Darkness Before the Dawn (Maggie Bennett 2)

The phone rang again. Maggie forgot about the sweater and raced back out into the living room, stubbing her foot on the desk. The phone clattered off the desk as she lunged for it, and she ended up on her knees on the carpet, clutching the receiver.

“Maggie.” Sybil’s perfect British tones were distraught, and irritation swept over Maggie. Sybil spent half her life in crisis, and she was in no mood to deal with her mother’s histrionics now.

“Yes, Mother,” she said patiently, rising to her feet.

“Thank God, you’re back. Maggie, they’ve taken the baby!”

nineteen

Maggie no longer felt the chill of the room—every part of her body had turned to ice. She held the telephone in a frozen hand, and it was all she could do to sink her body into the chair. “Explain,” she ordered, and her voice was raw. “No hysterics, no acting, no bullshit. Just tell me what happened.”

For once Sybil’s ego seemed to have deserted her. “She overslept this morning. She usually wakes Queenie up around seven, so Queenie thought she’d better check. When she went into her room, the crib was empty, and there was a message scribbled on the mirror, saying, ‘We have the baby. Don’t call the police, we’ll be in touch.’ ”

“What was it written in?”

“For God’s sake, I don’t know!” Sybil snapped. “What the hell does it matter?”

“It matters. Crayon, Magic Marker—what?”

“Actually, it was the most ghastly shade of fuchsia lipstick, now that I think of it. I can’t imagine anyone who would wear that color.”

“I know someone who would,” Maggie said grimly, thinking of Alicia Stoneham’s wide, fuchsia-colored mouth and braying laugh. And her cold, cold eyes. Would she hurt the baby? “How did they get in?”

“Lord, I don’t know. Probably through the service entrance in this damned hotel suite. Maggie, what are we going to do? They said not to call the police, but I’m terrified for my little Chrissie.”

“Where’s Kate?”

“Off with Caleb McAllister, somewhere in the wilds of Wisconsin. Apparently, Francis Ackroyd had a brother living in some ridiculous place up there, and they wanted to see if he knew anything. Maggie—”

“Calm down, Sybil. I know who has Chrissie. And I don’t think she’ll hurt her—not unless she’s forced to. We have to be very careful and not make any stupid moves. Just sit tight, and I’ll call you back.”

“Let me speak to Randall,” she said suddenly. “I want him to tell me not to worry—I think you might lie to me just to calm me down.”

“Mother, Randall isn’t here,” Maggie said with ill-disguised impatience.

“He isn’t? Didn’t you go off with him for the weekend?”

“Yes. But he’s not here. He spent the night at his hotel. As soon as you hang up, I’ll call him—”

“You must be a changeling,” Sybil said flatly. “I can’t believe that a daughter of mine could let a man who looks like Randall Carter get away.”

“Maybe I sent him away.”

“Oh, That’s different. Maybe you’re my daughter after all. Did you say a woman has Chrissie?”

Maggie hesitated. Beneath her silly banter, Sybil was clearly distraught, and she owed her that much. “Alicia Stoneham,” she said.

“I knew I’d seen that hideous shade of lipstick before! I’m going to cut that woman’s heart out. How dare she touch my baby!”

“You’re going to sit there and say absolutely nothing, Mother. I don’t think Alicia will hurt her, but I don’t know for sure. She’s desperate, and desperate people do desperate things.”

“But—”

“I’ll call you back.” Maggie slammed down the phone and rose on unsteady feet to go to the hallway. Someone was unlocking the door, and she hoped to God it was Randall.

Kate walked in with a sleepy smile on her face. Her clothing was rumpled, and her short brown hair was a mess. She looked happier than Maggie had ever seen her, and she ached for her.

“Maggie, you’re back!” she cried cheerfully when she looked up and saw her sister’s silent figure. “Come talk to me while I shower, and we’ll go see Chrissie. I’m not going in to work today, and I want to tell you about—what’s wrong?” The bright chatter faded as she saw Maggie’s eyes.