you think when you heard about Marcy Phelps disappearing?” Lomax asked.

  “The first I read anything about Marcy Phelps was when her body was identified. I don’t remember when she disappeared. I don’t always read the paper, and I almost never watch television.”

  “And what about when you heard of Amanda’s disappearance?”

  “I thought it an odd coincidence that two of the girls I’d referred to Odell had come back to haunt me in the same week. I even called Odell and asked her about Amanda, but she claimed that Amanda wasn’t receptive to her attempts to get her to come to the maternity home, and I believed her. She’s very persuasive.”

  “But you don’t know this mysterious woman’s last name, or where she lives, or where the home is,” Lomax asked, one eyebrow lifted skeptically.

  “No. She struck me as slightly paranoid about remaining anonymous, and now I can understand why. But I didn’t push her, especially when she proved to be reliable about paying me just as she said she would.”

  “How did the payments come?” Corporal Triece asked, looking suddenly alert. It was the first she’d participated in the questioning.

  “Cash, through the mail.”

  “Postmark? Return address?”

  “No return address. I was curious, though, and I did check the postmarks. They were all from Dallas except one, which was from...Tyler, I think it was.”

  The two detectives exchanged a glance. Did Tyler mean something, she wondered?

  They kept after her for what seemed like hours, going over and over the same questions. Virginia answered each query patiently and thoroughly, and as the interview wore on she sensed the two detectives growing less antagonistic toward her. She hoped that meant they believed her.

  At some point it occurred to her that she should have called her lawyer, but she supposed by then it didn’t matter. If she was going to incriminate herself, she’d probably already done it. The important thing now was to cooperate in finding those missing girls. That was the only way she could possibly avoid being dragged down with Odell.

  * * *

  “Not in? When will he be back?” Odell asked the unidentified woman who had answered the phone. Even on Saturday—even on New Year’s Eve—there were always workaholics on hand at the law firm, and Travis was usually one of them.

  “That’s hard to say. He’s out of the country.”

  “Out of the... Don’t be ridiculous,” Odell snapped. “This is his sister. If he’d left the country, don’t you think I’d know it?”

  “Apparently not.”

  “Look, I’m not one of his creditors. I’m his sister, Odell, and I demand that you put him on the phone.”

  “He’s not in,” the woman repeated without an ounce of civility in her voice. “You might try Tokyo.” With that she hung up.

  Odell couldn’t believe this was happening. She tried calling Travis at home, but she got no answer there. She knew his financial situation was pretty grim, but could it possibly be so bad that he’d skipped the country? Without talking to her about it? Or—and this possibility filled her with dread—had the authorities found more concrete evidence regarding the illegal adoptions? Surely, if that were the case, Travis would have warned her.

  Then again, her brother wasn’t in the habit of consulting her about his activities. He usually didn’t think any further than looking after his own precious skin. In fact, although he professed to want to atone for the sins of their childhood, Odell suspected his main motivation for becoming involved in her plans was money.

  She sat down at her desk and put her head in her hands. Things were falling apart. One of the girls, Heather, had miscarried last night. That meant Odell would soon have another vacancy. Then, this morning, Odell had read in the paper that the police had located the father of Marcy Phelps’s baby. That meant they were one step closer to connecting Marcy with the Women’s Services Clinic.

  Odell had made a drastic mistake in taking Amanda Arkin from the clinic parking lot. She had focused police attention on the clinic, and that might yet prove to be her undoing. She’d always known that someday she would overlook some detail and the authorities would catch up with her. But she hadn’t thought it would be so soon.

  Still, she wasn’t undone yet, she thought as a sudden burst of resilience surged through her. She was doing God’s work, and He would protect her. Without Travis and the money his adoptions brought in, she would have a hard time of it, but she still had some financial reserves. If she had to, she could abandon the babies on doorsteps, like they used to in the olden days. With the huge demand for healthy white babies, she knew the infants would be well provided for.

  She decided it was time to step up her activities. She would bring as many girls into the home as she safely could. Even if she couldn’t deliver all of the babies before everything came crashing down, at least the Good Shepherd Maternity Home would be filled with girls too far along to have abortions. Her goal of saving thirty-four babies—the exact number she had helped kill—seemed far away.

