by Willow Rose
They had dug out the Doctor, aka Kimberly Milligan, but they weren’t able to save her. I felt bad about that; I wanted her to go to trial; I wanted her to receive her punishment for all the pain she had caused my family.
“Now maybe you could do with a coffee, huh son?” My mother asked and sat next to me. “You haven’t eaten or drunk anything for two whole days. I have an energy bar in my purse if you like?”
I smiled for the first time and nodded. So glad my mom never changed. “I would love that, thank you.”
My mother gave me the bar, then went for coffee from the vending machine. She brought back the cup and several bags of chips and chocolate bars.
“I wish they would put healthier stuff in those things,” she said. “It is, after all, a hospital. Wait, I think I also have an apple in my purse.”
“I’ll start with this,” I said and took a bite of the bar. I looked down at Tyler, who was sleeping heavily in his cot. I couldn’t believe all the things he had gone through and how well he slept even after all of it. I envied him. I hadn’t slept in forever.
“You can see her now,” the doctor came out and said.
I grabbed Tyler in his cot, got ahold of the kids and parents, and we followed the doctor into Shannon’s room. I peeked inside first. My eyes met Shannon’s and she smiled feebly. I turned and looked at the kids.
“No screaming, okay? Nice and quiet.”
Austin and Abigail didn’t listen, as usual, and stormed in there screaming and yelling. “Shannon!!”
They threw themselves at her and she laughed, even though I could tell she was in great pain. Angela walked in with me, holding my hand. She had been so nervous, so scared, and I had tried the best I could to comfort her along the way.
“Go on,” I said. “Go to her.”
Shannon reached out her heavily bandaged hand and started to sob. “Baby girl.”
Angela approached her and hugged her carefully, while I told my kids to get down from the bed and sit in chairs. Angela and Shannon spoke for a little while and hugged a lot. When they were done, I grabbed Tyler from the seat and put him on top of Shannon. She held him the best she could, tears streaming from her eyes.
“My baby boy.”
“And he’s perfectly fine,” I said. “Not a scratch on his head.”
“That’s amazing.”
Tyler didn’t even wake up. He kept sleeping on his mother’s chest, while she played with his fingers, laughing, crying, and kissing him all over. When I could tell she was getting tired, I removed the baby and put him back in his cot.
Of course, that woke him up and he started to cry. “I know, baby boy. I want Mommy too, but Mommy needs her rest.”
“Let me take him,” my mother said. I handed her the boy. Meanwhile, Shannon’s mom and sister spoke to her.
I spotted Emily standing by the door, as if she was deciding whether to come in or not. Shannon saw her and signaled for her to come closer.
“Are you going to be well?” she asked. “Like, will you be able to play guitar and sing again?”
“I don’t know yet,” Shannon said with an exhale. I could tell this was all a little much for her. She was getting tired. “Right now, I’m just happy to be alive.”
“And we’re just happy you’re alive too,” I said and approached her with a kiss to her forehead. “Now we’ll leave you alone so you can get some sleep.”
77
May 2016
I spent the rest of the afternoon at the house. After two days in the hospital, the kids needed to get out of there and just play in the yard. My mom cooked us a big dinner, which we ate together, no one speaking much except for the children.
After dinner, I was sitting in the darkness of the living room when Sarah brought me a beer.
“You’re an angel, do you know that?”
“I do,” she said and sat in a recliner next to me, a beer in her hand. “I’m just glad Shannon is better. I really love working for her and for your family.”
I looked at her and laughed lightly. “Even with all the craziness?”
“Even with all that, yes.”
I sipped my beer. It hit the spot. Just what I needed right now.
“So, what were you thinking about alone in here in the darkness, Jack?” Sarah asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I don’t. I was actually thinking about Betsy Sue and all the strange conversations I had with her. I still can’t quite figure out what parts of what she told me were true and what was a lie. Maybe it doesn’t matter. She’s back with her parents and so is Miss Muffit. Or should I say Adelaide and Chandelle, which are, after all, their real names. We shouldn’t use those silly doll names that the crazy lady gave them when she kidnapped them.” I shook my head and drank again before I continued. “Chandelle’s mother lost her six years ago at the hospital when she took her in because the girl had a fever. In the middle of the night, the girl simply vanished from her crib. It gives me the chills even thinking about it. What a nightmare. On top of it all, everyone thought she had hurt the baby somehow. The police interrogated her again and again. Even her own friends and family believed she had done something awful to her own kid. It was mostly based on rumors about her being depressed and overwhelmed by becoming a mother. No one believed a child could just vanish from the hospital. Susan Murray, Chandelle’s mother, was publically humiliated on top of losing her child. People wrote graffiti on her house walls, calling her a child killer and everything. They came up to her in the street and yelled it to her face. They threw dolls and used diapers in her front yard. Can you imagine going through that?”
“Not even going to try,” Sarah said. She paused. “So they’re both back with their parents again?”
I nodded, put the bottle to my lips, then drank.
“That’s good, then. Everyone is happy,” Sarah said.
“Yeah, I guess,” I said and drank again.
