“What an interesting idea,” he said. He noticed the manila envelope in my hand, and before I could react, he’d taken it and was pulling out the photo. He might have been actually taking me seriously until then, but when he saw the picture, he seemed as if he didn’t know how to react. Finally he tried to speak, but choked on a laugh.
“Okay, maybe the execution didn’t work out quite right,” I said, wincing at the print that clearly just looked like a freaky doll head. Mason had his hand over his mouth, no doubt to hide his grin.
“But the idea could work,” Sergeant French said, taking the book from my arm. He studied the photograph of the doll. “The features and head shape do seem as though they were based on a real child. With the right software it could be very interesting. I have access to the real deal,” he said. “I’ll have to try to pull some strings, seeing it’s Sunday afternoon, but I know somebody who owes me a favor.”
“You mean you’re really going to try to do age progression on the doll?”
His face took on a wary expression. “But if my picture turns out like yours, then it never happened, got it?” I nodded in agreement and he glanced toward the car. “I’m not saying someone did that to the mat. People don’t use bubble gum and yarn to sabotage a car. They use bombs and cut brake lines.” Sergeant French measured his words. “But I’ll acknowledge someone could have. I’m going to err on the side of caution and assume someone did try to sabotage the car, and suggest that you stay low until I get back. The twin could have heard what you were doing and realized the altered photo could identify her.” He turned to Mason. Do you think you can keep her hidden? Let them think she’s over a cliff somewhere and they’re home free.”
“I think that can be arranged,” Mason said. “There’s a chapel just inside the grounds. No one would see us in there. They’re all still tied up with the workshops.”
“Then you really believe me about the s’mores and the twin and-?” I said in surprise.
Sergeant French put up his hand, interrupting me. “Don’t get too carried away. I’m limiting what I believe to the fact somebody might have put the gum and yarn together and stuck them to the floor mat, but that’s it.”
A cop carrying a roll of yellow tape came toward the car as Mason and I walked quickly toward the boardwalk. A few people on the beach had stopped when I’d first landed there, but by now they’d realized there was nothing going on and had drifted off. The path into the conference grounds was empty. I had passed the chapel building numerous times, but never noticed it until now. We slipped in the door and found a pew and sat down.
I thanked Mason for all his help. He was concerned that I was still shaky from my afternoon almost-disaster. I insisted I was fine, but then, out of nowhere, the strain of everything hit and I started to cry. I have to say Mason has always come through in a crisis, whether it’s getting me a frozen lemonade to soothe my injuries after I confronted a murderer for the first time, or rescuing me when my mother turned my living room into a rehearsal hall when she was getting ready for her big audition. He came through again and put his arm around me in a reassuring manner and reminded me I was safe. Now that Sergeant French had taken over, I could just relax.
It might have worked if my cell phone hadn’t started to play its musical flourish. I tried to swallow my tears as I answered in a whisper.
“Why are you talking so softly?” Barry asked. Without waiting for me to answer, he said, “Okay, what’s wrong, babe?”
“Duck,” Mason said suddenly, pointing toward the window. Two people were going by, and I recognized Spenser and his lady companion. Mason and I both slid onto the floor, and I held my breath while we waited to see if they came into the chapel.
“Was that Mason?” Barry said, his voice changing from concern to irritation. “How is it every time I call, you’re with him? And why is he telling you to duck?”
“I guarantee we aren’t having fun,” I said.
“And you’ve been crying.” Barry’s voice changed back to concern. “What’s wrong?”
I had been hoping to avoid talking to him until everything was settled, but no such luck. I told him the whole story. Almost the whole story. I left out the out-of-control car ride. I didn’t think I could talk about it yet without falling apart. I could practically hear Barry hitting his forehead with the heel of his hand when I got to the part about the doll’s head. I knew he was about to say something about me being really around the bend this time, so I got it in that we were hiding while Sergeant French tried to get the doll’s face aged.
“Are you sure that cop is really doing that, and not just humoring you?” Barry said.
“I’m telling you, as we speak, he’s calling in favors because he thinks my plan might work.” Mason looked at me with a concerned shake of his head and gestured for me to hand him the phone.
“Our girl did good,” Mason said into the phone. I wasn’t sure if I liked being called “our girl,” and I just bet Barry wasn’t that thrilled with it, either. Though I did like the way Mason told Barry again how Sergeant French had actually listened to what I’d said. I wasn’t quite as happy when Mason told Barry about the car ride. I could tell Barry interrupted.
“Yes, yes, she’s really all right,” Mason said. “I was on the beach when the car hit the sand. Just by chance I was there to do my tai chi. She was kind of shaken up, so the police officer suggested I stay with her.” I just bet Barry didn’t care for that last part, either. “But you know our girl, she bounces right back.”
Mason handed the phone back to me, and Barry must have asked me five times if I was okay. Then he wanted to know why I’d left out that part of the story.
“I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I wasn’t sure-” My voice began to quaver, and I heard the frustration in Barry’s breath.
“My God, Molly, what have you gotten involved with this time?” Then he caught himself and his voice softened. “I wish I was there to make it all right.” I wished he was, too. After thinking I might never see him again, I wanted to throw my arms around him and tell him how much he meant to me. I could have done the last part, but it didn’t feel comfortable with an audience. There were more frustrated-sounding breaths coming from Barry. “I’m just glad you’re all right. I guess this isn’t the best time to give the news I was calling about.”
My stomach clenched. “What now?” I said a little too loudly and then repeated it in a whisper.
“Remember the things I mentioned that kept showing up in your house? This afternoon when I stopped over, there were some chairs and one of those climbing things for cats along with the boxes. I heard some noise and checked the house. Someone was sleeping in your son’s room.”
“Don’t tell me it was Goldilocks,” I said with a mirthless laugh.
“Wrong sex,” Barry said. “It was Samuel, and when I questioned him about what was going on, he said he’d lost his place and moved back home. He was waiting for the right moment to tell you. I told him I didn’t think that moment existed, and he should just call you, but… Well, neither of your sons exactly listens to me. And the cats. None of his roommates would take them, and Samuel didn’t think you would mind.”
I took it all in without comment. Barry finally added that he hadn’t noticed a lot of hunks of fur around the house, which he took to mean the dogs and cats were okay with each other. This was the awkward part with Barry. He was in a circle separate from the one shared by my sons and me. Barry was trying to be protective, but my sons knew that my house was always their home, too. For now there was nothing I could do, anyway.