  She would have to take some extra precautions regarding her contact with Virginia and the Women’s Services Clinic, she decided. She wouldn’t make any more calls from her cellular phone. Although it would be an inconvenience, she would have to use pay phones from now on.

  She considered dropping Virginia altogether. The woman had been a nuisance lately, asking nosy questions. But Virginia had been Odell’s best source. The psychologist had a knack for picking out the girls who would make the best residents for the home—like Amanda and Marcy, God rest her soul. No, there was no sense in giving up on Virginia, not yet. Odell would just have to be on her guard.

  She smelled the unmistakably delectable odor of pot roast coming from the kitchen and realized that she’d been moping here in her office for a long time. Henry probably could use some help with dinner, although apparently he had things well in hand. Sometimes it amazed her that he could cope so well with his diminished mental capacity. He had proved himself invaluable lately, finally settling into his role guarding the girls. She’d been afraid he would take his authority too much to heart, but he seemed to be just stern enough to intimidate, yet never cruel for cruelty’s sake. She was lucky to have him, for she could never have managed this place alone. Henry was a good boy, for all his peculiarities.

  * * *

  Caro was exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally. She couldn’t remember ever working on any case that had wrung her out the way this one did. She’d been elated by the information Virginia Dreyfus had revealed, but disappointed that the psychologist couldn’t lead them immediately to this Odell character. Still, it had seemed a simple-enough task to track Odell down through the answering service—then not so simple after all.

  “Any luck?” Austin asked hopefully, looking up as Caro approached his desk. He’d sent her to check out Wanda’s Answering Service, the outfit through which Virginia and Odell kept in touch.

  “You won’t believe this,” Caro said wearily as she snagged a nearby chair and plopped down in it. “Odell is anything but stupid. She deliberately chose a real rinky-dink operation for an answering service. Wanda runs the business out of her spare bedroom. Odell pays her in cash, in advance, by mail. She didn’t fill out any forms, so there’s no address or phone number on record. She calls in every few days for messages. That’s the only contact Wanda has with her.”

  “But the phone company has put a trace on the line, right?”

  “Oh, yes. Wanda was most anxious to help, and she says she’ll let us know the minute Odell calls in.”

  “Then we’ve got her.”

  “But how long will that take?” An uncharacteristic frustration welled up inside Caro. “Damn it, I was set to move in. Every day the case drags on is another day those girls are held against their will.”

  “But they’re alive. Until we talked to Virginia, I wasn’t holding out much hope. But if Odell is really a rabid pro-lifer, she’ll keep those girls alive at least u
ntil the babies are born. That gives us plenty of time.”

  “Unless Virginia warns Odell and she slips away.”

  “Virginia’s too afraid of us. She knows damn well we could arrest her at any time for obstruction of justice. She even signed a statement attesting to the fact that she’d deliberately misled the police to cover up her unethical conduct.”

  “And you still think it’s best not to get a warrant right now?”

  “If we’d arrested her, her lawyer would have had her out in a matter of hours, anyway. We might need her cooperation.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Caro sat up straighter and tunneled her fingers through her wind-tangled hair, pushing it off her face. “We’ve made remarkable progress today. I should be pleased, I suppose. What’s that you’re doing?” Austin had a Texas map spread out on his desk.

  “See for yourself. Remember the first time we talked about a possible connection between the Arkin and Phelps cases?”

  “And we dismissed it then as too farfetched.”

  “But remember how we plotted points on the map? Marcy’s body was found at the Cedar Creek spillway.” He pointed to a red dot he’d made on the map. “Amanda’s car was found in Taryton. Amanda’s letter was postmarked from Kips Point.” More red dots. “One of Virginia’s payments was postmarked from Tyler. I also just received word this afternoon that the Taryton police located a trucker who remembers picking up a hitchhiker close to Taryton the night Amanda’s car was abandoned. His description matches the one Chucky gave you for the car thief. The hitchhiker asked to be let off here, near a town called Caney—which, incidentally, isn’t all that far from River Rock.” He made two more red dots.

  “River Rock—where Justin Krill was born.” Caro studied the pattern—and there definitely was one. The dots were grouped in an area south and east of Dallas. Unfortunately, the pattern was far from tight. “That’s about a four-hundred square-mile area. I don’t think we’re ready to search with dogs and helicopters just yet.”

  “Pessimist.” Austin reached out and flipped a strand of hair off her face. “It’s a start.”