He had half-decided to go to Alan Page if he did not come up with something quickly.
Stewart took a sip of coffee and started through the lists again. They were from real estate offices, utilities companies, phone companies.
Some of them had cost him, but he had not considered the price. So far, there were no listings for a Samantha Reardon or a Nora Sloane, but Stewart knew it wouldn't be that easy.
On his second trip through a list of new Washington County phone subscribers Stewart stopped at Dr. Samuel Felix. Samantha Reardon's first husband was named Max Felix. Stewart cross-checked the other lists and found that a Mrs. Samuel Felix had rented a Washington County home the week Oberhurst returned to Portland from Hunter's Point. Stewart called Panglori Realty as soon as their office opened. The saleswoman who handled the deal remembered Mrs. Felix. She was a tall, athletic woman with short brown hair. A friendly lady who confided that she was not completely happy with moving from upstate New York, where her husband practiced neurosurgery.
Stewart called Betsy, but Ann told him she was on her way to court on the Darius case. Stewart realized the opportunity this presented.
Reardon attended all the court hearings in the Darius case. She would probably attend this one and leave Kathy alone.
The house was at the end of a dirt road. It was white, with a porch and a weather vane, a happy house that was the least likely suspect to conceal suffering inside. Reggie Stewart circled around the house through the woods. He saw tire tracks in the front yard but no car. The door to the small, unattached garage was open and the garage was empty.
The curtains were closed on most of the windows, but were open on the front window. There were no lights on inside. Stewart spent twenty minutes watching for any movement in the front room and saw none. If Samantha Reardon lived in this house, she was not there now.
Stewart darted across the yard and ducked into a concrete well at the side of the house. Six steps led down to a basement door. The basement windows were blacked out with paint. If Reardon was duplicating Darius, Kathy would be in the basement. The painted windows reinforced that belief Stewart tried the basement door. It was locked. The lock did not look sturdy, and Stewart thought he could kick in the door. He backed up two steps and braced his arms against the sides of the concrete well, then reared back and snapped his foot against the door. The wood broke and the door gave a little. Stewart braced himself again and swung his leg against the damaged part of the door. It gave with a loud crack.
The basement was cloaked in darkness and Stewart could see inside only as far as the sunlight penetrated. He edged inside and was greeted by state air and a foul odor.
Stewart pulled a flashlight out of his coat pocket and played the beam around the room. Against the wall on his right were homemade shelves of unpainted wood holding a coil of hose, some cracked orange pots and miscellaneous gardening tools. A child's sled, some broken furniture and several lawn chairs were piled in the middle of the floor in front of the furnace. The odor seemed to emanate from the corner across from the door where the darkness was thickest. Stewart crossed the basement cautiously, maneuvering around objects, alert for any noise.
The flashlight beam found an open sleeping bag.
Stewart knelt next to it. He saw encrusted blood where a head would lie and smelled a faint odor of urine and feces. Another open bag lava few feet farther into the darkness. Stewart was moving toward it when he saw the third bag and the body sprawled across it.
The night before the hearing, Betsy was so preoccupied with Kathy that she forgot about Martin Darius. Now he was — all she could think about.
Samantha Reardon was forcing Betsy to choose between Kathy's life and the life of a man who did not deserve to live. The choice was simple, but it was not easy. As sick and twisted as he was, Darius was still a human being. When Betsy let Samantha Reardon into the jury room, she had no illusions about what would happen. If Martin Darius died, she would be an accomplice to murder.
Newspaper reporters surrounded Betsy as soon as she stepped off the elevator. She turned her head to avoid the glaring lights of the television cameras and the microphones as she hurried down the corridor toward judge Norwood's courtroom. The reporters asked the same questions about Rick's murder and Kathy's disappearance over and over. Betsy answered none of them.
Betsy spotted Samantha Reardon as soon as she entered the packed courtroom. She walked past her quickly and hurried down the aisle to her seat. Darius was — already at the counsel table. Two guards sat directly behind him and several others were spread through the courtroom.
Alan Page was just putting his file on the table when Betsy walked through the spectators. He caught Betsy as she entered the bar of the court.
"Are you certain you want to go through with this?"
Betsy nodded.
"Okay. Then there's something we have to discuss with judge Norwood. I told him we would want to meet in his chambers before court started."
Betsy looked puzzled. "Should Darius be there?"
"No. This is between you, me and Norwood. I'm not letting Randy come in with us."
"I don't understand."
Page leaned close to Betsy and whispered, "I know Senator Colby pardoned Darius. The senator sent his a.a. to see me."
"Wayne Turner?"
Page nodded. "You know how the senator's confirmation hearing will be affected if news of — the pardon is made public. Will you meet with the judge in chambers or are you going to insist we do this in open court?"
Betsy considered the situation quickly. Darius was watching her.
"I'm going to have to tell Darius. I can't agree to anything unless he consents."
"Can you wait until we meet with the judge?"
"All right."
Page went back to his table and Betsy sat next to Darius.
"What was that about?"
"Page wants us to meet with the judge in chambers."
"About what?"
"He's being mysterious."
"I don't want anything going on behind my back."
"Let me handle this, Mar-tin."
Darius looked like he was going to balk for a moment. Then he said,
"Okay. I trust you. You haven't let me down, so far."
Betsy started to stand up. Darius put a hand on her forearm.
"I heard about your husband and daughter. I'm sorry."
"Thank you, Martin," Betsy answered coldly.
"I mean it. I know what you think of me, but I do have feelings and I respect you."
Betsy did not know what to say. Before the hour was up, she would cause the death of the man who was trying to console her.
"Look, if the kidnapper wants money, I can help," Darius said. "Whatever he wants, I'll cover it."
Betsy felt her heart contract. She managed to thank Darius, then pulled away. judge Norwood stood when Betsy walked into his chambers. He looked concerned.
"Sit down, Mrs. Tannenbaum. Can I get you anything?"
"I'm fine, judge."
"Do they have any news about Mrs. Tannenbaum's daughter, Al?"
"Nothing new, judge."
Norwood shook his head. "I'm terribly sorry. Al, you tell your people to interrupt if they have to talk to you."
"I will."
The judge turned to Betsy.
"And, if you want to stop the hearing, if you aren't feeling well, anything at all, just tell me. I'll set over the hearing on my own motion, so your client won't be prejudiced."
"Thank you, judge. Everyone is being so kind. But I want to go through with the hearing. Mr. Darius has been in jail for several days and he needs to know if he is going to be released."
"Very well. Now tell me why you wanted this meeting, Al."
"Betsy and I are aware of information about the Hunter's Point incident that is known to very few people.