Free Where Are the Children? by Mary Higgins Clark Page A

that the guts of the departure speech stewardesses used to rattle off on airplanes? 'In the event of an emergency landing, sit straight, grip the arms of your seats, plant your feet solidly on the floor.' What they were saying was 'Let the shock pass through you.'
    'Ray, can I see you privately?' he asked brusquely.
    Ray's hands contined to steady Nancy's shoulders as her body began to shake. 'Did you find my children?' she asked. Now her voice was almost a whisper.
    'Honey, he'd tell us if he found the kids. Just sit tight here. I'll be right back.' Ray bent down and for an instant laid his cheek on hers. Without seeming to expect a response, he straightened up and led the Chief through the connecting foyer into the large living-room.
    Jed Coffin felt an unwilling admiration for the tall young man who positioned himself by the fireplace before turning to face him. There was something so gut-level self-possessed about Ray even in these circumstances. Fleetingly he remembered that Ray had been decorated
    for outstanding leadership under fire in Vietnam and given a field promotion to Captain.
    He had class, no doubt about that. There was class inherent in the way Ray stood and talked and dressed and moved; in the firm contours of his chin and mouth; in the strong, well-shaped hand that rested lightly on the mantel.
    Stalling to regain his sense of rightness and authority, Jed looked slowly around the room. The wide oak floorboards shone softly under oval hooked rugs; a dry sink stood between the leaded-paned windows. The mellow, creamy walls were covered with paintings. Jed realized that the scenes in them were familiar. The large painting over the fireplace was Nancy Eldredge's rock garden. The country-graveyard scene over the piano was that old private cemetery down the road from Our Lady of the Cape Church. The pine-framed painting over the couch had caught the homecoming flavour of Sesuit Harbour at sundown as all the boats came sailing in. The watercolour of the windswept cranberry bog had the old Hunt house -The Lookout - barely outlined in the background.
    Jed had occasionally noticed Nancy Eldredge sketching around town, but never dreamed that she was any good. Most women he knew who fooled around with that sort of thing usually ended up framing stuff that looked like exhibits from Show and Tell.
    Built-in bookcases flanked the fireplace. The tables made of heavy old distressed pine weren't unlike the ones he remembered they'd donated to the church bazaar after his grandmother died. Pewter lamps like hers were on the low tables next to comfortable overstuffed chairs. The rocker by the fireplace had a hand-embroidered cushion and back.
    Somewhat uncomfortably, Jed compared this room with his own newly-decorated living-room. Delia had picked out black vinyl for the couch and chairs; a glass-topped table with steel legs; wall-to-wall carpeting -thick yellow shag that clawed at the shoes and faithfully preserved and displayed every drop of saliva or pee their still-untrained dachshund bestowed on it.
    'What do you want, Chief?' Ray's voice was cold and unfriendly. The Chief knew that to Ray he was an enemy. Ray had seen through his routine admonition to Nancy about her rights. Ray knew exactly how he felt and was fighting him. Well if a fight was what he wanted . . .
    With the ease born of experience garnered from countless similar sessions, Jed Coffin sought out the weakness and directed his attention to it. 'Who is your wife's lawyer, Ray?' he asked curtly.
    A flicker of uncertainty, a stiffening of the body betrayed the answer. Just as Jed had figured, Ray hadn't taken the decisive step. Still trying to pretend his wife was the average distraught mother of missing children. Christ, he'd probably want to put her on a television news show tonight, handkerchief twisting in her hands, eyes swollen, voice pleading, 'Give me back my children.'
    Well, Jed had news for Ray. His precious wife had done that scene before. Jed could