Danielle Steel - Vanished

“Do you want me to leave now, Malcolm?” She was ready to. She would have gone to a hotel that night if he had wanted.

“Are you so anxious for more scandal? You could at least have the decency to wait until the spotlight is off us after the trial.”

She nodded, and a moment later, she went back to her own room. There was nothing left that could surprise her now. She was married to a stranger, a man who hated her for losing their son. Another one. Life had been cruel to her. And whatever happened next, whether they found Teddy or not, she knew the marriage was over.

The next morning, Marielle took breakfast in her room, and all she had was a cup of tea and piece of toast, as she glanced at the paper. It was all there, the horror of yesterday. The humiliation and the destruction she had suffered at the hands of William Palmer. The first article she read said that she had been a mental patient for years and she had had to be carried off the stand, screaming. It was so unfair what they were doing to her, and she still couldn't bring herself to believe that Malcolm had helped them do it. And then she turned to the last page, and saw the article written by Bea Ritter. She wasn't going to read it at first, but as her eyes glanced down the page, she stopped and began again, and tears filled her eyes as she read it.

“Aristocratic, elegant, dignified, Marielle Patterson took the stand yesterday, and never lost her dignity or her composure as the prosecution ravaged her for several hours and attempted to discredit her completely. Attempted but did not succeed, to the admiration of all who saw her. She endured the pain of recounting the circumstances of the deaths of two previous children in a tragic accident nearly ten years ago, which left everyone in the courtroom breathless. And she went on to explain her subsequent divorce from Charles Delauney. Her experience in a sanatorium in Switzerland was heard not with compassion or sympathy but instead with ridicule, and used to discredit her as a witness…” The article went on for half a page, and concluded with the words, 'One thing is certain after seeing the victim's mother on the stand, Marielle Patterson is through and through a lady. She left the courtroom with her head held high, and as every mother knew, her heart must have been breaking.” It was followed then by Bea Ritter's byline.

Marielle wiped her eyes with her napkin then, and stood up to put her hat on. Bea Ritter's words had been kind, but it didn't change the fact that her own husband and the U.S. Attorney had set out to damage her so she could not help Charles Delauney. She'd had no intention of helping him anyway. But her uncertainty about his guilt clearly had them worried.

John Taylor and the other men were already waiting for her in the car when she got downstairs. She was wearing yet another black hat and black dress and a dark beaver coat as she climbed into the Pierce-Arrow. Nothing was said in the car on the way downtown. She spoke not a word to Malcolm or John, and Malcolm spent the entire trip staring out the window. Even John wasn't able to say much to her. He touched her hand briefly once as they sat down, but he didn't dare let his feelings show here. All he wanted was to offer her support, but it was difficult to do it in the courtroom.

Judge Morrison reminded everyone again that they were expected to behave with decorum. And with a pointed glance at the press, he reminded them that it was irresponsible to report things which did not actually happen. It had annoyed him to read the account of Marielle allegedly being carried from his courtroom.

And after that, the slaughter of the day before continued. Bill Palmer had apparently decided that it was not enough to have Marielle's testimony but he would have others also take the stand to help discredit her. Then, with no sympathy for the child's mother, only Malcolm's voice would be heard, and Malcolm never doubted Delauney's guilt for an instant.

Patrick Reilly, the driver, took the stand again, and Edith, and even Miss Griffin. And together they painted a portrait, with Bill Palmer's help, of a nervous, hysterical unstable woman, who was unable to run her own home, take care of her child, or be of any real use to her husband.

“Would you say that Mrs. Patterson is a responsible person?” Bill Palmer asked the governess, as Tom Armour jumped to his feet for what seemed to be the thousandth time and objected.

“This woman is not an expert witness. And Mrs. Patterson's competence is not on trial here. Call a psychiatrist if you want that kind of testimony, Counsel, not a maid for chrissake!”

“I'll cite you for contempt if you don't watch your language, Mr. Armour!” the judge roared.

“Sorry.”

“Overruled.” And the massacre went on, with no one to support her. John Taylor and Charles Delauney knew it wasn't true, but there was nothing they could do to put in a kind word, they were helpless. And even her husband had turned against her.

