A biting wind whipped across the choppy gray water at Sandy Hook, blowing the hair and coats of the people assembled at the shoreline. At the front of the group, Florence and Monica Anderson stood in the wet sand and listened as the minister read from his Bible.
“ ‘The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. . . .’ ”
Along with the other mourners, Eliza Blake and Abigail Snow walked to the water’s edge and tossed pink carnations into the Atlantic Ocean.
Eliza waited her turn to speak to Linda’s mother. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Anderson.” There was nothing else she could think to say.
Florence Anderson raised her arms and wrapped them around Eliza.
“Thank you, dear. At least I know what happened now. It’s better this way.”
Eliza pulled back and looked into the woman’s sad, yet still-sparkling blue eyes. She prayed this mother would be able, finally, to find peace.
“Will you be able to join us for lunch?” Florence asked.
“Thank you, but I’m afraid not. I have to get back to work for an election coverage rehearsal.”
Eliza offered Abigail a ride back to the Broadcast Center, expecting her to accept all too eagerly. But Abigail declined. She was going to lunch with her former coworkers from the Garden State Network who had come to the memorial service.
“Eliza, I just want you to know, I won’t be bothering you anymore. I’ve found someone.”
“I’m glad for you, Abigail. I really am.”
Alone, Eliza walked across the sand to the waiting car. Her thoughts turned to Mack. He would be home in a few weeks for Thanksgiving. Maybe they could work things out.
Everyone made mistakes.
“As Linda Anderson’s agent, Samuel Morton stood to make a tidy fee if he negotiated a network contract for his client. The police had questioned Morton along with all Linda’s other friends and acquaintances, but they dismissed him as a suspect. He was an educated, polished, assured individual with no apparent motive. In fact, Morton only gained if Linda lived.”
When Eliza returned to the Broadcast Center from the memorial service, Joe Connelly reeled off the information he had gotten from the local police detective in charge of the Anderson case at the time of her disappearance.
“And he could just move away like that?” Eliza asked. It didn’t make sense.
“Sure he could. He wasn’t accused of any crime. The police knew he’d moved to Florida about a year after Linda disappeared. It didn’t look like he was fleeing. He was joining his brother’s law firm and going to live in a beautiful city in a wonderful climate. Who was going to argue with that?”
“Did they ever check up on him with the Sarasota police?”
Joe nodded. “Yeah, they did. Though they didn’t have to. But all reports were that Morton was a model citizen, big on philanthropy and heavy into the social scene.”
God, you never knew. The urbane, sophisticated man sitting next to you at the black-tie fundraiser could turn out to be an obsessed madman.
“What about Samuel’s brother? Did he know anything about all this?”
“The Sarasota PD doesn’t think so. Leo Morton said he was worried about his brother’s depression. He said Samuel wouldn’t show up at work sometimes, explaining he just had to walk the beach. Leo was concerned about the behavior, but he never for a minute suspected that his brother was a murderer. Leo was there when the cops searched Samuel’s townhouse. He seemed truly appalled when they found videotapes of Linda Anderson and you.”
“Does he know that Samuel used a picture of his daughter and passed her off as his own?”
Joe nodded. “He does now. I hear he’s livid about it.”
“I would be, too, if someone used Janie’s picture that way.” Eliza tried to think of the future. “What happens now?”
“If your aim had been a little better, or if you’d been a little stronger, you wouldn’t have to ask that question. But when his wounds heal, he’ll stand trial. You’ll have to testify. In some sick way, he’ll enjoy that—being close to you one more time.”
The police had recovered her engagement ring, the diamond earrings, the heirloom emerald bracelet and the treasured pin. The HoHoKus detective told her that keys to other robbed homes had been found in the service-station office. Augie Sinisi would be going to jail.
“You look positively serene tonight, honey,” Doris commented as she airbrushed Eliza’s fair skin.
Indeed, when Doris went into the control room for a last check of Eliza’s makeup under the blazing studio lights, she noted with satisfaction that the anchorwoman glowed from the monitor screen. The stress had vanished from the beautiful face.
Janie was watching out the front window as the car headlights lit up the driveway.
“Mommy’s home!” she cried out to Mrs. Garcia.
Janie greeted her mother with a litany of what had happened that day. They were learning about the pilgrims at school. Daisy sat on command. Mrs. Garcia had taught her two new Spanish words.
Eliza listened intently, luxuriating in the ordinary, precious details of which life was made. She bent down and took her little girl in her arms and held her close. Eliza vowed that she would never take anything for granted again, yet, inevitably, she knew she would. That was human nature.