Vanished in the Dunes (24 page)

When he heard her calling,
“Bitte,
toilet, toilet,
bittz,
please,” sometime during the night, he went in to untie the knots so she could use the bathroom. Then he positioned her as before and at that time felt even less aroused than he had earlier.

His watch shows eight and she looks as if she's still sleeping, but he guesses she's only faking it. Like she faked being Heidi yesterday. Her whole story is just so much bullshit.

He puts on his jacket and drops the gun into a side pocket outside of the flap.

“Time to get up, sleepyhead,” he says and loosens the stocking around her right wrist.

He's just starting to untie her second wrist when he hears a knock at the door. There's a moment of paralysis when everything he's ever feared in his life leaps out at him; his father's endless stream of disapprovals, anxiety over possible rejection by girls, passing the MCATs, loss of Heidi's affection, and now the police. He shakes her
into a wakefulness he knew was there all the time. Her eyes are open and alert.

“Get dressed.” He throws her the same pink-and-white dress.

“Get up! Now! Someone's here.” His words arebookended by another round of raps at the front door.

She scrambles into the dress, staggers across the room and then down the corridor as she rubs her wrists with alternate hands.

“Not a word,” he tells her in a hoarse whisper. “Or I'll kill you and whoever else is there.”

He hoists the gun above his head to be sure she sees it and waits at the edge of the corridor where he can see both her and the front door, yet stay unobserved.

“Ja.
Yes.”

“Police.”

She opens the door. From his hidden position, Stern sees that the zipper on the back of her dress is half open and she's not wearing shoes, but the cop won't see anything unusual. Overall, she'll appear as normal as anyone who's just woken up.

“Morning, ma'am. Just checking in to see how you're doing.”

“I'm fine. I just got up. Sorry it took so long to answer the door.”

“That's okay. Sure everything's fine?”

“Quite sure, thank you. Goodbye then and thank you for stopping by.”

Stern pictures the cop tip his hat as the door closes. He waits until he hears the engine cough its way into smoothness, and then ten seconds more before he checks the front window just in time to watch the taillights turn out of her driveway and onto the main road.

“Too many cops around here. We need to leave,” he tells her in a matter-of-fact way as they walk back down the corridor toward the bedroom. A distant observer might think they were discussing a movie date or details for a picnic rather than a life-threatening circumstance.

“Put enough things for a few days in a small bag and be ready in ten minutes.”

He doesn't know why he says this, and then realizes he does it to make her think it's all just temporary, and that in a few days everything will revert to normal. She does seem calmer at this point, and he assumes his ruse will work. He also senses a kind of serenity working its way through his own body. This is the upside. If he can't get it up, at least he can begin to act like a normal person. He's already glad he didn't force himself on her last night.

She takes a few items from a top dresser drawer and turns to him.

“Where are we going?”

“Not far,” he answers as his mind impels an image of a gnarled sand pine and the ground beneath it. “Not far at all.”

She begins to relax as soon as he agrees to let her change into pants and a sweater. They take the Audi and he drives. As soon as they're on the main road heading east toward Montauk village, he glances sideways at her.

“You don't look like her at all anymore.”

“It was the dress. I was supposed to wear the dress to fool you and the other person.”

“You mean Posner?”

“Yes.”

“He did it you know. He killed Heidi and buried her. That's where we're going now. To where she is. To be sure.”

“How do you know he killed her?”

This time Stern steals a longer look but keeps driving. He is no longer the wild person she remembers from yesterday. Maybe he's taken some medication. Maybe he realizes she's not a threat.

“He told me so. Oh, he first gave me some bullshit story that she had an accident in his house while he was out, and then when he came home and found her he got scared and buried her. But he killed her. Either he raped her or he tried and killed her when she resisted. He killed her all right.

“Second, and most important, I know I didn't do it. I loved her. I still do.”

He pauses and she sees one eye begin to well up. He makes no move to wipe it.

“I know that. She told me.”

“She told you? When? What did she say?”

He doesn't wait for an answer. They are nearly through the village of Montauk when he makes a sharp turn onto South Edison Street. He drives until the street ends and pulls into a small stretch of alley behind two shuttered seasonal motels, and then stops. A dumpster blocks any cursory view from the road. There is a narrow sliver of beach and ocean through the front windshield. He turns the engine off and leans back.

“I have to rest. Too tired. Need to rest for a bit.”

She says nothing. After a minute he leans forward and pulls out a packet of Winstons and offers her one. She accepts and he lights them both up. The digital clock on the dash flashes 9:44 as he puts the lighter back.

“Now tell me. Please.”

She looks around at the quiet space they sit in and then back at him.

“Don't be afraid anymore.”

She looks at him, sees the earnestness of a teenager, and begins to relax.

“Now tell me everything she said.”

Wisdom parks behind the cruiser that waits on the road apron some fifty feet west of Brigid's driveway. In less than a minute, two more blue-and-whites appear. Wisdom directs them to park on the east side of the driveway. He sends two men to cover the road access and two more to the rear of the house.

“No one in or out. SOP.” They all voice agreement. Logistics aren't an issue. They've all been trained.

Wisdom walks down the driveway to the front door, which is slightly ajar. He identifies himself and slowly pushes the door open. He turns and calls for one of the uniforms to join him.

He advises the men in the back by radio to stay on the outside.

“Anything moving back there?” he asks.

“Negative. But there is a car parked here.”

“What make?”

“White Chevy Malibu. Two years old.”

“Stay where you are. We're going in.”

“Ten-four.”

Even as he pulls the Glock from his holster belt, Wisdom wonders about Brigid's red Audi. Is it parked in a garage somewhere in back or is she gone? Gone with Stern?

