Sisters

Chapter 21

The Monday after Thanksgiving, life went on as usual. Sabrina and Chris left for work together, Tammy had another network meeting to rush off to. And Annie left for school in a cab. She was planning to start taking the bus soon, but didn't feel ready yet. She had been at the Parker School for three months. Things were slightly more complicated that day because it had snowed the night before, which made the ground slippery and treacherous, and this time she slid on an ice patch in front of the school and wound up on her bottom instead of her knees. But unlike the first time, when she was near tears, this time she laughed.

She had just said hello to Baxter, who heard the sound she had made as she fell.

“What happened?” he asked, mystified by what was going on. Her voice was coming from lower to the ground, and she was laughing.

“I'm sitting on my ass. I fell.”

“Again? You klutz.” They were both laughing as someone helped her up. It was a firm, strong hand.

“No sledding in front of school, Miss Adams,” the voice teased her, and she didn't recognize it at first. “You'll have to do that in Central Park.” She realized as he helped her up that the seat of her jeans was wet. And she had nothing to change into. And then she remembered the voice. It was Brad Parker, the director of the school. She hadn't spoken to him since the first day.

Baxter could hear him talking to her, and they were late, so he told Annie he'd meet her in class and told her to hurry up.

“I take it you two are friends,” Brad said pleasantly, as he tucked her hand into his arm and walked her in. There was ice on the ground. It had snowed early that year. And there were always mishaps outside school when it did, even if they were careful to shovel it.

“He's a great guy,” she said about Baxter. “We're both artists, and we both had accidents this year. I guess we have a lot in common.”

“My mother was an artist,” Brad Parker said pleasantly. “She painted as a hobby actually. She was a ballerina, with the Paris ballet. She had a car accident at twenty, and it ended both careers. But she did some wonderful things in spite of that.”

“What did she do?” Annie asked politely. It was amazing how many lives were destroyed or lost with car accidents. She had met several in the school, some of them artists like her. With eight hundred people in the school, there were countless stories and people from all walks of life.

“She taught dance. And she was very good. She met my father when she was thirty, but she taught even after they got married. She was a hard taskmaster,” he laughed. “My father had been blind since birth, and she even taught him how to dance. She always wanted to start a school like this. I did it for her after she died. We have dance classes here too. Both ballroom and ballet. You should try it sometime, you might like it.”

“Not if you can't see,” Annie said bluntly.

“The people who take the class seem to like it,” he said, undaunted, as he noticed that she touched the wet seat of her jeans. She was soaked from her fall, and wondering if she should go home. “You know, we have a closet with spare clothes in it for times like this. Do you know where it is?” She shook her head. “I'll show you. You're going to be miserable in those wet jeans all day,” he said kindly. He had a gentle, easygoing voice, and sounded as though he had a sense of humor. There was always laughter just beneath his words. He sounded happy, she decided, and nice. In a fatherly sort of way. She wondered how old he was. She had the feeling he wasn't young, but she couldn't ask.

He took her upstairs to a storeroom with racks of clothes in it. They donated them to some of their scholarship students, or used them for incidents like this. He looked her over and handed her a pair of jeans. “I think these might fit. There's a fitting room in the corner, with a curtain. I'll wait here. There are others if you want.” She tried them on, feeling slightly self-conscious, and they were big but dry. She came out looking slightly like an orphan, and he laughed. “May I roll them up for you? You're going to fall again if you don't.”

“Sure,” she said, still feeling self-conscious. He did, and they felt fine. “Thank you. You're right. My jeans are really wet. I was thinking about going home to change at lunchtime.”

“You'd have caught cold by then,” he said, and she laughed.

“You sound like my sister. She's always worried that I'm going to hurt myself, fall down, get sick. She acts like a mom.”

“That's not an entirely bad thing. We all need one at times. I still miss mine, and she's been gone for almost twenty years.”

Annie spoke softly when she answered, “I lost mine in July.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, and sounded genuine. “That's very hard.”

“Yes, it was,” she said honestly. And Christmas was going to be rough this year. She was grateful they had gotten through Thanksgiving. But they were all dreading Christmas without their mother. They had talked about it when they divided up her clothes.

