Well, it was too late by then.
Arlene seemed to believe she had some kind of family monopoly on wisdom. Did she run a hospital? Had she had that kind of responsibility? Had Arlene worked her way up from nothing to oversee a multimillion-dollar budget? And had David ever been the source of worry to Arlene and Don that Marla had been to her and Gill? Marla had been a challenge from the get-go. The teenage years were a nightmare. Sleeping around, drinking, drugs, ignoring school.
Agnes and Gill had figured that once Marla hit her twenties, things would settle down. But troubles remained. Hints of a personality disorder, difficulty recognizing people, mood swings. One doctor thought she might be bipolar. But at least, with her parents’ financial help, she was living independently in a small house of her own, getting the odd job here and there, and then, more recently, this thing where she reviewed businesses on the Internet.
It gave Agnes hope. Maybe, just maybe, Marla was getting her life back on track. So long as there were no setbacks, she might be able to move on to a more conventional kind of job. Agnes would have tried to find her something at the hospital, but after the incident with the baby, that wasn’t possible.
Agnes might be able to pull some strings somewhere. She knew people in this town. The mayor, the head of the chamber of commerce, the police chief. All of them, as it turned out, women. They understood how important it was to help a child find her way in the world.
But then Marla met that boy.
A student, for God’s sake. From Thackeray College. A local boy, the son of, if you could believe it, a landscaper.
And he’d gotten her pregnant.
What had Marla been thinking, getting involved with someone so young, someone who wasn’t even finished with school? Someone who had no prospects, other than to help his father cut lawns and plant shrubs? Agnes had done some checking up on him. A few years ago he’d even been a suspect in the murder of a local lawyer and his family. The boy turned out to be innocent, but you had to wonder, would the police have even looked at him in the first place if there hadn’t been something off about him? He was getting a degree in English or philosophy or something else equally useless.
Yes, Agnes conceded, what had happened with the baby had been tragic for Marla, and she was more than entitled to grieve. She’d needed time to get over her loss, and Agnes believed she herself had been a good mother through this period, helping to get Marla back on her feet. But who could have predicted what Marla would do? That she would sneak into Agnes’s own hospital and kidnap a newborn?
Several months had passed since then, and Agnes now believed Marla was getting better. She was back doing her Internet reviews from home. The next step would be getting her out of the house, out into the world.
But now this.
Marla with another baby.
“Are they at the house?” Agnes asked Arlene.
“Last time I talked to him, yes,” Arlene said. “I think David was wondering whether to call the police.”
“Tell me he has not done that,” Agnes said sternly. “This does not have to be a police matter. We can sort this out. Whatever’s happened, we can deal with it. Did you call Gill?”
“I called the house and left a message. I don’t seem to have his cell phone number.”
Gill, a management consultant who worked from home, had said something about meeting with a client that morning, Agnes recalled.
“Okay, I’m heading over,” she said, and ended the call.
The boardroom door opened and Jack Sturgess emerged. “Is anything the matter, Agnes?”
Her eyes locked briefly on his. “Marla,” she said.
“What?” he asked. “What’s happened?”
She brushed past him as she returned to the conference room. The board members had the look of guilty children who’d been throwing spitballs while the teacher had been down to the office.
Pickens stood behind her chair. “I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule,” she said evenly. “Something has come up that demands my immediate attention.”
She tossed her phone into her bag and left the room, passing her office and heading straight for the stairs. The elevator could take forever, especially if a patient transfer was under way. Once Agnes was out of the building, she had her phone out again, brought up a contact, tapped it.
It rang nine times before someone answered. “Yeah?” A man, sounding both surprised and annoyed.
“Gill, we’ve got a problem with Marla,” she said.
“Jesus, when don’t we,” her husband said. “Hang on, let me just... Okay, I was with a client. What’s happened?”
“She’s done it again. She’s taken another baby.”
“Fucking hell,” he said.
“I’m on my way.”
“Let me know what you find,” Gill Pickens said.
“You’re not coming?”
“I’m right in the middle of something,” he said.
“You’re unbelievable,” she said, and dropped the cell back into her purse.
Agnes wondered what, exactly, Gill was really in the middle of. More than likely, some slut’s legs.
Eight
I ran after Bill Gaynor as he sprinted toward my car. Marla had worn a blank expression up to now, but as Gaynor charged in her direction, her face changed. Her eyes widened with fear. I saw her glance down, probably checking to see that the car’s back door lock was set. Then she scooped Matthew into her arms and held on to him tightly.
“Matthew!”
“Mr. Gaynor!” I shouted. I reached out, tried to grab his shoulders to slow him down.
Gaynor spun around, tried to throw a punch, and in the process tripped over his own feet. As he hit the lawn I stumbled over his ankle and hit the ground next to him. I scrambled over before he could get up, leaned over him, and said, “Just listen! Listen to me.”
All I really wanted now was to keep Gaynor from hurting or frightening Marla. I wanted to bring some calm to the situation, as unrealistic as that might sound. Only moments earlier, Gaynor had found his murdered wife in their home, and he had every reason to be acting the way he was. But I was afraid, in his state, anything could happen.
He brought himself up to a sitting position, then launched himself at me. Two broad palms against my chest. I went flying backward.
He was on his feet in a second, and heading toward the car again. When he got to it, he was moving so quickly he had to brace himself. His outstretched hands hit the top of Marla’s door, and the car rocked. He reached down for the handle, yanked on it, but found it locked.
Marla screamed.
Gaynor yanked on the door handle two more times, maybe thinking he could bust it open.
“Go away!” Marla shouted.
Gaynor shielded his eyes with his hand long enough to peer through the window and get a good look at the baby. He made a fist and banged on the glass. “Open the goddamn door!”
Marla screamed a second time for him to go away.
I was to the car now, fumbling in my pocket for the keys. I’d be able to unlock the doors as quickly as Marla could lock them, but I wasn’t sure that doing so was a good idea. Marla and the baby were better off in that car, at least until the police arrived.
“Matthew!” Gaynor shouted. He ran around to the other side of the car, but before he could reach the back door, Marla leaned over awkwardly, baby still in her arms, and locked it, too. He yanked on the handle a second too late.