He moves forward into the house and announces his presence. Police presence. There's no answer. They cover every room. The house is immaculate except for one bedroom. A bed is messed up and two nylon stockings lay discarded across a pillow. The pink-and-white
dress is on the floor. He asks one of the uniforms to pack it up together with the nylons.

The search is futile. The house is empty. There is no Audi. No obvious clues as to where she might have gone. Wisdom returns to his car and calls in. He decides to leave two uniforms at the house and passes instructions to get the plate number on the rented Audi. A call to Weis confirms that it's from a local Audi dealer. Shouldn't take long. As soon as they confirm the plate, every cruiser in the area will be alerted with an APB.

He sits in his car after passing out instructions. Frustration overwhelms him. His anger is directed internally more than anything else. It's all his fault. He should have protected Posner. If he had, Posner's wife would still be alive. He shouldn't have gotten involved with Brigid's masquerade idea. He should have picked up Stern earlier. All the things he should or shouldn't have done. All the things he's fucked up just on this one case.

A call from Bennett shakes him back. Yes, Bennett had already heard about Stern and Brigid. But he has something new. Posner called. He wants to speak to both of them. Has something important to say, but wants them all to meet at the house. His house in Amagansett.

“I thought he was sedated and in the hospital.”

“He was, but won't take any more pills. He sounded pretty lucid considering everything that's gone down. Insists he needs to talk to us. He specifically mentioned that he wants you there. Seems like a man who desperately needs to get something off his chest, even if part of him is falling apart. I spoke to the doctor who confirms he's okay to travel, at least physically.”

“When?”

“As soon as we can all get there. He's still in Southampton Hospital. I'll pick him up and meet you at his house.”

“Okay. I'm on the way. Right now I can't do anything more here.”

Southampton Hospital has no formal psychiatric ward, or other comparable isolation area, so Posner is placed in a private intensive-care room as soon as he arrives, which is about six that evening. Sedation does little to halt his spasms of grief. At first he cannotbelieve what's happened. He lies in bed and asks over and over for Sara. A doctor checks the laceration on his scalp and pronounces it minor. Nurses enter and leave. One shakes her head and disappears without comment, yet he knows. Bit by bit he remembers and knows she's gone. The crying then begins with hysterical ferocity, yet after a few hours the worst passes. He is left with nothing except an overwhelming emptiness, a numbness he feels will never pass.

He declines an offer to speak with a local clergyman, but allows a staff psychologist a few minutes. It helps a bit and he begins to calm. He's told that the police wish to speak with him and agrees to meet with them early the next day.

At seven the next morning Detective Bennett and Detective Cooper from the County police together with a stenographer come to sit with him. He has declined any more tranquilizers, yet fights to put aside what happened. He begins to speak, but his recall is interrupted more than once by convulsive sobs. He can't help himself. He manages to tell them about the confrontation and Stern's threat to kill him. He describes the fight, but only speaks minimally of the part when Stern runs out and Sara dies. He omits the period where he tells Stern about finding a dead Heidi and burying her. It is as if that part never happened.

After they leave, he realizes it's still not enough. He can't roll back time. He needs to tell a different story. Sara is gone. His mind gains a renewed clarity. He has to punish Stern. Otherwise nothing would have happened. It's the only way to preserve Sara's memory and what they would have had together. That's all he has left. He could never
admit now that he disposed of Heidi's body. That might detract from Stern's guilt and he needs to make sure they know Stern killed Heidi.

He sees how it must have happened. Stern watched Heidi board the bus in the city and followed it to the East End of Long Island. He parked in East Hampton and trailed her as she walked around the village until she entered my car. He saw them go into the house. He waited outside while his mind imagined the worst, and then when he saw me leave, he entered the house. He killed Heidi and left with thebodybefore I returned. Yes. That's how it happened. There was no accident.

He needs to talk to the police again. He'll tell them he knows where Stern buried her. They'll believe him. Why not? And it's all for Sara, isn't it? He calls for a nurse and asks her to send Bennett a message.

Bennett picks up Posner from the hospital shortly before noon the next day. Sara Posner has been dead for less than twenty-four hours. Posner wears the same clothes he had on from the day before. The hospital identification band still circles his left wrist. He's neither shaved nor tried to comb his hair. He sits in the backseat and says nothing, nor does Bennett speak to him after the car pulls out. Detective Cooper from County sits in the front alongside Bennett. They drive for twenty minutes in silence except for Posner's periodic whimpering spurts.

Wisdom meets them at the front step. He has been there for some time. A uniform has already cut the yellow crime-scene tape and removed the door seal. Wisdom goes in first, together with Cooper, and they both move up the stairs. At the top, Wisdom turns and sees Posner and Bennett as they stand just inside the front door. Posner starts to talk, but his speech is fragmented and disjointed to the point where Wisdom thinks the man is about to unravel in front of his eyes. He is
almost afraid to watch as Posner stands in the spot where his wife died and begins mumbling bits of incoherence.

“Everything's here. Right here. At this place. In this spot. Everything. Right here. Here.”

Posner stops abruptly. Shoulders begin to heave just before his body explodes into sobs.

More than a minute passes before Bennett helps him up the steps. They sit on facing couches with Bennett alongside Posner. More time passes and Wisdom watches as Posner's grief shifts to a gentle weeping. He is a step closer to calm. Bennett offers a glass of water, but Posner points to an open bottle of Merlot on the credenza. Bennett pours him a generous glassful. Posner drinks avidly, and then turns slightly so that he can see all three men. He sniffles twice and begins to speak. His voice is surprisingly clear, but the pain is there, carved into his features. Wisdom and Bennett make quick eye contact. Cooper barely blinks. Such pain never dissipates quickly, if ever. They've all seen it before.