Written In Blood (16 page)

So Annabelle hadn’t
started
the trouble, Claudia realized with some relief, even though it made little difference to the end result that she had been defending herself. Tucking the phone under her chin, she began unpacking the groceries and putting them away. “Throttling your roommate is serious. What’s going to happen to Annabelle?”

“I had to call all the parents, of course,” Paige said. “As you can guess, the Levines were furious, threatened to withdraw Britney from the school. That really made my day. Not. Annabelle’s lucky I didn’t expel her.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“When I spoke with Dominic—Mr. Giordano—he said that if I would give her one more chance, he’d handle the Levines. I think they know each other. Ted Levine is in the industry, too.”

“Annabelle’s father intervened?”

“Yeah. And whatever he said worked. The Levines called back
apologizing
! They said it was just a misunderstanding between the girls; they’d make sure Britney behaved better.” Paige gave a small huff. “I’d like to know what Dominic promised them to make them change their attitude that way.”

“Maybe he made them an offer they couldn’t refuse,” Claudia said.

“Oh, that’s funny, Claudia,” Paige said, but she sounded less than amused. “Christmas recess started today, thank God. When the residential girls come back, Britney will have been moved to another room. Annabelle can have their old room to herself.”

“Solitary confinement?”

“That’s what she wants. That’s what she’s going to get.”

“So Annabelle’s gone home for Christmas?”

“No, she’s the only one who’s staying here. Her father’s in Switzerland for the holiday. He asked me to keep her until next Tuesday, when he gets back.”

With Christmas only two days away, Dominic Giordano couldn’t be bothered to make it home in time to spend the holiday with his daughter? Maybe Annabelle was better off at school.

Jovanic would be working over the long weekend and Claudia was flying to her parents’ home in Seattle tonight, along with Pete and Monica. She toyed with the idea of asking to take Annabelle with them, but if Pete saw that black eye . . .

“What will she do for the holiday?” she asked Paige.

“She’ll be with me. Her father sent money and I had Brenda pick her up a nice gift. Believe it or not, I’m cooking Christmas dinner. Cruz will be here, too, and you know that’s all she cares about—Cruz.”

Claudia unloaded cartons of yogurt and salad greens into the refrigerator, listening to Paige complain about Annabelle and how she wasn’t sure it was worth the tuition money to put up with all the crap that came with it. But she had a feeling Paige was just saying what she thought was expected. Dominic Giordano’s influence would buy a whole lot of crap.

Without Jovanic, and with her mind on Annabelle’s situation, Claudia did her best to fake some Christmas spirit, but her mother picked up on her mood and needled her about it the entire weekend. As usual, her father tried to defend her, and as usual it only made things worse. Even Monica was relieved when they left for Sea-Tac Airport. Arriving home late Monday evening felt wonderful.

Claudia lay in bed, listening to the soft rumble of Jovanic’s snores in the predawn chill of Tuesday morning, the day Annabelle was due to go home and finish out the winter recess.

She thought back on her own fourteenth Christmas. Memories as bitter as bile, not worth revisiting. But that didn’t stop them from pouring back: her parents fighting, her mother threatening divorce, not caring that Claudia and Pete could hear. That year, Claudia had rebelled: flunked her favorite subjects, fought with her best friends. Wished she were dead.

She wondered how Annabelle had weathered the holidays.

Jovanic stirred, turned, and spooned against her, mumbling something into her hair. She didn’t know what he said, but she murmured an assent and scooted closer.

Annabelle and her problems ebbed to the far recesses of her mind.

But not for long.

“Claudia!” Jovanic yelled from downstairs, where he had been making coffee. “Come down here. Hurry.”

Claudia came out of the bathroom and onto the landing wearing only a long T-shirt, a mascara brush in her hand. “What did you say?”

“Sorensen Academy—something’s happened. It’s on the news.”

Something in his voice sent her running downstairs without asking for details. He stood in front of the television dressed in dark slacks, a light blue dress shirt, and darker blue tie, ready to leave for his shift.