“I lost both my parents at once,” he said, as he walked her out of the storeroom and toward her classroom. “In a plane crash. It makes you grow up very quickly when there is no one between you and the great beyond.”

“I never thought about it that way,” she said pensively. “But maybe you're right. And I still have my dad.” They had reached her classroom then. She had braille that morning, and kitchen skills that afternoon. They were supposed to make meat loaf, which she hated, but Baxter was in the same class and they always had fun clowning around. She could make perfect cupcakes now, and chicken. She had cooked both at home, to critical acclaim. “Thank you for the jeans. I'll bring them back tomorrow.”

“Anytime,” he said pleasantly. “Have a good day, Annie.” And then he added, “Play nice in the sandbox,” and she laughed. He had a major advantage over her. He could see what she looked like, and she couldn't see him. But he had a nice voice.

She slipped into her seat in braille class, and Baxter teased her mercilessly. “So now the head of the school is carrying your books for you, eh?”

“Oh, shut up,” she chuckled. “He took me to get dry jeans.”

“Did he help you put them on?”

“Will you stop? No. He rolled them up.” Baxter hooted softly under his breath and continued to razz her about it all morning.

“I hear he's cute, by the way.”

“I think he's old,” Annie said matter-of-factly. Brad Parker hadn't been hitting on her. He was just being helpful, and acting like a head of school. “Besides, I didn't see you helping me get off my ass outside when I fell on the ice.”

“I can't,” Baxter said simply. “I'm blind, you ninny.”

“And don't call me a ninny!” They were like twelve-year-olds. The teacher called them to order, and a little while later, Baxter added, “I think he's thirty-eight or thirty-nine.”

“Who?” She was concentrating on her braille homework, and was furious to discover she had gotten almost half of it wrong. It was harder than she thought.

“Mr. Parker. I think he's thirty-nine.”

“How do you know?” She sounded surprised.

“I know everything. Divorced, no kids.”

“So? What's that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe he has the hots for you. You can't see him. But he can see you. And three people have told me you're gorgeous.”

“They're lying to you. I have three heads and a double chin on each. And no, he was not hitting on me. He was just being nice.”

“There's no such thing as nice between men and women. There's interested and not interested. Maybe he is.”

“It doesn't matter if he is,” Annie said practically. “Thirty-nine is too old. I'm only twenty-six.”

“Yeah, that's true,” Baxter said matter-of-factly. “You're right, he is too old.” And with that, they both went back to work, trying to master braille.

When Annie got home from school that evening, both her older sisters were still out, and so was Candy. And Mrs. Shibata was about to leave. Annie fed the dogs, and started her homework. She was still working on it when Tammy came home at seven. She heaved a sigh as she came through the door, took off her boots, and said she was exhausted when she saw Annie, and asked her how her day was.

“It was fine.” She didn't tell her that she had fallen. She didn't want her to worry, and they got nervous about things like that, and worried that she might hit her head. After brain surgery five months before, that would not be a good thing. But she had only hit her bottom. Sabrina came home half an hour later and asked if anyone had seen Candy. She had called her on her cell phone several times that afternoon, and it went to voice mail every time.

“She must be working,” Tammy said practically, as she started dinner. She wasn't a baby after all, even if they treated her that way, and she had a major career. “Did she tell you what she was doing today?” she asked Annie, who shook her head, and then she remembered. “She was doing some kind of shoot for an ad this afternoon. She said she'd come home this morning and pick up her portfolio and her stuff.” She usually carried a bag full of makeup and other things with her when she worked.

“Did she?” Sabrina asked, and Annie reminded her she'd been at school so she didn't know.

“I'll look,” Sabrina said, and ran up the flight to Candy's room. The portfolio and work bag, a giant Hermès tote in dark red alligator, were still there. She carried Zoe around in it sometimes too. But Zoe had been home all day with the other dogs. It gave Sabrina a strange feeling to see the portfolio and bag in her room. She wondered if she should call Candy's agency to see if she had checked in, but she didn't want to act like a cop. Candy would have been furious if she did, even if her intentions were good, which they were. She just worried about her baby sister.

