birthday, Mommy?' Had he triggered something in Nancy by demanding she celebrate? . . . And then that article. Had . . .?
'No!' Ray looked up and blinked, turning his head away from the sight of the policeman standing by the back door.
'What is it?' Chief Coffin asked.
'Nancy is incapable of harming the children. Whatever happened, it wasn't that.'
'Your wife when she's herself wouldn't harm them, but I've seen women go off the deep end, and there is the history . . .'
Ray stood up. His hands clenched the edge of the table. His glance went past the Chief, dismissing him. 'I need help,' he said. 'Real help.'
The room was in chaos. The police had made a quick search of the house before concentrating on the outside. A police photographer was still taking pictures of the kitchen, where the coffeepot had fallen, spewing streams of black coffee on the stove and floor. The telephone rang incessantly. To every call the policeman answering said, 'The Chief will make a statement later.'
The policeman at the phone came over to the table. "That was the AP,' he said. 'The wire services have got hold of this. We'll be mobbed in an hour.'
The wire services. Ray remembered the haunted look that had only gradually left Nancy's face. He thought of the picture in this morning's paper, with her hand up as though trying to fend off blows. He pushed past Chief Coffin and hurried upstairs, opening the door of the master bedroom. The doctor was sitting next to Nancy, holding her hands. 'You can hear me, Nancy,' he was saying. 'You know you can hear me. Ray is here. He's very worried about you. Talk to him, Nancy.'
Her eyes were closed. Dorothy had helped Ray strip off the wet clothes. They'd put a fluffy yellow robe on her, but she seemed curiously small and inert inside it - not unlike a child herself.
Ray bent over her. 'Honey, please, you've got to help the children. We've got to find them. They need you. Try, Nancy - please try.'
'Ray, I wouldn't,' Dr Smathers warned. His lined, sensitive face was deeply creased. 'She's had some kind of terrible shock - whether it was reading the article or something else. Her mind is fighting confronting it.'
'But we've got to know what it was,' Ray said intently. 'Maybe she even saw someone take the children away. Nancy, I know. I understand. It's all right about the newspaper. We'll face that together. But, darling, where are the children? You must help us find them. Do you think they went near the lake?'
Nancy shuddered. A strangled cry came from somewhere in her throat. Her lips formed words: 'Find them . . . find them.'
'We will find them. But you must help, please. Honey, I'm going to help you sit up. You can. Now, come on.'
Ray leaned down and supported her in his arms. He saw the raw skin on her face where the sand had burned it. There was wet sand still clinging to her hair. Why? Unless . . .
'I gave her a shot,' the doctor said. 'It should relieve the anxiety, but it won't be enough to knock her out.'
She felt so heavy and vague. This was the way she'd felt for such a long time - from the night Mother died ... or maybe even before that - so defenceless, so pliable ... so without ability to choose or move or even speak. She could remember how so many nights her eyes would be glued together - so heavy, so weary. Carl had been so patient with her. He had done everything for her. She had always told herself that she had to get stronger, had to overcome this terrible lethargy, but she never could.
But that was so long ago. She didn't think about that any more - not about Carl; not about the children; not about Rob Legler, the handsome student who'd seemed to like her, who made her laugh. The children had been so gay when he was there, so happy. She had thought he was a real friend - but then he sat on the witness stand and said, 'She told me that her children would be smothered. That was exactly what she said, four days before they disappeared.'
'Nancy. Please. Nancy. Why did you go to
'No!' Ray looked up and blinked, turning his head away from the sight of the policeman standing by the back door.
'What is it?' Chief Coffin asked.
'Nancy is incapable of harming the children. Whatever happened, it wasn't that.'
'Your wife when she's herself wouldn't harm them, but I've seen women go off the deep end, and there is the history . . .'
Ray stood up. His hands clenched the edge of the table. His glance went past the Chief, dismissing him. 'I need help,' he said. 'Real help.'
The room was in chaos. The police had made a quick search of the house before concentrating on the outside. A police photographer was still taking pictures of the kitchen, where the coffeepot had fallen, spewing streams of black coffee on the stove and floor. The telephone rang incessantly. To every call the policeman answering said, 'The Chief will make a statement later.'
The policeman at the phone came over to the table. "That was the AP,' he said. 'The wire services have got hold of this. We'll be mobbed in an hour.'
The wire services. Ray remembered the haunted look that had only gradually left Nancy's face. He thought of the picture in this morning's paper, with her hand up as though trying to fend off blows. He pushed past Chief Coffin and hurried upstairs, opening the door of the master bedroom. The doctor was sitting next to Nancy, holding her hands. 'You can hear me, Nancy,' he was saying. 'You know you can hear me. Ray is here. He's very worried about you. Talk to him, Nancy.'
Her eyes were closed. Dorothy had helped Ray strip off the wet clothes. They'd put a fluffy yellow robe on her, but she seemed curiously small and inert inside it - not unlike a child herself.
Ray bent over her. 'Honey, please, you've got to help the children. We've got to find them. They need you. Try, Nancy - please try.'
'Ray, I wouldn't,' Dr Smathers warned. His lined, sensitive face was deeply creased. 'She's had some kind of terrible shock - whether it was reading the article or something else. Her mind is fighting confronting it.'
'But we've got to know what it was,' Ray said intently. 'Maybe she even saw someone take the children away. Nancy, I know. I understand. It's all right about the newspaper. We'll face that together. But, darling, where are the children? You must help us find them. Do you think they went near the lake?'
Nancy shuddered. A strangled cry came from somewhere in her throat. Her lips formed words: 'Find them . . . find them.'
'We will find them. But you must help, please. Honey, I'm going to help you sit up. You can. Now, come on.'
Ray leaned down and supported her in his arms. He saw the raw skin on her face where the sand had burned it. There was wet sand still clinging to her hair. Why? Unless . . .
'I gave her a shot,' the doctor said. 'It should relieve the anxiety, but it won't be enough to knock her out.'
She felt so heavy and vague. This was the way she'd felt for such a long time - from the night Mother died ... or maybe even before that - so defenceless, so pliable ... so without ability to choose or move or even speak. She could remember how so many nights her eyes would be glued together - so heavy, so weary. Carl had been so patient with her. He had done everything for her. She had always told herself that she had to get stronger, had to overcome this terrible lethargy, but she never could.
But that was so long ago. She didn't think about that any more - not about Carl; not about the children; not about Rob Legler, the handsome student who'd seemed to like her, who made her laugh. The children had been so gay when he was there, so happy. She had thought he was a real friend - but then he sat on the witness stand and said, 'She told me that her children would be smothered. That was exactly what she said, four days before they disappeared.'
'Nancy. Please. Nancy. Why did you go to
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