Thomas Perry - Vanishing Act

"Before or after Raymond and Emily Decker?"

"Before. But I’m not the best source for dates and addresses. I’m sure if you don’t have it in the papers on your desk yet, it’ll be in the next batch. Anyway, I don’t think she hired somebody to kill them for kidnapping her grandson."

"You’re the only source of information I have right now. Who did kill them?’’

"I don’t know."

"Who do you think did it?"

"When someone killed the Deckers, they also stole all of Timmy’s belongings, every picture of him, and a lot of paper. If you’re looking for somebody, you would want the photographs. But they took his toys, clothes, everything. That’s a lot of work. The only reason I can think of for doing that is to hide the fact that he was alive—that a little boy lived there. Maybe they did such a good job of wiping off their own prints that they got all of his too, as a matter of course. I doubt it."

"Who would want to accomplish that?"

She hesitated, and he could tell she was preparing to be disbelieved. "What I’m telling you is not from personal knowledge. It’s what Dennis Morgan told me. This company, Hoffen-Bayne, got to administer a fortune of something like a hundred million dollars. They would get a commission of at least two percent a year, or two million, for that. They also got to invest the money any way they pleased, and that gave them power. There are some fair-sized companies you can control for that kind of investment. As long as Timmy was lost, the trust would continue. You’re a judge. You tell me what would happen if Timmy turned up in California."

"The court would—will—appoint a guardian, and probably in this case, a conservator, if you’re right about the size of the inheritance."

"That wouldn’t be Hoffen-Bayne?"

"We don’t appoint business-management companies to raise children, or to audit themselves."

"Then the power and money would be in jeopardy."

"Certainly they would have to at least share the control."

"And they did try to have him declared dead."

"That’s a legal convenience. It relieves them of responsibility to search for him, and also protects them if someone were to ask later why they’re administering a trust for a client who hasn’t been seen for seven years."

"Then it would have been even more convenient if he were really dead. They wouldn’t have had to go to court at all."

"Filing a motion is a little different from hiring assassins to hunt down a six-year-old and kill him."

"Maybe. I think filing the motion was a trap. I think Dennis Morgan was poking around, and somebody noticed it. It’s not all that hard to find out what you want about people; the trick is to keep them from knowing you’re doing it. Dennis was a respected lawyer, but investigating wasn’t his field; lawyers hire people to do that. I think they sensed that if a Washington attorney was interested, then Timmy was going to turn up sometime soon."

"And you—all of you—got caught in the trap?"

"Yes." She stood up. "You asked me what I think, so you would know where to begin. I’ve told you. Dennis couldn’t find anybody but Hoffen-Bayne who would benefit from Timmy’s death—no competing claims to the money or angry relatives, for instance. Nobody tried to break the will during all the years while Timmy was missing. But I don’t know what Dennis got right and what he got wrong, and I can’t prove any of it. I only saw the police putting handcuffs on four of the men in the courthouse, and there won’t be anything on paper that connects them with Hoffen-Bayne or anybody else. I know I never saw them before, so I can’t have been the one they recognized. They saw Timmy." She took a step toward the door. "Keep him safe."

The judge said, "Then there’s you." He watched her stop and face him. "Who are you?"

"Jane Whitefield."

"I mean what’s your interest in this?"

"Dennis Morgan asked me to keep Timmy alive. I did that. We all did that."

"What are you? A private detective, a bodyguard?"

"I’m a guide."

"What kind of guide?"

"I show people how to go from places where someone is trying to kill them to other places where nobody is."

"What sort of pay do you get for this?

"Sometimes they give me presents. I declare the presents on my income taxes. There’s a line for that."

"Did somebody give you a present for this job?"

"If you fail, there’s nobody around to be grateful. My clients are dead." After a second she added, "I don’t take money from kids, even rich kids."

"Have you served in your capacity as ’guide’ for Dennis Morgan before?"

"Never met him until he called. He was a friend of a friend."

"You—all three of you—went into this knowing that whoever was near this little boy might be murdered."

She looked at him as though she were trying to decide whether he was intelligent or not. Finally, she said, "An innocent little boy is going to die. You’re either somebody who will help him or somebody who won’t. For the rest of your life you’ll be somebody who did help him or somebody who didn’t."

The judge stared down at his desk for a few seconds, his face obscured by the deep shadows. When he looked up, his jaw was tight. "You are a criminal. The system hates people like you. It has special teeth designed to grind you up."

As she watched him, she could see his face begin to set like a death mask. He pressed his intercom button. "Tell the officers to come in." He began to write, filling in lines on a form on his desk.

The two police officers swung the door open quickly and walked inside. The man had his right hand resting comfortably on the handle of the club in his belt.

The judge said, "I’ve finally straightened this out. Her real name is Mahoney. Colleen Anne Mahoney. She was attacked by those suspects on the way into the courthouse. Apparently it was a case of mistaken identity, because she had no connection with the Phillips case. I’m giving you a release order now, and I want all records—prints, photographs, and so on—sealed ... no, destroyed. Call me when it’s been done." He handed the female officer the paper. "I want to avoid any possibility of reprisals."

"Will do, Judge," said the policewoman. Kramer’s instinct about her was confirmed. She had a cute little smile.

The policeman opened the door for Jane Whitefield, but this time nobody touched her. She didn’t move. "You should have those teeth checked."

He shrugged. "The system was never meant to rule on every human action. Some things slip through."

She stared at him for a second, then said simply and without irony, "Thank you, Your Honor," turned, and walked out of his office.

DANCE FOR THE DEAD

is available in bookstores everywhere.

Published by Random House.

SHE WILL HELP YOU DISAPPEAR,

IF IT HELPS YOU STAY ALIVE...

The Jane Whitefield Novels

by

Thomas Perry

Published by Ivy Books.

Available in bookstores everywhere.

Jane Whitefield is a name to be whispered

like a prayer. A shadow woman who rescues

the helpless and the hunted when their

enemies leave them no place to hide. Now,

using the bone-deep cunning of her Native

American forebears, she arranges a

vanishing act for Pete Hatcher, a Las Vegas

gambling executive.

SHADOW WOMAN

It should be a piece of cake, but she doesn’t yet know about Earl and Linda—two professional destroyers who will cash in if Hatcher dies, killers who love to kill ... slowly.

SHADOW WOMAN

by Thomas Perry

Available in bookstores everywhere.

Published by Ivy Books.

Jane Whitefield, legendary half-Indian shadow

guide who spirits hunted people away from

certain death, has never had a client like Dr.