Characters in Gwendy's Magic Feather

Anita Bradley—as Castle Rock gossips have enviously whispered for going on three decades now—married old and married rich. After her husband Lester, a wildly successful lumber tycoon nineteen years her senior, suffered a fatal heart attack in early 1991, many locals …

… She notices the tiny scar on Travis’s chin and immediately understands that the neighbor’s dog, Barney, snapped at Travis when he was eight years old because he’d been throwing rocks at it from across the chain-link fence. This was in Boston, …

… guardian angel of her childhood, then she most certainly imagines her receptionist, Bea Whiteley, as Sheriff Taylor’s beloved Aunt Bea from the iconic television series, The Andy Griffith Show. Although there’s very little physical resemblance (for starters, Gwendy’s Bea is African-American), there are a multitude of other similarities. First, there’s …

He hands it to Gwendy. She looks at him in surprise, and then reads the gift tag: To Congresswoman Gwendy Peterson; From Harold & Beth. “Thank you,” she says, genuinely touched. “Both of you.” She opens the present. It’s a thick hardcover book with a bright orange dust jacket.

… everything from the two missing girls to across-the-street neighbor Betty Johnson’s sudden conversion to bleach blonde to the New England Patriots three-game losing streak. Mrs. Peterson, looking better than Gwendy has seen her look in months, complains about still needing to take daily naps and her husband’s constant coddling, but …

She called ahead before boarding the plane and asked Billy Finkelstein, one of only two full-timers at Castle County Airport, to jump her car battery back to life and pull her Subaru hatchback out of one of the three narrow hangars that run alongside the wooded shoulder of Route 39.

… last remaining Sony Walkman on the shelf for Blanche Goff, her longtime neighbor and friend “to use on her morning strolls around the high school track.” Gwendy’s cellphone rings as they’re walking to the parking lot. It’s her father checking in to see how Mom is faring. Gwendy gives her …

The latest victim, Carla Hoffman, 15, of Juniper Lane in Castle Rock, was taken from her bedroom on the evening of Tuesday, December 14. At shortly after six p.m., her older brother walked across the street to visit a classmate from school.

… 35 GWENDY’S FIRST IMPRESSION OF Caroline Hoffman is that she’s a woman who is used to getting her own way. When Gwendy walks into the stationhouse at 9:50 AM (a full ten minutes early for the meeting), she’s hoping the Hoffmans haven’t arrived yet so she and Sheriff Ridgewick will …

Shortly after 8:00 AM, State Police detectives learned from the Tomlinsons and the Parkers that both families had hired handyman Charles Browne the previous spring to power-wash the aluminum siding on their houses. In both instances, Mr. Browne had been accompanied by his son.

“You bought me a watch?” “I saw you admiring Congressman Anderson’s last week,” Gwendy says. “I thought you deserved one of your own.” Harold opens his mouth but no words come out. Gwendy is surprised to see that the guard’s eyes have gone shiny and his chin is trembling.

The sheriff, eyes watering and cheeks raw, looks tired and miserable. “. . . is currently underway for Deborah Parker, a resident of the nineteen-hundred block of View Drive. Miss Parker is fourteen years old and a freshman at Castle Rock High School.”

Onscreen, Gwendy and popular morning show host, Della Cavanaugh, sit across from each other on straight-backed leather chairs. They each have their legs crossed and are wearing microphones clipped to their collars. A banner headline runs across the top of the video screen: HOMETOWN GIRL MAKES GOOD.

On the other end of the line was the Speaker of the House himself, Dennis Hastert.

“Nolan,” the man says, pulling open his coat to reveal a badge clipped to his belt. “Detective Nolan.” Gwendy’s eyes widen and she feels a flush spread across her cheeks. “And now I feel very foolish.” The detective holds up his hands. “Please don’t, ma’am.

