Free The Lost Years by Mary Higgins Clark Page A

Albert decided. He’ll find a hidden buyer for it.
    How much did Charles resent Jonathan? It was clear to Albert that on that first archaeological trip six years ago, Charles had been deeply interested in Lillian Stewart, only to find that door closed in his face as he watched Lily and Jonathan fall into each other’s arms practically overnight.
    That Charles had willingly allowed everyone else to believe that he and Lily were involved with each other when they attended dinners at Jonathan’s home had been absolutely out of character for him. He must have done it at Lily’s request.
    What else might he do for her?
    I wonder what will happen now? Albert thought as he started the drive to the campsite he had been frequenting of late, the one in the Ramapo Mountains just minutes away from the scene of Jonathan’s murder.

17
     

     
    F ather Aiden O’Brien escorted Detectives Simon Benet and Rita Rodriguez to his office in the building connected to the Church of Saint Francis of Assisi on West 31st Street in Manhattan. They had called and asked if they could come in and talk to him, and he had willingly agreed, even though he immediately began to review in his mind exactly what he could tell them and the best way to word it.
    It was his own grave fear that Kathleen had pulled the trigger that caused Jonathan’s death. Her personality had changed so radically in the last few years, since the onset of her dementia. It was several years ago now that he had first noticed the telltale signs that her mind was beginning to fail. He had read that less than 1 percent of the population showed signs of dementia in their sixties.
    Father Aiden had met Jonathan and Kathleen when they were newlyweds and he was a young priest. Jonathan, only twenty-six years old, already had his doctorate in biblical history and was on the faculty of New York University. Kathleen’s master’s degree was in social work, and she had a job with the city. They lived in a tiny apartment on West 28th Street and would come to Mass at Saint Francis of Assisi. They began chatting with Father Aiden one day on their way out, and before long he was frequently going to their apartment for dinner.
    The friendship continued after their move to New Jersey, andhe had been the one to baptize Mariah when, in her early forties, Kathleen had at last given birth to the child they had given up hope of having.
    For over forty years they had what I would call a perfect marriage, Father Aiden recalled. He could understand Jonathan’s emotions as Kathleen’s condition increasingly worsened. Lord knows I see enough of it every day in my own parish as sons or daughters, or wives or husbands, struggle with the care of an Alzheimer’s patient, he thought.
    “I don’t mean to get angry at him, but some days I feel as if Sam asks me that same question over and over again…”
    “I left her for just a minute and she had thrown all the wash I’d just folded into the laundry sink and had water running on it… ”
    “Five minutes after we finished dinner, Dad told me he was starving and started pulling everything out of the refrigerator and dropping it on the floor. God forgive me, Father, I gave him a shove and he fell. I thought, Please, God, don’t let him have a broken hip. Then he looked up at me and said, ‘I’m sorry I’m so much trouble to you.’ He had that moment of total clarity. He was crying, and I was crying…”
    All this was running through Father Aiden’s mind as he went behind his desk and invited Simon Benet and Rita Rodriguez to take the two visitor’s chairs.
    Jonathan was unfailingly patient and loving to Kathleen until he met Lillian, Father Aiden thought. And now, has Kathleen’s twisted mind pushed her into committing an act she would never have committed if she was the Kathleen he had known for so many years?
    “Father, thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” Simon began. “As I explained on the phone, we are homicide detectives