“You’re not quite satisfied with the outcome?” she asked.
I sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but something doesn’t quite add up.”
“And what’s that?”
“Every time I spoke to Betsy Sue, or Adelaide, she talked like she had been at the doll doctor’s house a lot longer than possible. She remembered birthdays way before her fifth year, which was when she was kidnapped, according to her parents. And it seemed like they hardly knew each other when she came back. They had kept nothing of her stuff, like they didn’t expect her to come back.”
“People grieve differently.”
“Yes, I know, but still. It was like they…like it wasn’t their child at all, but that’s just crazy, right? I mean the DNA test showed that Betsy Sue was, in fact, Adelaide. DNA tests can’t be wrong.”
Sarah shrugged. “Unless she has a twin, I don’t see how.”
I turned my head and stared at Sarah. “Oh, my God,” I said. “You’re right.”
“What?”
I got up from my chair, grabbed my phone, and dialed a number.
“What? What did I say?” Sarah yelled after me.
78
May 2016
“My apologies for disturbing you this late,” Bellini said.
I was standing next to her in the Hawthornes’ driveway. “May we come in? There are a few things we need to clarify.”
“What’s he doing here?” Ron Hawthorne asked and nodded at me.
“I’m the guy with the questions,” I said, and walked past him inside the house. I knew I was supposed to wait for him to tell me it was all right to come in, since we didn’t have a warrant, but I was simply too agitated.
“Do come in,” Ron finally said, and Bellini followed me. We walked into the living room, where Heather Hawthorne got up from her chair, a magazine dangling from her hand. She stared at us, startled.
“Detectives. What’s going on? And at this hour?”
“It’s not even ten o’clock,” I said and sat down.
The Hawthornes exchang
ed a glance.
“Please, sit down,” I said. “This won’t take long.”
Heather could no longer disguise her nervousness. The magazine in her hand was shaking when she put it down and approached us. They both sat down.
“We’ve been in contact with the hospital,” I said. “And they told us something very interesting.”
“Oh. And what might that be?” Heather asked.
“They told us you gave birth to not one child in 2006, but two children,” I said.
Ron Hawthorne grabbed his wife’s hand in her lap. “Yes. That is true. There were twins, but one of them died. Please don’t rip up this old story. It was very traumatic, especially for my wife. You must understand…” His angry mask cracked and we saw the raw pain from the loss of his child.
“I do understand. A nurse named Kimberly Milligan, who worked at the hospital back then, led you to believe that one of your children died. How this could happen, Detective Bellini and her crew will have to investigate further. But what happened was that Kimberly Milligan took the child and raised it as her own.” I paused to observe their reaction. I could tell I was on the right track. “But you already know that, don’t you? How else would you explain suddenly getting your child back when you thought she was dead?”
“Excuse me?” Heather asked. Her face clouded over and she bit down hard on her lip. “Why…you…”
She received a look from her husband.
“It’s over, Heather,” he said. “They know.” He sat back, looking rattled.
Heather protested once more before her shoulders finally settled down. She bowed her head and her hair fell forward, covering her face.
“All right,” she said and nodded. “But you must know it was self-defense.”
“Maybe you should tell us the story from the beginning,” Bellini said.
Heather inhaled deeply and looked quickly at her husband before she started. “We loved Adelaide dearly. You must know that. We really did. She was a very quiet child. She could spend hours and even days in her room, playing with her dolls. We never had any trouble with her. Not until she turned five years old, and one night my husband and I were sleeping in our bed, when I woke up to find Adelaide standing at the end of it. What are you doing up? I asked her. Did you have a bad dream? Adelaide never sleepwalked or had bad dreams, so it was quite the mystery to me that she would all of a sudden get out of bed in the middle of the night. And that was when I saw it.” Heather stopped to cry. She was a very good actress. Yet, I didn’t buy it.
“What did you see, Mrs. Hawthorne?” Bellini asked. She was better at the sympathetic role than I.
“My husband’s handgun. She was holding it in her hand, and when I asked her why she had her father’s gun, she didn’t answer. I woke up my husband, who started to scold her and tell her to hand it over. But she didn’t. Instead, she lifted it, pointed it at Ron, and fired. She missed, but Ron threw himself at her and they fought for a long time, while I could do nothing but watch. Finally, my husband got the gun from her, but she was screaming so terribly and fighting him, scratching him on his face. I was afraid he would hurt her. She got up and ran, and I ran after her, wanting to grab her, but instead I…I…tripped her. I made her fall and she fell down the stairs, ending up face-first into one of our big antique vases; she hit her head on it and broke her skull open. I screamed and screamed as I watched the blood run out from her little…head.”
Heather stopped again and clasped her mouth while crying. Her husband took over:
“We knew no one would ever believe us, so we decided to bury her in the yard. She’s still out there. By the big oak.”
“And then you made up the story of her being kidnapped while you were at the park,” I said.
“Yes.”
Ron Hawthorne looked at his wife. “But then our little girl came back all of a sudden. We believed it was the Universe—or whoever is in charge—that was giving us a second chance. We didn’t know where she came from; we never even talked about it. I guess we both knew somewhere deep down that she had to be the twin we lost so many years ago.”
