30
Nothing about the note reflected the person Vivian had once loved. No term of affection. No resemblance in handwriting. To be certain of this, she compared the letter from Euston Station. While cursive and print structurally differed, not even the V in her name matched the style of Isaak’s hand. Moreover, there was no logic in the secrecy.
It could all be a cruel prank. A glass of spring water could not be clearer. Still, here she was in Prospect Park, on Binnen Bridge in the dark of night.
Bringing company would have been wise, but whom? Even if Luanne or Gene had been an option, their presence might have kept the caller away. In which case, Vivian would never know for sure. And she had to know. Simply for answers, if nothing else.
“Awfully late for a stroll, young lady.” The policeman, barrel-chested with a double chin, appeared by the far railing. He waved his nightstick like a reprimanding finger. “You should be at home where it’s safe.”
“You’re absolutely right, Officer.” Vivian issued her most compliant smile. “And that’s exactly where I’m headed. Just as soon as my brother arrives to walk with me.”
Any allusion to a romantic rendezvous, based on the policeman’s presumed code of morality, could end up spurring him to lurk in the area.
“How soon you expecting him?”
“Any minute now, sir.”
In an assessing manner, he looked over at the patches of forest, the boathouse down below. Light from the full moon cast shadows over his heavy-lidded eyes and broad nose. “I’m just getting off my shift,” he said, “but why don’t I wait till your brother gets here.”
“That’s so kind of you, though truly not necessary.” She caught sight of the man’s ring, a traditional gold wedding band. “I’m sure you’re anxious to see your family after a long day. And in your line of work, your wife probably frets enough without your running late.”
After a moment, his head bobbed a little in amused agreement. He twisted the nightstick in his hands as if seeking an answer by feel. “You sure you’re comfortable out here?”
“Oh, certainly. I appreciate your concern, of course. As I said, he’ll be here any time.”
He exhaled heavily through his nose. “All right,” he said. “You have any trouble, just give a yell. Another officer ought to be right in the area. Understand?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you. I will.”
He nodded, then strode off into the blackness.
The rushing of a small waterfall helped to drown unwelcome sounds, the snapping of twigs and cooing calls from creatures in the trees. The air smelled of dirt, faintly of stagnant water.
She angled her watch to view its hands by the moon. It was a quarter past ten. For more than a half hour she had waited in this sprawling park, a maze of archways and tunnels, foreboding sculptures with leering eyes. She felt them closing in.
Waiting longer would be fruitless. It was a joke, or a mistake. If the person was really her Isaak, he would find her at home, reunite with her in daylight. To believe in his existence, only to be crushed by another loss, could leave her in too many pieces to recover.
Taking her cue from the officer, she surveyed the area before stepping off the bridge and continuing on to the pathway, along the curving river and dense forest. She hugged her arms against a cool breeze that rustled through the branches.
A footfall came from behind.
She spun around, went still as a park statue.
No one there. No other noise. Just the jagged cadence of her own breathing.
It was only her imagination, she contended. Yet her inner child went unconvinced, still afraid of monsters lurking in the closet. Her legs insisted she run, not to halt until secure in her room.
She turned to do just that, an overreaction or not, when something reached from the trees. A hand grasped her arm. She recalled the officer’s warning and opened her mouth to yell. A hand muzzled her attempt. Her fingers flew up to pry the grip away. She sensed the body of a man behind her.
“Don’t scream,” said the husky voice, before he whisked her into the shadows.