Wall of Silence

by Gabrielle Goldsby

  The captain rewound the tape and played again. Both Riley and I leaned forward as Smitty said something, probably to the dead baby in his arms, then placed it back in the crib.

  “He said, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get here in time, Eric.’” Riley’s voice was sad as she read Smitty’s lips.

  Smitty turned in a slow circle and then paused, his face slack and blank looking, his .38 hanging limply at his side. He moved out of camera range, then came back into view a few seconds later, carrying a baby. He returned to the bassinet that held the body of his dead son, removed a blanket and wrapped it around the baby, then walked out of the frame again.

  “What just happened?” It came to me then, in a burst of realization so clear, it was as if I had been there in that barn years before. “His son died, so he just took another baby.”

  The captain shut off the video. “That’s what it looks like.”

  “But wouldn’t someone miss their baby?” Riley asked.

  “Not if they thought he was dead, or if the mother was one of the women killed in the raid,” she explained. “Most of the people were either runaways or transients before they joined the church. Stein made sure that ties to interfering family members were cut. One of the ways he kept control. Several of the bodies were never claimed. In fact, most of them had to be buried by a charity.”

  “I think Eric might be Stein’s child.” I didn’t realize I had spoken aloud until I saw the shocked look on Riley’s face.

  “What? How’s that possible? Wouldn’t Caroline know her own son?” she asked.

  “The baby Caroline Stein buried died from extensive gunshot wounds,” Captain Simmons said. “There wasn’t much that was identifiable.”

  “So you’ve already considered that possibility?” I shouldn’t have been surprised that the captain had put one and one together and come up with the same thing I did, but I was.

  “We can’t prove anything yet. The footprints from the hospital where Monica and Smitty’s baby was born were too damn smudged to get an accurate match.” I recognized the sneer as one that had been directed at me on many occasions. “I wish they would get those people better trained. Anyway, we’re going to have to wait on the DNA test. What I don’t understand is why they would leave the original tape just lying around.”

  “I think I stumbled on the answer to that when I was talking to Caroline Stein.” The captain gave me her full attention. “When Terry found the tapes, Stein probably got scared and was forced to move everything over to the video store just in case Caroline decided to poke around. That tape would be the last thing he would want her to see. Unfortunately, when his driver, Michael Stratford, hired Pete and the original video vanished, all hell broke loose. You gotta figure Michael knew Stein was going to blame him, so he had no choice but to run. He probably tracked down Pete, stole the tape back, and hid it where he knew no one would look.”

  “In his daughter’s doll,” the captain said with disgust.

  “But how did Marcus get the name Michael Albert?” Riley asked.

  “Now that one, I know the answer to.” The captain slid a folder across her desk and I opened it to the first page.

  “Michael Albert, witness testimony. Where did this come from?”

  “San Diego. Apparently Marcus called down complaining that one of the detectives had torn some documentation out of a file. He asked them to send copies, but as you know, we’ve been shorthanded, so these documents didn’t get opened until a couple of weeks ago. I called down and spoke to the manager in San Diego. He said that he and Marcus had a really lengthy conversation about the missing document. He can’t swear to it, but there is a distinct possibility that he mentioned Michael Albert’s name.”

  As the captain spoke to Riley, I scanned the documents, only half listening to what she was saying. “Michael was a member of Stein’s church, in fact, he was there during the raid. I’m pretty sure the only reason Smitty pulled these pages was to remove any mention of Monica from the witness testimony.”

  I closed the file in exasperation. “But Marcus couldn’t have known all of this.”

  “No, he wouldn’t have known everything, but there was probably enough there to make him suspicious.”

  “I know where he got Nathan Stein and Michael Albert, but who the hell is Eric Ann?”

  The captain pulled out several pictures and slid them across the desk. I picked up one, and Riley picked up another. “You never went to the funerals, did you, Everett?”

  “No.”

  “Me, either,” she admitted. “I wonder if that would have made a difference.”

  I was looking at row after row of tombstones, most of them marking the grave of children less then two years of age, and all of them with the last name of Smith.

  “Foster?” Riley’s voice sounded odd. She handed me a picture of a tombstone that read, HERE LIES ERIC SMITH.

  “They buried him?” I glanced at the captain for confirmation.

  She nodded and Riley handed me another picture. A single tombstone that was right next to the one marked Eric Smith.

  “We read an article that said Monica named one of the babies Ann, after her mother. That’s what must have tipped Marcus off. He went to the funerals. I never did. He saw them all and…”

  “He probably never knew what he had, Foster. He just knew something wasn’t right. I think all of us thought it.” The captain shifted and looked down at her notes. “I always thought there was something odd about it, but I was just so happy that someone was taking care of them and giving them a good burial, I didn’t think to ask why. Bottom line is, Monica wanted to bury her son, so she started a charity for unclaimed babies.”

