I'll Walk Alone - Mary Higgins Clark [15]
“Zan, that man is dangerous. I’ve always felt that about him. He was jealous of me when we started going out together. It isn’t just that he’s a business rival now. He didn’t want to let you out of his sight then, and I would bet anything he’s still crazy about you.”
“Ted, he’s twenty years older than I am. He’s been divorced and has had numerous affairs. He’s got a nasty temper. If he has any feelings about me, it has to do with the fact that I didn’t feel flattered by his attention when he decided to try to hit on me. The great regret of my life is that I kept allowing him to bully me when something in my very soul was telling me to fly to Rome and visit Mom and Dad.”
She remembered it all: Arriving at Da Vinci Airport. Looking for their faces when she came through security. The letdown. Then the worry. Then collecting her bags and waiting uncertainly in the terminal. Then the call on her international cell phone. The Italian authorities telling her about the accident that had killed them.
The hustle and bustle of Rome at the airport in the early morning. Zan could see herself, standing with the phone frozen at her ear, her mouth shaped into a silent scream. “And then I called you,” she told Ted.
“I’m glad you did. When I got to Rome you were absolutely out of it.”
I was out of it for months, Zan thought. Ted took me in like some kind of stray. That’s how good he is. There were plenty of women who would have loved to marry him. “And you married me to take care of me, and I rewarded you by allowing an inexperienced babysitter to lose your son.” Zan could not believe she had said those words.
“Zan, I know I said that the day Matthew disappeared. Can’t you ever understand that I was distraught?”
Around and around we go and where we stop nobody knows, she thought. “Ted, no matter what you say I still blame myself. Maybe none of those private detective agencies I hired did us any good …”
“They were a waste of money, Zan. The FBI has the case open and so does the NYPD. You fell for every charlatan who claimed they could find Matthew. Even that weird psychic who had us riding down Alligator Alley in Florida.”
“I don’t think anything that might help us find Matthew is ever a waste of money. I don’t care if I have to consult every private agency in the phone book. Maybe I’ll eventually find the one person who can follow Matthew’s trail. You asked me about this model apartment job. If I get it, it will open a lot of doors. I’ll be making more money, and every cent I make over my living expenses will be spent trying to find Matthew. Somebody must have seen something. I still believe that.”
She knew she was trembling. The maître d’ was standing near them. She realized her voice had been raised and he was discreetly trying to pretend that he had not overheard her.
“Ready for the specials?” he asked now.
“Yes, we are,” Ted said heartily. Then he whispered, “For God’s sake, Zan, try to keep it down. Why do you keep torturing yourself?” A surprised look came over his face and she turned.
Josh was hurrying across the room. His face ashen, he stopped at their table. “Zan, I was just leaving the office when some reporters with cameras from Tell-All Weekly came in looking for you. I said I didn’t know where you were. Then they told me some guy from England who was in the park the day Matthew disappeared just had some photos he took that day enlarged for his parents’ wedding anniversary. The reporter told me this guy realized that in the background of a couple of those enlarged photos you can see a woman lifting a child out of a stroller that was parked beside a woman asleep on a blanket …”
“Oh, dear God,” Ted cried. “How much can they tell from them?”
“When they blew