Part 45 (2/2)
”That it is.” He sighed, then looked at her. ”Okay, reporter lady, what can I tell you?”
”Well, maybe we could start with how it happened?”
”The abduction? You can read about that in detail in all the old newspapers.”
”But I'd like to hear it from you.”
His eyes narrowed, his languid voice sharpened. ”You sure you're a writer? You're not a cop, are you?”
”No. Not at all. Why do you ask?”
He leaned back and stared at his hands, folded in his lap. ”Because I was a suspect for a while. Dot too.”
”Dot is your wife?”
”Dorothy, yeah. Well, she was. Anyway, the cops kept coming up empty and... that was the time when stories about satanic cults and ritual abuse were big in the papers... so they started looking at us, trying to see if we were into any weird s.h.i.+t. Thank G.o.d we weren't or we might have been charged. It's hard to see how things could have worked out any worse, but that definitely would've been worse.”
”How did it happen?”
He sighed. ”I'll give you the short version.” He glanced at her. ”Aren't you taking notes?”
How dumb! she thought, reaching into her bag for her ca.s.sette recorder.
”I'd like to record this, if that's okay.”
”Sure. We lived in Kensington. That's a section of Brooklyn. You know it?”
Gia shook her head. ”I didn't grow up in New York.”
”Well, it sounds ritzy, but it's not. It's just plain old middle cla.s.s, nothing special. I worked for Chase here in the city, Dot worked out there as a secretary for the District 20 school board. We did okay. We liked Kensington because it was close to Prospect Park and Green-Wood Cemetery. Believe it or not, we saw the cemetery as a plus. It's a pretty place.” He looked down at his hands again. ”Maybe if we'd lived somewhere else, Tara would still be with us.”
”How did it happen?”
He sighed. ”When Tara was eight we took her to Kensington stables up near the parade grounds. You know, so she could see the horses. One ride and she was an instant horse lover. Couldn't keep her away. So we sprung for riding lessons and she was a natural. For a year she rode three days a week-Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, and Sat.u.r.day morning. On Thursdays she'd have to wait a little while before Dot could pick her up. We told her to stay at the stables-do not not under any circ.u.mstances leave the stables. And for a year it worked out fine. Then one Thursday afternoon Dot arrived to pick her up-right on time, I want you to know-and... no Tara.” His voice cracked. ”We never saw or heard from her again.” under any circ.u.mstances leave the stables. And for a year it worked out fine. Then one Thursday afternoon Dot arrived to pick her up-right on time, I want you to know-and... no Tara.” His voice cracked. ”We never saw or heard from her again.”
”And no witnesses, no clues?”
”Not a single one. We did learn, though, that she hadn't listened to us. Folks at the stable said she used to leave for a few minutes on Thursdays and return with a pretzel-you know, the big kind they sell from the pushcarts. The cops found the pushcart guy who remembered her-said she came by every Thursday afternoon in her riding clothes-but he hadn't seen anything different that day. She bought a pretzel as usual and headed back toward the stable. But she never made it.” He punched his thigh. ”If only she'd listened.”
”What was she like?” Gia said. ”What did she like besides horses?”
”You want to know?” he said, pus.h.i.+ng himself out of the sofa. ”That's easy. I'll let you see for yourself.”
He walked around the sofa and motioned Gia to follow. She found him standing over a black trunk with bra.s.s fittings. He pulled it a few feet closer to the window and opened the lid.
”There,” he said, rising. ”Go ahead. Take a look. That's all that's left of my little girl.”
Gia knelt and looked but didn't touch. She felt as if she were violating someone, or committing a sacrilege. She saw a stack of unframed photos and forced herself to pick it up and shuffle through them: Shots of Tara at all ages. A beautiful child, even as an infant. She stopped at one with Tara sitting atop a big chestnut mare.
”That was Rhonda, Tara's favorite horse,” Portman said, looking over her shoulder.
But Gia was transfixed on Tara's clothing: a red-and-white checked s.h.i.+rt, riding breeches, and boots. Exactly what she'd been wearing at Menelaus Manor.
”Did... did she wear riding clothes a lot?”
”That's what she was wearing when she disappeared. In colder weather she'd wear a compet.i.tion coat and cap. Made her look like the heiress to an English estate. G.o.d she loved that horse. Would you believe she'd bake cookies for it? Big thick grainy things. The horse loved them. What a kid.”
Gia glanced at Portman and saw the wistful, lost look on his face and knew then he'd had nothing to do with his daughter's death.
She flipped further into the stack and stopped at a photo of Tara beside a trim, good-looking man in his thirties. Their hair and eyes were matching shades of blond and blue. With a start she realized it was her father.
”Yeah, that was me. I was Portman then, now I'm portly man.” He patted his gut. ”It's all the meds they've got me on. Name an antidepressant and I've tried it. Every one of them gives me these carbohydrate cravings. Plus the only exercise I get is moving around this place.” He waved his hand at the tiny apartment. ”Which, as you can imagine, isn't much.”
”You said you worked for Chase?”
”'Worked' is right. Not a big job, but a solid one. I made decent money. And I was planning on getting my MBA, but... things didn't work out.”
Gia flipped to the next picture. Tara standing beside a slim, attractive brunette.
”That was Dorothy,” Portman said.
”Her mother.”
Portman shook his head. ”She took Tara's disappearance harder than I did, which is pretty hard to imagine. They were best buds, those two. Did everything together. Dot never recovered.”
Gia was almost afraid to ask. ”Where is she now?”
”In a hospital room, hooked up to a feeding tube.”
”Oh, no!”
Portman seemed to go on automatic pilot as his eyes unfocused and his voice became mechanical. ”Car accident. Happened in 1993, on the fifth anniversary of Tara's disappearance. Ran into a bridge abutment on the LIE. Permanent brain damage. Because of the speed she was going, the insurance company said it was a suicide attempt. Our side said it was an accident. We met somewhere in the middle but it still didn't come near covering her ongoing medical expenses.”
”What do you think happened?”
”I don't know know what happened, but what I what happened, but what I think think is between me and Dot. Anyway, I couldn't afford to pay for all the care she needed-I mean I couldn't lose the house because I had to think of Jimmy who I had to raise all by myself then.” is between me and Dot. Anyway, I couldn't afford to pay for all the care she needed-I mean I couldn't lose the house because I had to think of Jimmy who I had to raise all by myself then.”
”Jimmy?”
”Flip ahead a few photos. There. That's Jimmy.”
Gia saw Tara next to a dark-haired boy with a gap-toothed smile.
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