“Well?” Tammy asked when Sabrina came back down to the kitchen. They were all downstairs by then except Candy, who still hadn't appeared.

“Her stuff is all in her room,” Sabrina said, with a worried look.

They called her several times after dinner, but her phone still went to voice mail. It was obviously turned off. Sabrina wished she had asked her for Marcello's phone number, but she hadn't, only his address, and she couldn't drop by to ask him where her sister was. Candy would have gone insane. He lived in a good neighborhood at least, if that meant anything. And at midnight they still hadn't heard a word from her. Tammy and Sabrina were still up, and Annie had gone to bed.

“I would hate being a parent,” Sabrina said miserably to Tammy. “I'm worried sick about her.” Tammy didn't want to admit it, but she was getting concerned too. It was unlike Candy to just disappear like that and not check in. They didn't know what to do. And then Tammy remembered that there was a hotline at her agency to call anytime day or night, for models who had problems. Some of them were still very young, came from other cities or countries, and needed help or advice. Tammy looked it up in Candy's address book and found it. She dialed the number, got an answering service, and asked to be put through to the head of the agency if that was possible. A sleepy voice answered two minutes later. It was Marlene Weissman herself.

Tammy apologized for calling at such a late hour, but said they were concerned about their sister, Candy Adams. She hadn't come home since the night before, and they hadn't heard from her after she went out with a friend.

Marlene Weissman sounded instantly concerned. “She didn't show up for a shoot today. She's never done that before. Who was she with last night?”

“The man she's currently going out with, he's some sort of Italian prince. Marcello di Stromboli, he's quite a bit older than she is. They were going to a party on Fifth Avenue.”

Marlene was now wide awake. She spoke quickly and distinctly. “The man's a phony and a bullshitter. He has some money, and preys on models. He's had some problems with the law, and he's roughed up two of my girls. I had no idea he was still going out with Candy or I would have said something to her. He usually goes after younger girls than she is.”

“They've been in the papers a number of times,” Tammy said, feeling weak at the knees.

“I know. I just assumed he had moved on by now. He usually does. Do you know where he lives?”

“She gave us the address.” She read it off to Marlene.

“I'll meet you there in twenty minutes. I think we'd better go up there. He may have her there, drugged up or worse. Do you have a boyfriend or a husband?” she asked bluntly.

“My sister does,” Tammy said.

“Bring him. If he won't let us in, we'll call the police. I don't like this guy, he's trouble.” It was everything Candy's sisters didn't want to hear. Thank God they had called her.

Sabrina called Chris and woke him up, explained what was happening, and he said he'd pick them up in a cab in ten minutes. Tammy wasn't sure if they should wake Annie to tell her they were leaving. She was sound asleep, and there was no reason to think that she should wake up while they were gone. The two women bundled up and put heavy coats and boots on. It was snowing hard when Chris picked them up, and he said he was lucky to find a cab at twelve-thirty on a snowy night. They were at Marcello's address ten minutes later, slipping and sliding across the icy streets. Marlene was already there, in a mink coat over jeans. She was an attractive gray-haired woman in her late fifties with a silky voice.

She spoke in an authoritarian manner to the doorman, and said the prince was expecting them, and not to bother to call. She was so daunting that the doorman followed her instructions, aided by a hundred-dollar bill, and let all four of them up. He told them it was apartment 5E. They were silent in the elevator, and Tammy could feel her heart beating as she looked at the older woman, with her hair pulled back in a slick chignon, and the elegant mink coat.

“I don't like this at all,” she said softly, and the others nodded.

“Neither do we,” Sabrina answered, holding tightly to Chris's hand. He still looked half asleep, and wasn't entirely sure what was going on or what they hoped to find. It seemed obvious to him that if Candy was there, she wanted to be, and might be furious at the four intruders who had come to rescue her. Particularly if she didn't want to be. Whatever happened, it was going to be an interesting scene.

They reached the door to apartment 5E a moment later, and Marlene startled Chris by whispering to him to say he was the police. He looked less than enthused. He was beginning to think they would all get arrested for this caper.