She planted herself beside him and stared at the words
Breaking News
on the television screen. The crawl across the bottom of the screen identified the reporter who was speaking as Michelle Gillette. Claudia struggled to pick up the thread of the report.

Gillette was saying, “. . . this year’s Laci Peterson case?”

The camera pulled back and the shot widened to include the Sorensen Academy’s front lawn. The life-size Santa in his reindeer-drawn sleigh looked slightly ludicrous in the California sunshine.

Claudia’s hand crept to her face, covered her mouth as the impossible words continued to pour from Gillette’s lips. “. . . apparently missing since Christmas Day.”

Gillette turned to her right and the camera panned to include Bert Falkenberg, whose name and title were superimposed over his black Lacoste polo shirt. His normally ruddy face was pale and drawn.

“I’m here with a representative from the school,” Gillette said, pushing the microphone at him. “Mr. Norbert Falkenberg. Sir, what can you tell us about the situation?”

Claudia glanced wordlessly at Joel, then back at the television.

Bert’s grim expression sent a shiver of premonition through her. The muscles in his face were tight, but his voice shook when he spoke. “Our headmistress, Mrs. Paige Sorensen, has not been seen since Christmas Eve. The school is closed for the holidays, of course, so no one realized she was missing until today.”

“When Mrs. Sorensen failed to show up for a scheduled meeting this morning and we were unable to reach her by phone, her rooms were searched, and when it became clear that she hadn’t been around for several days, the police were called.”

“How do you know that Mrs. Sorensen didn’t just go away for the holiday?” Gillette asked.

“The housekeeper found Mrs. Sorensen’s dog alone in her apartment at the school. He had no food or water, and well, frankly, he’d made quite a mess. Mrs. Sorensen would never have willingly left him in that condition.” Bert fixed his gaze on the camera. “Her purse was in her apartment, but her car is missing. If anyone has any information on her whereabouts, please call the Beverly Hills Police Department immediately.”

“Has Mrs. Sorensen ever gone missing before, sir?”

“Of course not.”

“Isn’t it true that her husband recently passed away?”

Bert looked taken aback. “Why, yes, just a few months ago.”

“Was Mrs. Sorensen depressed, or . . .”

“She was in good spirits when I last saw her.”

Gillette paused for a moment, holding up a finger while she listened to her earpiece. She nodded, then plowed on. “Is it true that a student at the school is also missing?”

Bert gave Gillette a phony smile. “I’m not at liberty to reveal any further information.”

“Will an Amber Alert be activated?”

The earlier hint of fear now came at Claudia with wrecking ball force. An Amber Alert would be issued only in the event of the kidnapping of a minor.

She thought of the newspaper stories she had read a few months back about Dominic Giordano, Annabelle’s father, and his reputed ties to organized crime, and she wondered . . .

On-screen, Falkenberg shook his head. “I’m sure there’s no reason for such an action.”

“Mr. Falkenberg, sir, I’ve just been told that there were rumors of bad blood between Mrs. Sorensen and the missing student? Can you confirm that?”

“That’s ridiculous.
You
said there was a missing student,
I didn’t
. In any case, Mrs. Sorensen gets along fine with
all
the students.”

“Our sources tell us there was a disagreement between them just a few days ago.”

“I’m not going to comment any further.”

Gillette leaned on him like a prosecuting attorney grilling a witness. “Is it true the student has a juvenile record?”

He threw up his hands, waved her away. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’ve been out of town and I don’t have any additional information for you at this time.”

“But do you believe there’s a connection between the two disappearances? Mr. Falkenberg?— Mr. Falkenberg?”

Falkenberg made an abrupt about-face and headed for the front door of the school, trailed by a pack of question-shouting reporters and their cameramen.

Arranging her face into an appropriately serious expression, Michelle Gillette turned back to the camera and spoke to her anchorman in the studio.

“Well, Paul, as you just heard, Mr. Falkenberg has refused to confirm it, but we do have a report from a reliable source that there is indeed a missing student and that she is the daughter of Sunmark Studios head Dominic Giordano. As you know, Mr. Giordano has been—”

Jovanic muted the volume on the TV, cutting the reporter off.

