I love Betsy, just the way you love Martha.
Betsy was shocked, but not me.
Martha stopped to grab Betsy's hand, leading the way toward the cabin while Quinn and I unloaded the car.
Betsy and Martha, now practically best friends, conspired together against the rest of us until they owned most of the board.
"Coffee first, please," I answered as the bath room door closed behind Betsy.
Betsy was seated at the table, forking sausage onto her plate and smothering pancakes in maple syrup.
"Maybe he went for an early morning walk," Betsy offered.
Betsy gave me a look.
Betsy was in the kitchen, baking scones for a mid-morning snack, while the rest of us were lounging around the main room vetoing each other's suggestions.
Betsy strolled in, wiping flour from her hands on a dish towel.
I made myself comfortable on the sofa, my arm around Betsy, as we all waited for him to continue.
Betsy nodded her agreement.
Betsy asked, sounding disappointed.
"Thank goodness," Quinn said with a sigh Betsy harbored more interest in the subject than the rest of us.
"Betsy, Hon," I said.
"You have to admit the subject is fascinating," Betsy protested, turning to Howie.
Betsy held on like a dog on a bone.
Betsy was like a Christmas morning kid.
Betsy paid him no attention.
If Betsy and I were forced to share it, we wouldn't get much sleep.
Betsy was in it but I'll spare the details.
I could sense Betsy's disappointment and Martha's relief.
Howie turned to Betsy.
Betsy was thrilled to lead the game.
While Betsy was dead serious, it remained a game in everyone else's mind except Howie.
I was left sitting on my hands until the appointed hour of Howie's nap before Betsy assigned me the chore of remaining in the small room while he slept.
As Betsy and I climbed the stairs to the lab room, Howie laughed nervously.
"I'll be right out here," Betsy said, pulling up a chair.
Betsy would have you drummed out of her physic sorority.
There was murmured sound downstairs and Betsy asked from outside the door if there was a problem.
"I guess he didn't have time to fall asleep," Betsy said, her voice dripping with disappointment.
I could tell Betsy felt embarrassed by her enthusiasm.
Betsy said with a glow in her eyes.
He looked at Betsy.
Betsy and I agreed and even Martha smiled.
Betsy bounced up and down like a kid on a trampoline while Martha looked in awe.
"It's too bad it didn't keep going," Betsy said as Martha returned.
Betsy was frustrated; anxious to learn if the town of Alder's Bridge existed.
In the meantime Betsy interrogated Howie relentlessly about any remembered details.
Betsy kept prompting Martha to take notes.
Betsy bit her lip.
"Ben and I will keep watch, like this afternoon," Betsy said.
Betsy shared Howie's disappointment but she put on a good face.
The phone rang before Betsy could respond.
Martha jumped to answer it with Betsy following.
Betsy and Martha fried up chicken, chatting amiably as they'd done all weekend.
I'm sure he meant well, but his lecture wasn't what Howie, and to a lesser extent Betsy, wanted to hear.
Betsy mumbled a reply and turned away.
The morning sunlight did the trick as the clock showed seven and I looked up to see Betsy pulling on her bathrobe.
Betsy and I faced a six hour return trip to New York.
Betsy and Martha hugged their goodbyes.
A few minutes later, I spotted Howie and Betsy in a hushed conversation.
The game was a first for Betsy and the prime seats, compliments of her adoring boss.
Between times we made plans for a trip to Iowa where I'd meet my in-laws for the first time and we'd firm up plans for our October wedding, to be held on Betsy's home turf.
Betsy's red-eye flight for Chicago left at seven and I kissed her as she stepped into her cab at the curb.
I missed Betsy already and her plane hadn't left the ground.
Two weeks passed and I'd put Howie Abbott from my mind when Betsy called one evening as I heated a frozen dinner in my lonely apartment.
It surprised me to learn Betsy was actively working on Howie's dreams.
California is a long way from West Virginia, Betsy.
I missed Betsy desperately and the idea of a couple of unexpected days with her was inviting, regardless of the reason.
Betsy paused before answering.
After all, Howie and Betsy were apparently committed.
Betsy was knee deep in meetings through the dinner hour so I was designated to baby sit Howie.
Betsy left the key to her sumptuous room, in the city's finest hotel, allowing me to drop off my duds before meeting him in the hotel lobby.