“I'm an attorney. I'm not sure I should do something like that,” he whispered. “I could be charged with impersonating the police.”

“He could be charged with worse. Just say it,” she said to him in a stern whisper, and feeling stupid, he rang the doorbell, waited for a male voice on the other side, and played the game dictated by Marlene. Tammy and Sabrina were deeply grateful to her, and to Chris, for being there.

“Open up. Police,” Chris intoned convincingly. There was a pause on the other side, a long hesitation, and then the sound of unlocking bolts. He kept the chain on when he opened the door to them, and Chris looked immediately stern, and got into it. “I said open the door. I have a warrant for your arrest.” Sabrina's eyes grew wide as she stared at Chris. Maybe that was going a little far.

“For what?” It was Marcello, and he sounded half asleep.

“Kidnapping and false imprisonment. And we believe you are dealing drugs from this address.” The women were standing behind Chris where Marcello couldn't see them.

“That's ridiculous,” he said, as he slid the chain off. “And who do you think I kidnapped, officer?” He hadn't asked to see a badge or any kind of ID, but Chris looked awe-inspiring, standing in a dark coat and jeans. He was a powerfully built man in excellent shape, with an air of authority when he chose. And right now he chose, although he thought they were all nuts. But he was doing it for Sabrina. The door was open wide by then. Chris stepped into the apartment so he couldn't close the door on them, and towered over Marcello, with at least fifty pounds and a lot of toned muscle to his advantage. Marlene stepped in beside him and didn't pull any punches with him.

“I didn't bring charges against you last time because the girl was seventeen and it would have been too hard on her. This one isn't. She's fully capable of bringing charges against you, and so am I. Where is she?”

“Where is who?” he said, looking pale, and it was obvious that he knew and hated Marlene.

“Hold on to him,” Marlene said to Chris, and strode into the apartment as though she owned it.

“I will bring charges against you!” he screamed at her. “You are breaking into my apartment!”

“You let us in,” she said as she hurried down a hall. He acted as though Tammy and Sabrina didn't exist, as Chris watched him closely, and he started to run after Marlene. It was too late. She had opened the door to the bedroom, guessing accurately where it was, and found Candy unconscious, with tape over her mouth, and her arms and legs tied to a four-poster bed with rope. She looked dead. And Marcello looked totally panicked as the others followed Marlene into the room. Candy was naked and unconscious, and parts of her body were severely bruised, her legs spread wide. Both of her sisters screamed, and Chris grabbed Marcello and slammed him up against the wall.

“You sonofabitch,” he said through clenched teeth, shoving him hard. “I swear if you killed her, I'll kill you.” Sabrina was sobbing as she helped Marlene untie her. Candy showed no sign of regaining consciousness, as Tammy dialed 911 with shaking hands and tried to describe what they'd found. She could hardly breathe. Marlene had checked the pulse in Candy's neck, and she was alive. Her head dropped down on her chest as they untied her and covered her with a sheet. The ambulance said they'd be there in five minutes.

“Call the cops,” Chris said to Tammy, as he held Marcello in a death-grip against the wall.

“They're coming with the ambulance,” Tammy said in a choked voice. Candy still looked dead, and Marlene said softly that Candy had been drugged. He might have killed her eventually, but he hadn't yet.

As though to reassure them, but it didn't, Marlene said, “The last one looked worse than this. He beat her up.” They could hear sirens by then, and a moment later police and paramedics were in the room. They checked Candy, started an IV, put an oxygen mask on her, put her on a gurney, and left the room with her sisters hard on their heels, while the police put handcuffs on Marcello, and Marlene and Chris described the scene they'd found. They left the apartment, with Marlene and Chris bringing up the rear. He said in a subdued voice that he had had no idea they would find this. She hoped they wouldn't but was afraid they might.

The girls had already left in the ambulance, as Marcello was put in a squad car and driven away. They had taken her to Columbia-Presbyterian Hospital, and Marlene and Chris hailed a cab to join the others there.