Claudia dropped onto the sofa and stared up at him. “Annabelle,” she whispered, feeling sick. “She’s the only student who didn’t go home for the holiday. Dominic Giordano is her father. What if the Mob took her as a way of getting at him? Joel, you have to find out what’s going on. What if—”

“Hold on, babe,” Jovanic interrupted. “Is it true about the bad feelings between Mrs. Sorensen and the girl?”

“When I last talked to Paige she was planning on Annabelle spending Christmas with her. I don’t think she was thrilled, but she didn’t make a big thing about it.” Claudia rubbed her face with her hands, smearing the mascara she’d just applied, leaving black smudges under her eyes. “I can’t believe this. Where could they be? Bert’s right, Paige would
never
leave her dog. Poor little Mikki, he must have been starving.”

Jovanic grabbed his coat from the rack by the front door. “I’ll see what I can find out,” he said, and came back to kiss her. “Just hold tight until we get the facts. They’ll probably show up with a good story.”

Claudia gave a halfhearted laugh, knowing he was just trying to comfort her. “God, I hope you’re right.”

She saw him out to the Jeep, watched him drive away, then went inside and poured herself a mug of high-test coffee, needing the caffeine kick. She sat at the kitchen table, struggling to stay calm and logical, trying to cheer herself. Maybe Paige had taken Annabelle on an impulse trip to Disneyland or something. With Paige, anything was possible. But what about Mikki . . . ?

Claudia glanced at the phone and immediately rejected the idea of calling the school. If Brenda was there, which seemed doubtful, the switchboard would be clogged with reporters looking for a juicy story, parents wanting to know what was going on.
The kind of publicity Paige so wants to avoid.

She thought of the threatening letter from Diana. Paige had been adamant about not showing it to the police, but the situation had changed in a drastic way. When Jovanic called, she would tell him about it and ask what he recommended.

She glanced over at the phone again, nearly startled out of her wits when it rang.

Monica, voice pitched higher than usual, talking fast.

“Aunty C., did you see the news? I was getting ready for my tennis lesson and Daddy had the TV on and . . . she’s going to be in a whole bunch of trouble, isn’t she?”

“Whoa, kiddo, slow down. What do you mean?”

“Annabelle!
She did something bad, didn’t she? She’s such a dork!”

“Monica, please slow down and tell me exactly what you’re talking about.”

“She called me really late the other night, on Christmas Eve. She was majorly upset about that lady, the one who’s missing—her principal?”

“Upset about her principal? Paige Sorensen?”

“Yeah, Paige. Annabelle said she was a skanky slut and she said she was gonna get even with her.”

Annabelle had used that word—
slut
—in the empty classroom last week, the day after her fight with the other girls. At the time, Claudia had thought she was talking about Britney, her roommate who had teased her into combat. Could she have actually been referring to Paige?

“Get even with her about what? Did she tell you?”

“Well . . .” Monica hesitated. “I promised not to tell.”

“Monnie, I know you don’t want to snitch out a friend, but right now, nobody knows where she is, or where Paige is, or if something’s happened to them.”

There was a silence and Claudia could tell that her niece was pained at having to break her new friend’s confidence. She said, “Sweetie, at this point,
anything
might help.”

Monica gave a long, giving-up sigh. “She’s—well—she’s been telling me about this guy she thinks is totally cool. Remember that handwriting she brought to show you, but she didn’t want to say who he was? Aunty, he’s really
old
. He
works
at her school.”

A guy in his thirties would seem ancient to Monica. But not Annabelle?

“It was Christmas Eve when she called you?”

“Uh-huh. She was s’posed to be in bed, but she snuck out and went to this guy’s house ’cause she had a Christmas present to give him. He lives on the school grounds, so it wasn’t like she had to go anywhere far. She knocked on the door, but it was unlocked and she went in. It was raining and she wanted to put the present inside and leave, but then she saw her principal was there, and the guy, and they were . . . well, they were—” Monica faltered.