Children of the Storm Read Free Page A

you'd think they'd want to find out what kind of a depraved-”
        It was Peterson's turn to interrupt. “Oh, the police wanted to find him, sure enough. But tracing a telephone call, in these days of direct dial systems, isn't all that easy. You have to keep the man on the line for four or five minutes, until they get it pinned down. And this character was getting clever. He was making his calls shorter and shorter, packing more and more violent rhetoric into them. The police wanted him, because that's part of their job, but also because the pressure was on them. I'm not giving away any secrets when I say that Joe Dougherty wields influence and can force an issue when he wants to. In this case, he wanted to. But it took them six more calls from this crackpot to locate the phone.”
        “And?”
        “It was just a payphone.”
        “Still-"Sonya said.
        “After that, he didn't call again for a while, for more than two weeks, Joe said.”
        “The police kept a tap going?”
        Peterson said, “No. After a week, they packed it up and convinced Joe that their man was only a hoaxer, perverted, to be sure, but not serious. They didn't explain how he got hold of the Doughertys' unlisted number, but they were ready to ignore that. So were the Doughertys. Things were much easier if they believed it, you see.”
        “I see,” she said.
        She wanted to sit down in one of the command chairs by the controls, but she was afraid she would lose her balance if she let go of the railing.
        “Then, after two weeks without any calls, they found a note in Tina's room, pinned to her pillow.”
        “Note?”
        “It had been written, so far as they could tell, by the same man who had made the telephone calls.”
        Sonya closed her eyes, tried to ride with the rocking vessel and with the story Peterson was telling her, but she did not think she was going to have much luck.
        “The note made the same threats as before, only elaborated on them-blood-curdling things, really obscene.” He shook his head and looked as if he would spit out the taste of the memory. If it were this unpleasant to recall, for Peterson, what must it have been like for the Doughertys, who had experienced it all first hand?
        “Wait a minute,” Sonya said, confused and not a little frightened by what he had told her. “Are you saying that they found the note in their own house-that this madman had been in the little girl's room?”
        “Yes.”
        “But how?”
        Bill looked at his instruments, held the wheel steady in his powerful hands as he spoke. “No one saw or heard him-even though the butler, maid, cook and handyman must have all been around when he entered the house. Perhaps even Mrs. Dougherty was there, depending on the time the note was placed.”
        “They called the police.”
        “Yes,” Peterson said. “And the house was watched by plainclothesmen in unmarked cars. Still, he managed to get into the house, three nights later, leaving notes on the doors of both the kids' rooms.”
        “The police didn't see him?”
        “No. They started trying to convince the Doughertys that one of the servants was involved-”
        “Sounds reasonable to assume,” Sonya said.
        “Except that Joe has had these people with him for years-some of them served his mother and father when they were alive and maintaining a big house. Joe just couldn't see what any of them would have against him or the kids. He treats his employees well, as you'll soon discover. Besides, none of that crew would be capable of such a thing: a gentler lot, you'll not find anywhere. When you meet them, you'll see what I mean.” He looked at the sea, looked back at her and said, “Besides, neither Mrs. Dougherty nor Joe recognized the crackpot's voice.”
        “You said, before, that he tried to disguise his voice.”
        “Yes, but even disguised, they would have recognized