"I can't thank you and Betsy enough," he prattled as we shook hands.
Betsy wants to leave by seven tomorrow morning so we won't get back too late.
I found his lodging, returned to our room and caught up with Betsy as I was opening the door.
One of the minions in Betsy's organization had arranged for a pleasure car for her weekend, courtesy of her boss who felt guilty for her frequent out of town travel.
Betsy chatted away while Howie, as nervous as a groom, simply listened.
Betsy pulled to the side.
Betsy scootched down and put her arm about him.
Betsy took his hand and we moved further down the sidewalk.
Betsy pulled a small tape recorder from her purse.
"Let's see if the brick building has a museum or historical collection of some kind," Betsy said as we approached the building.
Betsy called to her and she stopped and smiled as Betsy introduced us as interested tourists.
"No," Betsy answered, "We just heard stories from a friend.
"My friend called the town Alder's Bridge," Betsy said.
I was the designated driver again and once on the road Betsy closed her eyes but I doubt she slept.
Over pie and coffee that followed a meat loaf dinner, Betsy asked the question on all our minds.
Betsy took his hand in hers.
Betsy turned to me.
My acquiescence lightened the mood for the remainder of the trip as Betsy and Howie chatted as if future sessions were a faite accompli.
Now at least Betsy and I had time together before I returned to New York Sunday afternoon.
Betsy would be home from her road trip and together we'd take on Quinn.
At the allotted hour, Betsy and I were finishing a bottle of wine when the phone rang.
I answered as Betsy crossed her fingers.
Betsy left the room and I heard a click.
"Betsy is on the extension line," I told him.
Betsy and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Schedules were exchanged until a free weekend opened up, after our obligatory trip to Iowa and Betsy's parents.
While Betsy and I shared one bedroom and the LeBlanc's the other, Howie was stuck on the living room sofa.
"Tell us where you were," Betsy begged, hardly able to contain herself as she turned on her tape recorder.
When we exhausted the subject, Betsy rose and took the floor.
Betsy turned to Quinn.
It's just you and Quinn's equipment, Betsy exclaimed.
However, Martha took notes and Betsy recorded what was said.
"This is getting weirder with each session," Betsy said.
Howie jumped on Betsy, startling us.
We gave him our assurances we'd not violate his trust though I thought Betsy's suggestion was reasonable.
Betsy was hopeful she might be able to confirm where the people had lived.
As eager as Betsy and I were to pursue our testing, we were out to the picture for several weeks.
Betsy located the families Howie saw in our last session.
"I wish he'd hurry," Betsy said.
"Tell us what you want us to do," Betsy said.
He turned to Betsy and me.
The look on Betsy's shocked face was priceless.
"We believe you, Howie," Betsy said.
"Now I'm the one who's scared," Betsy said.
I'm sure Betsy felt the same.
Betsy, being from mid-America, found the ocean delightful.
Betsy turned on a tape recorder as Howie reclined on the bed, turning away from us.
Betsy is standing on one leg and she's holding a Time magazine, open to page eighteen.
Betsy and I were more shocked at the buried animosity that the other three must have witnessed over the past few weeks.
Betsy asked, trying to ease the tension.
Martha rose and reached for Betsy's hand.
Betsy was pointing at the television as Martha and Howie came into the room.
Betsy read it aloud.
Betsy looked at Howie beseechingly.
Betsy's look repeated her plea while we all remained silent, looking to Howie.
Betsy raced up to the bedroom and returned with her lap top computer.
Betsy turned on the tape recorder and followed him.
"We have to tell them," he said, pointing to the tape recorder Betsy had retrieved from the basement.
By the time the tape stopped both Martha and Betsy were in tears.
"Telephone someone," Betsy said between sobs.
Betsy was beside herself.
I agree with Betsy.
Betsy screamed, It's like if The Lord Jesus was standing here, writing a mother's day card to the Virgin Mary, you'd be sitting around on your asses discussing if it was really the month of May!
"I'll go with you," Betsy said.
No, Betsy and I will do it.
Betsy had the foresight to take her computer.
I took the receiver as Betsy dialed the number she'd copied from the television announcement.
Betsy leapt to her feet and high-fived everyone in turn.
Betsy retrieved her computer and began powering it up.
