The Strange Case of Baby H (13 page)

Clara could imagine. And no doubt Mother would somehow blame Father for this calamity, too. She felt a terrible urgency to be out of these bushes, to be searching for Baby Helen. But Edgar was chattering on, relating his account of events, and she could hear the same nervous note of shock in his voice that she'd noticed that first day in the park.

“Yeah, your parents were crazy, and the cop was all upset, too, because he'd counted on finding you and the baby there! See, he said, the Forrests' housekeeper had come to the station to report that they'd received a ransom note. The note said to bring a suitcase of money directly to Cliff House at midnight if they ever wanted to see their baby again! Then the cops came straight to the park to tell the parents, and they all went back to the police station.”

“You mean the Forrests were right there at the police station while we were fighting off the Borden brothers?”

“Exactly,” Edgar said. “And once I told the cop about the note with the baby, he wanted to get back to the station right away to get the Forrests and head out for Cliff House. Hattie was going with him, and I wanted to, too. But—can you believe this?—the cop just thanked me for my help and told me to stay with your parents!”

He snorted—a loud sound in the quiet darkness. “The cop said, ‘Stay where you're safe, lad! We'll find them ourselves!'” Edgar sniffed. “Well, soon as they left for the station, I took your bicycle from the shed and made my way here on my own.” He shook his head. “Sure was hard, though, with the road all torn up from the quake.” He reached into the middle of the thicket. “See? Your bike's stashed right here.”

Clara didn't care about the bicycle; she cared about the baby. She glanced around uneasily into the darkness that surrounded them. “So you think everybody's hiding around here somewhere, waiting for midnight?”

“Yup—the police, the Forrests, Hattie—maybe my old Uncle James to boot!” Clara could see Edgar's nervous grin in the moonlight. “We surely lead an exciting life, don't we?”

Clara reached for his hand in the darkness, and he did not pull away. “Listen,” she said, “if we knew where the police and the Forrests were hiding, we could go to them. But we don't know where they are, or even if they're really here.” Surely every officer on the force was needed for fighting fires and halting looters and helping the injured. How many policemen could be spared to stake out Cliff House at midnight? She and Edgar didn't even have a pocket watch to tell them when it was midnight. “We can't just stand here,” she told Edgar. “We've got to search for that poor baby!”

“Not a
poor
baby—she's
rich!
” Edgar corrected, his voice giddy.

“So she is,” Clara retorted, “and that's how this whole mess began.” Then without another word, she darted off down the path as fast as her shaky legs would allow, keeping to the shadows. The light inside Cliff House drew her like a beacon.

“Clara, wait!” Edgar hissed behind her.

But she did not stop. There was no time for waiting.

C
HAPTER
13

S
HOWDOWN AT
C
LIFF
H
OUSE

Clara hurried on, with Edgar right behind. The towering bulk of Cliff House loomed above them in the darkness, lit only by the glow in one window.

It was a spectacular building, an eight-story gingerbread mansion with four corner towers and a center steeple rising up into the moonlight. The house was decorated with crenellations and spires like a castle. Clara had been there several times with her family and on school trips, sitting out on the balcony where, for a dime, you could look out at the magnificent view for as long as you liked, eating ice cream from the concession stands. Inside, people enjoyed afternoon tea in the parlors, drinks in the bars, wedding receptions in the lunchrooms, dances in the ballroom, and tours through the art gallery. Those who could afford to dined in the fine restaurant—where, Clara remembered, Edgar's Uncle James had worked. And where Denny, Hattie's boyfriend, had first met the Borden brothers.

During the daytime the roiling ocean, the towering cliffs, and the barking seals out on Seal Rocks presented visitors to Cliff House with amazing views. It had always felt like an elegant, friendly place to Clara. But now, at night, Cliff House did not feel the least bit friendly. Clara and Edgar crept together along the pathway at the side until they were standing just under the ground-floor window that shone with flickering yellow light.

Clara breathed into Edgar's ear, “I wish we knew who was in there.”

“Boost me up,” whispered Edgar. “I'll peek inside. And maybe I can open it.”

“Whoever's in there didn't go in by the window,” Clara whispered back. “Let's try the doors.”

“This place feels like Dracula's castle,” murmured Edgar, glancing over his shoulder as they tried first one basement door, then another. “Gives me the creeps.”

Clara was shivering hard as she tugged on the handle of the third basement door. The huge door yielded to her hands, and she edged it open. “All right, we're in!” She beckoned to Edgar, who crept after her into darkness.

They had to wait a moment for their eyes to adjust to the lack of moonlight. They were in a long hallway; this they could make out by the faint light that flickered through the window of the closed door on their right. Tall white letters were painted on it: OFFICE. Clara pressed herself against the wall and sidled along until she reached the door. She could hear murmuring. Deep voices.

Fear coursed through her like a wave. Her hands felt clammy. Her wet clothes stuck to her like a cold second skin. She knew who was in there: the Borden brothers. The men who had injured her mother, overpowered Clara, ripped the baby from her arms, knocked Clara unconscious. The men who had carried her to the rocks and left her in the cave to drown.

Now they were waiting for their ransom money. But was the baby with them?

Clara wished she knew what time it was. She wished she knew for sure that the police were nearby.
Where is everybody
? she thought desperately.

Edgar crept closer to the office door. “This hallway is so dark,” he whispered. “I bet they can't tell we're out here.” He peeked through the door's window.

