Philip Margolin - Gone ,but not forgotten

The funeral. Betsy hadn't even thought about a funeral. Her brother had taken care of her father's funeral.

What did you do? Whom did you contact?

Page saw how confused Betsy looked and took her hand. She had never noticed his eyes before. Everything else about the district attorney, from his lean build to the angles that made up his face, were so hard, but his eyes were soft blue.

"You look like you're about to fold up," Page said.

"I'm going to send you home. Try to get some sleep, even if you have to take something. You'll need all your strength. And don't give up hope.

You have my word. I'll do everything in my power to get back your little girl."

"Tannenbaum was killed Friday evening," Ross Barrow said as he uncapped a Styrofoam cup filled with black coffee. Randy Highsmith pulled a jelly doughnut out of a bag Barrow had placed on Alan Page's desk. it was still dark. Through the window behind Page, a river of headlights flowed across the bridges spanning the Willamette River as the Monday morning commuters drove into downtown Portland.

"Three days without a call," Page muttered to himself, fully aware of the implications. "Anything last night at Betsy's house?" he asked Barrow.

"A lot of condolence calls, but no kidnapper."

"How do you figure it?" Page asked Highsmith.

"First possibility, it's a kidnapping, but the kidnapper hasn't gotten in touch with Betsy for some reason known only to him."

"The kid could be dead," Barrow offered. "He wants to hold her for ransom, but fucks up and kills her."

"yeah," Highsmith said.. "Or, possibility number two, he has Kathy and he's not interested in ransom."

"That's the possibility I don't even want to consider," Page said.

"Do we have anything new, Ross?" Highsmith asked.

Barrow shook his head. "No one saw anyone leaving the apartment house with a little girl. The murder weapon is missing. We're still waiting on results from the lab."

Page sighed. He'd had very little sleep in the past few days and he was exhausted.

"The only good thing to come out of this mess is the extra time it's bought with Darius," Page said. "What was in the surveillance logs?"

"Nothing that helps us," Barrow answered.

"Padovici and Kristol were on Darius from the moment he left his estate at six forty-three a.m. I talked to justice Ryder again. He's positive he was eating breakfast with Lisa Darius at seven-thirty. The teams were on Darius constantly. Besides, Darius met with people all day, in his office. I've had every member of his staff and visitors interviewed twice. If they're covering for him, they're doing a great job."

"There has to be an answer," Page said. "Has the team we've got searching for Gordon turned up anything?"

"Nada, Al," Barrow answered. "No one's seen her since she checked into that motel."

"We know she's alive," Page said, his tone echoing his frustration. "She made that damn call. Why won't she show herself'?"

"We have to start facing the fact that Gordon may have lied to you,"

Highsmith said. "Darius may have been a victim in Hunter's Point. Waters may have been the killer."

Page wished he could let Highsmith and Barrow know what Wayne Turner had told him. Then they would know Gordon was telling the truth.

"Remember I suggested Gordon might be our killer, Al," Highsmith continued. "I think we'd better start considering her very seriously. I can't see any way she could have known we would find Lisa Darius in the basement, unless she put her there.

"what if she visited Lisa and convinced her to help her break into Martin's house to find evidence to convict him. They go through the woods. Lisa knows how to turn off the alarms. Martin Darius is at work all day and the house is deserted. She kills Lisa to frame Darius, waits until she sees him come home, then calls you. The only flaw in the plan is that Gordon doesn't know about the surveillance teams."

"Nancy Gordon did not kill those women," Page insisted. "Darius killed them, and he's not beating this case."

"I'm not saying Darius isn't guilty. I'm saying this case makes less and less sense every time I look at it."

Alan Page checked his watch. It was ten-thirty in Washington, D.C.

"This is going nowhere. I want to attend Rick Tannenbaum's funeral, and, believe it or not, I have some work to do that has nothing to do with Martin Darius or Rick Tannenbaum's murder. Let me know about any developments immediately."

"You want me to leave a doughnut?" Barrow asked.

"Sure. Why not? I should have at least one good thing happen to me today. Now get out and let me work."

Ross Barrow handed Alan a maple bar and followed Highsmith into the hall. As soon as the office door closed, Page dialed Senator Colby's office and asked for Wayne Turner.

"Mr. Page, what can I do for you?" Turner asked.

Page could hear the tension in the administrative assistant's voice.

"I've been thinking about the senator's information all weekend. My situation is desperate. Even my own staff is starting to doubt Darius's guilt. We know Darius killed three women in Hunter's Point, including his wife and daughter, but the judge is starting to see him as an innocent victim and me as his persecutor. If Darius is released, I have no doubt he'll kill again. I don't see I have any choice but to ask the senator to testify about the pardon."

The line was silent for a moment. When Wayne Turner spoke, he sounded resigned.

"I was expecting your call. I'd do the same thing in your shoes. Darius has to be stopped. But I think there might be a way to protect the senator. Betsy Tannenbaum seems like a responsible person."

"She is, but I wouldn't count on her staying on the Darius case. Someone murdered her husband on Friday and kidnapped her little girl."

"My God! Is she okay?"

"She's trying to keep herself together. The husband's funeral is this afternoon."

"That might complicate matters. I was hoping we could convince her to tell judge Norwood about the pardon in camera. That way he could use the information to deny bail without the public finding out about it."

"I don't know," Page said hesitantly. "You run into all sorts of constitutional problems if you try to bar the press. Besides, Darius would have to give his okay. I can't imagine him not trying to pull down Senator Colby with him."

"Take a shot at it, will you? The senator and I have been talking this out. We might be able to weather the storm, but we don't want to, if we don't have to."

Storm clouds cast somber shadows over the mourners as the graveside service began. Then a light rain started to fall. Rick's father opened an umbrella over Betsy. Cold drops hit it. Betsy did not feel them. She tried to pay attention to the eulogies, but her mind kept wandering to Kathy. She was grateful for the concern everyone had shown for her daughter, but every mention of Kathy drove a knife into her heart. When the rabbi closed his prayer book and the mourners began to drift away, Betsy stayed by the grave.

"Let her have some private time with him," Betsy heard Rita tell Rick's parents. Rick's father pressed the umbrella into her hand.

The cemetery spread across low, rolling hills. The headstones near Rick's grave were weathered, but well cared for. An oak tree would provide shade in the summer. Betsy stared at Rick's grave. What was left of her husband's body was covered by the earth. His spirit had flown.

The future they might have had together would be a mystery forever. The finality terrified her.

"Betsy."

She looked up. Samantha Reardon was standing beside her. She wore a black raincoat and a wide-brimmed hat that left her face in shadow.

Betsy looked around for help. Most of the mourners were walking quickly toward their cars to get out of the rain. Her brother was walking with the rabbi. Rita was talking to two of her friends.