The Tulip Eaters. Antoinette van Heugten
find any?”
Richards shook his head. “We have the killer’s prints, obviously.”
“No, no! I mean the kidnapper. He didn’t necessarily wear gloves, did he? Surely he touched something—the front doorknob, the furniture, maybe even Rose’s bassinet.”
“Well, if the killer wore gloves, we have to assume his accomplice did, too. Besides, we’ve dusted the entire place,” he said wearily. “We did find a few latents, but the FBI isn’t ready to say anything until they’ve run them through Quantico.”
“And when in hell will that be?”
Richards looked at her, surprised. “Soon, Nora. We’re pressuring them.”
Nora thought a moment. “What about footprints?”
“It appears that there was a struggle and movement on the staircase to your mother’s bedroom, and other footprints in the entryway and dining room.”
She looked up at him, feeling almost hopeful. “Maybe they were looking for something. Maybe that’s why they were all over the house?”
Richards shook his head. “We combed the house thoroughly taking prints, seeing if anything seemed to be disturbed. But other than the furniture that was in disarray, nothing else was tossed. When you confirmed that your mother’s jewelry and other valuables were still in the house, it might fit the profile of a robbery gone wrong. That might account for your mother’s murder, but it doesn’t explain the kidnapping. The last thing a robber caught red-handed would do is to take off with an infant.”
“Maybe they didn’t find what they were looking for and the struggle got out of hand before they could.”
“Who knows? It still doesn’t make sense that the accomplice didn’t steal something.”
“Except my child.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine that my mother would let Rose out of her sight or out of her arms, no matter what the struggle.” She looked up at Richards and finally let her tears fall. She was furious to feel so helpless.
Richards took Nora’s shaking hands into his own. They were warm, but Nora drew no comfort from them. He probably does this for every mother with a missing child, she thought. She withdrew and began pacing again. If she kept her feet moving, maybe something else would come to her. Something had to come to her.
“Once the FBI processes the prints we found in the house, we’ll send them on to the Netherlands. Maybe the killer had a record and they are on file. Maybe the partials we found—they must have belonged to the accomplice—will turn something up, as well.”
“You told me it was unlikely that latent prints would do us much good.”
“We’ll see.”
“‘We’ll see, we’ll see.’ That’s all I ever hear from you people.”
She stood and started to walk to her car. She flung a look back at Richards and spit out her next words. “I’m sick of this. No one is doing enough. You don’t have one damned lead about my daughter and she’s been gone for three days. I’m going to figure this out for myself.” She flung open the car door and started to climb in.
Richards held the door open. “Nora, wait!” His voice brooked no argument. “You can’t do that. You don’t have the resources to track this down and you’ll just do more harm than good.”
Nora yanked on the door, but he held it fast. “Let go,” she said in a menacing voice.
“Obviously, this isn’t the time for us to continue this conversation,” he said tersely. “We’ll discuss it later. But there’s one last thing you need to keep in mind. You have no choice right now but to stay at home.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you have to be there if the kidnapper calls.”
Nora got in and slammed the door closed. She felt a cold resolve as she rolled down the window and met his hard glance. “You know as well as I do that if that bastard wanted a ransom, he would have called days ago.” She refused to give way to tears. “I’m going to find my daughter. You tell your people to lead, follow or get the fuck out of my way.”
6
Late that evening, Nora sat in the living room with Marijke. Both were exhausted after the funeral and Richards’s discouraging news. The police were tapping her telephone, but no call had come from the kidnapper.
“I don’t think I can take any more today,” mumbled Nora.
Marijke poured Nora a glass of cold white wine and then one for herself. “Maybe we should try to sleep.”
Nora glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s only ten. I’m too wound up. How can I sleep when Rose is still out there?”
“Nora,” said Marijke softly. “You’ve been through so much today. The funeral, Rose, Richards...”
“I know, I know.” She joined Marijke on the couch and sipped her wine. Instead of calming her, it made her more anxious.
Marijke suppressed a yawn. “I think I might turn in.”
Nora noted the dark circles under her friend’s eyes. “You should. You’ve been shoring me up for three whole days.”
“I got a call from the nursing home. My mother isn’t doing well. After two strokes, I’m not sure how much longer she can hang on.”
“Oh, God, Marijke. I’ve been so selfish. How old is she now?”
“Eighty-five.” Marijke sighed. “I’ll have to go back soon.”
“Of course. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” No, she thought sadly. I won’t.
Nora stood and patted Marijke’s shoulder. “Go to bed and get some sleep. We’ll both feel better in the morning.”
Marijke yawned. “Don’t stay up too long.”
Nora summoned a smile. “I won’t.” After Marijke said good-night,, Nora paced for an hour, waiting for something. Someone. For Rose. Her wandering was useless, but she couldn’t face her empty bed and the nightmares she knew would come. She sat on the couch, staring at the Sony Walkman that Anneke had given Nora on her birthday, a wildly extravagant gift at two hundred dollars, the first gadget of its kind. Anneke had known how much Nora loved listening to music while she jogged at Memorial Park.
Nora stood and continued her pacing. As she passed the front window, a dark, official-looking Ford pulled up to the curb. A man got out and strode up the walkway. Nora looked through the peephole and opened the door before he could ring.
“Lieutenant?” Panic rose in her throat. “Have you found something?”
Richards shook his head. “Not yet.” He stood awkwardly on the doorstep. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” She stepped back and led him into the living room, avoiding the thick blue blanket she had spread over the bloody carpet. She couldn’t bear the sight of it.
When they sat, Nora turned to him. “I’m confused. Why are you here?”
He gave her a sheepish look. “I thought I’d drop by after you chewed me out this afternoon.”
Nora felt her color rise. “Oh...that. I was completely out of line.”
“No, I was thinking like a cop. I can’t imagine what you’re dealing with, even though I’ve seen so many parents go through it.”
“I owe you an apology.”
“No, no, I have a daughter, too. I can’t imagine how I would feel if the same thing happened to her.”
“Where is she now?”
“With her mother.” He