The scene at the hospital was grim-gunshot wounds, two stabbings, a man who had just died from a heart attack. They rushed Candy into the trauma unit, while the others waited. After what they'd been through that summer with their mother and Annie, this was a painful déjà vu for Tammy and Sabrina.

But this time when the doctor came out to talk to them, the news was better than they'd feared, although it wasn't good. As they could well imagine, she had been raped. Her bruises were superficial, nothing was broken, and she had been heavily drugged. They said it would take another twenty-four hours for her to come around, and then they could take her home. They had taken photographs of all her bruises for the police files. But they said there would be no lasting physical damage, only the emotional trauma she had sustained, which was undoubtedly considerable. The only good news was that the doctor assumed she had been unconscious for most of what had been done to her, so she would have no memory of it, which was a mercy.

Both of her sisters were in tears as they listened, as was Marlene, and Chris looked murderous. He wanted to kill Marcello for doing something like this to a nice kid like Candy.

“You have no idea how many models this happens to,” Marlene said grimly. “Usually it's the really young ones who don't know how to protect themselves.”

“Candy thought he was a great guy,” Tammy said, wiping her eyes. The police had told her they would talk to all of them in the morning. Tammy volunteered to stay with her, so Chris and Sabrina could go home to Annie, and Marlene wanted to be there too. Tammy said it wasn't necessary, but the older woman insisted, and they sat on either side of Candy's bedside all night, talking softly of the evils of the world as Candy slept.

It was ten the next morning before Candy stirred. She had no idea where she was or what had happened. All she knew was that every inch of her hurt, especially “down there,” as she said. “Where's Marcello?” she asked as she looked around. The last thing she remembered was having dinner with him in his apartment, before they were supposed to go to the party. He had put whatever he'd given her in her food.

“In jail, where he belongs,” Marlene answered, and then gently stroked her hair. She left the hospital a few minutes later, looking tired and depressed, but relieved that Candy was okay.

They let her go home at five o'clock that afternoon. Tammy had called her office to say she wouldn't be in. And Sabrina left her office to help bring her home. They had told Annie what had happened, and all of them were fiercely upset. And Sabrina had called Candy's shrink to tell her what had happened. They were going to need her help, maybe for a long time. She recommended someone who specialized in trauma cases, and Sabrina called her too. It was just one more disaster they didn't need. Candy was crying when they brought her home, but had no idea why. She remembered nothing of the past two days, only Marcello's face as she went to sleep.

The police had come to talk to Sabrina and Chris before they left for work. And they had gone to the hospital to take reports from Tammy and Marlene. Candy was still throwing up from the drugs while they were there. Marcello was being prosecuted for rape, assault, battery, false imprisonment, and kidnap, and for drugging her. They were throwing the book at him, and the judge had set a five-hundred-thousand-dollar bail. A friend paid it for him that night, and he was free. To do it again.

Sabrina and Tammy pampered her in every way they knew how. Her lip was swollen, her eyes were battered, both her breasts were bruised, and she could hardly sit down. It had been an experience none of them would ever forget.

“I think I'll definitely give up dating after this,” Tammy said somberly, and for the first time in days, they all laughed.

“I wouldn't go that far, but it certainly is a lesson to be extremely careful.” As Marlene said when she came to visit them again, there were some very dangerous people out there who preyed on beautiful girls. It made Sabrina think how vulnerable Annie was. She was not only young and beautiful, but blind. But Candy had been blind in her own way too. Marcello had been charming, but a profoundly bad guy.

By the end of the week, Candy was on her feet again. Marlene told her to take a few weeks off, until the bruises healed. And she went to her shrink every day. But there was nothing to remember, no painful or frightening memories. All she had were the bruises, which slowly faded away. But her sisters would never forget what they had seen when they found her, nor would Chris. They were all deeply grateful to Marlene for responding so quickly, and being so brave. Despite what had happened, Candy was a very lucky girl. And much to everyone's relief, relative to other equally appalling charges, Marcello was deported and extradited to Italy by the end of the week. Marlene had used her connections to speed the process. There would be no scandal, no court appearances, no press. He would be punished in his own country, and Candy would never have to see him again. He was gone.