Shortly after 1:00 AM, not long after meeting Gwendy at the stationhouse, Sheriff Ridgewick got in touch with a Detective Tipton of the Buffalo Police Department. Files were pulled. Phone calls made. Doors knocked on.

When Mr. Peterson sees his wife’s oncologist, Doctor Celano, emerge via the swinging doors marked NO ENTRANCE, he immediately gets to his feet and meets him in the middle of the waiting room. Gwendy scrambles to catch up. “How is she, Doc?” he asks.

There is one exception, however. Father Lawrence wraps Gwendy up in a bear hug and actually lifts her off the ground. Before he disappears back into the rectory, he makes her promise to come back soon.

They make an interesting couple. Frank Hoffman is slight in stature, bespectacled, and dressed in a wrinkled brown suit that has seen better days. He has dark circles under his eyes and a slender nose that has been broken more than once.

Sheriff Norris Ridgewick and State Police Detective Frank Thome are also constant on-air presences. They continue to offer the same grim-faced reassurances that their respective departments are doing everything humanly possible to locate the missing girls and the same passionate requests for information from the …

There’s no sign of Sheila Brigham, the longtime dispatcher for the Castle Rock Sheriff’s Department, so Deputy George Footman escorts Gwendy inside and closes the door behind her. Sheriff Ridgewick sits on one side of a long, narrow table, a chair standing empty next to him.

The owner of the bookstore, a stylish woman in her mid-fifties named Grace Featherstone, greets her with a hug and several minutes of colorfully worded grievances relating to President Hamlin. Gwendy stands at the counter, unable to get a word in, nodding enthusiastically.

Hank Pilkey is going on ninety years old and has a glass left eye as the result of a fly-fishing accident. Rumor has it his second wife, Ruth, got drunk on moonshine and caused the injury while they were honeymooning in Nova Scotia.

He scans the bar code and hands it back with a friendly smile. “They’re all busy, Harold.” She gives him a wink. “You know that.” His smile widens, exposing a pair of gold-plated front teeth. “Hey, I won’t tell if you don’t.” Gwendy laughs and starts to walk away.

The church service tonight lasts a little more than an hour. Hugh and Blanche Goff, the Petersons’ longtime next-door neighbors, arrive a few minutes late. Gwendy happily scoots over to make room for them in the pew. Mrs. Goff smells like mothballs and peppermint breath mints, but Gwendy doesn’t mind.

In November 1998, by a margin of less than four thousand votes, Gwendy Peterson upsets incumbent Republican James Leonard for the District One Congressional Seat of Maine. The following month, just days after Christmas, she makes the move to Washington, D.C.

“I understand that, Jay, I do. But we don’t have time. I need it yesterday.” His face darkens. “I don’t care. Just get it done.” He hangs up and looks at Gwendy.

“I understand that,” the sheriff says. “We all do.” “Jenny Tucker over the hair salon says your guys were checking out the Henderson farm yesterday,” Mrs. Hoffman says. “Wanna tell me why that is?” The sheriff sighs and shakes his head. “Jenny Tucker’s the biggest gossip in town.

She thanks Billy, sliding him a tip even though it’s against the rules, and nods hello to his boss, Jessie Martin, one of her father’s old bowling partners. She loads her carry-on into the front passenger seat and tosses her tote bag on top of it.

Instead, she changes direction and surprises everyone. A Kiss in the Dark is dedicated to a man named Johnathon Riordan. Years earlier, when Gwendy started working at the ad agency, it was Johnathon who took her under his wing and taught her the ropes of the advertising world.

Come and get ’em, Johnny.” A muffled voice answers, “Copy that, boss, be there in a flash.” Gwendy and Ryan start walking up the sidewalk toward the main building, but Gwendy turns back after a couple of steps and returns to the luggage cart.