“Would you say she was a good mother?” William Palmer finally asked Miss Griffin, and the little woman hesitated for only a moment. But it was long enough to hurt Marielle deeply.

“Not really.” Everyone gasped, and for a moment Marielle almost fainted. She seemed to pitch forward in her chair, and John Taylor pushed her swiftly back with a firm hand before the press could see it.

“Would you care to tell us why not?”

“She's too sickly to be of any use to anyone, and much too nervous. Children need stability around them, people who are strong. Like Mr. Patterson.” She seemed proud of herself, and Marielle wondered again what she had done to make these people hate her.

“Your Honor.” Thomas Armour stood up again, with a weary look. “This is not a custody trial. Mrs. Patterson's abilities as a mother are not the issue here. This is a kidnapping case, and I've yet to hear anyone so much as mention my client. In fact, these people don't even know him.” They barely even knew Marielle, but Palmer had wanted to be sure that Marielle was totally ruined before he moved on. He wanted her discredited without a single doubt, so that if she was called by the defense later on, she would be useless. Who would listen to a woman who had been in a mental institution for years and was not even considered a good mother by her own staff? Palmer had done his job to perfection. And that afternoon, he completed the picture.

Malcolm Patterson took the stand immediately after lunch, for the prosecution.

“Were you aware of your wife's history, Mr. Patterson?”

“No.” Malcolm's cold blue eyes looked straight ahead at William Palmer, and not for an instant did he allow Marielle into his field of vision.

“You had no idea that she had been in a mental hospital, is that correct?”

“Yes, it is, or I would never have married her.” Marielle knew now that it was a lie. The only thing she didn't know was why Malcolm would want to destroy her. She sat very straight and tall, looking at a spot above him, somewhere on the wall, and thinking of happier moments…with little Teddy. She felt totally helpless now to defend herself, or expose Malcolm's deceit. And that was his intention.

“Did you know she had been married to Charles Delauney?”

“No. I did not. She never told me. I knew there had been some brief youthful interlude. I'd heard that she had a romance in Paris as a girl, but nothing more than that. She concealed the marriage from me.” William Palmer nodded, sad for him that he had been so badly duped by this woman.

“Do you know anything about Mr. Delauney, sir?”

“Only his reputation. His father has kept him out of the country for many years.

“Objection!” Tom was on his feet again. “We would have to put Mr. Delauney Senior on the stand to tell us that, there is no evidence whatsoever that my client's family ever wanted him out of the country. In fact, quite the contrary. They wanted him to come home.”

“Sustained. Hearsay. You may continue, Mr. Palmer.”

“Have you ever seen Mr. Delauney?”

“Not until this trial.”

“Has he ever called you, threatened you, harassed you, or any member of your immediate family?”

“Objection!”

“Overruled!”

Malcolm went on. “He threatened my wife and son. He told her he would kidnap him if she didn't go back to him.'

“And when was that?”

Malcolm bowed his head for a moment before he answered and then he looked full into the courtroom. “The day before my son was taken.”

“Have you ever seen your son since that day?”

Malcolm shook his head, unable to speak.

“Would you speak up for the record, please, sir.” He spoke with all the gentleness he should have used on Marielle and hadn't.

“I'm sorry… no… I have not…”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Almost three months ago, to the day. My little boy was taken from us on December eleventh…shortly after his fourth birthday.”

“Have there been any calls, or requests for ransom?”

“Only one, and it was a prank. The money was never collected.” The implication was obvious. Delauney hadn't asked for ransom because what he wanted was revenge, and in any case, he certainly didn't need the money.

“Do you believe that your son is still alive?”

He shook his head again, but forced himself to speak this time. “No, I do not. I think if he were, he would have been returned to us by now. The FBI has searched for him across every state. If he were still alive, they would have found him.”

“Do you believe that Mr. Delauney is the kidnapper?”

“I believe he hired people to take him, and probably kill him.”

“What convinced you of that?”

“They found Teddy's…my boy's pajamas in his home…and a teddy bear the boy loved… he was wearing those same pajamas when he was taken.” In spite of himself, he began to cry, and you could feel all the sympathy in the courtroom rush to him. The prosecutor waited politely while he regained his composure. And in her seat, Brigitte dabbed at her eyes with a lace hankie.