Chapter 41

WILSON HEARD THE footsteps, too. He opened his mouth to yell, but I waved the Glock at him and whatever sound he was going to make died in his throat.

What now? Bobby said Wilson lived alone!

At the top of the stairs, the cellar door banged open.

My hand tightened around the Glock. Of course I wouldn’t shoot the intruder. My hope was to throw a sufficient scare into the person so I could get away without being arrested.

I had a good reason—if not the right—to unlawfully detain the man who knew where I came from. There was no moral argument I could make for holding a stranger just because he wandered into the cellar, but nevertheless I was going to have to take another prisoner.

The cuffs of a man’s trousers and a pair of heavy black shoes appeared on the top step. The legs started to descend . . .

Before I could order the man to stop and raise his hands, he leaned forward, into the circle of light from the hanging bulb.

“Come up and talk to me.”

I didn’t know I’d been holding my breath until I let it out with a whoosh of relief.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Walter Maysfield.

“I guessed where you were going.” He jerked a thumb backward. “Upstairs.”

When Wilson realized that this new person was not going to rescue him, he let loose another stream of curses. I retaped his mouth.

After checking to be sure that the strips holding him to the bed were still too taut for escape, I followed Walter up into the kitchen.

The room was long and narrow. Curling linoleum on the floor was sticky beneath my shoes, and looked as though it had never felt the touch of a mop. The sink was rust-stained. Dishes encrusted with bits of food were piled on the counter next to it. A pair of cabinets had front panels with missing knobs. Opposite the sink was an old refrigerator that was making a sound like the rough idling of an ancient car. The place was so filthy I was sure a thousand roaches lurked just out of sight.

It surprised me to see early morning light coming through the dirty window. Down in that cellar, I’d lost track of time.

Facing Walter, I said, “You knew what I was up to, and you didn’t try to stop me?”

He shook his head. “Somebody wanting to find their parents—that’s a pretty basic drive. Wasn’t my place to keep you from it, but I wasn’t going to let you do something foolish.”

I gave him a weak laugh. “Too late for that.”

“No, it isn’t. The bastard’s still alive.”

A new worry hit me. “Magic! What about—”

“Don’t worry. After you left this morning, I called Nancy. Told her I had an emergency. She came over to stay with him until one of us gets back.” He gave my shoulder a comforting pat. “I think of that little guy as sort of my ‘grand-cat.’”

When Bobby located him, Walter was a widower without children. Now we’d become a kind of little family. I had treasured friends, but never having had a family, I was just beginning to realize how much I’d missed. The family scenes I’d written for the show were created out of my imagination, and a ton of wishful thinking.

Walter leaned his back against the refrigerator. The pressure of his weight partially muffled the noise. In the near quiet, I realized how exhausted I was, both emotionally and physically. I hadn’t been to bed for more than twenty-four hours, and I’d had little sleep before that. Menacing Ray Wilson was much harder on me than I had supposed. He actually believed that I would torture him with pliers. I had gambled on that—and won the gamble—but now I was fighting to keep from crying with the strain, and from revulsion at what I’d been driven to do.

I looked up to see Walter studying me.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” I lied.

“Did you get the information you wanted out of him?”

“Some of it. He swears it’s all he knows. He was so frightened, I think he was telling the truth.”

I recounted the story Ray Wilson had told me. As it unfolded, Walter reached out and encased one of my hands in his big paws.

Walter’s solid, bearlike presence helped me get through the telling. By the time I finished, my throat was so dry I could hardly swallow. Not wanting to sip from a glass Wilson had used, I ran water in the sink, caught some in my cupped palms, and splashed the cool liquid into my mouth. When I’d had enough and straightened up, Walter gave me a clean handkerchief from his jacket pocket to dry my hands.

Walter pursed his lips in thought. “Now I know why there wasn’t any missing child report made on you.”

“Because I wasn’t missing—she paid to get rid of me.”

“Sounds like your mom was in a bad spot. Scared. In a strange country. You should be thankful she didn’t kill you—she could have done. Housecats are better mothers than some human females. But this one paid money to give you a chance.”

“And look what that turned out to be,” I said sharply.

“Yeah, she made a big mistake, but you grew up an’ made a good life for yourself.” Walter’s tone was stern. He wasn’t going to let me fall into a trap of self-pity.

“You’re right. I have no right to be bitter about the woman who gave me up. I’m alive, and I survived that . . . thing . . . in the basement.” I couldn’t bring myself to voice my next thought: I wonder what became of her. I think Walter knew what was in my head.

I looked away, unable to deal with that yet.

Mercifully, he changed the subject. Tapping the floor with the toe of his shoe, he asked, “What did you plan to do with our friend down there after he talked?”

“Make an anonymous call to the police, let them know he was tied up in his cellar, and suggest they check for outstanding warrants.”

Walter pulled back one lapel on his jacket and indicated the folded papers stuck in a pocket. “Got a warrant,” he said. “It’s to bring Mr. Wilson back to Downsville on the stolen car charge.”

Amazed, I asked, “How did you manage that?”

“Was a long time ago, but I still got some friends in Downsville law enforcement. An’ a couple judges who remember me fondly. I convinced one of them to issue the car theft warrant. Won’t hold up more’n a day at most, but by then I hope we’ll have something else.”

“A stolen car warrant?” My energy came back with a rush of anger. “What about what he did to me?”

Walter grimaced. “The statute of limitations has run out on your case. I have an idea how we can get him for good, but you gotta help me.”

“You saw the scene in the basement. Whatever it takes, I’ll do.”

“My friends in Downsville got official pals here in Ohio. I found out Wilson was arrested for indecent exposure at a schoolyard three months ago. He claimed he was drunk an’ just takin’ a leak—excuse the expression. They should’ve tossed his tail in jail, but he’s on probation. Thanks to my friends talkin’ to their friends, some Ohio cops are gonna search here this morning. I want us to search it first—now—to make sure they don’t miss anything.”

“Let’s get started.” I began to move toward the living room. “You take the bedroom.”

“Not so quick,” Walter said. “You haven’t heard what I’m suggestin’ you do.”

That stopped me. “What?”

“We’ll take Wilson to Downsville. They’ll put him on ice until Ohio takes him back on the probation violation.” He paused for a moment, seeming to be reluctant to go on.

“Walter, what do you want to say?”

“How would you feel ’bout telling what happened to you—what he did. You got a big job in TV now. That makes you a celebrity. If you talk about your experience, maybe other girls—ones he’s done stuff to recently—maybe they’ll have the courage to come forward. If one of ’em does, then we can lock him up for a long time.”

“Maybe he hasn’t harmed anyone else.”

“There’s always another victim with these guys,” Walter said. “They don’t stop until they’re put away, or dead. I’d prefer him dead, but I’m not a killer.”

My stomach muscles clenched painfully to think that a world of strangers, and my friends, would learn about . . . that time in my life. Nancy and Penny and Matt. Tommy and Betty, the cast and crew of Love. I couldn’t help wondering if they’d look at me the same way after they knew. Would I have that label stuck on me for life: child victim?

At the same time, I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I let fear stop me from doing something that might help put Wilson in prison.

“Will you?” he asked.

I didn’t want to talk right at that moment, so I just nodded.

Walter smiled. “Good girl. I’m proud of you.” He pulled two sets of latex investigator’s gloves out of a pocket and handed a pair to me. “Let’s get to lookin’.”