a swimming pool and letting them do their fishing in the stream,” Rose said acidly. “I don’t think anyone realizes how dangerous that place is.”
“Well, be that as it may, we don’t know where Anne was. She could have been at the quarry, she could have been on the embankment, or she could have been anywhere else. We won’t know until she starts talking.”
“If she starts talking …” Rose mused, wondering immediately if it had been wise to voice the thought She glanced at Ray and saw compassion in his eyes. Well, they were old friends, and he had long been aware of the Congers’ private torments.
“If?” Ray inquired gently.
Rose shrugged. “She may not, you know. If something happened to her, something she doesn’t want to remember, she might simply block it out of her mind.”
“Unless the doctor determines she’s been raped,” Ray said, “I can’t imagine what it could be. And, frankly, I just don’t think she’s been raped. Not here. Not in Port Arbello.”
Rose smiled thinly. “Things like that do happen a lot more often than anyone hears about.”
Ray shook his head doubtfully. “If you want my opinion, I think Anne stayed out a lot later than she was supposed to, and has thought up a nice story to get herself out of the punishment she deserves. If she were my child …”
“Which she’s not,” Rose pointed out.
Ray chuckled. “No, she isn’t, is she? But I am thechief of police, and I have a job to do. Is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Rose smiled. “Let me call Elizabeth. Maybe she’ll know something you don’t.”
She went to the door of the study and called her daughter. She was pouring them both a second cup of coffee when Elizabeth Conger came into the room.
She was about thirteen, but had none of the awkwardness of most children of that age. Ray noted that the resemblance to the old portrait was remarkable indeed. The same eyes, the same silky blond hair, and, if the hair had been combed differently to flow freely over her shoulders, the same features. Elizabeth wore a ponytail, with bangs in front, the blond hair almost blending into the pale skin that was set off by her incredible sky-blue eyes.
Behind Elizabeth another child, Sarah, hovered silently. Two years younger than Elizabeth, Sarah provided an odd contrast to the older girl. She was dark, and her eyes seemed to sink deeply inside her, as if she lived in another world. Her hair was cropped short, and was as dark as Elizabeth’s was blond. And, while Elizabeth was dressed in a neatly pressed mini-skirt and ruffled blouse, Sarah wore blue jeans and a plaid flannel shirt.
Elizabeth came into the room and smiled at Ray.
“Hello, Mr. Norton. Did you finally catch up with Mother? She’s been overparking again. If you want to take her now, I can have Mrs. Goodrich pack a bag for her.” She sat down, enjoying the laughter of her mother and the police chief.
“Sorry, Elizabeth,” Rose said. “He can’t prove a thing.” Then her voice took on a serious tone, and Elizabeth’s smile faded as she was asked if she had seen Anne Forager near the house the previous afternoon. She thought carefully before she answered. When she finally spoke, there was a maturity in her voice that belied her age.
“I don’t think so. The last I remember seeing Anne yesterday, she was walking toward Fulton Street, by herself. It looked like she was going home.”
Ray nodded. “That’s what Anne says, too. She was walking along Fulton Street, and then she doesn’t remember a thing until she was out this way.”
“This way?” Elizabeth asked.
“Anne says she doesn’t know what happened. But she says she walked home along the Point Road about eleven.”
“Then that lets me out,” Elizabeth said. “I go to bed at nine every night.”
“Well, then,” Rose said, standing up. “I guess that’s that. I’m sorry, Ray, but it doesn’t look like we can help you. Your trip’s been wasted.”
Ray, too, rose, and all four of them walked together the length of the hall. Ray waited while Elizabeth led her sister up the stairs, then looked at Rose. There was concern in his eyes, and Rose was able to anticipate his question.
“I think she’s getting better, Ray. I really do. She still doesn’t talk, but she seems a little more animated than she did a year ago.” Then some of the brightness left her voice. “Of course, I may be kidding myself. The