“You should go,” he said.
He moved aside to let me leave the room, but instead of heading back down the stairs, I walked into his office. Nothing much to look at here. The closet was already open, jammed with cardboard filing boxes.
I crossed the hallway and returned to Sanders’ bedroom. There was something in the air, a scent I recognized. I had a feeling I’d smelled something similar not all that long ago.
“I’m not going to tolerate this intrusion any longer,” he said, but he didn’t have an ounce of authority left in his voice.
“How long has it been since you and your wife split up?” I was looking at the mattress as I walked around it.
“What does that have to do with—”
“Hang on.”
When I got to the far side of the bed to see whether anyone was hiding, I noticed there was an en suite bathroom off the bedroom.
Sanders caught me looking at it, and his body tensed.
I moved to the doorway. A sink, a toilet, and a tub. The shower curtain was drawn across the bathtub. The fabric was too heavy to show whether there was anyone hiding behind it, but you get a sense about these things.
“Claire?” I said.
No answer.
I said, “I’m going to count to five and then I’m going to pull back the curtain. One. Two. Three. F—”
“Okay!” Bert Sanders said in defeat. “Okay.” He spoke beyond me. “You might as well come out.”
From behind the curtain, a woman said, “I’m naked.”
For a second there, I was feeling pretty proud of myself. I’d found Claire. But the feeling drifted away pretty quickly at the thought of Sanders out here, naked under his robe, and Claire in there, without a stitch on.
What the hell was going on?
“Hang on,” Sanders said, and ran to the closet, where he grabbed a second robe. I looked discreetly away as he went into the bathroom. I heard curtain rungs sliding back on the rod.
“Here you go,” Sanders said. “Just slip that on...”
“I tried to be quiet,” she said.
“I know, I know.”
He preceded her out. I figured it was now safe to turn around and look at Claire for the first time since I’d seen her run into Iggy’s the night before.
She didn’t look like the Claire I remembered at all. That’s because she wasn’t Claire.
It was Annette Ravelson, wife of Kent — the couple who owned the furniture store where my son had jumped to his death.
Twenty-nine
“Annette,” I said as she tightened the sash on the robe.
“Cal,” she said, not able to meet my eye.
“You know each other?” Sanders asked.
“Of course I know Cal,” she said, then found the strength to look at me and asked, “You thought I was Claire? You were shouting her name all the way up the stairs.”
“I thought she might be here,” I said.
“Well, I guess it makes more sense that she might have been here than me,” Annette said.
“I can honestly say I wasn’t expecting to find you here, Annette. It’s late. Won’t Kent be creeped out, not finding you at home?”
“I told you, he’s out of town,” Annette said. “On a buying trip. It’s like a furniture wholesalers’ convention. He picks what lines he wants us to sell.” She stuck out her lower lip and managed to blow a lock of hair out of her eyes. She glanced at Bert, then back to me, and said, “I know this kind of looks bad.”
I said nothing, but peeked into the bathroom. Thrown into the dry tub were her clothes, shoes, and a handbag. She’d evidently hurriedly collected, from the bedroom, all evidence of her presence. Her purse landing in the tub was probably the noise I’d heard, and that scent I’d picked up earlier was the perfume she’d been wearing when I’d run into her earlier, before going into the town hall.
Annette said, “Why are you looking for Claire? Bert, is Claire in some kind of trouble?”
Sanders had sat down on the edge of the bed and was rubbing his shoulder where I’d given him a shove down the stairs with my foot. “I don’t know,” he said defeatedly. “I’m not sure I have any idea what’s going on anymore.”
“Annette, vouch for me,” I said. “I’m trying to help Bert here, but he doesn’t trust me.”
“Help him with what?”
“I think Claire is in trouble, but Bert either doesn’t think so or doesn’t want to admit it to me. But there’s more reason now to be concerned.”
“Why?” Annette asked. “What?”
Sanders lifted his head. “The Rodomskis’ kid is dead.”
Annette’s eyes widened. “What?”
“She was murdered.” He pointed a feeble finger at me. “You tell her.”
“Hanna Rodomski,” I said.
“I know who she is,” she said, aghast. “I know her parents. My God, this is terrible. They must be devastated.”
I imagined they were, but I hadn’t seen them since discovering their daughter’s body. I felt a pang of guilt, as though I should be at the Rodomskis’ house and not here, but I believed every minute counted now where finding Claire was concerned.
“Does Claire know?” Annette asked. “Bert, does she know what’s happened to Hanna?”
Sanders looked at me. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible, the way kids are all connected these days. Do regular people know yet? Has it been on the news?”
“I don’t think so. But it’s only a matter of time. Like you say, if Claire has access on her phone or if she’s near a computer, this kind of thing will spread like wildfire on social media before it hits the news.” I hesitated. “She should hear it from you.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right,” Sanders said, and turned to look at the phone on the bedside table.
Pick up the goddamn phone and call her, I thought. But it looked like he was heading in that direction.
“She probably has her cell phone turned off,” he said.
“Why would that be?” I asked.
“They can track you, right? If your cell phone is on.”
“What are you talking about, Bert?” Annette asked. “Who’d be tracking — oh God, you’re not serious. You really think he’d do that?”
“Who?” I asked. “Who’d do what?”
Annette gave me a critical look. “Your brother-in-law, that’s who.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I mean, do you have any idea how much trouble I had to go to, to sneak in here tonight?” she asked. “Had to park a block over that way.” She pointed toward the back of the house. “Had to sneak between houses, acting like Catwoman. Could have used some night-vision goggles. Ripped my nylons on some prickly bushes. It’s not like Bert can go anywhere to meet me. They’re watching him all the time, his comings and goings. But I can sneak in through the back way and no one spots me.”
“You’re worried the chief is going to find out you two are having an affair?”
“It’s not that,” Sanders said, his hand resting on the receiver. “Perry’s trying to put the fear of God into me.”
“Bert, yes, Perry’s being a total asshole,” Annette said, “but why would he be tracking your daughter’s whereabouts? I mean, she’s on a school trip to New York. Why would he care about that? And if she doesn’t have her cell on, then get in touch with the teacher or call the hotel where she’s—”
“That’s not where she is,” Sanders said. “She’s not on a school trip to New York. That’s just what I told you.”
Annette Ravelson blinked. I could see she was hurt. Always disappointing when the man you’re cheating on your husband with isn’t honest with you.
“Don’t be upset,” he said to her. “You know I’m living in a fishbowl these days. Everything’s on a need-to-know basis.”