Once we were sated and gathered in the living room Betsy began work on her computer.
What Betsy noticed on the television yesterday was blind luck.
Betsy looked up, undeterred.
Betsy and I live in New York.
I have one situation you could try, Betsy offered.
"Not really," Betsy said.
Between Betsy's internet searching and Quinn's calculations the location we sought was found.
We would, as Betsy suggested, telephone the tip on our way back to New York.
Betsy was more than eager to comply.
Betsy spent hours on the computer, searching for results from our second tip but nothing was reported.
Martha and Betsy spoke frequently on the phone.
But if Quinn got drunk and slept with Betsy, like years ago, you'd understand and forgive her, wouldn't you?
You and Betsy have to come back up here!
I calmed Martha down and both Betsy and I spoke to all three of them, one by one.
Betsy and I reluctantly agreed, also agreeing to travel north the following weekend.
Betsy remained sullen through the week until Thursday night when I came home to find her in tears.
Of course Betsy was right.
Betsy, usually as nearly sympathetic as Martha, pointed out there were scads of other missing children we were neglecting.
Quinn agreed with Betsy, much to Martha's dismay.
As inconvenient as it would be, Betsy and I would continue to travel north each weekend, flying at Howie's expense.
Betsy is great at research and Martha works with Howie, assembles the tips and can deliver them.
"I certainly don't want the responsibility," Martha answered as she turned to Betsy.
The case was only hours old when Betsy spotted it giving us hope for the boy's recovery and the perpetrator's arrest.
Before Betsy and I left for the airport, we received incredible news!
It frustrated to Betsy who spent hours on the Internet seeking the most effective uses of Howie's talent.
Betsy had referred it as an afterthought, suspecting the young girl was a runaway.
Betsy printed out Martha's Email and a list of FBI offices around the country.
Finally, I called Betsy telling her I'd be late.
Betsy was awake when I returned home and wanted to know what delayed me.
I trudged through a boring day, knowing I'd return to an empty apartment as Betsy was off to Los Angeles for the entire week.
"We can't keep up this schedule," Betsy sighed as we crossed into Connecticut.
Betsy and Howie remained with me, each trying to out-nervous the other.
Betsy operated a recorder.
"Please, Howie," Betsy pleaded.
Betsy and I were physically exhausted after weeks of commuting north.
Within an hour Betsy had assembled a full biography.
Betsy absented herself, feeling it unfair to listen if the other couldn't.
While Betsy loved her position, she was far more enchanted with our success and would adopt it as a full time venture in a minute.
Betsy suggested Howie should pay a visit to Mr. Merrill Cooms.
Martha and Quinn were readying for our restaurant dinner in their room and Betsy was upstairs usurping the single bathroom.
"Your turn," Betsy called, cutting off further conversation.
It was Betsy's turn.
"I want a home of our own too," Betsy said, "and a car that isn't a rental.
"And keeping us safe," Betsy added.
It was Betsy who summed up our collective thoughts.
Betsy called in one tip from California on a business trip.
Only Betsy was raised outside of New England and she easily bowed to our collective desires to remain within its six state bounds.
Betsy's loving boss presented the most difficulty but she used the excuse her new husband was transferred to New Hampshire.
Betsy was enthralled with the area and became an immediate student of the history.
The house was far too large for us with five bedrooms and three baths but Betsy had plans!
Martha and Betsy chatted constantly over decorating ideas and their new hobby, scouring the area for antiques.
His house was situated seven miles from the office and about the same distance from Betsy and me.
Betsy and Martha surreptitiously scoured the media for results, in spite of our agreement not to do so.
It gave Betsy and me the chance to be man and wife.
Martha and Betsy spent many a weekend searching out of the way shops and country auctions for their antiques.
Spring's arrival suggested a garden and Betsy embraced the idea whole heartedly.
I eyed a sporty little number but Betsy, with a family in her radar, opted for a mid-sized compact.
Betsy named him Bumpus after his tendency to crash into immovable objects as he dashed around our house and yard.
Martha cataloged the recordings and continued to provide clear and precise notes that either Betsy or I conveyed on the tip line.
"We've got competition," Betsy announced as I stepped out of the shower.
"I remember the kidnapping from last week," Betsy said as she brushed past me, dropping her nightgown as she entered the bathroom.
