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Brogan had coaxed Helene into a chair at the kitchen table while she prepared the woman’s tea.
Lucien sat across from Helene with a puzzled look on his face. “So your son goes missing several days after the Dolworth murders in Santa Cruz?”
Helene’s brown eyes shimmered with tears. “All I know is that he never showed, never called home on that Wednesday, the thirteenth. Twenty-one years ago last June. I did hear something about those murders after Vince disappeared, but I don’t remember when exactly.”
“How long did you wait before calling the police? When did you know something wasn’t right?”
Helene’s face had a weary look on it. “I felt something was off kilter that same night. But I thought he might’ve gotten called into the hospital to cover someone’s shift. So before going to bed, I called the number he’d given me to the nurse’s station. It was a direct line, you see. Whoever answered told me he wasn’t working. So I ruled that out pretty fast. The next morning, I tried calling him on his cell phone several times and got his voicemail. I tried calling his house again and got the answering machine. It seemed like all my calls between Wednesday night and Sunday afternoon got me nowhere. I even called the hospital again and talked to his supervisor, who said Vince hadn’t shown up on Thursday for his regular shift. That wasn’t like him to miss work. But they told me they’d send someone to check his house on a welfare check. That’s when I drove over there myself Friday morning. I used my spare key to get inside, had no idea what I would find. But Vince wasn’t there. The shades were drawn. The house was dark but tidy. Vince didn’t like messes. I found his clothes still in the closet and the dresser drawers full. But no Vince. That’s when I knew something was wrong. Friday morning, June 15th.”
Brogan brought over Helene’s tea. “So you called the police right then?”
“Thank you, dear. Yes, I did from Vince’s house,” the woman claimed, scooping sugar into her tea.
“What did the police tell you?”
“You mean when they eventually got around to answering my call? They told me that Vince was a grown man. They couldn’t do anything about it if he wanted to pick up and leave. They never even bothered coming out to his house or mine. I never saw a cop even when I called a second time two weeks later.”
Lucien drummed his fingers on the table, wondering how best to bring up Vince’s relationship with Anna. After several long seconds, he blurted out, “And you didn’t think it odd when Vince went missing so soon after Anna Dolworth and her husband died? Even though they worked at the same hospital?”
Brogan laid a hand on Lucien’s shoulder. “I think he wants to know about Vince’s affair with Anna?”
Helene frowned. “His relationship with Anna was back in 1997. What did that have to do with anything that happened four years later?”
“Maybe tell us about it. Talk to us about Vince. Maybe it is the key to finding your son,” Brogan pointed out.
Helene lifted a shoulder. “I don’t see the connection. It didn’t even last that long.”
“But they worked the third shift, right?” Brogan prompted.
“Sure. Different units, different floors. Anna worked in the cardiac unit. Vince worked in pediatrics.” Helene blew out a breath. “But they took their breaks together. That’s when it started. And soon, they began spending time together outside of work.”
“Vince talked to you about it?”
“Oh, my God, yes. She’s all he ever talked about—Anna this, Anna that. He was besotted, walking around on air whenever he was around me during that time. It didn’t take much to figure out he’d fallen for her, head over heels. I’m certain he thought he’d foundthe one. But I never liked her. She was married. To me, she shouldn’t have been fooling around with my son or anyone else, for that matter. Call me old-fashioned. I don’t care,” Helene spit out. “I told Vince to keep away from her. But at his age, he had a mind of his own and did what he wanted. There was no reasoning with him.”
Helene was about to take her first sip of tea when she stopped and set the mug down on the table. She narrowed her eyes at Brogan, then at Lucien. “Wait a minute. You’re not here to help me find Vincent. You’re here thinking he murdered Anna and her husband.” It wasn’t a question but an accusation.
Lucien took a deep breath. “We’re trying to learn the truth. That morning—June 7th, early on a Thursday morning, around five-thirty-ish—two people were murdered. But there was also a kidnapping involved. Anna’s little three-year-old son Elliott and a paperboy disappeared. Another family out there needs to know what happened to their son—Trey Rescher. You, of all people, should understand that. The cops didn’t even take you seriously. They didn’t take the Reschers seriously, either. They blamed it all on him, a fourteen-year-old in the wrong place at the wrong time. We’re trying to get to the bottom of this.”
“But what does all that have to do with Vincent?”
Lucien got up to pace in front of the sliding glass door. “At 5:57 that same morning, a California Highway patrolman stopped Vince for running a red light and speeding. He wrote him a ticket. The intersection is less than five minutes away from the summer house Anna and Mack Dolworth had rented. That’s how we came upon Vince’s name when it appeared in the detective’s notes. Through Internet searches, we discovered your son went completely off the grid after the murders. He’s a blank slate after June 2001, no work record, no bank withdrawals, and no activity on his social security card.”
Helene looked panic-stricken. “You’re saying my son murdered two people and kidnapped a little kid? That’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe not. Especially if he thought Elliott belonged to him,” Brogan clarified. “Think about it. Vince and Anna had a hot and heavy affair in 1997. Elliott was born in February 1998. When did Vince and Anna have a falling out exactly? Because years went by, and according to Anna’s best friend, Anna had no plans to leave Mack. Not ever. That means, maybe sometime in spring of 2001, Anna—for whatever reason—dropped the bombshell on one of her breaks that Elliott belonged to Vince.”
Helene swallowed hard. “Vincent never said a word to me about a child, not one word. Not only did he never mention it, but my Vince wouldn’t kill anyone. He was a nurse who helped children get better, kids with cancer, kids who’d gone through chemo and surgery. I can’t fathom my Vince doing anything so cold-blooded, not ever.”
Lucien exchanged looks with Brogan. “Could someone else have been at the wheel of a cargo van Vince rented? Is that even possible that it wasn’t your son driving?”
Brogan ignored that and crossed her arms over her chest, needing an answer to her question. “When did they end things, though? Who called it off?”
Helene looked directly up at Brogan. “They were, as you say, hot and heavy for about four and a half months. I can tell you Anna is the one who ended it. That woman broke his heart. He moped around for weeks afterward. But he eventually put it behind him and started dating again. He went out with dozens of women after that. Then, about six months before he went missing, he met someone he thought might be his future. It was at a Christmas party in early December of 2000.” She held up a hand. “Before you ask me, I can’t remember her name. Vince only brought her around once, and they didn’t stay long. As I recall, she didn’t talk much. But she was nice to Vince. I remember that.”
Brogan wanted to believe Helene. “Are you implying Anna was not nice to Vince?”
Helene shook her head. “You’re asking the wrong person. I didn’t like Anna. I wasn’t shy about how I felt. Why aren’t you asking all those other men Anna slept with about how she treated them? I’m not stupid. I know Vince wasn’t the only person at the hospital Anna used. She had a habit of sleeping around.”
