Scraps of Paper
Page 12
***
“That was a good movie, wasn’t it?” Frank made conversation later in a restaurant as they shared a pizza and soda. They’d almost run into Mason again on the way out of the theater. Abigail saw his blue cap bobbing out ahead of them in the crowd and purposely made Frank slow down until she was sure the man was gone. She didn’t want to run into him again. Not that night.
“Very good. That scene on the ocean with the whale was amazing. That deflated basketball, Wilson, was a cute touch. Yuck, but that tooth pulling part was gross,” she summed up.
“How do you know? You hid your eyes. I tried to imagine what I’d have done if I’d been him stranded on that island. Alone. I believe I’d do about the same. Just thinking about it gives me the willies. It makes you appreciate the life you have, a movie like that, and how important your family and friends are.”
They finished raving about the film and Abigail confessed to finding Jenny’s diary and revealed some of what she’d read in it. “Pages had been torn out and the entries ended in mid-August of the summer of 1970.”
“And you’ve known about this diary since this morning and are just telling me now?”
Abigail nodded.
“I knew Sheriff Cal had a thing for her. I worked for the guy. It was easy to see. But a lot of men had designs on Emily. She was a beautiful available woman,” Frank said softly, but she had the impression he was holding something back. “I just didn’t know someone was abusing her. I never saw that black eye or the broken tooth. But I was gone a lot that last part of the summer trying to get the job in Chicago and then making arrangements for the move. I was very busy.” She could almost feel his guilt. “I never had a clue someone was intentionally hurting her and the kids or I would have stopped it. But I never saw it, so what kind of cop was I?”
“You were a young one, just learning human nature and your job,” Abigail said, pushing away from the table. The pizza had been delicious, the movie diverting and her company for the evening stimulating. It was hard to dwell on sadder things. Maybe, as Martha had said that morning, she was too involved in this Summers’ mystery. It had nothing to do with her or her life. It really was none of her business. So why was she so involved with something which had happened so long ago? She wished she knew.
Frank checked his watch. “You ready to go? Early start tomorrow if we’re going to catch Brown. And I can’t wait to have a look at that diary.”
“I’m ready.” She watched Frank leave a generous tip on the table and afterwards he ushered her out the door.