Allan Retzky - Vanished in the Dunes

“That’s very thoughtful. Oh, Detective. A question. Do you think this Doctor Stern was involved in the woman’s disappearance?”

“It’s a possibility, sir. There are many possibilities.”

“I see. Okay. Thanks again. Bye.”

Posner feels almost giddy when he hangs up. He no longer fears discovery. The doctor is now the one between the crosshairs and has probably always been the one. No. He is no longer afraid. Sara will be here soon and they can start planning for a new life. He strides to the credenza and opens a bottle of wine. As he pours a glass he remembers that this was the same vintage that he opened for Heidi. He hoists the glass to toast her memory, and then watches as if petrified while his hand begins to shake and a flow of red trickles over the edge and onto his fingers. It’s Heidi’s blood. That’s all he can see. He splashes the wine out of the glass and across the sink. He washes his hands, but still sees her blood. Whatever elation he felt moments before was just a single, almost fragile speck of time that vanished. All he can think of now is wanting Sara to be here with him.

He sits until the images of blood begin to fade and thinks of Sara. He knows that the car that carries her is the new black Volvo of their New York friends and Amagansett neighbors. Door-to-door service is a nice luxury for anyone who heads to the Hamptons on a weekend. Even now, after the high season has past, there are still many part-time resident owners who have become more devoted to their weekend escapes. And the numbers have grown of those who now spend more time in the area especially after 9/11. He remembers the rush of New Yorkers who took out safety deposit boxes in droves after the attack. He still continues to puzzle at the possible contradiction in logic when he considers why they still live in the city most of the time but keep their birth certificates in East Hampton.

He also remembers the unease he felt whenever he went into the city after 9/11. He kept thinking that another attack could happen again, maybe on a subway, a bridge, or tunnel. A few months after the attack, he asked Sara if she would consider moving full time to Amagansett.

“They have lawyers out here too,” he’d said, but she put him off.

“But mostly for real estate and DWIs,” she’d answered. “And I do neither.”

Spoken like a merger-and-acquisition specialist, he later thought, but to this day he still feels some relief, however small, when he leaves New York. Not exactly like abandoning paranoia, more like cleansing away a bad taste, but he also knows most others no longer feel the same, if they ever did.

That’s another reason why he’s so excited to see Sara and go over their plans. Things are getting closer to normal and that’s good. Very good. And for him maybe there’ll be only one more trip to the city. Two at the most. He settles back into the sofa. He begins to feel a warm goodness wash over him like the mist that rolls across the beach when the ocean is still cool and damp warm air flows in from the southwest. He smiles and stands. Now he’s ready for that glass of wine.

Stern parks in the street at the bottom of the short driveway. He checks his coat pockets for the tenth time in the past five minutes to reassure himself the syringes are still there, and then strides up the driveway and mounts the three steps to the door. For some reason he checks his watch. Two fourteen.

“It’s time,” he says aloud. “I’m coming, Heidi. I’m coming.”

Then he raps on the door.

Bennett reaches Wisdom on his cell phone.

“I thought you’d like to know. I just had this odd call from your Austrian friend Brigid.”

“What about?”

“She said you were supposed to meet and wanted to confirm it was at Posner’s house.”

“Did you?”

“About ten minutes ago.”

“Dammit! She’s trying to do it all herself after I told her we were scrubbing the operation because it’s too dangerous. So now she goes off on her own. I’ll get my ass right over there. Stern’s also been lurking around the neighborhood. Can’t risk getting her caught up in the middle of anything. Bye.”

Wisdom runs down the corridor and through the front door while he calls dispatch and asks them to have a cruiser get to Posner’s house and meet him. And no one is to be allowed in or out till he gets there. No one.

Posner hears the knock. At first he thinks it’s Wisdom or that Sara’s misplaced her key.

He moves down the steps and opens the door to a smiling Stern. It’s already too late to go back up the stairs to open the closet and reach for the gun. Stern walks past him without speaking, climbs the stairs and turns.

“Where did you bury her?”

No introductions. Certainly no handshakes or small talk. The words come out in a sharp staccato. Posner follows him up the stairs and moves to the edge of the hallway near the closet before he turns. One eye on Stern, one on the hallway as if to reassure himself that the closet hasn’t disappeared in the last few minutes. His fingers begin to shake and he slides one hand into his pants pocket to mask the tremor.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“You know damn well. Heidi. Heidi Kashani. The woman you picked up on the bus. The woman you fucked and then killed. That’s who, you shit.”

“You’re confusing me with someone else. Calm down. If you’re talking about that unfortunate woman who disappeared on the bus several months ago, the police have been here and we’ve talked, even more than once, but there was no contact after she left the bus.”

Posner had already developed this strategy of absolute denial as an initial tactic, but he can see it isn’t working after Stern speaks again.

“You’re lying.” Stern’s voice rises. He’s almost screaming. He pulls a large syringe from his inner coat pocket and approaches to within three feet of Posner with the needle stretched forward like an extension of his arm. One small thrust and he can surely make contact.

“What’s in here can kill you. But it works fast and the pain is relatively limited if that makes you feel better.” Stern says this knowing that some of the likely reactions are excruciatingly painful, yet it is the doctor in him that now speaks, not the avenger.

“What are you doing? Are you crazy?”

Posner can’t help looking down the corridor at the closet and Stern follows his gaze.

“What are you looking for over there? Some kind of help?”

Stern grabs Posner’s bicep in a clenched hand. The grip is strong, and Posner winces as he spins around and is pushed down the hall with Stern’s other hand holding the syringe.

Posner momentarily thinks Stern might be fooling with the threat, but he can’t be sure, and there is no way he can possibly overcome someone as young and athletic as Stern. He allows himself to be steered down the hall. Then he’s jerked to a stop.

“What’s in here?” Stern waves the needle at the hall closet door.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. Open it up. Now!”

Posner pulls the door open and then is pushed to the side by Stern’s left hand.

“Let’s see if it’s nothing.”

Stern keeps an eye on Posner while he looks into the closet. He switches the needle to his left hand and begins to sweep across the shelves with the other. He snatches various random items from shelves; a blanket, two pillows, a shelf of medicine and cosmetic bottles are all flung across the parquet.

A helpless Posner watches as the bottles slide into a random scatter. He doesn’t take his eyes off Stern, but waits for the inevitable when Stern finds the gun. The wait takes seconds, yet his fear never materializes. Stern’s free hand stumbles across the box with the Chiefs Special and unknowing its contents sweeps it to the floor. Serendipitously, it lands near Posner’s feet as if it was aimed. Before Stern reacts, Posner bends down, opens the box, hoists the revolver and levels it at Stern.