Burdened By Guilt

by Michiko Katsu

  "You said she was being indicted on accessory charges right? Who's to say she wasn't actually thrown from the car before it blew up? It was the perfect opportunity for her to disappear, right?"

  "I guess I can see that. Where are you going with this Mike? What would it matter if the girl is still alive or not at this point?"

  Mike scrunched his eye together trying to get his brain to keep up. The lack of sleep and concussion were playing against him and he wasn't sure the facts were adding up as perfectly as he thought. Besides, he’d been down this pothole ridden, deer crossing, student driver road before.

  "Mike?"

  "Thanks Doug," he said then hung up.

  Chapter 56

  Suzanne opened her eyes to shards of light coming through the window. Her head beat like a timpani and she closed her eyes against the throbbing. She wanted to reach up and cover her eyes but her arms would not respond. Her coughing escalated from raspy to gagging as her body tried to expel some unknown violation coursing through her until her mind closed against the assault unwilling to allow her continued consciousness.

  When she opened her eyes again it was dark. The moon bore fingers of light through the cracks in the shades giving slight illumination to her surroundings. Her eyelids felt as if adorned with leaden lashes making it difficult to keep them open. Her skin tingled with the feet of a thousand centipedes dancing the quickstep but she could not scratch. Every fiber in her being felt supercharged in a cocaine overdose of heightened sensation while her body remained unresponsive to her mental commands.

  She scanned her surroundings trying to get her bearings as she willed her mobility to return. A single curtainless window, a dresser with peeling paint and the unsupported mattress she currently inhabited indicated she was in a bedroom. The pink bedspread and teddy bear indicated it was a female child’s room at some point. The stench of body odor and rotting food made her gag and she hoped the child, whoever she was, no longer endured this setting.

  As the fog lifted, the details bringing her to her current circumstance appeared in mismatched puzzle pieces. Burning food. Red wine. A tablecloth on the floor. She closed her eyes. None of the images made sense. A phone call. Yes. There was a phone call. Was there a phone call? It was a woman. No. A girl. No. It was a woman. Damn it! She swallowed hard wishing for water. There was definitely a female. In her house. Yes. Definitely a female in her house. She burned the dinner. No. She wasn’t cooking. Was she cooking? There was wine. Definitely wine but it spilled on the floor. Yes, the wine stained her carpet. There was yelling. Someone was yelling at her or was she yelling at someone?

  Then her eyes popped open.

  Molly. Molly was the female at her house. She was inside her house when Suzanne came home from that terrible meeting with Lieutenant Daily. She was waiting for her.

  The details returned in stop action segments until the gears gained full traction.

  The drive home from the police station was excruciating. Who the hell did that guy think he was talking to? Call a lawyer, that's it. She would call a lawyer and see if there was anything she could do to that moron for treating her with such disrespect.

  She continued to fume imagining the humiliation she would enact upon him until the realization that he was right, at least in part, kept her from embracing the idea of a public hanging. Whether she liked it or not she was a suspect in a triple homicide and even if she wouldn’t admit it she had slept with the lead detective. And if she was honest, she had done more than that.

  She looked at her cell phone for the hundredth time but there were still no messages. Why wasn't Mike calling her back? This wasn't the next day after some one-night stand and she wasn't just some piece of ass he picked up in a bar. She had told him everything, every last detail of her terrible past and he acted as if he cared. She choked back tears of humiliation for naively putting her trust, yet again, in a man.

  But he seemed so different, she thought again. He seemed upset at what she had told him and genuinely concerned about the situation she was in with regards to her daughter. It seemed like he wanted to help her but then he disappeared and now he wouldn't answer any of her phone calls.

  Their conversation played in an endless loop as she made her way home, her only class long since over. So engrossed in identifying her mistakes she had not acknowledged the unlocked door until she was inside. Turning back toward the opening with the doorknob still in her hand she looked out, down at the knob and then inside the house. Nothing seemed out of place and considering her mindset when she left that morning it was possible she forgot to lock the door. She dismissed it as an oversight on her part, shut the door and walked inside.

