Danielle Steel - Vanished

“I'm sorry, Miss …”

“Ritter. Beatrice Ritter. Bea.” She smiled, trying to find some hook into Marielle, something that would catch Marielle's interest enough to ask her to stay, but Marielle knew better.

“…you'll have to leave….” For an instant, the girl looked bitterly disappointed, and then she nodded.

“I understand. I just wanted to speak to you about Charles.” The sound of his name was like an electric current in the room and Marielle stared at her.

“Why?”

“Because he needs you.” It was all much too complicated to discuss with a stranger.

“Madam? …” Haverford looked at her inquiringly, and she didn't know why, but she decided to let the girl stay, if only for a moment. She nodded, and he left the room, but he alerted two policemen as he left and Marielle saw them near the doorway.

“I don't understand why you're here. Did Charles send you to see me?” She had heard nothing from him since her visit to the jail, not since they found the bear that had finally convinced her he was guilty.

But Bea Ritter wanted to be honest with her, and realized she had to make her point quickly, before she was asked to leave. Charles had told her himself that Marielle would never see her. “I'm with AP. And I don't think he did it. I want to see if I can help find out who did. I want to know if you'll help me.” It was as clear and concise as she could make it.

“I'm afraid I don't agree with you, Miss …Ritter.” She groped for her name. “I didn't think he did it either, but two things have been found now to link him to my son, the pajamas my son was wearing when he left, and his favorite teddy bear. And no one else has come forward.” Marielle had no doubts now.

“Maybe the real kidnappers are afraid to, or have good reason not to. There has to be some reason.” She was so convinced of Charles's innocence. She had spent hours with him, and she could not believe him capable of the crime. But Marielle no longer believed in his innocence. She stood up quietly, wanting the girl to leave her.

“I'm afraid I can't help you.” Her eyes were too full of pain, her heart too heavy. She didn't want to listen to this girl plead for Charles. All she wanted was her son back.

“Do you believe he's capable of it?” She had to know. She wanted to know if Marielle believed him. But Marielle was afraid of what this girl would put in the papers.

“I do believe he's capable of it. There's simply no other answer. And he threatened to do it.” She was finally convinced, even if this young woman wasn't. After all these years, her heart had finally hardened to Charles Delauney.

“He was drunk.” It was obvious that she'd talked to him, and Marielle was annoyed that she was so persistent. She was bright and strong and incredibly determined. She wore her hair in a short bob, and she was wearing a cheap navy blue coat and dress, and a ridiculous hat with a red flower, but in an odd, perky way, she was pretty.

“Being drunk is no excuse. I'm sorry …” She walked to the door and Bea Ritter didn't move.

“Mrs. Patterson, he loves you….” The words stopped her in her tracks, and Marielle turned to stare at her in anger.

“Did he say that to you?”

“It's obvious.”

“It hasn't been obvious to me in years, and I don't want to hear it.” She was finally very, very angry at him, and mortally wounded by what he'd done. But Bea Ritter refused to share Marieile's point of view.

“He's innocent.” She was so determined, so sure, that it almost haunted Marielle as she listened, but she didn't want to be haunted by Charles again. He had taken her baby.

“How dare you say he's innocent! If he is, where's my child?”

“He doesn't know. He swears.” Her eyes never left Marieile's face. “If Charles knew, he'd tell us.”

“You don't even know him.” But she knew him better than Marielle thought. She had spent hours with him, in the jail, after bribing two policemen. At first it was just a story, an interview, but for some odd reason, she believed him. She was sure he was telling the truth, and she had promised herself that she would do everything she could to help him. In fact, she had gone to Tom Armour, at his request, and begged him to represent Charles. The two were acquaintances from years past, but until that point, Armour had refused all of Charles's letters and phone calls. It was Bea who turned the tide, who begged on his behalf, who convinced the young criminal attorney that Charles was in fact innocent, in spite of how grim things looked against him. And she had reminded Tom that if he didn't take the case, and Charles lost, he would be put to death … an innocent man. She insisted that Tom could make all the difference. Thanks to Bea Ritter, Tom Armour had finally agreed to represent him.

“Will you help me?” Her eyes begged and Marielle didn't want to hear her, just as Tom Armour hadn't wanted to, but he had. Bea Ritter was uncomfortably convincing.

“Find my son and I'll believe you,” Marielle said coldly.

“I'll try.” Bea Ritter finally stood up. “May I call you if anything comes up?” Marielle hesitated, and then in spite of herself, she nodded. “Thank you.” Bea stood for a moment, looking at Marielle, as though wondering about all she'd heard, and then she thanked her again and left, as Marielle watched her.

Marielle was still sitting at her desk, thinking about her unhappily, when John Taylor arrived with the U.S. Attorney. He was a tall, thin, spare, somewhat frightening-looking man, who seemed absolutely certain that Charles Delauney had kidnapped her child, and what's more, he was certain he had killed him. Marielle flinched as she heard the words, and John Taylor ached as he watched her. It was a far cry from Bea Ritter's plea to help him.

The U.S. Attorney told her they had scheduled the case for March, and he explained to her that they expected a guilty verdict, and hoped for every possible cooperation from her and her husband.

“What does that mean, Mr. Palmer?”

“It means that I expect you to be at the trial, to sit there and make the jury care. We want them to know what losing your boy has meant to you, so they convict Mr. Delauney. And if we're lucky, and can prove or even imply that he crossed state lines with the boy, we'll get the death penalty, Mrs. Patterson, and nothing less!” The way he said it made her shiver. He also made her feel that he was going to try to convict Charles on the emotions of the case, more than the evidence. And it worried her to be put “on display” during the trial. Taylor didn't like it either, but he understood it. William Palmer was a highly respected prosecutor, but not much of a human being. “Of course, if we find your son by then, we'd like to see him in court too, but only briefly.” Marielle sat there thinking that she would have loved that. If only they would find him and he could be there.

“Anything else?” She was being flip with him because what he was saying was so awful, but he didn't seem to get the point as he stood up and prepared to leave her.

“We'll let you know.” He readjusted his glasses, stared at her as though evaluating how good a witness she'd make, and picked up his briefcase. “I'd like to see your husband when he gets back from Washington, if you'd let him know.”

“I'll tell him.” He left and Taylor stayed on, and she sighed as they sat down on the couch. It had been an endless month, a hideous time, and they still had no idea what had happened to Teddy. There had been no calls, no tips, only a few bum leads, and a handful of crackpot sightings from New Hampshire to New Jersey.

“He's sweet.” She was referring to the U.S. Attorney, and Taylor laughed as he lit a cigarette and watched her. She was a good sport, among other things, when life wasn't crushing her to extinction.