… with his hair dresser, a single woman named Katy who lives in a trailer on the outskirts of town with her three-year-old son. Her dear old friend Brigette knows nothing about it ... ... and then Gwendy’s vision blurs and Travis suddenly swirls out of view, like he’s being sucked …

After her husband Lester, a wildly successful lumber tycoon nineteen years her senior, suffered a fatal heart attack in early 1991, many locals thought that once the funeral services were completed and legal matters attended to, Anita would pack up house and head for the sunny …

By 6:00 AM, a senior official from the Administration Office at the University of Buffalo verified that Lucas Tillman Browne of Castle Rock, Maine was dismissed from the School of Dental Medicine—just before the conclusion of his third semester—after numerous female students filed sexual harassment and stalking complaints against him.

Studying the crowd, she sees Grace and Nanette and Milly Harris, the church organist, huddled together off to the side. All three are staring up at the clock and counting down. Charlie Browne is standing toward the back by himself with his foot propped up on a bench.

“Hey, there, Mr. Gallagher,” she says. “Happy New Year.” She tugs the glove off her right hand and extends it toward him. “Happy New Year to you, too, young lady.” Gwendy’s eighth grade algebra teacher shakes her hand with a firm grip.

An older woman, a few spots down the line, lifts a gloved hand and waves. “Mrs. Verrill! I didn’t even see you there.” The woman smiles back at her. “That’s okay, dear. It’s hard to tell who’s who all bundled up like this.” “Mom’s doing much better.

Gwendy spots Grace Featherstone from the Book Nook talking to Nanette from the diner over by the bandstand. Brigette is holding court with a number of her PTA minions by the picnic tables, no doubt making sure everything’s set for midnight and the big countdown.

“Did you see Old Man Henderson’s face?” Patsy asks as she and Gwendy enter the hallway. “I thought he was going to blow a gasket right there at the podium.”

“We’ve brought in officers from neighboring towns and are organizing additional searches.” Rhonda Tomlinson, 14, of nearby Bridgton, vanished on her way home from school on the afternoon of Tuesday, December 7... Gwendy frowns at the computer screen. She’s seen enough.

“Richard Hamlin’s a lot of things, most of them bad, but he’s no Adolf Hitler.” Not yet, anyway. She places the box in her lap and leans back into the sofa cushion. “Tempting, but who’s to say the vice president will be any better. Guy’s a certified fruitcake.”

she asks. He pulls a laminated ID card out from under his jacket and extends it as far as the lanyard will permit. “Ronald Blum, Portland Press Herald.” “I’m here this morning to be briefed by Sheriff Ridgewick. I’ll leave it to him to issue any official statements.”

Rumor has it his second wife, Ruth, got drunk on moonshine and caused the injury while they were honeymooning in Nova Scotia. When Gwendy was young, she was terrified of the old man and dreaded tagging along with her parents to the post office on Saturday mornings.

“How else did he know about Shelly Piper being pregnant before the rest of the town?” “Probably did the deed himself, the old perv.” The sheriff’s jaw drops, his mouth forming a perfect O. “Gwendy Peterson.” “Oh, hush,” she says, waving a hand at him. “And stop stalling, Norris.

I need to wrap up a couple things before I go. How about you? When are you and Tim headed out?” “We leave Monday to visit my sister in Colorado, and from there we go to see the kids on Wednesday.

She recognizes Sheriff Ridgewick right away, although his voice sounds much deeper over the airwaves, and State Trooper Tom Noel, who was a year behind her at Castle Rock High and grew up two blocks away from Carbine Street.

Gwendy laughs. “Tom Perkins is a dirty-minded, senile old man. You really believe what he says?” The sheriff shrugs. “How else did he know about Shelly Piper being pregnant before the rest of the town?” “Probably did the deed himself, the old perv.”

… but brief conversation with Brigette and her husband Travis before a PTA friend of Brigette’s drunkenly interrupts them. Gwendy smiles and moves on. Of course, there are plenty of others waiting to speak with Gwendy. While familiar faces are scarce, friendly—and merely curious—faces are not. It seems as if everyone …