  She headed toward her bedroom to change clothes when she heard, "hi Mom." Her heart skipped an eighth note as she jerked around and saw a young girl with long black hair standing in her living room.

  Suzanne always thought her first reaction would be to throw open her arms and go running to her but now, as she stood in front of her, she wasn't sure how to react. She had the same feelings but the look on Molly’s face told her she wouldn’t be receptive to such a familial greeting. Suzanne knew a big hug from Mom would be the last thing this girl wanted. And it was obvious she wanted something.

  "What, no hug for your long, lost baby girl?" Molly smiled but there was no joy in it. "I guess you never thought I'd just show up on your doorstep one day. Well, your living room in this case."

  Suzanne stared at her but did not respond. The hairs on her forearms stood as her initial feelings of unease returned. The smile on Molly’s face made her anxious as the muscles in her stomach contracted. She remained in the hallway as she watched Molly finger the different objects in her living room as if gleaning personal information about her from them.

  "I thought I'd just let myself in,” Molly smiled without making eye contact as she continued her trek around the room. “You are my mother after all so I didn't think you'd mind.”

  Suzanne stepped back into the living room as she watched Molly’s movements.

  "Oooh," Molly gushed as she opened the door to Suzanne’s wine refrigerator. "I guess you consider yourself quite the connoisseur." She fingered the labels hanging around the necks of the bottles as she clucked her tongue either in approval or disappointment with her choices.

  "You know,” she continued. “I was never much of a wine fan but I hear if you get a good bottle it will convert you. Did you find that true in your case?" She looked over her shoulder.

  Suzanne hesitated unsure if she truly asked a question or if she was just mocking her. When Molly turned to face her she realized she was expecting an actual response.

  "I've always liked wine," Suzanne said trying to keep her voice monotone and indifferent.

  Molly’s lips smiled and she winked at her then turned back to the fridge. "That doesn't surprise me. After all, alcoholism does run in our family. Do you mind?" She asked holding up a bottle. "This looks like a good one." Not waiting for Suzanne to respond she carried the bottle into the kitchen. "Opener? Glasses?" She asked looking at Suzanne who pointed to the cabinet housing the requested material. Molly smiled and scrunched her face together in a mock “thank you”.

  After dispensing the dark, violet liquid into two glasses she walked over to the dining room and set them down.

  "Please," she said, motioning to Suzanne. "Join me."

  Warily Suzanne moved toward her waiting daughter who now appeared distracted and indifferent as she sat at the table sipping the wine and playing with the edging of the tablecloth. She stopped at the chair and Molly patted the tabletop

  "I wish I knew you were coming," Suzanne began.

  Molly let out a deep sigh. "I thought it would be better if I just surprised you. Besides, I've been surprising you for quite a while so there was no point in changing now."

  Suzanne squinted as she cocked her head.

  Molly laughed low and throaty at Suzanne’s confusion. "I guess you're not as smart as you think you are, Doctor Kelly," s
he said as she tilted her glass toward Suzanne. "You have no idea what's been going on do you? Doctor Kelly."

  Disgust, pity and eventually disdain took over the constant, mirthless smile as Molly eyed Suzanne with such an intense level of scrutiny she shifted self-consciously in her seat.

  Suzanne sat back and watched as Molly stood and paced, her hands migrating from behind her back to her front and back again as if unsure where to start. Initially Suzanne thought she would explode with a verbal attack but then some element of self-control took over and the wry, sardonic smile she wore when Suzanne first walked in returned.

  "Well, gosh, I don't even know where to start," Molly finally said, stopping in front of Suzanne. She picked up her glass and took another sip of her wine, scrunched her nose at her obvious distaste for the varietal and paced again. "It has been such a long time I guess it would probably be best just to start from the beginning. I'm trying to remember just how old I was when you abandoned me and left me to be raped and sodomized over and over again.”