Betsy stepped from the shower, all pink as a posy and wearing only a smile.
Neither Betsy nor I saw the broadcast but Quinn and Martha had viewed the showing.
He recognized the building via a computer image Betsy provided.
Betsy offered as the five of us brainstormed.
I knew Betsy viewed scores of non-abduction cases, any of which Howie could solve in a minute.
Betsy asked after once more, he'd left early.
Betsy said as Quinn glared at Martha.
Martha's pending due date was an incentive to Betsy.
Betsy had confessed to Mr. Cooms her frustration over the lack of information regarding the outcome of our tips.
Three weeks later, baby Claire Elizabeth LeBlanc was baptized at St. Bernard's Catholic Church with Betsy and Ben Gustefson as godparents.
We not only lacked an exact time, but the in the turmoil of Martha's delivery, Betsy didn't spot the announcement in her usual timely manner.
Quinn returned to the hospital but Betsy and I remained at Howie's side in the pitch dark room.
Betsy immediately passed on the information via a tip.
I waved Betsy over next to me.
"So we have nothing," Betsy said, surprising Brennan who didn't know she was listening.
"Don't go there," Betsy said.
"He'd just shave his mustache off, maybe dye his hair and lose weight," Betsy grumbled.
"Maybe this new information is enough to stop him from his killing spree," Betsy said.
When the conversation was over, Betsy hugged me, long and hard.
I was a hundred percent in favor and pleased Betsy agreed with me.
Betsy suggested we each assign our new identities without telling each other except our spouses.
He turned to Betsy.
Betsy's concern mirrored mine.
Betsy dove into her computer.
Betsy spotted the web site and began monitoring it daily.
Betsy's clandestine research about Julie, such as it was, was shared only with me.
Mildred O'Malley, his wife was not listed as living in Massachusetts and the name was too common for Betsy to look in all the states.
Julie maintained no Face Book or Twitter account, nor could Betsy locate her on any other social network sites.
The hunt reached a higher level of journalism when Betsy showed us a magazine cover story on the subject.
Quick witted Betsy laughed, and told the man who was a frequent visitor, that it looked like a childhood picture of Howie in a Halloween costume.
When Martha was in a session with Howie, Betsy took over, coveting the child as if she were her own.
"It's obvious he's not going to address the issue," Betsy grumbled as we spent our Saturday climbing nearby Mount Monadnock.
I'd voiced this concern to Betsy throughout the week and I knew she was of a like mind.
Betsy exclaimed as we caught our breath, standing atop the highest point for thirty miles around.
We left the building to Betsy as the three Leblanc's were yet to arrive.
Betsy and I have each other and Quinn and Martha each other plus Claire.
I was resigned it was my duty to explain the situation, with or without Howie's input, but Betsy interrupted before I could begin.
Betsy held my hand, sensing the fear in my voice as I spoke.
Betsy was beside herself with frustration when she heard what mayhem our nemesis had wrought.
Quinn, Martha and especially Betsy looked perturbed at me for not updating them on my tete-a-tete with Howie but that could wait.
The four trudged down stairs with Betsy bringing up the rear.
Howie was hot, which I'm sure was Betsy's intent.
Betsy looked about to say something, but turned and led the others to the conference room.
Usually we rely on Betsy's sole decision as a method of choosing a case but the wide spread interest in this kidnapping caused her to share it with all of us.
While Martha and Betsy, buoyed by our recent success, were eager to tackle the case, Quinn, not surprisingly, and yours truly to a lesser extent, were hesitant.
Betsy turned to me with a look of sadness.
With Betsy's pronouncement, we all reaffirmed our commitment.
She was sitting with Betsy and me while Quinn was talking gardening with Howie.
Betsy and I laughed.
If he bails out maybe Betsy will lend me you for a fill-in.
"May I babysit for Clair sometime after I move up to Keene?" she asked, then turned to Betsy and added, "And maybe take Bumpus for walks?"
Betsy agreed as well.
I commented later as Betsy and I readied for bed.
Betsy replied, then added, "Molly's babysitting comment left no doubt she and Julie are moving to town."
Betsy lined up two likely abductions and she was anxious to get started, Quinn had already performed his part, setting his apparatus appropriately for a rural Iowa location where a twelve year old boy had gone missing.