I looked at Bellini. I didn’t believe one bit of their story, except for the part where they killed their daughter.
“You must believe us,” Heather said. “It was a terrible accident.”
“I really don’t,” I said. “I don’t believe a little girl would try and kill her own parents unless they had done something really bad to her. Either that or you came up with the story of it all being self-defense to protect yourselves. Either way we look at this, you two come out as bad guys. I’ve heard enough.”
“Me too,” Bellini said and got up.
Heather was crying helplessly. Her husband wanted to console her, but somehow, he hesitated.
“I have to ask the both of you to come with me to the station,” Bellini said. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Adelaide Hawthorne.”
79
May 2016
Shannon was well enough the next day for Bellini to get her story and take her statement for the report. Meanwhile, I waited outside her room, walking back and forth, worrying that she would get too overwhelmed, too tired, that it was all too much for her. Needless to say, I drank a whole lot of coffee until the mid-afternoon, when Bellini finally came out. Her face was red and it looked like she had been crying a little, but I could be wrong. Bellini wasn’t the type who showed emotion publicly.
“Quite the story, huh?” I asked, coffee still in my hand.
“Can’t say I’ve ever heard anything like it,” she said with a deep sigh. “But it’s all going in the report now, so we can get the case closed as soon as possible. Can’t wait to put it away for good. Between you and me, the whole story of Kimberly Milligan makes me feel really creeped out, though. She lost a child, you know. Right before they moved here, she lost a baby boy. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, they concluded. But I guess that set her off. She lost touch with reality. She believed her daughter had killed the baby and that she was going to kill her, so she killed her herself. And we believe she killed her husband too in 1990. Put their bodies in the tunnels thinking no one would ever find them. Then for years, she worked as a nurse and saw one baby after another come into the world. I guess that’s how she got the idea. Stole the first child from the hospital in 2004, Luanne Johnson or Libby Bibby.”
“Bibby Libby,” I corrected her. We started to walk down the hallway.
“Whatever it was she called her. She stole Betsy Sue or Adelaide in 2006, and then Chandelle, better known as Miss Muffit in 2010. It was then that Kimberly Milligan disappeared from the face of the earth, quit her job, and started to work as the doll repair doctor instead. Shannon told me the girls were all related. That she had the idea that she had to protect the world from these children or something. Probably just what she told herself to justify that she was stealing children. Anyway, my guess is she took them to replace the children she had lost. The tragic story of a woman driven mad by great sorrow. It’s really sad, I guess.”
“Sure is tragic,” I said, thinking of Bibby Libby, who had to die. Luckily, we had managed to help the two others before it was too late.
“I am working on finding evidence enough to pin her up on the murder of Trevor Bryden and his father as well, but I haven’t found anything yet. Could be good to close those two cases as well. I’ve found an old claim from back in 1990 where she argued with the older Bryden. Apparently, he reported her daughter Rosa for killing his cat, but could never prove she had done it. It had its head cut off. He found it on his doorstep one morning when he went to get the newspaper. That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”
“What’s going to happen to Betsy Sue?” I asked, as we reached the lobby.
Bellini stopped. “I wanted to talk to you about that. She is awfully fond of you and Shannon…and she is related to your fiancé…I mentioned it briefly to Shannon while I was in there, but…”
I nodded. I knew where she was going, but I couldn’t make this ki
nd of decision on my own. “We need to talk about it,” I said.
Bellini’s hand landed on my shoulder. “You’re a good man, Jack. And an even better father.”
“Thanks,” I said and emptied my coffee cup.
Bellini looked at her watch. “Guess I know what I’ll be doing the next several weeks, huh? Listen, I have a briefing in half an hour. I’ll call you later.”
She waved at me while she walked out the sliding doors leading to the parking lot. I watched her disappear, then threw away my plastic cup and hurried upstairs and into Shannon’s room. She was still awake when I entered.
“Hi there,” I said and approached her.
“Hi,” she said, her eyes half closed in exhaustion. She smiled. “Did Bellini talk to you about Betsy Sue?”
I nodded and grabbed her good hand in mine. “We don’t have to make any decisions till you feel better,” I said. “She’s at a foster home right now.”
“I want her,” Shannon said.
I smiled. “I do too.”
Shannon laughed for the first time and it hurt. She made a grimace of pain, but was still cheerful. Her big eyes looked up at me, as beautiful as ever. “Will you marry me, Jack?” she asked.
“I thought we already settled that,” I said. “You know, back when I proposed to you, remember?”
“No,” she said. “I mean I want to marry you.”
“And I want to marry you too, Shannon. As soon as you’re better and everything has fallen back into place again.”
She grabbed my arm with her good hand. I looked into her eyes. She was serious. “No. I want to marry you now. Right here. Right here at the hospital.”
“Shannon…I…”
“No, Jack. It’s perfect. Can’t you see? Everyone is here already. Even our pastor is still in town. Let’s do this!”
“Shannon…you’re not well…let’s wait…”