  “But if he was the first, didn’t anyone think it was odd?” I slid the photo, face down, across the desk toward the captain.

  “She didn’t start naming them until she had about fifteen already buried along with Eric. Guess it made sense that she would name them. You can’t have forty Johnnie and Janie Does.” Even though she had had time to deal with everything, the captain looked momentarily overwhelmed, but quickly regained her composure. “I guess I’ll see you two back here in a few weeks for the inquest. Make sure you get some rest, I have a feeling we all are going to need a vacation by the time this is over.” Riley nodded and I prepared to stand up. “What about after you get better?” A small smile lit the captain’s face as she asked the question that had been tormenting me. “You planning on coming back to work?”

  I could feel Riley tense. “If you want to, I could find something here or go back to work at the university,” she said.

  I directed my answer to her, even though the captain had asked the question. “I’m confused about everything right now.” To my embarrassment, my throat started closing up. “But I do know that I really need to spend some time with you.”

  I think the captain was starting to get a little bit green around the gills at our display, because she cleared her throat.

  “Everett? Please refrain from slamming the door on your way out.”

  “All right, Captain.” I grinned, and Riley and I headed out the door.

  “If you need anything, let me know, okay?”

  I was stopped few times as I walked through the office. It felt good to be vindicated, but as we finally stepped into the elevator, I couldn’t help but glance in the direction of the desks that Smitty and I had occupied for three years. I figured I hadn’t really dealt with my pain yet; I hadn’t really dealt with any of it. I knew that at some point, it was going to hit, and it was going to hurt. But at that moment it just felt good to be alive. Alive and loved.

  I reached for Riley’s hand; she drew me into her arms and whispered into my hair, “What’s wrong, are you hurting?”

  “No, I’m fine. I’ve just been…” I took a deep breath, mustering up every ounce of courage I could summon. “Ever since I woke up, ever since they took you, really, I’ve been promising myself that I would tell you how I feel about you. And now I can’t seem to f
ind the right words.”

  Riley eased me away from her as the elevator slowed its descent.

  “I just don’t know what I would do without you.” I said it so softly that I knew she hadn’t heard me.

  I took a deep breath and looked up into her face. Her eyes were watery, but there was that huge smile on her face that told me that she understood. It wasn’t all that I wanted to say to her, not by a long shot. But her smile told me that she would wait for the rest, and I vowed to myself that she wouldn’t have to wait long.

  We got off the elevator to the sound of snapping gum and laughter. I walked up to the window to see Chandra sitting at her desk. I smiled at her and she smiled back, holding her finger up as she got off the phone. She yelled to two heads that were almost hidden behind a stack of files that she would be back. The door swung open and she walked out, still popping that damn gum.

  “So you guys are out of here, then?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Chandra brushed a tear from her cheek.

  “Well, damn, Chandra. I don’t know what to say,” I joked.

  “You’re a good person, Foster Everett.”

  I elbowed Riley, hoping she would help me out, but I only got a smile and a shrug. “Thanks, Chandra, so are you,” I said weakly.

  “Y’all better get going before traffic gets too bad. Call me when you get there.” She sniffed and grabbed me in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m going to miss your trifling ass.” She released me and pushed me toward Riley.

  We stared at the closing file-room door. “What does trifling mean, anyway?”

  “I think it means you’ve got yourself a new friend.” Riley grinned, and her body started shaking.

  “A new friend, huh? Cool.” I was quite proud of myself.

  I had myself a new friend, a family, and best of all—a woman who loved me more than I could ever hope to deserve. I felt really good, like I’d just found something I’d been missing all my life. Like I was whole. Complete and wanted. And to think I’d been running away from belonging for years. But shit, who knew?

  I heard Chandra tell someone to “Get off the phone and get to work,” then a barrage of annoyed popping that I found both comforting and sad. I would miss her, too.

  We waited for the elevator doors to close. Riley’s bright blue eyes silently asked me if I had changed my mind. I shook my head and kissed her hand. “Do you think she would’ve taught me how to pop my gum like that?”

  We held each other and laughed. Then we lost ourselves in a kiss, the steady pop, pop, pop of Chandra’s gum serenading us as the doors slid soundlessly closed on my old life.

  About the Author

  Gabrielle Goldsby grew up in Oakland, California, where a childhood illness left her confined to bed for weeks when she was nine years old. It was then, thanks to her mother?s efforts to save her own sanity, that she discovered a love of reading. After receiving a bachelor?s degree in criminal justice administration, she spent time as a gang and drugs prevention counselor, a flooring specialist for a large home-improvement store, a facilities manager inside some of San Francisco?s largest law firms, and an administrative assistant in the semiconductor industry. These varied occupations have become the basis for many past and future writing projects.

  She resides in Portland, Oregon, with her partner of eight years.

  Her next novel, Remember Tomorrow, is due from Bold Strokes Books, Inc. in 2008.

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