Hide (Detective D.D. Warren, #2)(95)

"Gregory also gave me a buzz, explaining the situation. It just so happened we had an opening in the department, so we worked out the details. Russell and your mother would move to Arlington, I would offer your father a job at MIT. Naturally, I had to enter your father into the payroll department under his real name, Roger Grayson. But I smoothed things over with the right people, and for all intents and purposes, your father became Russell Granger, married to Leslie Ann Granger, parents of an adorable daughter, Annabelle Granger. Only the paychecks and other financial records said otherwise.

"We thought we'd been so clever, but we hadn't been smart enough."

"Tommy found them," Bobby said flatly. Annabelle wasn't talking anymore. She sat shell-shocked, too stunned for words.

"That's what Russell believed. There was a case in the news right as they moved to Arlington, the kidnapping of a young girl who could've been your older sister, Annabelle. Instantly Russell was nervous. He worried that Tommy was in the area, searching for Annabelle."

"Catherine's case," Bobby filled in. "Another guy did it, Richard Umbrio. But the strong physical resemblance between Catherine and Annabelle would've spooked Russell, made him think the worst." He glanced at Annabelle. "Even drive your father to masquerade as an FBI agent, so he could get to Catherine in the hospital, question her."

"Tommy's the one pictured in the sketch," Annabelle murmured. "My father drew a picture of Tommy to see how Catherine would react."

"Probably"

She managed a crooked smile. "Told you there was a logical explanation." But her face remained pale, drawn.

"Umbrio, Umbrio," Schuepp was muttering. "That's right. The police finally arrested this hulking brute of a man, accused him of the crime. I remember now. Still, Russell refused to lower his guard. He took up karate, read obsessively on stalkers. I don't know what it must have been like—first to lose his parents so young, then to feel that the entire tragic situation was happening again.

"I know he felt very guilty for what your mother was going through. I know the few times I saw them together at functions, your father was hyperattentive, relentlessly cheerful. If he could smile broad enough, boom loud enough, then everything would be okay.

"Your mother loved you, Annabelle," Schuepp said quietly. "When the time came, she never hesitated.

"Russell came to my office at the end of October. Tommy was back, leaving gifts for Annabelle at your home, stalking her. It was all his fault, Russell insisted. He hadn't been thorough enough. Bank accounts, IRS records could be traced. It had only been a matter of time.

"This time Russell had purchased new identities for his family, made arrangements to trade your old car for a new vehicle. Everything else was to be left behind. Fast and light, he told me. That was the key. He wouldn't even tell me where you three would be going.

"When he left, I remember wondering if you would make it. Or if I'd simply catch the end of this story one night on the news. For two weeks, all seemed well. And then that young girl, your friend, disappeared. Minute I heard the street where she lived, I knew who'd done it. According to your father, Tommy had never taken disappointment well."

"Did my father know? About Dori?" Annabelle asked urgently "Did he talk to you?"

"He called me three days later," Schuepp supplied. "Said he'd heard on the national news. He didn't know what to do. On the one hand, he was sure it was Tommy. On the other hand, if he returned to talk to the police…"

"Tommy would be able to find him again," Bobby filled in. "What about you, sir? Did you contact the police?"

"I left an anonymous tip on the hotline number. Enough for my conscience to feel like I'd done something, and yet…"

"Not nearly enough to help Dori Petracelli." Bobby gave the man a look. "You knew a vital piece of information. If you'd come forward—"

"The police would've pursued Russell and Leslie," Schuepp stated matter-of-factly "They would have dragged them back here to Massachusetts, exposed them to Tommy. The Petracelli girl was likely dead. I focused on the life that could be saved—yours, Annabelle."

Bobby opened his mouth. Before he could argue, however, Annabelle beat him to the punch.

"Explain that to Mr. and Mrs. Petracelli. They were parents, too. They deserved better than to have their daughter written off, just so their neighbors could get on with their lives." She turned away bitterly.

Schuepp poured another shot of scotch, pushed it toward her.

She wouldn't take it, though. Instead, she pulled herself together, setting her face in that resolute look Bobby knew so well.

"One last question, Mr. Schuepp: Can you tell me my real name?"




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Chapter 33


MY NAME IS Amy Marie Grayson. Amy Marie Grayson.

I sat in the passenger's seat of Bobby's Crown Vic, clinging to my parents' ashes, while trying out my real name again and again, waiting to see when it would roll naturally off my tongue. We were already back on Route 2. Driving somewhere. It hardly mattered to me.

Amy. Marie. Grayson. It still felt unnatural, stilted on my lips.

All of my life, I had considered myself two people: Annabelle Granger and Current Alias—whatever name I happened to have at the time. Now, according to Mr. Schuepp, I was actually three people: Amy Grayson, Annabelle Granger, and… well, et al.