When those occasions arose, Betsy stepped in and tried to talk Howie into the state of relaxation he required.
"That's why Mr. Cooms and his man didn't hear him," Betsy said.
"Maybe I can trace his electric bike," Betsy said.
Betsy filled mother in on the recent happenings while I placed the second call to Brennan.
Quinn and Martha perpetually had their hands full with their baby and Betsy stayed home, content to have extra time with our expanding garden.
Betsy and I had discussed my contacting After as suggested by Dan Brennan.
I compromised by telling Betsy over lunch.
"I'm sorry," Betsy said, brushing away her tears.
Betsy, it's not over by a long shot.
Betsy didn't answer but she seemed at least partially placated by what was, at best, a half-truth.
He always asked Betsy what cases he was missing by his absence.
Betsy sensed that there was friction between them.
Betsy responded with the words I didn't want to hear.
"I'll get Betsy come over," I said.
While I wanted to wake Betsy and explain the situation I felt following Julie's directive might free her to be more forthcoming.
I drove the few miles to Howie's home feeling as guilty as a cheating husband for leaving Betsy alone and uninformed.
No, I decided, Betsy was my wife and I loved her dearly.
We discussed neither Julie nor Howie over breakfast but Betsy joined me when I left for our office.
While Martha was as upset as Betsy and I, she wanted no part in resolving the matter.
Betsy was a bundle of nerves.
Julie looked ready to faint and kept casting glances at Betsy.
Molly can stay with Betsy and me.
The three left for the school office; Betsy, with a slight smile on her face, Molly looking excited and Julie wondering if she was dead man walking.
Once alone, I telephoned Martha and explained that Howie had summoned Julie to California and Betsy and I would house Molly in her mother's absence.
Betsy returned, holding Molly's hand, sans Julie who was back at Howie's house packing her suitcase.
"Order anything you'd like, Honey," Betsy said as she snuggled next to the young lady and elicited a squeal with a tickle.
Betsy looked at her, as if wanting to hear more.
Aunt Betsy will see to that!
As she'd never even visited an airport much less flown, frequent traveler Betsy carefully told her the dos and don'ts while she printed her boarding pass.
Molly started to bite her lip and I thought tears would follow but Betsy grabbed her hand.
While I knew we were helpless to do anything positive in Howie's absence, I never-the-less opened the site where Betsy located cases for our attention.
What about you and Betsy?
"Betsy is babysitting Molly who's registered at school here in Keene," I said; conveying more information I'd neglected to relate.
I didn't want to come right out and say Betsy was frightened to stay alone so I just shrugged.
After Martha and her baby left, I called Betsy with the news.
She looked up with a smile as Betsy met me with a kiss.
As soon as the two left, I turned to Betsy.
Spit it out; what did you and Julie discuss that now makes you Aunt Betsy?
I told Betsy about the flare up between Quinn and Martha before Quinn decided to go to Santa Barbara alone.
Molly helped Betsy prepare dinner.
Betsy spoke to Martha on the phone after dinner while Molly and I walked Bumpus.
Betsy plunked down on the sofa next to me.
Betsy thought you could use some company, that's all.
You and Betsy dragged me into this mess.
Just this once; just now, then you can go back to Betsy.
So when Betsy arrived ten minutes later, there was room for sleeping without utilizing the living room sofa.
Betsy kissed me on the lips and whispered, "I don't want to stay alone either."
Unlike me, Betsy was very familiar with the house having spent much time with Martha and Claire.
I stayed downstairs for another hour until Betsy came looking for me.
Betsy asked, wide eyed.
Betsy rose, unkinked her arm and stretched.
Unnoticed, Betsy stood in the kitchen doorway, a sandwich in her hand, munching away.
"God," she said her eyes wide as she stared at Betsy.
Betsy made no move to assist but continued to eat her sandwich.
Betsy finished her sandwich and strolled toward the stairs.
Betsy pirouetted sharply and continued up the stairs.
Betsy was in a chipper mood considering all that was going on.
Betsy might have picked it up on her daily internet search if Howie hadn't been out of action.
Betsy, Martha and Molly came by with Claire just before lunch.
Her prior night's transgressions were apparently forgotten as she and Betsy acted as compatible as guppies in a fish bowl.