  "I didn't abandon you," Suzanne protested. "You were stolen from me." She cringed at her words. The truth sounded so inadequate compared with the accusation it was laughable.

  "Ha," Molly bellowed as if confirming Suzanne’s thoughts. "You actually expect me to believe that you searched high and low for me but due to their highly developed intelligence and stealthy disappearing skills those morons were able to keep me hidden from you for almost twenty years. And you just happened to change your own name so I would appreciate the difficulty of the search just in case I might have been looking for you.” Molly’s arms flailed as her irritation with Suzanne’s excuse increased. “Please, do yourself a favor and don’t make this any worse than it already is. Not that it matters what you say but denying any responsibility in this situation is only going to make this harder…on you."

  Suzanne's muscles contracted forcing her body into a rigid posture. Molly’s last words left no doubt in her mind, she was not here for a reconciliation. Regardless of her own hopes for absolution Molly made it obvious she had no interest in forgiveness.

  In what felt like a million slow and painful seconds Suzanne finally realized what her daughter had done and more relevant to her situation now, what she was capable of. It was a realization that chilled her soul and her mind raced with a desperate need for escape.

  "Do you know how many nights I prayed for you to come back and rescue me?” Molly continued as she resumed pacing. “How many times I lay bleeding in my own bed begging for you to save me? Then I realized you had abandoned me. You left me there to fend for myself against those bastards."

  "No, no, no, that's not what happened. That's not true," Suzanne said, leaning forward in her chair.

  Her denial fueled the already growing flame of her rage and her volume increased in kind. "You didn't want to deal with the abuse any longer so you left me there to deal with it. You left me there…ON PURPOSE."

  "No. That's not what happened, Molly. I swear that's not—"

  "Don't…you…dare…call…me…by…that…name!" She shrieked as she grabbed the sides of her head and twisted as if possessed then quickly righted herself as she stared daggers into Suzanne. "Molly is dead. She was weak and helpless. Don't you ever call me by that name again."

  She stepped forward, put both hands on the armrests of Suzanne’s chair and breathed heavily in her face as she whispered.

  “My name is Jill.”

  Suzanne protested but Jill slapped her hard across the face.

  “I swear,” Suzanne tried again her hand covering the burn on her left cheek. “I tried but they changed their names, they moved, I had no way of knowing where they’d taken you. I spent a year—”

  “Wow, a whole year,” Jill laughed. “You’re like a bloodhound.”

  Suzanne didn’t respond.

  “No matter. A perfect opportunity presented itself when I was seventeen. I didn’t realize just how perfect it was until a year or so later but it’s what made all of this possible. You see my car went off a cliff and exploded. Everyone thought I was dead. Too bad for my friend who was in the car.” She let out a sigh and gave Suzanne a look of feigned sorrow. “I was thrown from the passenger seat. Let’s just say I was having some personal problems at the time and with everyone thinking I’m dead…well, it worked out well for everyone,” she hesitated then laughed again. “Well, not everyone.”

  Jill went on to tell Suzanne how she changed her identity to escape prosecution and realized her newfound anonymity would allow her the freedom to do so much more.

  "I don't understand," Suzanne said.

  "Yes you do. You know exactly what I'm talking about. I killed those worthless pieces of shit and pointed the finger at you. I could have just killed you but where would the fun be in that. I had to suffer for years because of you. There was no way I wasn't going to return the favor." Hate filled Jill’s eyes as she recounted the details.

  "But why the notes?" Suzanne asked.

  Jill smiled. "I thought a teacher of literature would appreciate the inference. Plus that was the only way I was going to get those stupid cops to come to you to ask for help."

  Suzanne shook her head. "But how were you able to get them to pick me specifically without getting suspicious?"