Clara held her breath and moved forward so she could see, too. She stifled a scream at the sight of the two kidnappers only a few feet away. One was seated at a large wooden desk with his feet propped casually on a pile of papers. The other—Sid, the one with the jagged scar—lounged in a leather armchair facing the big window wall. What a good thing Edgar hadn't tried to climb up to look into the window—illumined by moonlight, he would have been seen by the men for sure! Clara's heart thudded at the thought.

There was no sign of Denny. But there on the desk next to Herman's booted feet lay a bundle wrapped in Mother's shawl. A bundle that lay frighteningly still. Clara could barely draw breath. Was Helen dead? Had these monsters killed her?

Clara and Edgar waited for what seemed like hours, hovering silently outside the office door, keeping watch through the glass. The lamplight flickered. The kidnappers chatted to each other in voices so low that Clara could make out only a murmur. Herman tapped his long fingers restlessly on the desktop and checked his watch. Sid rose several times and walked to the window to stare outside. Then he sat back in the armchair.

Clara figured the baby
couldn't
be dead. Why would the men just be sitting around with a dead body on the desk, she asked herself wildly. That wouldn't make sense. But if Helen was alive—why was she lying so deathly still?

Hang on, Old Sock
.

The thought filtered into Clara's head as if Gideon had spoken. She felt obscurely comforted, though she knew it must be just her imagination. She wished he were here with her, though. Gideon always knew what to do next.

She and Edgar jumped away from the door when they heard the chug of an automobile outside.
Help is here!
Clara thought gladly, but Edgar hissed, “Hide!” And so they darted down the long hallway and crouched in the deep shadows of a stairwell. Peering out, they could see the basement door opening. A young man wearing a dark suit and bowler hat stepped inside. He held a lantern. In the pale light they could see that he carried a satchel.

It's not the police
, Clara realized. Could it be Denny? Or—could it be Lucas Forrest, the baby's father, arriving at midnight as the ransom note had specified? Clara watched from the shadows as the man set the satchel down just inside the basement door. Then he slowly moved outside again, letting the door close behind him.

Isn't he even going to look for his baby
? wondered Clara. She couldn't understand it. She wanted to run after him, grab his arm and make him come to the office to rescue little Helen. She actually took a step forward, but Edgar pulled her back.

None too soon, because the office door opened and there was Sid—or was it Herman? Too dark to see a scar—but whoever it was held a revolver. The man strolled casually into the hallway.

Clara pushed herself hard against the wall. She had the most oppressive feeling of danger, as if a heavy weight were pressing down on her. She prayed he would not look their way; she prayed that the shadows would hide them.

Then, with a grunt of satisfaction, he grabbed the satchel and turned back to the office.

It was several minutes after the door closed behind him that Clara and Edgar dared to edge back down the hallway to peer through the office door. Clara gasped at the sight of the two triumphant men gleefully stashing wads of money into their pockets and coats. The satchel stood open on the desk next to the baby.

There must be a way to get that baby away from the men. Clara felt desperation rise in her, and a terrible longing to burst into tears. The shock of the earthquake, the fear of fire—these were nothing compared to the terror she felt now. Earthquake and fire were forces of nature. But the ruthlessness and greed of men who would stop at nothing—these were the forces of calculated evil. Clara bit the inside of her cheeks, willing herself not to make a sound. She couldn't overpower the men; she had found that out already. But when they left, perhaps she could follow them.

Or would it be better to leave
now
, while the men were busy with the money, and try to find the police? But what if the police weren't anywhere out there at all?

Clara's thoughts were in a whirl, but one thing was certain. She would never leave Baby Helen with the kidnappers.

Then Clara heard a little sound outside the basement door. A tiny scrape. A footstep. And then the creak of the door … opening just a crack.

She and Edgar pressed back into the shadows. Clara could feel Edgar trembling against her. Had the kidnappers heard? But, no, a bark of laughter came from the office. And then one of the men blew out the lamp.

The office door opened and the kidnappers stepped into the hallway. Was the baby with them? It was too dark to see without the light.

But suddenly there
was
light—as the basement door burst open and two policemen stepped into the hallway, revolvers drawn. Behind them stood the man in the bowler hat, lantern held high.

“Halt! Police!”

“Hey!” shouted Sid—or was it Herman?—in furious surprise. The other twin, quicker than his brother, turned to run down the hallway, right past Clara and Edgar. Clara saw that he was clutching the baby. Helen's head lolled sideways.

“She's dead,” breathed Clara, and she knew that she and Edgar would probably be next. The shadows wouldn't hide them now.

“Not dead,” whispered Edgar as the baby let out a little moan. “Drugged!”

“Stop right there or we'll shoot,” ordered the older officer, pointing his gun at the men.

“Not with this baby in my arms, you won't,” snarled the man holding Helen. Clara could see Sid's scar quite plainly now. He and his brother edged down the hallway, away from the police, toward the children's hiding place in the stairwell.

“Hey!” shouted Sid, as Clara caught her breath. “It's the girl! How'd she get away?”

“You should have killed her while we had the chance,” hissed Herman, his eyes flicking toward Clara.

She almost choked at the menace of his cold gaze.

The police officers leveled their revolvers at the men. “What are these kids doing here?” yelled one policeman.

“Keep out of the line of fire!” his deputy barked to Clara and Edgar.

“Hand over my baby!” the man in the bowler hat cried to the kidnappers. “You've got your money—what more do you want?”

“We want our freedom,” said Sid grimly. Helen moaned again, and Sid clamped a big palm roughly over her face.

“We told you to come alone, Forrest,” Herman snarled. “But you broke our deal, and now you'll pay the price.”