When I returned to my office, Betsy met me, a frown on her face.
I picked up the phone as Betsy closed my office door and sat next to me.
Betsy pivoted around, wipeing her face, and hugged her.
I picked up the phone for my next chore as Betsy, with Molly in hand, peeked in my office.
Neither Betsy nor I liked chain fast food so I looked in the windows of the café we liked.
The warmth was nearly enough for me to nod off when I heard a honk and Molly waved from Betsy's side window as she slowly circled.
Bumpus woofed for attention so Molly paraded him, allowing me to catch Betsy up with what was happening.
Betsy and I moved away to give mother and daughter space.
"Martha didn't call Quinn," Betsy said, not wording it as a question.
Molly and Betsy elected to go home leaving me to mind the store and deal with Daniel Brennan's phone call without interruption.
My name is Ben Gustefson and I'm living in Keene, New Hampshire with my wife Betsy.
It was a community where I could see Betsy and me raising children and watching grandchildren while four distinct seasons rolled slowly by, marking the years one by one.
She helped Betsy in the kitchen and hovered around Bumpus like a hen with chicks.
"As long as we're here," Quinn said, "Can Betsy get us some leads on missing kids?
Betsy was busy on her computer when I entered our kitchen the following morning.
Molly joined us, dressed in a new outfit Betsy purchased for her the prior day.
Betsy asked with a smile.
Betsy read a notice on the Internet a day later that the culprit was beaten and in serious condition, after allegedly resisting arrest.
Not so, between Betsy and Martha, according to my wife.
I called Betsy to let her know the news.
I hadn't a chance to fill Betsy in on my conversation Frank Vasapolli and was anxious to do so.
As soon as girl and pooch were out the door, Betsy had news, preempting my announcement.
Betsy, do you want to...
Betsy brushed her eyes.
I could hear Molly returning so Betsy offered no rebuttal.
Betsy gave Molly a hug.
"Calm down, Howie," Betsy said.
Betsy rolled her eyes.
Betsy continued, trying to sound normal.
I filled Betsy in on the details of the prior evening with a rambling discourse.
The oven dinged and Betsy moved to the kitchen.
Betsy and I discussed who else to inform.
When Betsy mentioned telling the After people, a thought struck me that the death of Owen Bryce, once known to our friends at After would probably tie me directly to the tipster as well.
I looked around for Betsy.
Last night we ran a session on the little boy Betsy texted us about.
She seemed to understand and was off to walk Bumpus while I filled in Betsy on my conversation.
Betsy gently roused me from my nap for a late dinner.
Betsy said, alarm in her voice.
Betsy, it's after ten...
Perhaps it was best; hadn't Betsy and I made a similar decision to stop our activities only hours earlier?
Do you and Betsy?
According to Betsy, on the note Martha left, she said Quinn was coming back east to meet up with his wife and daughter and leave from here.
Betsy was taking a long time.
Betsy had driven our only car so I wasn't able to drive over there myself.
He picked up as Betsy came in the door.
I waved Betsy over and she snuggled next to me on the sofa.
I read Martha's note to us and brought Betsy up to date on my conversation with Julie.
I don't know if Betsy was becoming immune to alarming news or if her husband was paranoid.
"There's always an anonymous tip," Betsy said.
Betsy remained down in the dumps over Martha's departure but per usual, she successfully researched the Internet and found directions to eight different camping parks in the area.
The look of shock on Betsy's face was immediately picked up by Molly and frightened the young girl.
Betsy opened her purse and complied before reaching back and taking Molly's hand.
We drove home with Betsy trying in vain to calm Molly down, telling her we weren't in any danger.
Betsy asked as we drove home to Surry.
I'd planned to wait until Betsy and Molly returned from walking Bumpus but I decided if I had to drive back into downtown Keene, I might as well swing by Wheelock Park Campground as it was on the way, at least sort-of.
Suddenly I remember Betsy and Molly were out walking Bumpus when I left the house!
Betsy said as I hugged them both.
Molly wanted to fix supper on her own which both Betsy and I were thankful to let happen.
I poured us a second glass of wine as Betsy leaned back and closed her eyes, finally relaxing.
Betsy agreed but suggested we wait until Molly finished her bath so she could speak with her mother first.