  "One, there would be no reason for them to be suspicious. I'm a diligent, trustworthy, hardworking employee of their forensics team,” she bowed. “Two, that stupid rookie was so easily manipulated. I suggested they look on the internet and he actually came to me for help. I practically gave him your name and he thought he found you all on his own. He made it so easy."

  "But that wouldn't make them look at me as a potential murderer," Suzanne argued.

  "True. So that's why I decided to give them another hand. That was when I attacked you in your office after your boyfriend left. I had broken in a few times since I needed your fingerprints,” Jill continued. “The last time was to get the cops to find your prints so they could link them to one of the crime scenes. Once that happened I just happened to find out the identities of two of the bodies and how they were just coincidentally related to you. The rest pretty much unfolded on its own. I just needed to get the ball rolling. The cops did the rest." Her smile held a perverse satisfaction.

  "That was you?" Suzanne breathed.

  Jill looked at Suzanne as if she was a simpleton and snapped her fingers. “Hello. Can you please try to keep up with this? I don’t want to have to repeat myself. You’re supposed to be a Ph.D. right?”

  Suzanne turned away and took two large swallows of her wine. This woman was not her daughter. She may have been at one time and genetically she may still be but this person she had become was not her daughter. The realization and acceptance of that fact hardened Suzanne’s heart against her.

  "So here we are." Jill clapped her hands in front of her signaling the end of her explanation. "Even if I let you go, your life is over. I've made sure there is no way for you to get out of this.” Jill laughed. “And then you slept with the lead detective. I couldn't have planned that better if I actually told you what to do."

  Jill handed her a 5x7 note card with the words written in perfect penmanship.

  Suzanne red the excerpt.

  "Recognize it?" Jill asked.

  Suzanne didn't look at her.

  "Of course you do. It's a classic, right? And you teach the classics, right?"

  "I don't teach that," Suzanne said quietly.

  "I thought it was appropriate. Of course, those stupid cops won't realize what it's from since you won't be around to interpret it for them. Actually this one doesn’t need any interpretation. This one is as close to black and white as you can get. A little modernization and it could have been me." Jill spat the last words in her face.

  Suzanne recognized the words from Justine by the Marquis de Sade. Banned in its own time, the story was of a young girl sexually exploited repeatedly in the most depraved and sadistic ways all the while trying to maintain her innocence and beli
efs. Suzanne understood Jill took it as a perfect depiction of her circumstances; the perfect, last note.

  Suzanne stared at the glass candleholder sitting on the table as Jill lapsed into a self-congratulatory soliloquy. Her mind searched for options as the object morphed into a weapon. She watched Jill pace knowing she would only get one chance.

  As soon as Jill turned, Suzanne leaned over and grabbed the candleholder knocking over her wine in the process. But by the time she turned, candleholder in hand, Jill was on top of her tipping the table over with their combined weight, knocking the wind out of her with a grunt as they hit the floor.

  Jill grabbed her wrist wrenching the glass bludgeon from her hand and threw it behind her. She quickly got to her feet and pulled Suzanne up by her hair, slamming her against the pony wall separating the dining room from the kitchen. She reached into her pocket and removed a pre-filled syringe injecting the liquid into Suzanne’s neck.

  That was the last thing she remembered.

  Now she lay on a strange bed in a strange room, still immobile and unable to defend herself. She knew Jill had no intention of taking her to jail, now that the suffering, as she put it, was done. She would finish it. Of that, Suzanne had no doubt.

  A creak in the floorboards outside the room snapped her to attention and she watched with impotent frustration as the doorknob turned. The door opened slowly, giving away every centimeter with each whine and groan from the rusted hinges.

  She watched as the top of a man’s head appeared around the side of the door. The fact it wasn’t Jill gave her no comfort as the top of his head gave way to his neck and then shoulders. Suzanne shut her eyes against the images in her head. No doubt this was Jill’s accomplice ready to enact the same abuse they had both suffered. It would be the perfect end to Jill’s plan.