Shattered Bonds

Prologue

Cindy could see a number of silver and white police cars parked in her driveway. “The cops must be having coffee with my folks,” she told her friends. “They do that around here sometimes.”

“It's after midnight.” Neil's face looked concerned.

A shiver of fear, so fleeting Cindy scarcely reacted, made her suddenly cold. Immediately she pushed the feeling away. Nothing could possibly be wrong, she thought. It's just that Old Westbury is such a small, exclusive community that everyone knows each other, including the police. The cops are visiting, that's all. “Or maybe,” she said to Neil, “the burglar alarm went off by mistake. That's always happening, but they still check on us. Dad was doing some wiring on it this afternoon.”

Climbing out of the car, Cindy stood by the driver's window for a moment looking around. There were five patrol cars there, one crime scene van and a number of unmarked vehicles. She saw a couple of Old Westbury policemen with their distinctive Canadian Mounties-type hats heading for the back door. Her thoughts were a jumble. Perhaps the vodka she accidentally drank at the party was fogging her brain, but nothing seemed to register except that in all the confusion, her parents might not notice she was late arriving home. And that was good. She still assumed the cops had responded to a faulty security alarm.

She called to her friends, “Goodnight, you guys. Thanks for the ride.”

“Hey,” Neil said, “We're going to wait right here.”

She waved and started up the long drive. It was then she noticed that all the lights were on in the back of the house, none in front. So that's where everyone is. As she hurried towards the light, she heard Storm, one of the family dogs-a huge, young German shepherd-barking in the dog run outside.

She scarcely noticed when Neil, who had jumped out of his car, hurried to her side and accompanied her to the rear of the house.

From the patio, Cindy could see about twenty heads through the French doors that opened into the kitchen. Thoughts ricocheted through her mind. What a crowd. So many people inside, not just cops either. The alarm isn't ringing. She opened the door.

She could see her father at the far end of the kitchen. He had on a silk robe, deep green and navy. As she moved closer, she saw it was tied loosely over his underwear. She felt slightly embarrassed for him, standing there with all those people and only half dressed. Why isn't Dad looking at me? His expression is so blank. What is wrong? Where is Mom? What's going on here?

When Cindy started into the kitchen she saw a neighbor, Leon Sultan, a physician, near the door. Before she could say a word he was beside her, his eyes locked on hers. When he didn't smile, she began to tremble. “What's going on?” Cindy said, her voice suddenly very small. Her lips were dry. She licked them, forcing herself to squelch the fear. She'd always considered the doctor to be a gentleman, very cultured, very sophisticated. Why is he looking at me so strangely? She couldn't interpret it. He kept perfect eye contact, as if he could will whatever was happening away from her. She felt edgy, but kept telling herself that it couldn't be anything bad.

“Cindy, let's sit down,” Dr. Sultan said, motioning toward the butcher-block kitchen table. They both sat down, knee-to- knee, eye-to-eye. His familiar, kind face seemed terribly serious. “Cindy?”

“Yes?” Suddenly she knew she didn't want to hear whatever it was he was going to say. Her nails dug painfully into her p alms as her hands clenched into tight fists.

“It's your mother, my dear. There's been a terrible accident.”

Cindy didn't answer. Emotions were sweeping over her. Now she was shaking.

“I'm afraid your mother's dead, Cindy. She's had a fall. She's…she's at the bottom of the basement stairs.”

She heard his words and felt numb. She looked up and saw her father off to her right. He still wasn't looking at her. He had a vacant, faraway stare in his eyes. In a flash, she lunged for the cellar steps.

The cops reacted like a shot. “Stop her!” They stood shoulder to shoulder to bar her way. One of them slammed the basement door shut. “Cindy,” he said gently, “we have to move your mother's body.”

Body? That's Mom he's talking about. What good would that do? I just need to wake her up. She was in denial, rejecting what she'd just heard from the doctor.

Cindy felt the bang of the slammed basement door reverberate through her body and it seemed as if her whole soul was shattering. With the police officers barring the basement stairs to her, she whirled around and ran out the back door crossing the patio to the lawn. “Mommy! Mommy!” she shrieked over and over. Finally, she dropped down on the grass and beat her fists against the ground, sobbing and screaming. If Mommy really were dead, they'd bury her. And somehow Cindy thought that if she kept beating her fists into the earth, sooner or later her mother would hear them, like tom-toms, beating signals summoning her back.

Neil came from out of the darkness of the front lawn and threw his body against Cindy's, his lips next to her ear. “Shhh,” he coaxed, trying desperately to calm her, stroking her hair, patting her shoulders. “Cindy, shhh, shhh.”

Moments later, with everyone standing around, Cindy jumped to her feet and pulled away from Neil. She ran back in the house. “I have to get to Mommy! Why are you all keeping me from her?” she cried. Before anyone could stop her, Cindy pulled open the basement door and saw for a split second the crumpled form in the light blue nightgown lying at the bottom of the stairs. And then for the first time, she knew the awful truth.

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