Danielle Steel - Vanished

Marielle looked heartbroken when John Taylor hung up, and she couldn't help wondering what Malcolm was thinking. He said not a single word to her. He simply walked upstairs, and silently closed the door to his bedroom.

When news of Charles Delauney's arrest leaked out, the press went wild, and there were ten times as many reporters outside the Patterson home the next morning. Malcolm only went out under heavy police escort. The reporters hounded John Taylor now too, and the chief of police. They wanted to know everything. This was big news and they wanted the story. The heir to one of the most important fortunes in the country had been arrested for kidnapping …more than that, it was a crime of passion, a saga of revenge …the accused had been married to another scion's wife, and held her responsible for the death of their child. Despite all of John's efforts, word had leaked out, and the scandal was full-blown and out of control by Christmas. By then, Charles had been in custody at Federal Detention Headquarters for five days, and still there was no news of Teddy. Delauney still swore he had no idea where he was and had had nothing to do with it, which led John Taylor to fear that he had killed him. Much to his own chagrin, he told Marielle and Malcolm that on Christmas night. But he felt certain now that Delauney's stubbornness about the crime meant that he had done it as revenge, and Taylor thought it more than likely that he had killed him.

“Oh my God.” Malcolm's whole body swayed when Taylor told him, but this time Marielle held firm, and put an arm around him as though to soothe him. She hadn't had a headache in days, and her whole life centered around waiting for news of Teddy.

“I can't believe that,” she said quietly in answer to Taylor's news. “I can't believe we'll never see him again. No matter what Charles did, I can't believe he would have killed him.”

“Come to your senses!” Malcolm shouted at her in front of John Taylor. “When are you going to understand that the man took him as revenge for his own child? His child is dead and so is mine….” And somehow the way he said it told her in no uncertain terms that he blamed her. John Taylor heard the implication too, but there was nothing he could say to help her. He wanted to whisper to her, “Be strong,” or hold her for a moment before he left the room. But he could say nothing. He only squeezed her hand, imperceptibly, and then he left her with Malcolm.

Christmas didn't even exist for them this year, there was no exchange of gifts, of warm thoughts or feelings. There were no decorations put up anywhere, and Teddy's room was like a little altar to all they'd lost. They both seemed to go there constantly, to renew their hope and spirit. Marielle couldn't believe she'd never hold him in her arms again, couldn't believe he was gone … it wasn't possible …Charles just couldn't do it.

She lay awake all that night after John had gone, and she knew what she had to do. The next morning when Malcolm went out, to attend to some business, she ordered the car brought around and she asked one of the policemen to drive her downtown. They seemed a little startled at first, but after consulting with the sergeant in charge, they agreed to do it. They spirited her out the servants' door, in a black dress and hat and an old fur coat of her mother's, and the car plowed through the reporters outside the house, and headed downtown as Marielle sat shaking between two policemen in the backseat. She hadn't been out of the house since the kidnapping, and it was terrifying pressing through crowds, and being driven to a police station by four policemen. But she knew that this was something she had to do. No matter what they said, she had to see him.

He was being held at Federal Detention Headquarters and he had been there for six days. Formal charges had been made almost immediately, for kidnapping. Taylor was still hoping to get a confession out of him, or at least learn the whereabouts of the child, if they could force that out of him. But so far, he had given up nothing.

There was a handful of reporters on the front steps when she arrived, and as soon as they got a glimpse of her, they went wild, but her escort forced their way through, and a moment later she was inside, breathless and shaking. She explained whom she had come to see, and there were whispered conferences and murmurings. It wasn't a visiting day, and this was highly irregular, but she told them who she was and that she had to see him.

Finally one of the sergeants in charge took her in, and left her in a small bare room, and ten minutes later, they brought him to her. He was wearing rough pants, one of his own shirts, what looked like combat boots, and he had a week-old beard, and an expression in his eyes she hadn't seen in years, an expression of pain and sorrow that told her what she had come to learn even before she asked him any questions. He began to cry the moment he saw her, and the guard left them alone in the room as he took her in his arms and held her.

“I didn't do it, Marielle … I swear … I would never do that … I was crazy … I was drunk that day … I don't know …just seeing you there with him … it reminded me of Andre….”

“I know … I know …shhh … I had to talk to you.” She pulled away from him so she could see him, and she was glad she had come. She had needed to hear from him just what had happened. Slowly, he sat down, and she sat down across from him, and looked at him. How far they had come, and how much pain there still was between them. What happened?”

“I don't know. They said they found his pajamas in my basement. My God, Marielle …tell me you don't believe it's true….”

“How did they get there?”

“I don't know. I swear to God, I don't …I'm a fool … I was terrible to you … I was wrong … I was crazy …but I've spent the rest of my life trying to atone for it, I've never hurt anyone …I've fought for my friends, I was willing to die for their causes because I have nothing more to lose …why would I hurt him? Why would I hurt you? I've done enough to you, and by God …” He sobbed as she held his hands. “I still love you.”

“I know,” she whispered, she still loved him too. But she loved Teddy more. He was her baby. “But where is he?”

“I swear, I don't know.” He looked up at her then, his eyes clear and deep and true, and she believed him. “I swear, Marielle, even if they kill me. I promise you, I know nothing of the boy's kidnapping. I hope you find him, for your sake. In spite of everything I said so stupidly, you deserve to.”

She nodded. “Thank you.” How had they gotten into this? How had it happened?

The guard came back to them then, and he said she had to leave. She nodded and stood up, and Charles looked at her long and hard before he left her.

“Believe me” was all he said, and she nodded. It sounded like the truth. But if he hadn't taken the boy, who had? She was no closer to knowing anything than she'd been before she'd come. But at least she knew Charles Delauney hadn't done it. And as she left the tiny room, she was startled to see John Taylor coming toward her. He was FBI and not police and he had no business here, although she assumed he had come to see Charles, but he looked very stern as he led her to a private office.

“What are you doing here?” He seemed angry at her, almost the way Malcolm would have been, but she was glad she'd come anyway. It had been worth it.

“I had to see him.”

“You're a fool.”

She shook her head and knew she wasn't. “He says he didn't do it. And I believe him.” She had had to know, had to ask, had to see him.