"I hope Howie has come to his senses and booked his flight back," Betsy said, then added, "But I'll miss Molly like she was my own."
The pretty young girl materialized, hair wet and smiling, dressed in a new bathrobe Betsy had purchased.
She ran off to her room, with Betsy following her.
Betsy returned to the room and I held my hand over the phone and turned to her.
Betsy reluctantly took the phone.
Betsy rose and met her half way.
"Of course," Betsy answered as she smoothed the cushions in invitation.
Betsy was very apologetic, in the nicest way, once we were snuggled in the privacy of our bed.
An article on young girl reported missing from her Worcester home brought back memories of Betsy searching for more details on similar disappearances.
I had opted to skip the short flight to Santa Barbara as Betsy, the seasoned traveler, had no difficulty renting a car and maneuvering the traffic to pick me up at LAX.
Betsy booked three adjoining room, on the first floor, with a view of the pool.
Betsy loved reveled in it and it fulfilled my needs; the wine did the trick and, I was hungry and the food tasted good.
Betsy nodded in agreement.
Betsy and I had both jumped to too obvious a conclusion.
You said Betsy went over to the LeBlanc's place.
It wasn't that late when Betsy arrived there and found the note.
I explained about Betsy's visit and our misinterpretation of Martha's note.
It was the one her friend had called Betsy and when she saw the child on the floor, stifled a scream.
The small group moved more hurriedly now and the man said something to Betsy and shoved her forward toward an emergency exit.
He opened the back door of the van and motioned Betsy inside as Molly lay inert on the ground.
Betsy hesitated, but complied when Grasso feigned a slice with his weapon.
The scene was so familiar; abduction, outlined by Betsy, facts presented, Quinn and Howie removing to their basement sanctuary while we waited and Martha recorded.
I'm responsible for Martha and Quinn and now maybe Betsy and Molly as well.
I wanted to remind this troubled soul of the good he'd wrought but thoughts of Betsy prevented my saying the words.
It killed me, knowing we might remain here, doing nothing, and not knowing what was happening to Betsy and Molly.
While he never owned up to it, Betsy and I knew he retained records of ventures into the deeper past, where Howie refused to go.
All pertained to the earlier tests Howie and Quinn had undertaken together while Betsy and I were still in New York.
My beloved Betsy, my world, was in his hands.
My name is Elizabeth Anne Morganthaw Gustefson, called Betsy and I'm writing these horrifying remembrances at the request of my husband Ben.
Prompted by his concern for Betsy and Molly, he was willing to attempt using the apparatus.
I know how you don't want to do this but put your feelings aside, for Betsy's and Molly's sake.
Right now, nothing matters but finding Betsy and Molly.
From Betsy's cell phone?
You Have Molly and Betsy!
Did he know Molly and Betsy were safe, or already dead?
Tears come to my eyes these months later as I pen these words, sitting in the comfort of our Surry, New Hampshire home with Betsy by my side.
Unfortunately, there is no one left alive to salute the LeBlanc and Betsy and I want our adopted daughter Claire to know she is fully a part of our lives.
I don't know if the sun will shine on a long term relationship but Betsy is pleased to baby sit Molly while the romance dance is orchestrated.
Her actions toward Julie, her mother and to Betsy with whom she shares a special relationship are markedly different.
The summits of the flattopped hills about Betsy Cove, in the south-east of the island, are formed of caps of basalt.
(1898); John Macculloch's Geological Account of the Hebrides (1819); Hugh Miller's Cruise of the " Betsy" (1858); W.
Centranthus ruber (known as Pretty Betsy and Red Valerian): hardy, 2 to 3 ft., red.
Betsy Morganthaw, my fiancÃ©e, was employed by a public relations firm at a wage half again as much as her future husband.
Betsy toured the country, staying in plush hotels and dining in fine restaurants, all paid for by a boss who thought she was God's eldest daughter.
"They're really nice people, all three," Betsy announced as she snuggled against me beneath an ancient quilt in a spacious double bed that took up most of our room.
"It's delicious," Betsy said as I poured myself another cup of coffee and sat down beside her.
"A really vivid dream," Betsy said.
We resumed the same stations as earlier except Martha joined Betsy outside the lab room door.
Betsy wouldn't give up and began to telephone a coworker in New York.